When I got home I ran through my gamut of turning on every light in the house and making sure I was safe. No one was there. Apparently, I was only unsafe stranded on the side of a busy street downtown with a flat tire.
I was just about to fix myself a drink when I noticed that Chester was missing. He always came to the door to greet me. Where could he be? I really hoped he hadn’t gotten himself caught in the dryer vent again.
“Chester…” I called. “Come here, sweetie. Momma’s home.”
I went into the laundry room, double checked the dryer vent, and the washer and dryer. Nothing. I went from room to room searching under the beds and inside of the closets, but found nothing. Where was that stupid cat?
I began to worry that he might have gotten outside somehow. He’d done it before and came back all scratched up from some stupid cat fight. He was a small cat; I had no idea what made him think he was king of the jungle.
I went out the back door and scanned the yard for him. Sometimes he was tough to see because of his dark brown coloring. From afar he could look exactly the same as a rusty old car bumper sitting on the ground. And at times he was just as active. Still, I loved that old cat. We’d been through a lot together. I’d go nuts if anything ever happened to the little guy.
“Meow…”
I heard the noise coming from straight ahead. It was soft, almost a whisper of a sound, but I’d heard it distinctly in the windy day. A dark cloud was approaching from the south. San Diego didn’t get much rain, so I was certain it would pass, but if we did have a bit of a cloudburst I was sure that Chester didn’t want to be out in it. Most cats hate water, but Chester screamed bloody murder if I even tried to give him a bath.
“Meow…”
I heard it again, louder this time.
It was coming from the backyard storage shed. I’d gotten lucky that this house had its own shed in the backyard. Those things were expensive, and it was proving to be a trusty place to store the lawnmower, weed eater, and gasoline for those machines. Plus, it looked darned adorable.
I quickly jogged to the shed and opened the door. There, sitting on top of a small work bench in a little cage that I did not recognize, was Chester. He looked scared and miserable, his little body outstretched against the sides, his voice tired from screaming for help.
I ran to the cage and opened it. Chester leapt out into my arms and I snuggled him closely to my chest.
“Baby, are you alright? How in the world did you get in there?”
Chester meowed a few times in response.
It was then that I saw the note taped to the top of the cage. I picked it up and ripped it off the cage so that I could hold it up to the light shining through the door.
“You should get better locks.”
It was signed “S”.
Scarlucci. His goons had been here.
Chester was inside the house when I left. I’d made sure of it. That meant they’d broken into my house, got the cat, and left him out here in the shed. They were toying with me, proving that they could get me anytime they wished. I already knew this, but having it pointed out to you in such a manner was frightening on a whole other level.
I held Chester tightly as I began to cry. I’d never been more frightened. I was losing my mind with terror. I couldn’t sleep. I was having trouble eating. I was exhausted and fatigued all the time. I was scared of every noise, every shadow, and every person I came into contact with. And now this—it was all too much.
“It’s ok, baby,” I said to Chester as I stroked his forehead soothingly.
I dropped the note and left the shed, closing the door behind me.
Once inside the house, I checked every window and door for signs of forced entry, but found nothing wrong. They were like ghosts.
I fixed myself a drink and sat down in my recliner. It was time to make a decision. This was getting too close. They were serious; I was living on borrowed time. Hell, they might have killed me at any time. Right now, they were having fun with me. But soon, that would turn into bitter hatred and frustration.
And when that happened, it would be all over.
I had no choice now.
I had to sell the school.
CHAPTER 7
Mason
“So, how was everything today, champ?” I asked Toby, hoisting him up into my arms.
I’d just arrived to pick him up from preschool. Traffic had been terrible and I was afraid I was going to be late. It had been a bit of an aggravating day where nothing ever seemed to go right. It was the type of day that starts with stubbing your toe and ends with a splitting headache.