Page 22 of Rekindle My Heart

“I’m betting they are stoned out of their minds and think if they stay quiet for a minute we will go away.”

“Will we?”

Ryan shrugged. “Maybe.”

The curtain moved again.

Erica turned to Ryan, winked, then raised her voice and said, “I guess they aren’t home. Mrs. White will have to file a police report.”

“Yeah, catnapping is a crime. I was hoping to settle this without filing charges.” Ryan ran a hand over his face. He looked frustrated to the casual observer. But he couldn’t hide his smirk from her.

A giggle caught in her throat. Damn laughter—it was contagious.

The flip of the latch sobered her. The door opened a foot. An orange-and-white cat was held out at arm’s length. “I didn’t steal no cat. I can’t help it the thing likes Jack Links. I tried to take it back. The damn thing just keeps coming over.”

Erica blinked. She reached for the cat, but Ryan stopped her.

“I have a few questions,” Ryan said.

The arm jiggled the cat like it was baiting a bear. “Here, take it. I swear, I didn’t steal it.”

Ryan held up the photo. “Do you know this vehicle?”

A dark face with ink poked out. “That’s one of Sal’s customers. Don’t know him, only seen the car.”

“Sal?”

“Fuck.” As if just realizing what he’d said, he threw the cat out the door and slammed it.

Erica saw a flash of movement around the side of the house. She pointed. “Ryan.”

“Shit. He’s a runner. Go to the car and stay there.” He took off around the side of the house.

Erica scooped up the cat, stroked his soft fur, and looked in its bright, glazed eyes. “Hey, there, Annabeth. Oh, poor baby, you look like you have a contact high. Let’s take you home.” She crossed to Mrs. White’s house. Erica had one foot on the step and the door flew open.

“Annie. My poor baby.” She cradled the feline against her ample chest.

“Ma’am, I don’t suppose you’d be able to describe the driver of that SUV?”

She looked at Erica over her glasses. “Honey, I had my cataracts done last year. I can see a fly land on my azaleas along the front walk.”

“Man. Caucasian. Dark hair. Glasses.” She shifted the cat higher in her arms.

Erica pulled out her phone. She frantically two-finger typed, trying to keep up with Mrs. White.

Not bad for being on the topside of eighty and from eighty-yards away but… “Is there anything else you can remember? Age?”

“I’d say he was close to my granddaughter’s age. Thirties.”

Ryan appeared around the side of the house, his hand pressed to his side. The other pulled the gangly twenty-something man from next door—shirtless, shoeless, in ripped jeans. He nudged the man, prodding him to keep moving. “I might have let the drugs slide, but you made me run.”

Erica thanked Mrs. White, then turned to Ryan. “Want me to call for a squad?”

“No, let’s go. I want to ask him some questions at the station. I can have one of the patrol officers drop you at home.”

“Listen. I didn’t do nothin’.” The guy craned his neck to look back at Daniels.

“I gave you your chance to talk, and you ran. Time to go downtown.” Ryan steered him toward the vehicle.