“Till then, can we keep her, Dad?” Mere asks, and I’m not sure who we is. She and Clementine, or she and me.
“Okay.” Fuck! Another girl in the house. “She better not be scratching the furniture.”
“Thank you, thank you, Dad.” Mere hugs me and the cat leaps from my arms.
My daughter jumps up and down while the cat mewls and runs in circles.
Laughter fills the room. The guilty feeling that something isn’t right resurfaces in my heart but this time I focus on Mere’s happy face.
How can my daughter’s happiness be wrong?
I order dinner while Mere and Clementine take back their places in the living room. The music continues to play. The kitten, empowered with the knowledge that she has free rein, follows me into the kitchen, where I’m working on my laptop. For some reason, I want to sit here instead of going back to my dark room.
I’m reading Lukas’s email stating that he again found nothing on the black cruiser, when the doorbell rings.
“Mere, first check from the peephole,” I holler when I hear her skidding to open the door. It’s most likely food, but I need her to be careful.
Seconds later, she enters the kitchen with food and places it on the dining table. When I hand her my wallet, she shakes her head. “Clem is paying. She said you’ve paid enough times for her food.”
“Fair enough.” I go back to reading the email as Mere takes out the boxes.
Minutes pass by. I close my laptop while Mere is playing on her phone, but there is no sign of Clementine.
“What’s taking so long?” My pulse quickens as I rush to the main door. My suspicion about the black cruiser is still lingering.
“What’s the matter?” I ask Clementine as she stands with an open wallet in her hand.
“Nothing. All’s okay,” she replies.
“Nothing’s okay, lady! You took the food and now you’re not paying me.” My gaze shifts from the irritated delivery guy to the street behind him as he adds, “Your wife’s card isn’t working, man.”
“I’m not his wife,” Clementine corrects him as I pull some money from my wallet and place the bills in his hand.
Clementine starts, “Keith, I’m—”
“We’ll talk in the kitchen.” I almost push her inside and look over my shoulder.
Somebody’s fucking watching us. My instincts can’t be this wrong.
I dial Lukas. “Luke, do it.”
“Shit. Is someone there?”
My grip on the doorframe tightens. “I didn’t see anyone, but I can’t shake this feeling of being watched.”
“You got it, man.”
Ending the call, I close the door and walk inside.
“Keith, I’m so sorry,” Clementine says as soon as I enter the kitchen. “I have no idea what happened. I spent some money on dress material and kitty stuff. But I didn’t think it was that much.” Her eyebrows furrow as she thinks hard.
I don’t know where to begin. What should I ask first?
How the hell she has no money to pay for food or what the heck is kitty stuff?
I choose the latter.
“Kitty stuff?”