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  Thelma slapped her hands together, rubbing vigorously. “Ooh, this could be interesting.”

  Mr. Sophia came walking around Thelma’s chair and flicking his tail high in the air, leaned into Cindy’s leg and then walked away.

  “See, even Sophia agrees. We could have a live one.”

  Cindy looked down at the cat. The animal had spent more time with the man than anybody else. Or at least in his cabin. Wouldn’t it be nice if Sophia could tell Cindy exactly what that man was up to?

  ***

  “I still say the root of the problem is that you’re not spending any time in the community.”

  Phone in his hand, speakerphone on, Alan paced the now empty living room. No point in keeping Harvey out in the open for another person to stumble upon. “I thought the whole idea was to get away from interruptions and distractions so my muse would talk to me again.”

  “There is such a thing as too much silence. Maybe your muse needs to be tickled by a different stimulus.”

  Alan paused and stared at his phone. “What on earth are you talking about?”

  “Sometimes, in the military, we need to think outside the box. And sometimes, in order to accomplish that, we need to immerse ourselves in something outside the ordinary, the routine. You’ve tried a month of hibernating like a bear in winter. Maybe it’s time to go out and face the world. Find an interesting character to spark an idea. Small towns are filled with them. Floyd the Barber isn’t even named Floyd.”

  “Unless Floyd the Barber has a past buried in his garden, I don’t think getting a haircut or a shave is going to solve my problem.”

  “How will you know until you try?”

  Funny, that was pretty much the same thing his grandfather had said to him when he talked him into getting on an airplane and flying thousands of miles away from his condo in order to break the mental block. That hadn’t made much of a difference; what could giving the old man’s advice another shot hurt? “I’ll think about it.”

  “When is your new deadline?”

  “All right.” Alan sighed. Point taken. He was running out of time. “If my muse isn’t talking to me by the weekend, maybe I’ll go into town for lunch or shopping or something.”

  “That’s my boy.”

  Alan smothered a chuckle. He wondered if his grandfather would ever stop referring to him as his boy. A heavy hand pounded on his front door, startling him out of his amusement. He hadn’t ordered any food, so he couldn’t imagine who would be on his porch. Besides, neither the lady from the One Stop nor anyone from Hart House knocked with that much…vigor. “I don’t suppose you’ve sent somebody to visit?”

  “What?” The old man’s voice dripped with sincerity.

  “Never mind. I need to answer the door. I’ll keep you posted.”

  “Sounds good. Love you.”

  “You too,” he bounced back, jumping when the heavy hand pounded again. “Coming.”

  Rather than glance through the window to satisfy his curiosity, before the man could bang again, Alan drew the door open wide.

  Like a scene from one of his books, the country Sheriff stood, his back to the sun, mirrored glasses reflecting Alan’s surprise, and he was pretty sure the officer was scowling at him.

  “May I help you?” That was probably the stupidest thing Alan had ever said, but he wasn’t sure what else to say when confronted with a frowning lawman for no reason. At least he hoped it was for no reason.

  “May I come in?”

  Did innocent people actually say no? He stepped back. “Of course.”

  The sheriff scanned the entire contents of the room in one long glance. “I understand you had some trouble today?”

  Relief washed over him. This was about the cat. “Yes. Turned out to be a neighbor’s Maine Coon.”

  Whipping off his glasses, the sheriff glared at him under furrowed brows. “Maine Coon?”

  “Yes. The cat. That is why you’re here?”

  The sheriff took two steps further into the room, once again scanning from left to right and back. “Mind if I have a look around?”

  Oh, Alan really did not like the sound of that. “Of course not.”

  Slipping his glasses into his pocket, the sheriff gave a curt nod and began walking the small space. He’d taken his time in the bedroom, opened the closet, checked behind the shower curtain, and returned to the living room. “I understand you’ve been here almost a month?”

  Alan nodded.

  “You plan on being here much longer?”

  So much for small-town hospitality. “I’m not sure.”

  The sheriff scanned the cabin once again as if expecting to find something the last two scans had missed. “What is it you do here all day?”

  “Work.”

  “At what?” The man fished his glasses out of his pocket and slid them back onto the bridge of his nose.

  “I’m a writer.”

  The sheriff’s glance landed on his laptop. “What kind of writer?”

  “Murder mysteries.”

  “I see.” Removing his glasses, he nodded. “And what would this particular book you’re working on be about?”

  Some days, Alan was a little slow on the uptake. And today was definitely one of those days. This was about Harvey, happily tucked away in his trunk. “A serial killer. Recently I’ve been working through a difficult section. It’s hard to find new ways to tell a story where a victim is held hostage or captive. I sometimes use props to help me work out a scene.”

  The sheriff paused, considered Alan’s words, then nodded again. “As long as you stick to your props, we shouldn’t have any problem.”

  This time Alan nodded, thankful he wasn’t about to write his book from the inside of the county jail. “Yes, sir.”

  The lawman walked out of the cabin to his patrol car in a few long strides. Climbing into his car, he pulled the door shut and rolled down the window. “You might do both of us a favor.”

  He nodded. Again, did people actually say no? “What would that be?”

  “Be extra careful not to scare my citizens with your props.” The man smiled and drove away.

  An image of a stone-faced veterinarian studying Harvey came to mind. A beautiful stone-faced veterinarian. Too bad he’d probably already scared one citizen permanently away.

  Chapter Four

  Weaving his fingers and stretching his arms out, Alan cracked his knuckles. The sun had been up for little more than an hour, and except for the few minutes it had taken to put on a pot of coffee, he had spent most of that time typing.

  From the second his feet had hit the floor this morning, scenes had begun to form in his mind. Despite staring at Harvey tied for over a week to the chair in the middle of the living room, by the time Alan had had his first sip of coffee, he’d known exactly where his mistake had been and how to fix it. Now re-reading the scene, he felt the tug of satisfaction in his cheeks. He’d nailed it.

  His coffee now cold, he pushed away from his laptop and crossed the small area to the kitchen. The question at hand was what to write next. Pouring the dark brew into his mug, he thought through where the story might go. Too many of the ideas that came to mind, he’d already done. It was almost as if his subconscious was playing a worn out list of his bestsellers.

  The sweet aroma of strong coffee teased his nostrils. He could do this. His mojo was hopefully making a comeback. Perhaps a little bit more slowly than he’d like. At least the solid 60 minutes of typing had been more work than he’d managed to accomplish in a very long time. Blowing across the top of the hot liquid, he paused at the table and his laptop. First thing this morning he’d been itching to get at those keys, now he was back to needing a little more time to figure out his character’s next move. Maybe another walk outside would get his brain cells firing again.

  Standing at the front door, he opted to finish his coffee in one of the oversized rockers that graced either side of the porch. From here he could see down hill to the crops of trees and occasional ca
bin. The large white Victorian that centered the property peeked up at him through budding tree leaves. Off in the distance, Lake Lawford could be seen shimmering under the morning sunlight. A picture suddenly came to mind. Small boat, family boat, probably a rowboat. A lone figure seated, staring at the rising sun. Slowly, the frail figure pushed to his feet, leaned forward and hefted a large heavy item over the side. Jumping to his feet, Alan ran inside and grabbed one of his notebooks, the one that he normally kept for stray ideas that would come out of the blue. Reaching a fresh page, he scribbled down the scene. Once upon a time he had carried a notebook with him everywhere. This past year, his imagination had taken such a long vacation that he’d forgotten more often than not to keep a notepad at his side. If this morning’s inspirations were any indication, he would need to remember to keep paper handy once again. He liked that idea. A lot.

  Pushing off the floor, he set the rocker in motion. An odd squeak accompanied the normal creak of the old wooden floorboards. He stopped moving and listened. Nothing. Once again, he set the rocker in motion, sipping his coffee. The normal rhythmic groaning of the floor resumed, followed by the odd squeak once again. This time when he stopped his chair, he could still hear the squeak. Standing, he did his best to hone in on the origins of the odd sound. Coming from his left, he moved slowly in that direction. When he reached the front steps, he spotted the source. Struggling to make its way up the first step was a tiny mewling fuzzball.

  “What have we here?” Setting his mug on the rail, he squatted and reached out to scoop up the tiny creature. “You look awfully young to be out on your own.”

  Snuggling the kitten against his chest, he descended the remaining steps, listening for siblings. He didn’t hear a thing out of the ordinary. What he didn’t understand was, even if there was only one kitten, why wasn’t the mama nearby? He wasn’t much of an animal man, but this fellow looked awfully small to be out in the world on his own.

  “I think we’re going to have to call somebody.” His first thought had been to call local Animal Control as he had done yesterday, but his second thought kicked in quickly. “I know exactly who to phone for help.”

  Cradling the kitten in one arm, he pulled his cell out of his pocket, only two bars, but thankfully it worked. Using his thumb, he scrolled through looking for the veterinarian’s number. It dawned on him that in their brief exchange yesterday, he hadn’t learned her name. Good thing there was only one veterinarian in the town of Lawford. Hyacinth Nelson. He liked the sound of that. Tapping the number, he waited for the phone to ring

  “Veterinary clinic.”

  It shouldn’t have surprised him that the sweet voice on the other end was not the sweet voice he’d been hoping to hear. “Dr. Nelson please?”

  “May I ask who’s calling?”

  He grinned. It didn’t matter what he said, neither the receptionist nor the doctor were going to know who he was. “Alan.”

  Hesitation hung in the silence. “One moment please.”

  Thank you, Grandpa. Writing was a solitary career. One that did not require he spend much time on the phone with anybody other than his editor or agent. Still, Alan had often used his grandfather’s advice when it came to social norms. High on grandpa’s facts of life list was function on a first name only basis and people will assume you’re a friend. Mission accomplished.

  “Dr. Nelson.” The voice on the other end made him smile.

  “Good morning. This is your favorite cat whisperer calling.” Silence hung heavily. Perhaps joking wasn’t the best start to the conversation. “Actually, this is Alan from the Aspen cabin.”

  “Ah, yes. Anymore mountain lions hiding under the bed?” Apparently she did have a sense of humor.

  “Not exactly.”

  “I’m not sure I want to know what you mean by not exactly.”

  “We do have another cat, but this one is not hiding under the bed. He, or she, climbed up the front steps.”

  “Sophia is back?”

  He shook his head even though she couldn’t see. “No. Perhaps one of her kittens.”

  “Not likely. Sophia’s full name is Mr. Sophia.”

  There had to be an interesting story behind that. “Either way, I have a little fellow here who could probably use the attention of someone who knows considerably more about cats than I do.”

  “Is he the only kitten?”

  “Looks like it.”

  “What about the mom?”

  “I haven’t a clue.”

  A deep sigh sounded through the line. “All right. I have to run to the One Stop today. If I can’t come and get the kitten myself, I’ll find somebody to come pick it up.”

  He didn’t like that idea all. “I could bring him to you.”

  “I’d hate to make you have to go that far out of your way.”

  “I have an order in at the One Stop. Instead of having it delivered, I could pick it up and meet you there.”

  “That could work.” Her tone sounded less stressed. “Let me have your number and I’ll ring you when I’m on my way.”

  “Sounds like a plan.” He shot off his number and agreeing to meet in a little while, disconnected the call and slipped the phone into his back pocket.

  Petting the squirming kitten, he glanced down the road in the direction of the One Stop. Bringing the doctor’s pretty smile to mind, he turned his gaze back to the kitten. “I owe you, my young man, or lady, a nice very big bowl of cream.”

  ***

  So far today was not going at all the way Cindy had intended. First thing this morning some fool had picked up his aunt from the airport with her dog, putting the dog and the luggage in the back of the pickup truck, and then proceeded to get into an accident halfway home. Of course the poor dog went flying and thankfully this time, Cindy was able to put him back together. Her only consolation had been watching the devastated aunt scold her clueless nephew nonstop. At least Cindy knew the pup would get good post-op care.

  In hopes of locating Mr. Fox and the other pups, she had really wanted to take Mrs. Fox and company back to the One Stop before the day got busy. As it was, now she had to add an abandoned kitten to her schedule. “I’m going to put the foxes in the back of my car. If anybody needs me, unless it’s an emergency, I don’t expect to be back for a while.”

  “Do you think you’ll find the rest of her family?” the tech asked.

  “I honestly don’t know. But I can always hope.”

  “Oh, I almost forgot.” The tech handed her a flyer. “Nadine dropped this off while you were in surgery. She wants to make sure you like it before she posts them all over town.”

  Cindy looked at the paper promoting the street fair the town had planned in an effort to support her goal of a wildlife center. It certainly would have come in handy had Mrs. Fox and son needed more extensive rehab. Heck, even an overnight stay would have been easier in a facility designed for wild animals versus her small clinic. Slipping the page into her bag, she smiled at the new tech. “I’ll look at it more closely later, thanks.”

  Tapping in the number yesterday’s crazy man had given her, she alerted him that she was on her way. ETA about ten minutes.

  In the back of her car, Mrs. Fox was clearly restless. Poor thing probably had no idea what to make of being in a cage for almost 24 hours. Cindy wasn’t sure that having at least one of her pups was doing anything to help comfort the sore animal. “Don’t you worry, mama. You can go find the rest of your pups in a few minutes.”

  She pulled into the parking lot by the One Stop. Leaning against his car, ankles crossed, the stranger already waited for her. She had hoped to get at least a few minutes to let the fox out before having to deal with Alan and the kitten. Putting her car in park, she stepped out of the vehicle.

  “Good morning, Dr. Nelson.” Straightening to his full height, Alan smiled at her.

  She didn’t think she’d seen him smile yesterday. If she had, she would have remembered it was a nice one. Actually, now that she wasn’t concerned
that she had stumbled onto a serial killer, she noticed that had she met this man under any other circumstances, it would have been unlikely she’d have described him as average. “You might as well call me Cindy. Everyone does.”

  He nodded and smiled even wider. “Cindy it is.”

  “Did you bring the kitten?”

  “Yes. He fell asleep playing in a small box and is still snoozing in my car.”

  She smiled at that. Cats and their boxes. “Good. That’ll give me a few minutes to deal with my current patient and then we can take a look at yours.”

  “Ah, you’re here already.” Katie O’Leary came strolling out the glass door. “This morning I thought I heard a little commotion out back, but by the time I got there I didn’t see any critters.”

  Had anybody else mentioned commotion or critters, Cindy would not have paid much attention, but Katie always seemed to be hyper aware of her surroundings. “What kind of commotion?”

  Katie smiled up at her. “Attagirl. I made it a point to put some scraps out by the trash. I kept an eye on it for a good 30 minutes and nothing. As soon as I went inside to answer the phone, you know I heard scratching and rustling and the sound of the old metal cans bouncing back and forth.”

  “It would be nice if it was Mr. Fox and family.”

  “We’ll have to see.” Katie waved her arms. “Could have been Mr. Raccoon and family for all I know.”

  That it could’ve been. There were plenty of deer, raccoons, foxes, squirrels, and four-legged animals willing to rummage through trash in these parts of the woods to fill multiple rescue and rehab centers. Nodding at her friend, she opened the hatch of her SUV. “Are you ready, mama?”

  “What have you got here?” Alan asked.

  “I have a mama fox that I need to return to the wild.” Cindy scanned both sides of the road and either side of the One Stop, searching for the best location to set her patients free.

  “Where are you thinking to let them out?” Katie asked.

  Cindy turned to face the One Stop. “Maybe behind your place. It looked like mom was going from this side of the street across the road. She could have been moving them to a new den.”