Page 31

“Don’t forget the man at your apartment.”
“He was a burglar. I doubt the break-in is related.” She stared at the orderlies huddled in a corner as she chewed a bite. A nurse read a paperback at another table. The cashier studied her cell phone. No one paid attention to the images on the wall-mounted television.
Mitch finished his sandwich, set his plate and cup to one side, wiped the table with a napkin, and folded his arms there. Again, the confident movements. His whole manner spoke to his need to control. “You sure the burglary was random?”
Cath emptied another sugar in her coffee. “I don’t know anything for sure.”
“You have any enemies?” His eyebrows lowered over the strong spine of his nose. Chiseled like his firm lips. If he had any subcutaneous fat, she didn’t see where.
She swallowed the last of her sandwich. “I make friends, not enemies. On the business side, I suppose some people might not like me, but everyone in the business is civilized.” She stood and stared across the room at the television screen where a breaking news banner splashed across the bottom: French Quarter fire.
Her tray slid easily into the used return, and she moved closer to the TV. The camera panned past a fireman laying hose down the middle of a street, disappearing from time to time under billowing gray smoke.
Wait, wait, wait. She clutched Mitch’s arm. “That’s my block. That’s my house.”
* * *
The static of the fire chief’s radio followed Cath as she wove through the strobing red and white lights to the opposite curb. Her landlord had been on the scene when she’d arrived, and they’d gotten the bad news at the same time.
“I’ll be okay, thanks.” She said goodbye and walked down the sidewalk to Mitch who held her rescued kitten. “I can take Tiger back, if you want.”
“She’s finally settled down.” He tucked her pet closer to his chest. “She might get agitated again if we transfer her.”
Cath rubbed her cold hands. The sunset had drained all the day’s warmth from under the overhead balcony. “You’ve just got warm arms.”
His whole body blasted heat.
She stroked a hand down the kitten’s back. “Poor thing, she’s been through a lot of trauma lately.”
“So have you.” Mitch raised his chin toward the firefighters in front of her house. “What’s the story?”
“Only the kitchen and part of the living room are destroyed. The couch and everything else on that side are gone, but the bedroom’s intact. Only smoke damage.”
“How’d he get in?”
“The musician who lives above Rhonda smelled smoke a few minutes after he got home. Someone could have snuck in before the gate closed.” She gestured to the skinny guy in the reversed baseball cap standing with her landlord. “I feel bad for the owner. This is the second disaster related to my apartment in less than twenty-four hours.”
“He’ll survive. What’s your plan now?”
“My p-plan?” She rubbed her arms through the sleeves of her wool jacket. “I’m still in shock.”
“That hasn’t stopped you yet. You do realize you can’t stay here.”
Rhonda was still at work, and even if she offered to put Cath up, her place was even smaller than Cath’s. Plus, her dog and the kitten didn’t get along. “Maybe I can get a hotel room somewhere. At least for a few days.”
Mitch scowled. “You think your apartment will be ready in a few days?”
“Of course not, but I’ll find someplace else.” What else could she do?
“You’re living in a fairy tale.”
She laughed, pointing to the blackened facade of her house. “You call this a fairy tale?”
“You need to face reality.” His lips pressed into a grim line.
She crossed her arms. “What’s my reality, Mr. Know-It-All?”
“I’m more of a know-nothing, but I do know how to assess a threat. Someone is after you, either a competitor or an enemy. If you stay in a motel, you’ll be out in the open.”