"Okay," I said, lying on my back to catch my breath. "Where's the cat?"
But he didn't have to answer. The cat poked its head around the corner, then pawed at my hair.
"Hey, kitty," I said a microsecond before it took a swipe at me.
Its needlelike claws took off half my face. I screamed and held on to the shredded remnants. The cat took the opportunity to purr and rub against me.
"Are you kidding?" I asked it from between gritted teeth.
It purred louder and threw in a hoarse meow every so often, twirling in dainty circles. It was fluffy. Gray. Deadly.
I looked at my hand. It was covered in blood. Or, well, one finger had a little blood on the tip. Either way, my face stung like the dickens.
I frowned at it. "All cats are evil. Just FYI."
"Are you going to play with the cat all night or help me look for food?"
"I'm helping already." I stood and brushed myself off, then started going through cabinets.
We were in the kitchen. Since Angel couldn't open cabinet doors, he just kind of walked through them, searching as he went. We decided to split up. Angel took the upstairs, and I took the bottom.
I called out to him. "We should probably look for clues as to the Vandenbergs' whereabouts while we're here, too. Maybe they're being held at a motel or something and the captors looked one up in the phone book. Do you see an open phone book?"
"I don't think other people process information the same way you do. Bad guys would not look in a phone book to find a motel."
I paused my search. "Why not?"
"They had a plasma cutter. They clearly planned this shit out. They aren't going to be looking up a motel at the last minute. A motel where a maid could walk in anytime or where the Vandenbergs could signal an SOS by tapping on the wall or something."
"You're right. Too public. Any luck yet?"
"Either they never fed their cat, or they are completely out of cat food."
"Wonderful. I'll have to go get some."
"You know what I'm curious about?" he asked.
"Why you can't get a date?"
He snorted. "No. Well, kind of, but aren't you curious about the dog?"
I rose onto my toes to see what the top row of cabinets in the laundry room had to offer. "What dog?"
"The dog that goes with the door."
I stilled. Why didn't I think of these things? I was so single-minded. I didn't have the attention span to focus on anything but the here and now.
"Did you see a dog?" I asked, glancing around warily.
"No. Where's this go?"
He'd found a door in the back of a supply closet. I stepped inside the closet. "Odd place for a door."
"It's a basement."
"Cool."
"Wait!" he yelled, but I'd already opened the door.
The stench hit me first, the pungent scent almost knocking me to my knees. I covered my mouth and stumbled back before I realized what I was smelling: death. It stung my nose, and I fought my gag reflex when a terrifying sense of dread washed over me.
"No," I whispered. My vision blurred instantly. "Please, no."
"Janey, wait!" Angel said, but I flew down the wooden stairs.
A fluorescent light must've been connected to a motion sensor, because it flickered on automatically, and I saw a mass of beautiful black and tan fur. The Vandenbergs had a German shepherd, and their captors had killed it. He lay on a cement floor with only a tiny bit of blood on his side.
I slammed my hands over my mouth. He was stunning. Magnificent. The ultimate protector. And he'd paid the ultimate price. I reached out a shaking hand to pet him. He was too still. Too quiet.
I dropped to my knees and ran my fingers through his thick fur. Nuzzled his ears. Leaned over the gorgeous beast and whispered, "You tried, didn't you, boy? I promise I'll find them."
"Janey," Angel said. He'd draped an arm over my shoulder and was tugging gently. "We have to go."
I nodded, gave the beautiful dog one last caress, then stood up. I knew now that the Vandenbergs' captors meant business and that the family was in serious danger. I had no choice but to tell the police what I knew. But if they caught me at the house, the danger the Vandenbergs were in would get lost in the fact that I broke and entered.
"Okay," I said, wiping at my face, "I'm going to call 911, grab the cat, then run. The cops will show up and find the dog. They'll know something is wrong."
"Good plan, but maybe you should grab the cat first."
True. I picked up the cat, took a few hits for the team, then asked Angel if he saw a phone.