Visions (Cainsville #2)(41)

“I know. He wants to get home.”

A pause as the cat kept it up.

“Are you sure?” His voice lowered. “I know you miss him, but if he doesn’t want to go back with you—”

“Oh, for God’s sake. I never wanted a cat in the first place. Do you really think I’d be dragging him home now? Scratching and yowling?”

The cat stopped.

“Thank you,” I whispered. Then to Gabriel, “Can I call you back?”

“How far are you from home?”

“About a mile.”

“All right. While you walk, tell me what you found in—”

“Actually, now’s not a good time,” I said, staring up at another window I’d never fit through. “I’ll call you back.”

TC meowed. Loudly. It echoed through the empty basement.

“Where are you, Olivia?”

“Can I call—?”

TC began scratching at a different closed door. While yowling.

“Olivia. Where—?”

“On my way home. Soon.” I checked the room where TC had been scratching. One window. No bigger than the rest. I closed the door again. “I’ve just . . . I’ve had a setback. Can I just call you—?”

“You’re not outside, are you?”

I sighed. “No, okay? I’m . . . I found TC in the basement of an abandoned house. Well, I’m not sure you’d call it abandoned—it’s just not being lived in. I’m having trouble getting out of the basement.”

“Trouble?”

The cat sat on the bottom step, looking up at me, silent now.

“I went downstairs, and I must have closed the door, but it won’t open. It doesn’t seem to be locked, but I can’t get it—”

“You’re chatting with me about work when someone has locked you in a basement?”

“You were chatting about work. I was looking for an exit. And no one has me locked—”

“The door mysteriously closes behind you and won’t reopen?”

“I might have closed it, like I said. There’s no one here. The place is so quiet I’d hear a mouse scampering.”

A ding sounded at the other end of the line. Then the familiar whoosh of a closing elevator door.

“Where are you?” I asked carefully.

“Coming to get you.”

“No, no, no. Go back up to your condo. I’m fine.”

“You’re locked in the basement of an empty house, not even a week after being knocked out by someone who left a severed head in your bed. Also after repeatedly seeing a fetch—”

“It wasn’t a fetch. Rose thinks . . . Never mind. The point is—”

“The point is that you are trapped in a basement.” His footsteps echoed. Parking garage.

“And you are an hour away.”

“If I drove the speed limit. Which I do not.”

I sighed. “I’m fine, Gabriel. If I really can’t get out, my phone obviously works. I can call the police.”

“After breaking into an empty house?”

“It was unlocked. Look, if I need to, I can call Rose.”

“She’s in the city tonight on a date.”

“Date?” I tried to picture it and failed. “Okay, then I’ll call someone at the diner—if and when I’m absolutely sure that I can’t get out. My cell phone battery is half full. The house is silent. I’m not going to die down here.”

“What’s the address?” His car’s engine roared to life.

“Gabriel? Really. Don’t do this. I made a stupid mistake—”

“I’ll call you for the address when I’m in Cainsville. If you hear anything, phone the police. Don’t worry about trespassing charges. I can fix that.”

He hung up. TC rubbed against me, purring.

“Oh, now you’re happy. You yowled on purpose, didn’t you?” I was kidding, of course, but when he glanced up, I swear he looked very pleased with himself.

“We don’t need rescuing,” I said as I tramped up the stairs. “He knows that. He’s making a big deal out of it so I’ll owe him. Then he can get away with even more shit, because I’ll remember the times he came running to help me, and I’ll feel guilty.” I glanced at TC, leaping up the stairs alongside me. “You do realize that, don’t you?”

He purred.

I’d get this damn door open if I dislocated my shoulder doing it. I twisted the handle, went to ram it with my shoulder . . . and fell through as it opened. I tripped over the top step and landed on my hip on the kitchen floor, my cell phone skidding across the linoleum. TC trotted over to it, bent, and nosed it my way.

“Thank you,” I muttered as I sat up and grabbed it back. “You are truly helpful. You’re lucky my gun didn’t fall out and shoot you. Accidents happen, you know. Tragic kitty accidents.”

He only sniffed.

I speed-dialed Gabriel. It went to voice mail. Not surprising—it was much harder to rescue someone if she called and told you she didn’t need rescue. I told him exactly that and texted the same message, abbreviated. There could be no question now—I was fine and I’d notified him, so I owed him nothing.