Chapter 1
The autumn afternoon sun was warm on Connor Dawson’s arm. He was letting his hand hang out the window to swim through the onrush of air as he drove. The crisp air that swept over his arm and into the truck carried the scent of warm grass, drying leaves, and an earthy hint of loam. It was his first Friday at his new job and despite his coworker’s warnings, he was glad for a chance to drive through one of the town’s last pockets of undeveloped land. He wasn’t going to let Ralph’s superstitious handwringing taint a single second of such a glorious day.
The cobalt sky was depthless in its clarity. High above the tops of the trees, a faraway raptor circled on a thermal column. The suburban skyline and the cacophony of human bustling were blocked by a strip of woods that was about a mile wide on the north side of Rosemary Lane and by four miles of wooded parkland to the south. Rosemary Lane was a gently winding ribbon of unmarked blacktop, just wide enough for two cars to ease around each other. Both sides of the road were bordered by long grass dotted with black-eyed Susans and Queen Anne’s lace that grew right up to the edge of the woods. In the shade of the trees, the grass and flowers petered out into patches of bracken.
The maple trees had dropped a layer of brilliant orange and yellow on the woodland carpet. Blazing red oaks were at the height of their glory, standing out against the golden leaves that clung staunchly to the poplar trees. Here and there, the cool green of a long-needled pine or the dark maroon of a sweet gum tree calmed the exuberance of the autumn palette. Ahead, the trees on the south side of the road gave way to a tall hedge.
As Connor crested a shallow rise, a rust-colored cat shot across the road. He slammed on the breaks and screeched to a stop, leaving a layer of rubber on the blacktop. The cat was nowhere in sight. He was sure he hadn’t hit it, but not sure enough to feel okay about continuing until he had gotten out to make sure. Leaving his engine running, he jumped out and hurried around to the front of the truck to check the bumper and look under the truck. The tightness in his chest eased when he confirmed that there was nothing to see. Carefree laughter floated over the hedge as he walked back along the passenger’s side to make sure there was no casualty in the ditch. Satisfied that the cat had made a clean getaway, he circled the tailgate and climbed back into the truck.
The laughter cut off abruptly when he slammed the door shut. He wasn’t sorry to have interrupted it. He had no reason to think the laughter had anything to do with him, but he was still on edge and irritable from the close call with the cat. Roadway accidents were one of the many reasons people ought to keep their cats indoors, and his head was buzzing with lectures for the cat’s owner. In that frame of mind, he pulled off to the side as far as he could and parked on the grass between the edge of the road and the hedge.
He didn’t hear anything else from the other side of the hedge after he shut off his engine, but as soon as he got out of the truck, the manic scolding of a squirrel drowned out even the sound of his own footsteps. He kept an eye out for the cat as he made his way to a break in the shrubbery a few yards ahead. The hedge grew to at least a foot above eye-level, so his view of the house was blocked until he got to the hard-packed dirt driveway.
He rounded the hedge and came to an abrupt halt. He didn’t see the rust-colored cat, but in fairness, he had stopped looking for it. The woman standing in the yard had his undivided attention. Deep red hair fell nearly to her waist. A lock of it had been caught by the breeze and swirled in the late afternoon sun, flashing glints of copper and ruby against the indigo dress that flowed over her curves and floated freely from her hips. There was an aristocrat restraint in her elegantly arched eyebrows and high cheekbones, but her mouth was pure sin. Connor hadn’t even spoken to her, and he was already imagining the lush curves of her lips against his.
Her amber eyes were shaded by a heavy fringe of lashes. She regarded him steadily without surprise or alarm at his sudden appearance. Her lips started to curve into a smile until she caught sight of his badge. When she saw the badge, she glanced at a very large black cat that Connor had been too preoccupied to notice. She gave a slight nod and the cat trotted up the walk to the faded gray farmhouse-style home nestled between several mature beech trees. The cat looked back at Connor briefly before it walked up the porch steps and entered the house through a cat entrance installed in the front door.
When the cat disappeared into the house, the woman’s attention returned to Connor. He was about to speak when a clear, high note rang out. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw five or six more cats melt into the woods. He hadn’t noticed them until they moved. The rust-colored cat that ran across the road was not among them.
“Did you hear that?” he asked. It wasn’t an auspicious opening line, but it was the first and only thing that came into his head.
“Yes.”
“What was it?”
“A chime.”
Her voice had a smoky-sweetness that made him want to hear more of it. Since she didn’t seem willing to elaborate, he would have to find another way to get her talking.
“I’m Connor Dawson. I’m with the Stanwick Department of Animal Services.”
“What can I do for you, officer?”
He was disappointed that she addressed him so formally, but he supposed that she thought he was there to hassle her about the cats in her yard. The city of Stanwick only allowed three per household.
“Have you seen a reddish cat? Not orange. More like a dark rust color. It ran across the road right in front of my truck. I wanted to see if it had a collar with an address. I’m afraid it’s going to get hit by a car.”
The woman shook her head. “I haven’t seen a cat like that.”
“That was a handsome black cat that was just out here.”
“That was Janus.” The small smile she favored him with was enough to warm the expression on her face.
“He’s very regal, even by cat standards.”
“You mustn’t say that in front of him, or I’ll never hear the end of it!” Despite her protest, she was clearly pleased to hear her cat complimented.
“I’ll be careful, then. I wouldn’t want to cause you any domestic problems by giving your cat a big head.”
She looked amused. “That’s very considerate of you.”
“May I ask your name?”
“I’m Felina Desilva.”
“Oh, you’re—” He cut himself off abruptly.
She smiled. “Yes, the infamous ‘Witch of Rosemary Lane.’ Oh, don’t be embarrassed. I know all about Ralph’s suspicions, and of course, he’s not even the one who came up with that name. People never change, do they? A spinster in the company of a black cat must always be a witch.”
‘Spinster’ was not a term that Connor would ever have associated with Felina Desilva, but the news that she was single was not unwelcome.
“I didn’t realize Ralph knew you.”
“He doesn’t. Not really, anyway. He met me once and left rather abruptly. I think he might have been afraid I was going to turn him into a toad on the spot.” She laughed pleasantly, shaking her head. “I wouldn’t do that even if I could. Can you imagine him as a toad?”
Connor grinned. “Well, now I’m trying to."
She laughed again. It wasn’t quite a giggle, but it had a playful quality that was infectious. “I’m afraid Ralph would be too dreary as a toad. I would have to turn him into something more cheerful. A goat, perhaps.”
It was all he could do to keep from laughing along with her. “Miss Desilva, if you don’t stop, I’m going to be picturing Ralph as every animal on Noah’s ark when I see him around the office.”
“Please, call me Felina. May I call you Connor, or do you prefer Officer Dawson?”
“I’d like for you to call me Connor.”
Her smile warmed a bit more. “Then I will.”
He felt his cheeks beginning to ache and realized that he was unconsciously mirroring her smile. If he stayed much longer, he was going to end up making a complete fool of himself. He intended to see her again soon, but he would make a better impression once the stunned feeling from meeting her had worn off. If he needed to, he could always use the red cat that ran across the road as an excuse to come back. Unfortunately, he suspected that the complaint he was about to investigate was going to give him a more legitimate reason.
“I’m glad to have met you, Felina. I’d better be going now. We’ve had a complaint out this way and I need to go take the report. I hope to see you again soon.”
She gave a throaty chuckle. “If you’re going to see Mrs. Pettigrast, it will be very soon.”
Carol Pettigrast opened the door of the brick ranch-style house so quickly after Connor rang the bell that he wondered if she had been standing there waiting for him to arrive. She stepped out onto the porch to speak to him. She had a good figure and was dressed to show it off in jeans that fit like a second skin, hot pink high heels, and a white off-the-shoulder open-knit sweater through which her tan stomach and black bra were very visible.
“Ms. Pettigrast? I’m Connor Dawson from Stanwick Animal Services.”
“It’s Mrs. Pettigrast. I want to make a complaint.”
She looked like she prepared to be dissatisfied with his response, whatever it was. Her lips were compressed into a thin line and her frost-blue eyes bored into him. She flicked glossy pink acrylic nails through her bob in an impatient gesture. He couldn’t tell whether her hair was supposed to be brown with blond highlights or blonde with brown lowlights.
“Yes, ma’am. What seems to be the problem?”
“The same as last time.”
“I’m afraid I just recently started with the Department, so I don’t know what happened last time.”
“Why didn’t they send the guy who was out here the last few times?”
“Leonard retired.”
“He wasn’t old enough to retire.”
Connor shrugged. “I never met him. He was already gone when I transferred in from another department.”
“He ought to have been fired. How hard is it to get rid of a bunch of cats?”
“I don’t know anything about the history of the situation here, but maybe you could tell me a bit about the issue you’d like me to look into.”
“I want you to do more than look into it. I want it fixed.”
“Yes, ma’am. What would you like to have fixed?”
“According to the Stanwick municipal code, only three pets are allowed per household. The crazy cat lady in the house up the road has dozens of cats. She’s one of those hoarders. No doubt she’s breeding them.”
“Which house are you referring to?”
“Felina Desilva’s house. You would have passed it on your way here. It’s the one with the overgrown hedge around it. I want to put the city on notice about the hedge, too. I’m sure it’s a code violation.”
“I wouldn’t know anything about the rules for plants, ma’am. I’m not sure what department handles that, but if you call the main number for city services, they’ll be able to connect you.” He found a business card in his pocket and held it out. “The main number is the one in the bottom-left corner.”
Mrs. Pettigrast didn’t take the card. “I have the main number. You’re a city employee and you’re here now. I don’t see why you can’t take the complaint.”
“It’s just that I wouldn’t know how to help you. I’d like to get a little more information about the cat issue you’re having, though.”
“The city allows three cats. She has dozens. What more do you need to know?”
“Do the cats come onto your property?”
“I’m sure they do.”
“You haven’t seen them?”
She drew herself up and crossed her arms over her chest. “Are you calling me a liar?”
“No, ma’am, of course not. I’m just trying to understand the situation.”
