The Cat, the Wife and the Weapon

to set my security alarm. Too rushed when I’d left earlier today, I guessed. Thanks to Tom, I now had a remote on my key chain for just that purpose, seeing as how I always seem to forget to arm the thing if I am in the least bit of a hurry.

I unlocked the door—at least I’d locked up—but no cats sat waiting in the utility room. They were always there to greet me, but not this time. Hiding from another possible road trip, perhaps?

I tossed the empty coffee cup into the trash can under the utility sink and stepped into the kitchen, surprised the well-caffeinated latte hadn’t made me feel more agitated than I already was. Syrah slinked up from the basement through the open door—a door always left open since my cats get irritated and whine when it’s shut. Maybe that’s where they’d been when I checked earlier. An occasional mouse did sneak into the basement.

But when Syrah sat in the doorway and meowed rather than come to me, I felt a new tingle of adrenaline beneath my skin. My cat was telling me something—but what, I wasn’t sure.

Since Syrah’s hair wasn’t standing on end and his ears weren’t laid back, he obviously didn’t feel threatened. A good sign.

Then I heard heavy footsteps on the stairs and my heart skipped a beat. But when the voice I heard finally answered my most pressing question, I felt the wave of relief I’d been needing.

“Don’t worry, Jillian. It’s just me,” Tom called.

I was so happy to hear his voice I thought my legs would give out.

Chablis raced through the basement door ahead of Tom and into the kitchen, followed immediately by Merlot. The man I’d been so concerned about appeared a second later.

Before I could rush over and throw my arms around him, I froze at the sight of his face. What the heck happened to him? His left cheek was bruised and swollen, he had a cut over his eyebrow and his blue eyes were bloodshot.

“I showered downstairs,” he said. “Didn’t want to mess up your guest bathroom—because I sure would have. You can close your mouth now, by the way.”

I walked over and gently touched his bruised face with the tips of my fingers. “My gosh, what happened?”

“Kind of a long story,” he said. “I could sure use a beer while I tell you.”

“Certainly,” I answered, unable to take my eyes off him. His dark hair was wet and he hadn’t bothered to button his ripped, blood-streaked shirt. “I might even have a beer myself.”

He grinned. “I don’t believe I have ever seen you drink a beer. Do I look that awful, or is something else going on?”

Avoiding the question, I said, “Have you been to your house lately, by any chance?” I turned my back and headed for the fridge, deciding what I had to tell him should wait. All three cats followed me, hoping for something besides a beer. Cheese? Turkey luncheon meat?

“Haven’t been home yet,” he said. “My ride only took me this far.”

“Your ride?” I said. Since his car was missing and Martha saw him leaving town in the Prius, this didn’t fit. But his car hadn’t been in my driveway, either. So I was confused as I opened the fridge door.

I felt Tom’s hand on my shoulder. He leaned close and whispered, “I’ll explain everything. But you didn’t set your security system. You know how that bothers me, Jilly.”

I grabbed a Miller Lite from the fridge door, and held out the can. Looking up to meet his gaze, I felt tears begin to flow. “I was frantic. You didn’t call me and I was sure something was wrong and I—”

He pressed his index finger to my lips. “I’ll tell you everything, but if you don’t mind, there’s something I need first.” He took me in his arms, the icy can of beer the only thing separating us.

His kiss was exactly what we both needed.

Four

Tom’s kiss reassured me that whatever happened to him had nothing to do with the two of us. After I found one of my late husband’s old Texas A&M T-shirts for Tom to replace his torn and bloody shirt, we settled on the couch. He let out a sigh before slugging down probably half his beer. I’d already finished off a much-needed glass of sweet tea while he’d changed shirts. Once we sat down, cats immediately arrived and planted themselves in their usual spots. Syrah sat on the sofa top behind Tom and me, Chablis climbed into my lap and Merlot settled next to my hip.

“I don’t know what to ask first,” I said. “Start with the cuts and bruises, maybe. Or your car. I didn’t see the Prius in the driveway. Where is your car?”

“If I start with the car, it would almost be like telling you the punch line of a joke first. But let me assure you, this was no joke,” he said. “Somebody will be damn sorry once I get home and use every tool in my technology box to get answers to what the heck is going on with those crazy jerks.”

“Crazy jerks?” I said. “What crazy jerks?”

“People I used to know. People I thought I’d never see again.” His jaw muscles tightened and those blue eyes darkened.

People from his past. The past he’d refused to talk about since I’d known him. I said, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this angry.”

“Oh, I am more than angry. But anger is wasted energy. Maybe talking about this with you will straighten everything out in my head and help me get rid of the anger.” He chugged the rest of his beer and set the empty can on the coffee table. He reached over Merlot and took my hand. His fierce grip was cold and wet from the beer and I shivered a little. He went on. “I’ve been pretty good in the past at keeping stuff locked away in a corner of my mind, but there’s a couple of things I should have shared. Problems. It’s time, I guess.”

“Go for it.” I turned a little more on the sofa, tucking a leg underneath me. Merlot squeaked his displeasure but moved to accommodate me. He knew I was stressed and wanted to be as close as possible. Sort of like Tom, I thought.

He smiled briefly. Then his eyes seemed to focus beyond me, as if he were remembering. A few seconds passed before he spoke. “I was married once to a woman named Hilary. You’d think a cop would know a liar right off the bat, but I was stupid in love.”

A small voice in the back of my head was asking, A wife? This is big. Bigger than I imagined. “How many years ago?” I said softly.

“The marriage or the divorce?” He didn’t meet my gaze.

“Either, both. It doesn’t matter.” I squeezed his hand. “If you start talking and keep going, the telling might get easier.”

He met my gaze. “You are nothing like her and that is so good.” He took a deep breath. “Okay, here goes. I met her while I was still on the force in North Carolina. I’d moved around a lot. Been on several different police forces. See, I followed my mother. Felt like I had to protect her from herself. She’d marry every man she’d meet, get tired of the husband of the month and move on after the divorce. Did that five times. The last man was actually decent, though. Helped her get sober, gave her a good life and then he up and died. The only time she didn’t run off, and the guy dies.” Tom shook his head.

“All this happened in North Carolina, then?” I asked.

“Yes.”

“But,” I said, “she’s been with Ed now for a while. They seem to care a lot for each other.” Ed owned Ed’s Swap Shop and was one of the most generous, kindest men I’d ever met. Strange guy, yes, but he had a big heart and was no more strange than Karen.

“I guess I’m not including Ed since he’s part of the here and now,” Tom said. “He’s the reason I ended up in Mercy. Following Mom again. She met Ed when he came to an antique auction in North Carolina, and they had an instant connection. She moved here, bought a house and when I decided I was done with police work, done with Hilary, I came here, too.”

“I have to say, you are a good son, looking out for your mom for so many years,” I said.

“My mom didn’t always make good choices, but she and I were always close,” he said. “She’s settled in for the long haul with Ed and I am so glad she found another decent man. Guess I’m talking about her past because I