Page 82 of The Rebel
“C’mon, let’s do it then,” Oliver said.
“Do what?” Valencia and I asked at the same time.
“You said we’d retrace her steps. We’ll be like detectives and act out the scene.”
“O-kay,” I said, not wanting to dampen Oliver’s enthusiasm, though I hadn’t intended it literally.
Valencia was willing to be compliant and Ollie pulled her by the hand, meaning she let go of mine. I followed as they headed along the hallway to the garage access door.
“So, you drove your mom’s car into the garage, right?” Ollie sounded like a tv detective asking questions.
Valencia opened the door and the light went on. “I got out of the car with my backpack and locked the car,” she said, playing along with Ollie’s little charade, taking the steps from the car door to the door we’d all entered. “And I walked along the hallway.” We both followed her back to the kitchen we’d been just a minute ago. She pretended to take a backpack off her shoulders and acted putting it on the counter, where her backpack was.
Then she gasped as she touched her art folder beneath the backpack, turning to Ollie. “That’s right, I went back into the garage to get my folder. It was in the backseat.”
“Maybe Volley got locked in when you went back,” Ollie quickly deducted, and we made a mad dash back to the garage.
“Sometimes he goes up in the rafters,” Valencia was saying. “He might be stuck.”
There were three different pitches all shouting Volley’s name, but no sign of the cat.
“Shhhhh,” I ordered, “let’s listen, see if we can hear him.”
The room went silent, none of us so much as breathing, our ears on high alert. Then we all heard a faint scratching sound.
“Up there,” Valencia cried and pointed. “He’s up by the Christmas decorations.”
Shifting a ladder, I climbed up and pushed aside some boxes. Volley didn’t appear to be stuck, just unsure. The ladder shook as Valencia climbed up behind me.
“Is he okay?” she asked.
“Health and safety,” I said, “Pretty sure this is a one person ladder.”
Valencia huffed and mocked me, “Always a stickler for the rules, Sinclair.” And her voice completely changed to soft and melodic as she coaxed the cat down. “Volley? Come on Volley. It’s me. Come on.”
Volley sprung into action, jumping past me and onto a lower shelf, then shot out into the house. Valencia and Ollie chased after him, while I was left to put pack away the ladder.
By the time I came out, the two of them were crouched around Volley, monitoring every morsel he ate.
“Sorry,” Valencia said, looking up to me. “Thanks for doing that.”
“You’re welcome,” I said with an eyebrow raise.
She smiled. “Thanks Ollie. That was a brilliant idea to trace my footsteps.”
I frowned. “Uh, pretty sure I suggested it.”
“Yeah, but I did it,” Ollie said triumphantly. “I was the one who solved the mystery.”
“Yeah, good job,” I said. “We should head back now.”
I was suddenly all nervous about how Valencia would react to her trip to Europe. She’d been so disappointed at missing out, but now I was kind of hoping she’d be sad about leaving me. Ha! Such a healthy ego!
On the way home, Oliver yabbered the whole way, constructing a mystery story about Inspector Oliver and the missing cat. In what I thought was a clever move, I crossed the fence first so that I could hold Valencia’s hand as she climbed over. Not that she needed help but she faked a little stumble andI gladly caught her, holding her in my arms for longer than was necessary.
So long in fact that Ollie asked, “Are you okay, Vali?”
“Uh, yep,” Valencia said, “just jarred my ankle.”
