Visions (Cainsville #2)(40)

I went through a walled patio and tried the back door. Unlocked. Not surprising. I was the only person in town with a security system, or so Grace had muttered when I explained to her how it worked.

I eased open the door.





CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE


The house was so silent even my breathing seemed to echo through the empty rooms. TC had stopped yowling, as if knowing rescue was imminent. I stepped slowly into the kitchen as my eyes adjusted to the near dark.

No appliances. Bare counters covered in a layer of dust. Leaded-glass doors on the cupboards showed they were equally bare.

The basement door was right there, in the kitchen. I took out my gun before opening it. Yes, I carried a gun jogging. Gabriel had bought me a holster and insisted on it after I found Ciara in my car. I was happy for it now. I didn’t care if the house was obviously empty—I wasn’t venturing unarmed into the pitch-black basement of an abandoned house chasing my missing cat. That screams slasher flick.

I called TC from the top of the stairs. He responded with a cry, but it was muffled, as if there was a door between us. I took it slow going down the stairs, ignoring his increasingly frantic yowls.

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” I called. “Remind me again why I wanted you back? Damn cat.”

The basement opened into a large room with several closed doors. It was as still as the main floor. I cast my mock flashlight around and saw more of what I’d spotted through the window. Dirt floor. Bare walls.

TC scratched at one of the closed doors. When I opened it, he darted out. I bent to pet him. As soon as I touched his side, I stopped. I could feel his ribs. His fur was matted and bedraggled.

Had he been trapped—?

No, I’d seen him outside. He must have just had a hard time on the streets.

A hard time on the streets of Cainsville? This wasn’t Englewood. He hadn’t been in this condition when he first adopted me. Thin, yes. Fleas, yes. But basically fine.

I pushed the door open farther and hit the light switch. Nothing happened. The power was off. I could see a puddle under the window, as if rain had come in. It hadn’t rained since Saturday night. There were mice, too, or what remained of them. Food and water.

“You were trapped down here,” I said. “That wasn’t you I saw.”

Yet it had been, in a way. An omen that had led me to him. When I bent, he rubbed against me and lifted onto his hind legs. I gingerly picked him up, expecting him to leap down—we didn’t have a cuddly-kitty relationship. He settled into my arms and purred.

“That happy to see me, huh?” I said. “Something tells me you won’t take off for a jaunt anytime soon.” I settled him in my arms. “Let’s get you home. I think I’ve got a can of tuna in the cupboard.”

He purred louder. I carried him up the stairs, talking to him, reaching out to push open the door, and— My hand hit the solid door. Okay, apparently I’d shut it when I came down. That was an old habit from living at home, where my mother would get so flustered over an open basement door, you’d think hordes of bats and spiders were preparing to launch an assault.

I reached for the handle. It turned easily. I pushed. Nothing happened. I pushed harder. Still nothing.

The door was sticking. Old houses. Swollen wood. Whatever. I put TC down, twisted the handle, and rammed my shoulder against it. Pain shot through my shoulder. The door didn’t budge. I shone the light in the crack between the door and the frame, then turned the handle and watched the bolt disengage. I ran the light up and down, but there was no sign of anything else holding it closed.

“No need to panic,” I told the cat, who was placidly cleaning his ears. “There’s no one here, so we haven’t been locked in the basement. We’re just stuck. Temporarily.”

He meowed and trotted back down the stairs.

“Good idea,” I said. “Search for an alternate exit.”

I had just reached the bottom of the steps when my phone rang. Gabriel.

“What’s up?” I said as casually as I could for someone trapped in the basement of an abandoned house.

“I need information from the Meade file. You took it, correct?”

“Right. You asked me to have a look—”

“Yes, I know. But I need witness contact information from it. Are you at home?”

I looked around. “Not exactly.”

“It’s rather urgent. A new development in the case, and I have to check with the witness before the prosecution does. If you aren’t close by, I’ll need to go out to your apartment.”

“I have a security system now and updated locks.”

“Then I’ll take the code. You can change it after.”

That didn’t cover the updated locks, which he presumably could still pick. Hell, I was sure he could disarm the alarm, too—he was just pretending otherwise to make me feel secure.

“I’m close to home,” I said as I walked across the basement, looking for doors or large windows. “Just give me—”

The cat yowled.

“Is that TC?” Gabriel said.

“It is. I found him.”

A louder yowl as the cat called my attention to something. I hurried toward him. It was a dead mouse. Lovely. He kept yowling even when I patted his head.

“He doesn’t sound very happy, Olivia,” Gabriel said.