A Story to Kill by Lynn Cahoon Page A

dog or a coyote.”
    â€œWhen did you see the dog?”
    Cat shrugged. “I don’t know. An hour ago? I took a break from writing, stood in the window for a few minutes, then saw something cross the yard. I wasn’t looking straight at it, so it could have been anything.”
    â€œAnd the noise? When did that happen?” Seth was calm and rubbing her upper arms.
    She stepped away from the touch. “I guess about ten minutes ago. I ignored the first one. Then, when it happened again, I came out to tell you to be quiet.”
    His lips turned up on the ends a bit at that one.
    â€œWhat? I’m a writer. I need my quiet time to get anything done. Or at least not banging.” Cat looked up at the ceiling. “But it wasn’t you up there.”
    He shook his head. “No, it wasn’t. You go downstairs and take your cell with you. If I don’t come back down in a few minutes, call 911. I’m sure it was just a raccoon or maybe a bird you heard, but let’s not take any chances, especially with what’s happened with your author friend.”
    â€œHe really wasn’t my friend.” Cat took a deep breath.
    Seth put his hands on her shoulders. “Breathe and focus. Where is your cell?”
    Cat walked back into the office and took her cell off her desk. Then she waited at the top of the stairs for a second, watching Seth.
    He saw her stop and waved her down. “Go,” he hissed. “I’ll be fine.”
    She took one step after another and with each movement, she felt more like a coward than a second line of defense. She tried to see up the stairwell, but there was no one there. She ran into the kitchen and stood by the table, staring at her phone. What determined a few minutes? Five, ten? No more than twenty; she was convinced of that. Hopefully, he’d be down in five.
    One minute passed, then two. Then three. At four, she found the keypad on her phone and held her finger over the screen. Five, she’d call for help at five. She hadn’t heard a shot or anything, but she was two stories below. Maybe she wouldn’t have? She hadn’t heard any noise when Tom Cook was killed, and she’d been upstairs in her office.
    The kitchen door creaked open and Cat’s breath caught. Shauna pushed through with an armful of plastic bags. Her face brightened when she saw Cat standing there. “Good, you’re home. Come help me unload the SUV. Seth has the driveway blocked with that truck of his so I had to park on the street. And my ice cream was melting.”
    Cat held out the cell. Her hand shook as she held it out in front of her. “I can’t leave. There’s someone in the attic, and Seth went up to find out who it is.”
    Shauna pushed past her, dropping the bags onto the table. “Why are you in here?”
    â€œHe told me to go to the kitchen and wait for a few minutes, then call the police.” Cat’s heartbeat raced in her chest.
    â€œWhen was that?” Shauna put her hand on Cat’s arm.
    She looked down at the phone. “Five minutes, thirty seconds. Should I call now?”
    â€œLet me go upstairs and see what’s going on.” Shauna headed to the door.
    Cat wanted to follow but her feet felt nailed to the floor. “Wait. Let me go.”
    Her friend turned back around. “Are you sure?”
    Cat nodded and took a deep breath. “I need to see what happened.” Putting a hand on the door, she felt Shauna’s hand on her arm stopping her progress. She turned, meeting Shauna’s gaze. “What?”
    â€œWhen do I call the police if you don’t come back?”

Chapter 8
    Cat didn’t have to answer because just then the door opened and Seth came into the kitchen. Cat sank into a chair. “You’re all right.”
    He nodded and went to get a glass of water from the sink.
    Cat waited for him to drink the entire glass in a few swallows before she asked the