She watched Juana, wearing cotton gloves, open each closet. They found just the usual household contents, some cupboards cluttered, some neatly arranged. At last they left the Watermans’, moving on to the Becker house, where Juana had found much of the furniture missing, indentations on the carpet where little tables had stood, empty picture hooks on the walls, bare places on the hardwood describing the absence of Frances’s small imported rugs.

The house was cold, too, from a draft through the open window just beside the front door. “He didn’t get in this way,” Juana said. “He may have forced the window and reached through, not knowing it was a double bolt with no key in the lock.”

No, Charlie thought. No burglar could have entered. But a cat could.

“You want to record what’s missing?” Juana asked. Charlie nodded, Juana produced a small tape recorder, and Charlie followed her through the rooms inventorying as best she could remember every missing rug, carved table, painting, and piece of porcelain. They had circled the living room, the dining room, and the kitchen, had returned to the front hall and were headed for the main-level bedrooms when a yowl brought them up short. Charlie spun around. Davis reached to open the closet door, which shook with thuds. Joe yowled again, louder, and Dulcie and Kit mewled frantically.

Juana pulled the door open and the cats were all over Charlie. Joe Grey hit her shoulder, clinging with demanding claws. Dulcie and Kit climbed up her jacket, mewling and lashing their tails with indignation that they’d been locked in. But even as Charlie hugged and cuddled them, Kit leaped free again, streaked out through the open window and the wrought-iron grille and disappeared into the night. Dulcie tensed to race after her, but Joe laid his ears back. His look said, Let her go.

Dulcie scowled at him as if thinking Kit could use some help, and before he could stop her she, too, was gone. Joe and Charlie stared at each other, the tomcat’s yellow eyes burning with annoyance. Davis looked on in silence. Neither Charlie nor Joe dared wonder what she was thinking. After a moment, she said, “What about the closet?” The shelves were nearly bare.

“It was full,” Charlie said. “He cleaned it out. Everything was wrapped, I can’t itemize those pieces. I think they’d be similar to what we listed.”

Carrying Joe, Charlie returned to her Blazer. Ryan and Clyde were parked behind it, Rock asleep in the backseat. As Charlie approached the convertible, Rock woke and lunged up to nose with delight at the tomcat, slobbering in his face, making Joe grimace.

One squad car had left, and Davis was still in the Becker house. Watching carefully to make sure they were alone, they sat in the roadster listening to Joe’s whispered and condensed version of the night’s adventure.

“He could have killed you,” Clyde said. “Could have killed all three of you.”

“Four,” Joe said, reminding them of Tansy’s part in the action.

“And the burglar?” Charlie asked. “Did you get a better look at him?”

“Not a good look,” Joe said. “But I’d know that smell, the same as around the swimming pool.” He tried to describe the scent, which seemed to him a cross between catmint and maybe mouthwash. “How did he get openers to all four garages and the door keys? And what made you come looking in the middle of the night?”

“So strange,” Ryan said. “All at once we got worried about you three. Rock was pacing and fussing, and then Wilma called. We all felt that something was amiss.” She frowned, her green eyes puzzled.

Joe Grey shrugged. He didn’t think it strange that a few perceptive humans could sense when their friends were in danger, he was surprised it didn’t happen more often. He was about to express his opinion when, seeing two officers approaching, he curled up in Ryan’s lap and closed his eyes.

29

KIT RAN UP through the hills shying at every sound, dodging every changing shadow as the moon came and went, the land pale one moment and inky the next-and empty. Nothing moved. She could see nothing crouched, waiting. Where was Tansy? Had she headed home by herself, so small and alone? She could almost hear the smaller cat crying out to her. She didn’t understand their strange connection, she only knew it was like the bond between sisters.

She couldn’t remember her own sisters, she didn’t know if she’d ever had sisters or brothers. What would that be like, to grow up in a real family, with siblings to play with and squabble with, all of them connected by a bond that was like no other?

Racing through a black valley, her heart pounding, she bolted up the side of a hill as the moon showed itself. She could hear the coyotes, off to the south near the Harper ranch. When she reached the crest, almost winded, there was Tansy high above her, poised atop the next hill, the pale little cat rearing up to look. Another cat lay beside her, just as pale, but very still.

Sage. It was Sage. He didn’t rise or move. Flying up the hill to them, Kit was cold with fear. Oh, what was wrong? Sage was like her own brother. Once, she’d thought he would be more than a friend, that he would be her mate. Now he lay unmoving, his head resting against Tansy’s paws.

She slowed and padded silently up to them; she couldn’t stop shivering. Sage moved a little, then, and opened his eyes to look up at her.

Tansy mewed, “That man…He threw a hammer at Sage, he hurt him bad.”

Kit crouched next to Tansy, her nose to Sage’s nose, feeling his quick, shallow breathing.

“I found him just above that house where they’re digging, I wanted to go for help but he’s so…He insisted on going home but then he hurt more and was weaker, and I don’t know what to do.”

Kit touched Sage’s shoulder gently with a careful paw. When she stroked his side he jerked away, catching his breath. She didn’t touch him again. She thought of Dr. Firetti and the animal hospital but Sage hated that place, even though John Firetti had saved his life. And the hospital stood so far across the hills, clear at the other side of the village, too far for Sage ever to walk there. How could this have happened, after all the pain he’d already suffered, the broken and crushed bones, his long recovery in a cast, his long time among humans as he tried not to fear the human world? How could this be fair?

But life wasn’t fair, and that made her all the more angry. “I’m going for help. The road is just down there, Lucinda and Pedric can drive that far, and we-”

“No,” Sage said. “I don’t want humans, I don’t want a doctor, I don’t want to be inside a building.” He tried to scramble up, then lay back. “I can walk, I just need to rest awhile.”

Kit imagined broken ribs, bones puncturing vital organs if he moved, internal bleeding, all the terrifying things she had learned about in the human world and wished she hadn’t. She was reaching to touch his back leg, to see if the old, healed injury had been damaged, when a rustle in the grass made her spin around.

Dulcie stood there. She looked at Tansy, looked at Sage’s still form, and then crouched over Sage as Kit had done. When she felt him as Kit had, he flattened his ears and gritted his teeth but didn’t flinch. “Can you get up?” she asked softly.

“In a little while.” He lay quietly looking at them as Tansy snuggled beside him, her face next to his, shivering against his stillness. Around them the hills were silent, even the yipping of the coyotes had ceased. Above them the moon went in and out of the clouds, throwing running shadows across the frightened cats, and Kit licked tears from her nose.

But at last Sage stirred, and rose, leaning against Tansy. “I want to go home. I want the clowder, I want my own cave.” Limping, he started away up the hills. Slowly the three females walked with him, supporting him as they made their way toward the fallen mansion that was home, his and Tansy’s home.