Chapter Six

Raw nerves remained with me as I rooted around in a kitchen cupboard. When I found the bottle of brandy, I didn't waste time filling a glass. I drank straight from the bottle. A few large swallows came before I allowed myself to sip and enjoy the pleasant taste and warm feeling as it began entering my system.

My nerves were still a bit jumpy when I left the bottle on the counter and headed upstairs, assuring myself a long soak in the tub would bring total calm. While water ran into the tub, I went through three bedrooms, flipping on lights, checking under beds, and inside closets. This is not part of my evening routine. But then, my evenings aren't typically so traumatic.

By the time I slid beneath bubbles, I can honestly say I felt safe. Or safer.

I rolled my head from side to side until I located a comfortable position to rest it in. My eyes closed. I told myself to let go completely. Clear your head of all worrisome thoughts. I was doing it too.

First, my left hand slid down porcelain and sank into the soothing warmth. My right fingers willingly lost their grip and made the plunge as well, instantly sending me into an upright position from the stinging sensation that pricked my wrist.

I took a close look at the flesh wounds the Ferguson dog's spiked teeth had caused. The skin around the miniature puncture wounds was red and swollen, but there were no streaks running up the inside of my arm. Whatever that meant. I vaguely remembered hearing somewhere those streaks under the skin are dangerous. But was it because infection was setting in or blood poisoning? I thought the latter was it. If someone happened to stick you with a lead pencil, watch for the streaks.

It didn't really matter. The way the day had gone, the little beast probably had rabies. I'd have to remember to check with the Fergusons to be sure their little pooch had his shots. It probably wouldn't hurt to start carrying a pocketful of dog biscuits on my daily route, either.

Tomorrow would be soon enough to take care of things like that, I decided. It was relaxation time. Certainly not the time and place to give my mind a workout. I didn't want to overload the circuitry and risk a short that would result in frying myself in the bathtub.

I was finally becoming comfortable. My over stretched inner thigh muscles even felt like they were easing back into their proper place. Life was okay again. At least at that very moment it was. My brain waves were slowing down, coming close to shutting down. The tranquility was divine. I was so light, so...

Something squeaked. A door. My eyelids flipped open. Then it was a creak.

Something, someone, was in my house. In my bedroom. My heart was in my throat. My rear froze fast to the tub, while I strained my ears to hear it again. When I didn't, enough time had passed for me to consider who might have invaded the privacy of my home. I called out Mitch's name several times before it occurred to me Mitch couldn't be in my house. The doors were locked. Mitch didn't have a key yet.

My brain was spinning into high gear again. Don't just sit there like sitting duck. Get yourself up and out of there, this voice inside my head ordered. Which is exactly what I was attempting to do when the bathroom door swung open.

I screamed. Kitty's hair shot out like a porcupine as she hissed and sprang back into the bedroom.

Several seconds passed before I lost the death grip on the side of the tub and was able to breathe again. Once my vital signs returned to normal, I quickly dried myself and pulled on a baggy sweatsuit. Then it was time to make amends to the cat.

The one sure way to do this was to open a can of cat food. Nothing, not even the fright I gave her, deterred Kitty from appearing to the sound of the electric can opener.

I assumed my apology was not fully acceptable when Kitty finished eating and refused to join me in the living room. The fire needed wood and a few stabs with the poker before I settled down on the couch. Temptation was high to pick up the telephone and call Joe's place again. But it was getting late. If Joe had returned home, he surely would be in bed. His internal clock was set with the early to bed early to rise alarm. But then, it didn't appear he was having a typical day either.

That being the case, I did call. I left it ring at least a dozen times before I hung up. Worry consumed me all over again. I looked at the grandfather clock in the corner. It was ten o'clock already. Where was Joe? Where was Mitch?

Mitch did say he'd be dropping by later. So where was he? I tapped out Mitch's numbers and got his answering machine. I didn't wait for the beep to leave my message. I didn't have a message.

After getting up and pacing around the room several times, I returned to the kitchen to make a second attempt at getting Kitty to join me in the living room. She refused, of course. Back in the living room, I pushed back a corner of the drape to have a look outside. I faced a wall of fog.

I finally selected a book from one of the two floor-to-ceiling bookshelves and carried it back to the couch with me. Once I convinced myself to concentrate on the meaning of the words I read, I was able to be transported into a world gone by.