knew he wasn’t a cat person, one likely to be ruled by the kind of sentiment that would drive him out on a night like this for the well-being of a cat.
But behind the man, she suddenly became aware of an old woman in a ghastly pink outfit. As Nora watched, the woman gave a grunt of exertion and freed a large container from the backseat of a car that was as gray as the night and sleek with sporty expense. The man turned to her, stepped back and took a large carpet bag from her.
Nora registered two things at once: how protective he seemed of that tiny, frail woman, and that there was indeed a cat! Its head was sticking out of a kind of window in the side of the carrier. One didn’t have to have any psychic ability at all to know the cat did not have now, and probably never had had, a pleasing personality.
“I’m Brendan Grant,” he said.
The name seemed Scottish to Nora, and with the rain plastering his hair to his head, running unchecked down the formidable, handsome lines of his face, it was just a little too easy to picture him as a Scottish warrior. Strong. Imperious to the weather.
Determined to get his own way.
What was his own way?
“And this is my grandmother, Deedee, and her cat, Charlie.” The faint hiss of angry energy seemed to intensify around him. His mouth had become a hard line. He was watching Nora closely for her reaction.
“I’m sorry?” she said. What on earth was he doing here at this time of the night with his grandmother and her cat?
Still, whatever it was, it did dilute some of the threat she felt. Though not an expert, she was still fairly certain architect ax murderers did not travel with an entourage that included grandmothers and cats.
His voice calm and ice-edged, he said, “Deedee has been made certain promises concerning Charlie. And she has paid in advance.”
Nora didn’t have a clue what he meant. But she did realize the threat she felt was not of the ax-murderer variety.
It was of the raindrop-falling-from-lips variety. She was aware her head hurt, but was not at all sure this feeling of being caught off balance was caused by the knock to her head.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said firmly.
She became aware that something rippled through Luke. She felt more than saw his discomfort. She cast her nephew a glance out of the corner of her eye.
Uh-oh.
“Look,” the man said quietly, the commanding tone of his voice drawing her attention firmly back to him. “You may be able to pull the wool over the eyes of an old woman, but I’m here to look after her interests. And you should know that if you’ve swindled her, you can kiss the support of the Hansen Community Betterment Committee good-bye.”
Kiss the support of the Hansen Community Betterment Committee good-bye? Nora couldn’t let her panic show.
“Swindled your grandmother?” she asked instead. Below the panic, she could feel the insult of it! His caustic remarks about her energy and her being a healer were beginning to make an awful kind of sense.
“I wouldn’t be surprised if the police became involved,” Brendan said, the quiet in his voice making it all the more threatening.
THE POLICE? NORA felt a sense of panic, as if her world were tilting.
Still, she could not cave before him. She was about to insist that he was the one trespassing on private property, except that at the mention of the police, she realized she wasn’t the only one panicking.
Nora saw Luke go rigid.
There’d been an unfortunate incident at school involving the police way too recently.
Luke claimed to have borrowed a bicycle. Apparently without the full understanding of the bicycle’s owner, which was why the police had become involved. Luke had talked to the other boy, and the whole thing, thankfully, had blown over.
Now her nephew met her eyes, pleading, and then ducked his head, drawing a pattern in the wet ground with his bare toe.
Nora glanced back at Brendan Grant and saw he had not missed a thing. He was watching Luke narrowly, and her sense of him being a warrior intensified. His look did not bode well for her nephew.
What had Luke done now? She was acutely aware of having failed in her responsibility to her nephew by going into the corral by herself tonight. Now every protective instinct rose in her.
“Nobody swindled me,” Deedee said plaintively. “She sent me energy for Charlie.”
“For a price,” Brendan added softly.
Nora knew she had not sent anyone any energy. And certainly not for a price! But Luke was squirming so uncomfortably she wanted to hit him with her elbow to make him stop drawing attention to himself.
Because no matter what he had done, Luke was no match for Brendan Grant. Not in any way. Not physically, nor could her poor orphaned nephew bear up under the anger that sparked in the man’s eyes.
Taking a deep breath, she said brightly. “Oh, I remember now. Charlie.”
Luke cast her a glance loaded with gratitude and relief, and she might have allowed herself to relish that, especially coupled with the fact he had taken up a coat rack in her defense. Moments when her nephew actually seemed to like her were rare, after all.
But Brendan Grant looked hard and skeptical, and she needed to stay focused on the immediate threat of that.
She put together the few clues she had. One of her gifts was an acute ability to focus on detail. Brendan and Deedee had arrived in the middle of the night. From what she could see of the cat, he was ill, the lateness of the hour suggested desperately so.
“Charlie’s been sick, right?” she said.
“That’s right!” Deedee said eagerly.
Brendan’s expression just became more grim.
“You said you’d send him energy,” Deedee reminded her. “You said to send money. I sent fifty dollars.”
“Fifty dollars?” Brendan snapped. “Deedee! You said you sent a little money.”
“In terms of what my cat is worth to me, that is a small amount.” The woman gave him a look that was equal parts sulk and steel.
“So there you have it,” Brendan said to Nora, exasperated. “If you play your cards right, she’ll sign over her house to you. You won’t need the support of the Hansen Community Betterment Committee. Is that how this operation of yours works?”
“Of course not!” Nora said, feeling the heat rising in her cheeks. “I’m sure it was just a mistake. I must have thought the money was a donation.”
She tried to keep her voice steady, but was not sure she succeeded.
