I couldn’t tell whether he was just giving me a hard time or if he actually believed the lie I’d said about him earlier. Knowing him, I’m sure he believed every word of it.
“You were very brave,” the Himalayan told me with an approving nod.
“But not as brave as you, darling,” Octo-Cat cooed in that special lovestruck voice he reserved expressly for his new girlfriend. “You were marvelous. Miraculous, even.”
She giggled, and I pushed myself back to my feet with more difficulty than I would have liked. Ouchie ouch ouch. “C’mon, guys. Let’s get back to our ride.”
I let myself back in through the passenger side and both cats leaped up to join me.
The detective did not look happy. “That stays between us,” she said in a low growl. “I’m already going to get a hard time for consulting a psychic on this case. The last thing I need is for the guys at the station to hear about you hurling yourself from the car before we even hit ten miles per hour.”
“But you said—”
“I know what I said. Turns out you’re not the only one who can bend the truth a little to get the job done.” She glanced at Octo-Cat, then back toward me and winked.
My jaw hit my chest. Not really, but whoa.
What? How could she possibly…?
No, it didn’t matter. Even though I had no idea how she’d figured it out, I knew my secret would be safe with the detective.
By the time we made it back to the tunnel—and thus the train—the sun hung high in the sky and the day was alive with energy. The detective’s partner waited with Mom and Dad outside the tunnel.
When they saw me get out of the cop car, they ran forward. Mom hugged me from the left, and Dad hugged me from the right.
“Why are you all dirty?” Mom swatted at my pants, trying to brush the mud and dirt away. I glanced down and saw just how messy I’d gotten as a result of my fall from the cruiser.
Oh, well. Clothes could be cleaned or, if needed, replaced. What we’d all just been through together was worth so much more.
“It’s a long story,” I hedged. “What time is it, anyway?” I asked, suddenly feeling the weight of fatigue washing over me. I’d only gotten a few hours of sleep sitting in the viewing car before this latest murder mystery had consumed the rest of the night and early morning hours.
“Why don’t you check your phone?” Dad asked with a smirk.
“I can’t because it—” I stopped and laughed sarcastically when I realized his joke. My parents were never going to let me live my low phone battery down.
“It’s about seven thirty,” Mom said, stifling a yawn of her own. “Dad told me you were thinking about heading home instead of finishing our trip down to Larkhaven.”
Guilt washed over me. Mom had really been looking forward to this trip, and now I’d ruined it for her. No, this was important. I could summon strength and mental fortitude from somewhere. “Yeah, but we don’t have to if—”
Mom shook her head and smiled. “I think it’s a great idea. I’ll call the family in a couple of hours and let them know. Hopefully, by then the techs will have us moving again. We heard they were bringing in a new engine to take us back to the nearest station.”
I met my mom’s smile with one of my own. “Smart. Even if they continue, I bet nobody’s going to want to keep traveling aboard that murder train. At least I wouldn’t want to.”
We stood together, watching the police work, saving up our energy for the half-mile walk back through the tunnel. I watched as Octo-Cat tended to his girlfriend’s wounds in a nearby patch of grass.
Sure, their love story was still on its first chapter, but already he was a changed cat. My heart ached, knowing that we may never get the chance to see her again, to even know where she’d ended up.
“You’re worried about her. Aren’t you?” Dad asked, motioning toward the Himalayan with his chin.
“She loved Rhonda, and now she has no idea what’s going to happen to her next.” An idea struck me, allowing a brief burst of hope to fill me up. “Do you think Sariah will take her?”
“I think Sariah will go to prison as an accessory to murder,” Mom said with a sigh. “Or at least for tampering with the train. Such a shame.”
“Then what about Grizabella?” I asked, trying not to cry before we knew for sure what would happen. She’d literally lost everything when Rhonda died, and like Octo-Cat, she was accustomed to having only the best things in life. Would a new owner know how to care for her properly?
“I don’t know, sweetie,” Mom said, kissing the side of my head. “We can only hope for the best.”
She was right. Grizabella’s fate was out of our hands for now, but I would definitely be following up with the police every single day until they could tell me what had happened to her.
I owed it to Octo-Cat. I owed it to Grizabella, and I owed it to that sweet lady on the train who had only wanted a friend to keep her company for a couple hours.
Chapter Twenty
Three weeks later
After a quiet Thanksgiving at home, life returned to its usual insanity. Nan crafted a custom advent calendar, which guided us through a series of over-the-top holiday festivities. A simple trip to get the pets’ photos taken with Santa Claus had somehow managed to turn into a fresh murder investigation, and it was honestly even crazier than the one we’d looked into on the train.
Despite that little hiccough, Nan kept Octo-Cat, Paisley, and me busy practically every second of every day, and for that, I was incredibly appreciative. She was my nan, my favorite person in the whole wide world, and whatever the circumstances that had brought us together, I would always be grateful to have her in my life.
Yes, my little corner of the world had grown by leaps and bounds, but Nan would always be my original number one. That was one thing I knew could never change.
“Quick, quick!” Octo-Cat, a close number two, cried as he scratched at the door to my personal library, begging to be let in. “We won’t have much time before she makes us celebrate again.”
I laughed when he shuddered at the word celebrate as if it were the filthiest curse word he could possibly imagine.
Once inside the library, I booted up my laptop and logged into my Instagram account. Octo-Cat had begged for his own account, but as his parent and someone who wanted to protect our secret, I had insisted he use mine instead.
“My love!” he cried when a brand-new photo of Grizabella popped into our feed. She wore a Santa hat and an enormous scowl on her flat feline face. Peak cat.
Octo-Cat purred and rubbed his side against my computer screen, which is precisely the reason we no longer used his iPad to access Instagram. He couldn’t help but snuggle her image, but always threw a fit when doing so accidentally booted him from the app.
I clicked heart on the photo and sat back in my seat. I knew this could take a while based on past experience. “Well, what would you like us to comment on this one?” I pressed when he did little more than purr and rub up against the screen for a solid five minutes.
“Tell her she’s beautiful and I love her and miss her and cannot wait until fate brings us together again,” he gushed, pausing briefly to actually look at the photo before he resumed all the rubbing.
I groaned at the melodrama but complied—very thankful I’d made my profile private. I was also thankful that I knew for a fact Grizabella’s new owner read all the comments to her. Otherwise I would never agree to be these two lovebirds’ go-between.
Still, no matter how embarrassing this all was for me, I loved how happy it made them both to keep up their long-distance relationship. Sometimes they even video-chatted and took naps together. It was super sweet, actually.
As for that new owner?
She was a friend of Rhonda’s from the show cat circle. Christine. And even though they hadn’t been close outside of the competitions, they’d always made sure to grab a meal together whenever they wound up in the same town—and that was as good as any friend poor, lonely Rhonda ever had.