The dock creaked under Duvall’s weight. I pictured him walking up the length of it, climbing the stairs to the cottage, and the door slamming shut behind him.
And as soon as that door shut, I’d tiptoe to the dock, get Eddie, and sneak away into the dark. We’d get into my car, drive away fast, crank up the heat as far as it would go, and zoom to the sheriff’s department, where, with luck, the cell phone’s audio recordings I’d made while I talked to Duvall would be recoverable.
“Come here,” Duvall said. “I know you’re up there. Get down already.”
“Mrrrr-rrrr.”
I stopped dead.
“Here, kitty, kitty,” Duvall crooned. “Don’t you want to take a bath? A cold bath, but you won’t notice that after a few minutes. Here, kitty, kitty.”
All the cold I’d been feeling was pushed aside by sheer fury, and the fuzziness my brain had been sinking into sharpened into hard thought. Still moving slowly, still moving silently, I changed my plan. Instead of moving away from Duvall, as soon as I got out of the water, I would head straight toward him.
“Why are you being like this, cat?” Duvall asked. There was a metallic clang. He was climbing onto the boat lift, trying to get at Eddie.
Urgency shouted inside me, yelling at me to move, screaming at me to run. But I couldn’t. Not yet. I couldn’t let Duvall know I was still alive and kicking, not out there in that frigid water, succumbing to the effects of hypothermia.
I inched into shallower and shallower water, hoping the clouds would stay in front of the moon long enough for me to get to land. My feet, numb now, rolled left and right as they stepped on rocks. I wondered how many times someone could sprain an ankle, then decided that was something I didn’t need to know.
“Get down here!” Duvall yelled.
“Mrrr!” Eddie yelled back.
If my face had been working properly, I might have smiled.
“Same to you,” Duvall said. “Tell you what. You stay right there and I’ll come and get you. I can’t have you being around here when her body is found. You’re too noticeable. But if you drown, too, well, who’s to say what really happened?”
I was out of the water now and on the lake’s rocky shoreline. Fast as I could make my body move, I clambered up the stubby bluff and onto . . . someone’s front yard, probably, but there was still no light to see by. Running in the dark would send me straight into a tree, a fire pit, or a fence, so I had to creep along, waving my hands in front of me.
From the dock, I heard Duvall, still trying to entice Eddie into his reach. “Come here, you flea-ridden mouse brain. You’re useless and pointless and the world will be better off without you, so come here and—ouch!”
This time I did smile. Eddie had given him full warning; I’d heard both his growl and the hiss that always came right before a paw swipe, claws extended.
“I’ll get you for that,” Duvall said in a low voice, “you crappy little cat. More trouble than you’re worth. And . . . ah. Gotcha.”
Trees and fire pits and fences didn’t matter any more. I jumped into a trot, then a run. I had to get to Eddie before . . . before anything happened. The heavy weight of my wet clothes dragged at me, trying to sap my speed, sucking at my strength, but that couldn’t matter now.
“Stop wriggling,” Duvall said, accompanied by metallic creaks as he climbed off the boat lift. “This won’t take long. Soon you’ll be together with your mistress and won’t that be nice for both of you?”
I was running full force, arms pumping, legs pistoning.
“That’s a good kitty,” Duvall said almost jovially as the dock creaked underneath him. “We’re almost there.”
The thick clouds that had been in front of the moon blew past, and the lakeshore was gently illuminated. It should have been a scene of great beauty, but all I could see was a great hulk of man on the end of a dock, about to toss my cat out into deep and frigid water.
“Leave him alone!” I shouted, and ran toward the steps to the dock.
Duvall whirled and cursed.
Suddenly bright lights glared all around us. “Mr. Duvall,” blared a voice through a bullhorn, “this is the police. Please put your hands up.”
But Duvall didn’t. I could tell that he was intent on sending my cat into the water and nothing anyone said was going to stop him. He turned around and I could see that he held a spitting and struggling Eddie with one outstretched hand.
I hurtled down the steps and reached the dock.
“Mr. Duvall,” the bullhorn said. “Put your hands up.”
Mr. Duvall did not. He kept walking, out to the very end of his dock.
I pounded down the wooden slats. “Put him down!”
“I’ll put him down all right,” Duvall said. “Right in the—”
“MRR!” Eddie flung himself around and latched his claws straight into the back of Duvall’s hand.
“Ah!” Duvall yelled and dropped Eddie. “You miserable cat, I’ll—”
But that was all he got out before I caromed into him with all my weight. Shoulder first, head down, elbow tight to my body, I thumped him and I thumped him good.
Duvall, still yelling, flailed about with his arms, trying to recover, but I’d caught him off guard and off balance and he fell into the water with a great splash.
I scooped Eddie off the dock and snuggled him close. “Are you all right, pal? He didn’t hurt you, did he?”
Feet hurried toward me. I turned and saw multiple officers rushing toward me. Sheriff Kit Richardson led the way, followed by Detective Inwood, followed by Ash, followed by two other deputies.
The sheriff stood at the dock’s end, flashlight in hand, and took in the situation. “Wolverson, make sure he gets out of there fast. That water’s cold.” She glanced at me. “Ms. Hamilton, you need a hospital. No arguments. Your lips and fingers are blue. A deputy will take you. Now.”
The command was sharp and crisp and I did not dare disobey. But . . .
Sheriff Richardson smiled. “If he’ll let me,” she said, “I’ll take care of Eddie until you get home. From what I can tell, he’s the hero of the hour.”
“What d-do you s-say, Ed-die?” I asked through chattering teeth as a deputy put an emergency blanket around my shoulders.
“Mrr,” he said, and bumped my chin with the top of his head.
Chapter 22
Sunday afternoon, Kristen thundered out a laundry list of unnecessary orders to her staff, gave them a good long glare, and ended with “I’ll be back in a couple of hours. Don’t burn the place to the ground when I’m gone, okay?”
Each and every one of the white-coated staff members rolled their eyes, right in front of their boss. “We’ll be fine,” the head chef said as she stirred something in a huge pot. “Go have some fun before you forget how.”
Kristen sniffed loudly, turned to me, winked, and together we headed into the sunshine, destination: the party at Josh’s house.
“Ash Wolverson, huh?” she asked as we walked along. Her elbow caught me in the middle of my upper arm. “He’s pretty hot. What are you going to do on your date?”
“Go to a different town,” I said promptly. “Or maybe Canada. It’s not far, really, and it’s a nice drive across the bridge.”
I’d been joking, but it wasn’t a bad idea. No one would know either of us in Canada, which held great appeal, because I’d had many a romantic meal hijacked by friends who’d wanted to stop and chat. And then there’d been the memorable occasion when I took a date to Kristen’s restaurant and she played waitress for us.
“With Trock in town for the book fair,” I said, “why isn’t Scruffy hanging around you like a lost puppy dog?”