‘Great. Thanks. Have a lovely night.’
‘I will. You too, when you finally get to Carter. And happy birthday, lovely.’
Prita accepted her kiss and hug, then waved her off and turned back to prepping the room. She stopped to sweep her thick hair into a ponytail—she always felt more in control when she had her ponytail in place—and had just picked up a tray of bandages to place on the trolley when a scream sounded from the waiting room.
The tray of bandages hit the floor with a loud clang as she ran out of the room to the reception area. ‘What? What is it?’
Cherry turned, her face white, eyes blazing as she pointed at the reception desk.
On the desk was a bloody mess of carcass and guts of some kind of blackbird, its head missing.
Oh god. Not this again!
Chapter 6
The scream rang through the air as Flynn hopped out of the car. Turning to his white-faced son, he said, ‘Stay here,’ and then raced towards Prita’s practice.
The door banged open with the force of his push. The bell above the door, torn from its footing, went flying across the room to crash-jangle against the opposite wall. Prita and Cherry stood in the middle of the room, staring at the reception desk, Prita’s arm around Cherry’s shaking shoulders.
‘What is it? What’s happened? Are you okay?’
He wanted to go to Prita, to touch her, make sure she was safe, but after their disastrous kisses and the way he’d lost control of himself, he’d been keeping his distance. She was a friend. Could only be a friend. It’s what he wanted. It’s what she wanted. Why was it so difficult to remember that?
Because, that kiss had blown all rational thought away. Nothing had been right since that stupid kiss.
Prita turned, her eyes looking past him with a cool detachment that cut to the bone. She didn’t even smile at him. He missed her smile, those deep dimples that wedged into her cheeks, the way her skin glowed with the light of laughter that always seemed to bubble just beneath the surface, even when she was tending to a patient. It was what made her so good at what she did. She had a knack for making people feel better just by being there, just by looking at them. Except for him, right now. He shifted uncomfortably. ‘Who screamed? What happened?’
Prita didn’t answer, just looked past him, frowning. ‘Where’s Aaron?’
Of course she’d notice Aaron was missing. ‘I left him in the car when I heard you scream.’
‘We should go get him.’ She made to edge past him and out the front door.
Which was when he saw the mess on the desk. ‘What is that? Is that what made you scream?’
‘I didn’t scream,’ Prita said, her expression affronted in a way that made him want to stroke the aggravation from her slowly, surely, with the calm determination he was known for. What the hell was he thinking? He took a step back.
Prita tsked at him. ‘It’s just a dead bird.’
‘A dead bird someone left on your desk.’ Hands clenching at his side, he squared his jaw, holding tight to his anger as he stepped forward to get a better view. Christ. It had been pulled apart. A threat. That’s what this was. An escalation. Someone didn’t start with this. Jabbing his finger at the mess on the desk, he said, ‘How long has this been going on? Is Bob threatening you again?’
‘What? No.’ There was something in her voice he didn’t quite believe.
He walked past her, careful not to touch her, to get a closer look. ‘Was there a note? Did they say why they left that here? Have you called the police?’
‘Police.’ Prita snorted. ‘They won’t be any help unless they catch cat burglars.’
‘What?’
‘It’s that bloody cat!’ Cherry said, hands clenched at her sides—he suddenly realised she wasn’t shaking from fear, but from fury. ‘I swear I’m going to string it up next time it cat-burgles its way in here.’
‘Machiavelli is just showing you he likes you by bringing you a present, Cherry.’
‘A present! I suppose the shit he left in my shoe was a love drop.’
Prita giggled.
‘Machiavelli,’ Flynn said, almost choking on the name. ‘You called a cat Machiavelli?’
‘What’s wrong with Machiavelli?’
‘It’s … not a name most people would give a cat.’
‘Who are you to talk, naming all your animals after movie and TV show characters?’
She had him there. ‘But how did you come up with Machiavelli?’
‘Well, Cherry said that cat was like the devil and I said I thought he was more Machiavellian than devilish and Carter asked what that name meant, so we looked him up and he thought it was the perfect name for him, especially given the antics he gets up to around here.’
‘Antics?’ Cherry snorted. ‘We should have called him Satan.’
‘Aw, come on, Cherry. He’s simply showing us his affection by leaving us some food.’
‘That—’ she pointed to the desk, revulsion on her face, ‘—is his disdain for me, not affection. He’s not leaving dead mice and birds on your desk, I note. Or tripping you up every time you move. Or shitting in your shoes.’
‘I bought you a new pair. Don’t you like them?’
Cherry looked down at her shiny shoes, a smile twitching at the edges of her mouth. ‘They’re lovely. That’s not the point.’
‘I know. The point is, I have to make more of an effort not to let Maccy into the office.’ Prita patted her shoulder, smiling softly, the dimples lightly
