Grayslake: Furrever Yours(11)

She kept wanting to believe that he liked her. And she kept finding proof that he didn’t.

But that was the last thing she needed to worry about right now. Her job was to keep Margaret safe.

“Don’t worry about it,” she said to Margaret. “I went into this business because I wanted to help people. And I knew that working in the E.R. can be dangerous.” Of course, she hadn’t anticipated that the danger might come from people who turned into animals, but the principle was the same.

Heather leaned back in her chair, frowning in thought.

“All right,” she said. “We’ve got to get you out of town. In a few days, I’ve got three days off in a row. I can take that time to drive you to Mississippi. I’ve got some cousins there who will let you hide out. We can’t go before then, because if I asked for a day off, and Knox is still sniffing around the E.R., it might look suspicious. So until then, we’ll just lay low.”

The sound of a car pulling into the driveway made Heather start. Margaret pushed her chair back, a fearful expression on her face.

“Hold on,” Heather said. She ran over to the window and peered through the frilly yellow curtains, then breathed a sigh of relief.

“Oh, it’s okay,” she said. “It’s just the woman who owns this house. Go up to your room – I’ll go out and talk to her.” She hurried out to the front porch to greet Olive, her ninety-year-old landlady. She’d met her when she’d come to town to accept her scholarship at the community college. Luckiest meeting ever; Olive happened to have an adorable little house for rent, and it was super cheap, which meant that it fit Heather’s budget. Barely.

Now she stopped by all the time, always bringing Heather presents and chatting about her family.

Today she came up the steps holding a few jars of homemade jam, with a cheerful look on her wrinkled face. Her snow-white hair had been set in perfect waves at the beauty parlor, and she wore a yellow floral housecoat and matching yellow sneakers.

“Time for a cup of coffee, dear?’ she said, bustling right past her, and Heather had to stand aside to let her in. Normally she wouldn’t mind; Olive was chatty and hilarious and Heather loved her to pieces. However, she didn’t want Olive to wander around the house while she had Margaret tucked away upstairs, so she’d have to come up with an excuse to get rid of her quickly.

She yawned hugely as she let Olive in. She wasn’t faking it; she was just about dead on her feet.

“Olive, those jars of jam look delicious, thank you so much,” she said, and yawned again. “I would love to have coffee with you sometime, but I just got home from my shift a little while ago and I’m ready to fall over.”

“Oh dear, I won’t keep you then. You get some sleep,” Olive said, setting the jars down on the counter.

As she did, Heather could have sworn she saw Olive scent the air.

Yep, definitely. She was doing that subtle nostril-flaring thing.

Okay, so Olive was a shape-shifter too? What species? Heather wondered. She wished she could ask her about it, but if humans weren’t supposed to know about shifters, that would put Olive in an awkward spot.

“Before I forget. There’s a downtown music festival coming up next Friday, and I wanted to see if you’d like to go,” Olive said. “I don’t have anyone to go with me. At my age, you know how it is, I don’t have too many friends left.” She made a mournful face.

Heather stifled a snort of amusement. Olive had grown up in Sugar Creek and lived here her whole life; she had plenty of friends of all ages, and she visited her family all the time. But for some reason she wanted Heather to go with her.

Olive was a caring soul; she was always asking Heather about her social life. She probably just worried that Heather didn’t know enough people in town.

“That sounds great.” Heather yawned again, and Olive turned to go.

After she left, a sudden alarming thought struck Heather. What if Olive was searching for Margaret too? She wouldn’t do that, would she?

She stood there for a moment, pondering. Olive was the sweetest woman in the universe, and she couldn’t imagine her turning Heather over to an abusive pack, but then again, she wouldn’t have thought that about Knox either. Maybe wolf pack rules were different.

She hurried upstairs to talk to Margaret. She needed to make some alternative plans.

* * * * *

Heather was curled up in her bed, fast asleep, when she heard loud crashing sounds that yanked her awake.

She leaped to her feet, panic clutching at her throat. Margaret – did they have Margaret? Whoever was here was downstairs. She’d stop him – with a bullet, if necessary.