Page 31

CHAPTER 31

Max

I struggle up the stairs to my second-floor apartment. The adrenaline that fueled my argument with Ben has left my body. I'm now useless, barely able to climb the stairs as my knees tremble under my own weight. Pathetic.

As I reach the top step, I pull out my phone, hoping to see a message from Ben. Even though we argued, it was out of strong feelings for each other, not indifference. I'd love to see ten messages waiting there, with Ben professing his love, declaring he would never abandon me.

Nothing.

Damn. He’s still upset, but it doesn’t seem like it’s fair. After all, I didn’t do shit to him. But then again, maybe he’s not upset… am I making his feelings all up in my head? I felt the rug pulled out from under me when I found out he was planning to leave the country. I shake my head and sigh. I hope I haven’t completely screwed this up for myself.

God, I feel like a crazy person.

I look out at the street as I walk the outside hallway to my apartment. The night is quieter than usual, the moon only half full, which is a good sign for the city. No matter what science says, full moon nights were always more unpredictable when I was a cop. A sorrowful moan from my right tears me away from my memories. It's coming from inside my apartment. I reach for the lock with the key in hand but stop short. The knob is covered in blood. My heart leaps into my throat. A single trail of darkening red blood runs down the door to the threshold. Not a lot, but no matter how much unexpected blood I see is still really concerning.

The door jamb is splintered at the deadbolt, and I use my foot to push the door ajar. Instinctively, I reach for the gun that I no longer carry and curse myself for not carrying one despite having a concealed weapons permit.

I reach for my phone, but another moan from inside the apartment pulls me over the threshold without calling for backup. The police would take forever to get here, and I'm not willing to wait. I step inside and listen for anything that might tell me where the danger is or where the source of the moan might be.

Nothing.

A few more steps deeper into the living area, I stop and look back at the door. The apartment is in shambles. The lamp is broken, lying in shards of pottery and glass next to the shattered coffee table. The cushions of the sofa are cut, the foam bursting through the slashed fabric like a disemboweled belly. I step backward, and my heel crushes a piece of broken glass. The unexpected sound sends a tingle of fear surging up my spine, and I fight hard not to shiver.

I should really call the police.

Moaning, followed by the saddest-sounding yowl I've ever heard, comes from down the hallway. I take a couple of quick steps and stop; my back pressed against the wall. No sounds come from the rooms on either side, but I decide I'd better check the bathroom first since it’s closest. The door is closed, something I never do when I leave the apartment .

I hesitate to touch the knob, but I shrug it off when I hear another yowl and some scratching coming from the other side. I open the door and step back, but not fast enough.

Something heavy and moving inhumanly fast collides with my head and sends me tumbling backward. I scramble to my feet and put up my hands in self-defense. I turn, searching for where the attack might come from next.

"Chubs?" I say as I realize the black ball of muscle, twitchy energy, and rage before me is none other than the stray kitty I've been trying to get inside the apartment for years. "What are you doing in here?"

That’s when I notice it—blood caked Chubs’ fur and all four paws. I bend down and kneel, coaxing the agitated feline toward me. "Come on, buddy. It’s me. I won’t hurt you."

A few seconds pass and I can see the indecision in the cat's eyes as his tail flicks from side to side. Something horrendous had taken place here, judging by the sheer amount of blood. "Are you hurt, Chubs?"

Apparently making up his mind to comply with my begging, he strolls over to me. A soft purr and a few more swishes of his tail later, he begins rubbing his face against my knees. I take the opportunity to check the cat over from head to tail for injuries, but despite the blood, he appears perfectly in order.

Chubs sits down in front of me as if to say: look at my front paws. I pick one up to inspect the pads. The large talons on the cat are still partially visible, extending past the fur. At first, I let out a sigh of relief when I realize Chubs is unharmed, but then I notice a couple of shreds of fabric under the front claws. Careful not to startle the cat who’d never liked being inside in the first place, I soothingly speak with him as I get up to get a few plastic zip-sealed bags from the kitchen. When I return, I pluck the textile shreds from the claws and put them into the bag. I then use a damp cloth to clean Chubs’ paws, front legs, and mouth—the rag now completely red with blood. I place that into the bag for analysis as well.

I go to the front door and close it. I don't want Chubs getting out in case the police need to further process him for evidence. Surprisingly, he doesn’t seem to mind and settles down in the kitchen where I give him some food and water. It's clear to me that whoever had been inside my apartment had met with the sharp end of Chubs, who’d come by for his evening treats.

Visually, the apartment had been ransacked, and that could have drawn Chubs there as well, but once inside the apartment, the cat attacked. There was blood everywhere, even Chubs’ back claws had been used as weapons.

I place a call to Bretton, give him the address, and then say, “If you want to involve the police, I’ll leave it up to you.” He does, and as expected, he arrives before them. I hold Chubs so that no one else gets hurt and even help the crime scene fellas when they swab him from head to toe. The already impossibly long evening drags on and on. I sit down on the sofa, petting Chubs over and over again, soaking in his purrs as if they have healing powers.

Bretton comes and sits next to me. “Are you okay?”

“I’m unharmed, if that’s what you mean?”

He furrows his brow. “We’re friends, Max. I care what happens to you.”

“I know,” I say. “I’m sorry. It’s been one hell of a night.”

Bretton puts a reassuring hand on my knee and squeezes it. A silence settles between us, but only for a moment before he taps my knee with his knuckles before he goes to stand, but I stop him.

“Do you have any new leads on where Viktor might be? I have a feeling when you run the D.N.A. on these samples… it’s going to be him.”

Bretton shakes his head. “I’d be surprised if we get a hit. ”

“Why’s that?”

“Viktor is too smart, cunning. There’s no way he would have been taken down by an attack cat.” Bretton gestures toward Chubs who sits on my lap.

“Maybe you’re right,” I have to admit. “If I were you, I’d have all the hospitals and clinics on alert for someone coming in for injuries. The amount of blood in here is incredible.”

“Agent Wolf,” a uniform cop says as he steps into the apartment. “We’ve found a body.”

“Stay here,” Bretton says to me. “I don’t need you contaminating anything.” He hurries out of the apartment and disappears.

I have no intention of following. I'm exhausted and content to sit on my ass and love on my cat. My hero cat, to be more specific. Lost to time, I zone out for however long, until Bretton comes back.

“Max,” he says. “The body isn’t Viktor’s, but you and I both suspected as much.”

I nod.

“Although, it looks like Viktor claimed another victim; one of his followers from the cult.”

I sit straight up on the sofa. “He killed one of his own guys. Are you sure?”

Bretton pulls out his cell phone and shows me a picture of the body. Carved on the man’s forehead was an ankh. His throat had also been slit, clear to the vertebrae “The anger and savagery that it takes to slice a neck up like this with one stroke…” His voice trails off.

“He’s escalating and preparing for me,” I say. “Isn’t he?”

Bretton nods but offers no words of encouragement. What was there to say? It is what it is, I think. But I’ll be damned if I’m going to let him take me out like that.

My chest feels heavy, and I sit back into the sofa, wanting to fight, but struggling to even stay awake .

“I don’t want to live like this anymore,” I say. “I can’t look over my shoulder in sheer terror every time I hear a noise.”

Bretton puts his hand on my knee and squeezes it. “I’ll give you tonight to deal with your feelings, but don’t make me come over here and beat your ass.”

I smile. “Some friend you are.”

“If I wasn’t your friend, I wouldn’t give a shit and I wouldn’t have rushed over here to make sure you were okay before the cops got here.” He meets my eyes. “We are going to get this sonofabitch. Trust me on that.”

I nod and fight back the rising tears. Bretton’s certainty gives me the hope I need to push through. “Thank you,” I say.

“Sure thing,” he slaps his leg and stands. “Are you going to be okay tonight? Do you have a place to stay? You can stay at my place, but you’d have to stay on the couch. I don’t have an extra bed.”

“For sure, I’ll be fine,” I say. “I’ve also got a few people I can stay with if need be.” I look around the apartment. “I’d better figure it out soon… there’s no way in hell I’m staying here until the locks get fixed.”

“Good idea,” he says as he walks to the door. “Be safe.”

“Definitely.”

“Promise me something.”

“Anything,” I say.

“Don’t give up hope.”

I nod and wave as he walks out of the apartment. I look down at Chubs who is content in my arms. “You’re coming with me. Your auntie London will be super excited to see you.”

Chubs moans and swishes his tail. “I know I’m full of shit,” I say and laugh.

I grab the few things I would need for the next couple of days and shove them into a duffle bag and hurry out the door. It’s getting super late, and I don’t want to wake Nana when I ring the doorbell.

It doesn’t take long to reach London’s house, but the lights are already off. I look down at Chubs in the seat next to me. “I don’t have a lot of options, buddy.” I grab him up in my arms and hurry to the front door and ring the bell.

I wait a few minutes until the porch light flicks on above me.

“Max, what are you doing here?” London asks, rubbing sleep from her eyes. “What time is it?”

“It’s past midnight. I’m sorry to wake you.” It isn’t until that moment when I realize just how tired I really am. My shoulders sag and my head hangs low.

“Honey, you okay?” she asks, stepping down onto the porch next to me.

I shake my head. “My apartment got broken into again tonight.”

“What the hell? You’re not hurt, are you?” She reaches for me to look for injuries.

“I’m fine. I wasn’t home at the time.”

“Oh, thank goodness.”

I nod. “Only thing is, I can’t go home because the police are still processing it, and I can’t lock the front door.”

“Get your young butt in here and stay the night with me and Nana,” she says.

I shrug. “I thought about it, but it feels like death and pain are following me everywhere I go. I can’t risk it again. Not with you and Nana.”

London’s eyes search mine in silence before she looks away. She knows I’m right and isn’t going to fight me on it. A part of me wishes she would, but that’s the selfish part of me, the lonely, damaged part.

“You know what?” I say. “I should have called first. I’m really sorry for bothering you tonight. ”

“No, Max. It isn’t that. I…” she pauses. “I’m scared.”

I can’t blame her. After what she and Nana went through the last time I was here, I wouldn’t have been surprised if she’d wanted nothing to do with me again. Logic doesn’t make it hurt any less, though.

“I understand.”

“No, I don’t think you do. If it was up to me… or about me,” she says, grabbing my arm, “I would let you live with me forever. But…”

“But… Nana?”

London nods. “She wasn’t hurt physically, but she’s only now starting to act like her old self. The first two nights she cried in her sleep, Max. Cried.”

It’s like a sucker punch to the gut. “I’m so sorry, London.”

“Who’s at the door,” Nana asks as she appears in the doorway. “Is that you, Max?”

“Yes, Ma’am. It’s good to see you back up on your feet.”

“It takes more than some dumbass knuckleheads to take me out.” She laughs, putting up her fists. “I may be an old lady, but I’ll still knock ‘em in the teeth.”

“That’s right, Nana,” London says with a smile.

“What are you doing here, Max? Is everything okay?” Nana asks.

I search London’s expression for permission to tell the truth. I don’t find it.

“It’s Chubs here,” I say. “I need to find a temporary home for him to keep him safe. I was hoping you wouldn’t mind another housemate… just a few days?”

London rolls her eyes. “That cat’s a demon.”

“Nonsense,” Nana says as she steps outside. She reaches for him with the comfort of a longtime cat owner. “Look at that sweet face.”

Chubs snuggles right into the nape of her neck. London cocks her head and says, “Okay, then. ”

“I’d be happy to take care of him for as long as you need me to.” Nana turns right around and goes inside.

“Thank you so much,” I say. “Here is the bag of food I feed him.” I pull it out of the duffle bag and hand it to London.

“Remember what kind that is, London,” she says from inside the doorway. “I’m sending you to the store in the morning to get him another bag and some treats.”

“Me?” London looks surprised.

“Sure, who else is going to do it? Isn’t that right, Mr. Chubs? Tell your papa goodnight.”

“Be good for Nana,” I say as she disappears inside with the cat.

London shakes her head. “That woman is crazy.”

We both laugh.

“Thank you,” I say. “That cat tore up the intruder… there was blood everywhere. You have a good guard-kitty on your hands.”

“Impressive,” she says. “Nana sure seems to love him already.”

“I’m sorry for everything, bestie. I never meant to cause you or her any pain.”

“Shush,” she says. “No more of that. You’re my best friend. I’m just feeling a bit weird about having you at the house until they capture The Butcher. It’s me who should be sorry.”

I give her a hug. “Love you, bestie.”

“Love you too… now, where are you going to stay tonight?”

“I’m going to call Dr. Ben and see if he’ll let me crash for the night.” I don’t bother to tell her about our last encounter and subsequently not hearing from him. No sense in worrying her further. But I think I can use this situation to break the ice between us. If push comes to shove, I can always rethink my decision.

“No,” she says. “On second thought… stay here. Please? I’m fine… really.”

“It’s okay.” I half hope that this will give me a reason to spend the night at Ben’s house and make things right between us. “Next time?”

“Get you some Dr. Dimples.”

“You know it,” I say as I walk to my car.

After getting in, I wait for London to go back inside and turn off the porch light before I send Ben a text asking if we can talk. The message goes through, but there isn’t a response.

Lucky for me, there is a small motel around the corner from work. As long as there is a vacancy, I’ll be safe tonight.