“Me, too,” she murmured to the cat in a soothing voice. “Come on, I won’t hurt you.”
It released a shaky little meow. Carlotta sprawled on her stomach and inched her way under the bed. “Come on, kitty. It’s okay.”
The cat stretched out its neck and sniffed her fingers.
“That’s it, you’re safe with me,” Carlotta urged, sliding closer.
Suddenly the cat bared its teeth and swiped at her. The claws found their mark on her hand and Carlotta howled in pain. She jerked up her head and banged it against the bed railings, which made her howl again. She suddenly realized the danger of being in a confined space with an hysterical cat. Worse, when she tried to shimmy back out, she found herself lodged between the floor and the bed.
Damn, being off work so long with a broken arm had added a little padding to her backside. She tried to move, then grunted. And to her front side, as well.
The sound of voices came from downstairs. “Police! Is anyone here?”
“I’m up here!” she called, but her voice was muffled. She frantically tried to make her way back out from under the bed and managed to retreat a few inches by the time footsteps approached.
“Are you okay?” a male voice called, sounding hollow.
“Yes,” she said cheerfully, wondering what kind of picture she presented. “You can go now, it was a false alarm.”
Carlotta gasped when hands closed around her ankles. She slid out in a whoosh, then flopped over on her back and looked up.
Into Jack’s sardonic face.
“Hi,” she ventured with a little wave.
“Hi.” He gestured to her lime-green tap pants and matching camisole. “I thought you were sleeping in sweatpants and big fuzzy socks.”
“I lied.”
He reached down and helped her to her feet. “You okay?”
“Except for the floor burns.” She winced and touched the lump on her head. “And I konked myself pretty good on the bed railing.”
He retrieved her robe from a chair and handed it to her. “Were you hiding from the intruder?”
“Not exactly.”
He pinched the bridge of his nose, as if he was struggling for patience. “Is there another reason you were under the bed?”
A meow sounded and the cat appeared, rubbing against Jack’s pant leg.
“Meet the intruder,” Carlotta said, nodding to the blond Persian. “She must’ve set off the motion detector.”
“There’s a broken wineglass on the kitchen floor.”
“She must’ve knocked it over. I didn’t even know Peter had a cat.”
“Figures, though,” Jack muttered.
“It probably belonged to Angela,” she chided, then crouched down and offered the fluffy feline her hand to sniff. The cat hissed and swiped, drawing blood this time. “Ouch!” Carlotta yelped, pulling back.
“She must prefer males,” Jack offered. Then he stepped back into the hallway and called, “False alarm, guys. Thanks for your help.”
He came back in the room and crossed his arms, looking her up and down. “You gave me quite a scare.”
“Sorry. I guess I overreacted.”
“Don’t worry about it. This is the reason I’m okay with you being here—Ashford’s house is even pussy-proof. Now I can relax.”
She gave him a withering look. The cordless phone rang and she hurried to pick it up. “Hello?”
“Carlotta,” Peter said, his voice high and agitated. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine, Peter. It was a false alarm.”
“The security monitoring system called me at work. I’m on my way home.”
“I’m sorry for the commotion,” she said, “but you don’t have to come home. Jack’s here.”
“Jack?”
“He came with the police who responded to the alarm.”
“Oh. Did you accidentally set it off?”
“No, your cat did.”
“My cat?”
“Yes.” Carlotta rubbed her finger over the angry raised scratches on her hand. “And she’s a little mean.”
“Carly, I don’t have a cat.”
She frowned and her gaze went to the feline twisting happily between Jack’s legs. “Are you sure? She’s fluffy and blond—a Persian, I think, with green eyes.”
He laughed. “I’m positive I don’t have a cat. It must belong to a neighbor and slipped into the house when one of us wasn’t looking.”
“That’s strange,” she murmured.
“I’m just glad you’re okay,” he said. “Are you sure I don’t need to come home?”
“No, everything’s fine. And I have to leave soon. The GBI wants to talk to me about The Charmed Killer case, so I thought I’d get that over with before going to work.”
“Well, I have to admit that I’m glad the GBI is taking over the investigation. Jack and his people don’t seem to be making much headway.”
She lifted her gaze to Jack and he frowned, as if he sensed Peter was talking about him. “I should get going,” she said. “Thanks for checking on me, Peter.”
“I left you the Porsche,” Peter said, sounding…husbandly.
“That’s very generous. I’ll see you later?”
“Can’t wait. Have a good day.”
“You, too,” she murmured, conscious that Jack was listening. She punched a button to end the phone call, then shrugged. “Peter says it’s not his cat. It must belong to a neighbor and got into the house somehow.”
Jack made a noise in his throat. “I’ll check the doors and windows and search the house just to be sure no one else came in.”
She nodded, thinking of Michael.
“Want me to put the cat outside?”
“I suppose so. Her owner is probably looking for her. Or maybe she’ll find her way back home.”
Jack scooped up the cat, who purred and rubbed its head on his lapel. “I’ll look around and wait for you downstairs. Do you need a ride to the station for the interview we discussed?”
She pressed her lips together. “Uh, no. I have transportation.”
“Did you get the Miata fixed?”
“No.”
“A new car?”
“Uh, no. Peter loaned me one of his.”
Jack’s eyebrows went up.
She squirmed. “It’s practical, at least while I’m staying here.”
“I have to hand it to Ashford. He’s giving you a taste of the good life.”
Carlotta lifted her chin. “What’s wrong with that?”
“Not a thing,” Jack said lightly. “Maybe I underestimated him.”
“Peter is accustomed to getting what he wants, and he doesn’t have to throw muscle