Leann Sweeney полностью

“I call it finding justice—for those cats and their owners. They were victims, too.” And, I thought, if I follow the cats while you’re following the money, one of us might find a killer.

He looked down and shook his head. “You and Shawn. What a pair.”

Minutes later, I left the court building and headed straight for Shawn and Allison’s Sanctuary. While I drove, I thought about a police officer’s job and the need to priori tize. I got that. But I’d prioritized, too, and those cats were at the top of my list. I knew that Shawn’s fingerprints were found somewhere at the scene—somewhere they shouldn’t have been. Baca would never tell me about that, nor would Candace, but if I could make amends with Shawn—which I so wanted to do no matter what—maybe he’d tell me.

I made my way up the dirt driveway to the Sanctuary, the strangling kudzu vines on either side of me a healthy green and gripping onto trees and shrubs as if we hadn’t had a cold snap at all. No, that stuff would seize and control every plant until a hard freeze. I could only hope Shawn wouldn’t hang on to his anger that tightly.

This time Shawn rather than Allison came out to meet me. His stiff posture and unsmiling face indicated he was still very unhappy with me. I drew a deep breath and left the van.

“I sure hope you’ll talk to me, Shawn. I know you didn’t kill anyone. I know you could never do that.”

“You threw me under the bus.” His freckled fists were on his hips, his legs spread as if to stop me from going any farther.

“It wasn’t like that,” I said. “Should I have omitted that you had an argument with Mr. Wilkerson when they questioned me?”

“You told them that to save your own ass.”

“Shawn. Look at me.” I made the back-and-forth two-finger gesture for “look me straight in the eye.”

He did so, though grudgingly.

I said, “They would have found out anyway. I wasn’t the only person who knew you had a history with the man.”

He hesitated, then said, “You did what you had to do. I get that.”

“No, you don’t. You’re still angry, and that hurts. Please try to understand? I value your friendship—and Allison’s, too. And the work you do here is so important. I respect you.”

“They locked me up like a criminal on some frickin’ material witness excuse. Do you have any idea what that’s like?”

“It must have been awful,” I said.

“Two hours might as well have been two months. I do have a temper, but I’m an honest, God-fearing man, not a killer.”

I said, “I know that. Can we talk? My interest is the cats, as I’m sure yours is, too. We’re on the same page, Shawn.”

He still seemed uncertain, but when his shoulders slumped and his hands fell to his sides, I knew this silly standoff was over.

He waved and said, “Come on, then.”

Snug, the African grey parrot, greeted me with a “Hey there” when I entered the office, and Allison must have heard us arrive because she came in from the cat area. She looked back and forth between Shawn and me as if to ask, “Is everything okay?”

“We’re good,” Shawn replied to her silent question.

“I am so glad.” She reached out her hands and came over to me. Her hug felt as friendly and warm as the first time we’d met.

We sat around the scarred desk—so unlike Mike Baca’s—the canaries singing and the spider hiding somewhere in his tank, thank goodness. I summarized my two visits with the chief, told Shawn about the flyers and the list of lost or possibly stolen cats and finished up by saying, “He claims they don’t consider Mr. Wilkerson’s cat thievery a solid motive. But you and I know different, don’t we?”

“Damn straight we do,” Shawn said. “He’s never seen the desperation that I’ve witnessed when folks come in here looking for their lost friends. Does the man not realize someone would do murder to get their best buddy back? If not, he doesn’t know squat.”

“He didn’t say it was impossible. He’s just focusing on other things.”

“Like me. Only because I looked in Wilkerson’s windows. That’s why they arrested me. Said there was evidence of trespassing.”

“I heard they found your fingerprints. You’re saying they were on the windows outside?” I said.

“Yeah. After I picked up the tuxedo, I went back to see what other cats Wilkerson might have been hiding away. Didn’t see any, though. I left before Wilkerson spotted me.”

Allison stood abruptly. “I think we could all use some coffee. How’s about it, Shawn?”

“Yeah. Coffee.” But he was looking at me, not her.

She busied herself at an ancient Mr. Coffee machine sitting on a long table near the only window.

“How’d you know about the fingerprints?” he said.

“You understand better than I do that there are no secrets in Mercy. And I got a new lesson in exactly that when I visited Baca today. They did a background check on me. Can you believe that?”

“At least they didn’t arrest you. Anyway, what’s this you said about a list of other people who lost cats?”