At least she’s purring a lot and I’m taking that as an indication.
“You’re going to need a name,” I murmur, scratching her behind the ears because she seems to like that.
When Maggie shuts off the car, I carefully get up from the bed. The cat doesn’t seem amused. I carefully and stealthily—well as stealthily as you can when a fluffy cat with a huge tail tries to wrap itself around your ankles—make my way to the bathroom. The problem comes at the door when FiFi McFluffy wants to come inside. She’ll meow and have Maggie coming into the bathroom before Ida Sue can do her part. I can’t have that happening.
When I finally get the bathroom door closed, the cat screeches loudly, and I can hear scratching against the door. I ignore that and finally, I hear the most mournful sound I’ve ever heard in my life. The damn cat sounds like it had a litter of kittens and they’ve all been killed in front of her. I don’t know what to do with that, so I do nothing.
I figure the bright side is that if Maggie hears the horrible noises coming from Fifi—because apparently that’s what I’ve named her—then, she’ll come and investigate and play right into my plans.
With that thought in mind, I stand close to the door, hoping to listen for the perfect time to make my entrance. While I’m at it, I hope that when I do show Maggie I’m here, she’s calm and doesn’t try to kill me.
I figure my odds are a toss-up as to which way it will go.
16
Maggie
“Mom, this place looks deserted,” I murmur as I pull up and shut off my car. “Are you sure you told them you were coming?”
“I might be getting some mileage on me, but my mind still functions just fine, Magnolia. Of course, I’m sure. What kind of fool question is that?”
“The kind you get asked when you beg your daughter to take you off the main road into the middle of nowhere to an old cabin that appears completely empty.”
“It’s not empty. Don’t you hear that caterwauling out there?”
I frown as she opens the door, and the sound assaults my ears. It sounds like a demon from hell. I hurry around the front of the vehicle, trying to get to Mom before she does something stupid like call out to the murderers inside. I latch onto her arm and pull her back with not a minute to spare.
“Don’t go in there! It sounds like someone is getting murderized in there!” I hiss.
“Murderized? Is that the kind of words they teach kids at your school, Magnolia?”
“It’s like pulverized, only along with the beatdown, there’s torture and murder weapons involved so that in the end, you aren’t breathing,” I mutter. “We need to get out of here. I saw a documentary the other night where places like this are where drug cartels drag their mules and then cut the drugs and diamonds out of their bodies—while they’re still alive!” I’m talking in a bare whisper so quickly that I can’t catch my breath, but when something inside the cabin lets out a huge screech, I let out a squeal. “Okay we’re leaving.”
“I don’t want to leave. I want to look at that cabinet. It’s perfect, and I need it in my kitchen,” she insists stubbornly.
“Mom,” I breathe out, wondering if I could manage to pick her up and carry her to the car—quickly deciding there’s no way. “Didn’t you hear that last squeal? That was probably Dirk the Assassin taking a knife to Joe the Snitch’s knee. We have to get out of here. They don’t leave witnesses at this kind of thing.”
“Good God, Magnolia. That sound was clearly an animal and it’s either in heat or mourning. Dear, your imagination is running away with you. Clearly, you need to find more constructive use of your time than watching those true crime documentaries.”
“What I need is for you to get in my car and that way I can take us away from here before we’re discovered!”
“Discovered? Who’s going to discover us? I’m telling you that’s an animal crying out like that. It’s probably a raccoon or, heck, even a rabbit. They’re probably in there getting lucky. Animals make crazy sounds when they’re mating.”
“I’ve never heard a rabbit make any noise like that while mating, Mom.”
“Mag—”
“And Terry had pet rabbits. They bopped all day long. Not once did Dr. Pepper let out a blood curdling sound like the one we just heard,” I reason and it’s true. Terry had two rabbits, Dr. Pepper and Dinosaur, which obviously, he named by himself. They’d go at it all day long like… Well, they went at it like rabbits. They did it quietly!
I push my hand through my hair, my gaze fixed on the door, trying to figure out how to make my mother see reason. Since she never has, I come to the sad realization that I don’t have a snowball’s chance in hell.