Page 38 of Heart Me Up
I sat up in my chair, concerned. “What’s wrong?” It’d been over a week since we’d fucked. Or made love, whatever you wanted to call it. Foster had gone back to his nightly stakeouts, so we’d only been able to interact via text and phone calls. And not even the sexy kind.
He sighed. “Sorry, work stuff as usual.
“It’s okay. I know you’re exhausted.”
“Yeah, but I don’t want to take it out on you. Um, I need a favor.”
“Of course, anything.”
“That’s awfully brave when you haven’t heard what it is.”
I smiled into the phone. “I trust you.” It was true. So odd, and yet so liberating.
I could hear the smile in his voice when he responded. “Thanks. Um, you know how to give cats insulin, right?”
“I do. Do you need me to run by and give Mariposa her dose?”
“Would you? She gets it at 6:30pm, and I’m going to be stuck here all night.”
“Of course. I hope everything’s okay at work.”
“It will be, especially now I don’t have to worry about Mariposa.”
“I’m happy to do it,” I assured him.
“Well, thank you. If you could give her a can of wet food, she’ll let you do the injection while she’s eating. Her food’s in the pantry, the insulin’s in the fridge and the front door key is under the third paving stone to the left of the sidewalk in front of the porch.”
“Okay, got it.” That was a better hiding place than I had for my spare key.
“Thank you so much. I owe you a nice dinner out after this.”
I made apfftnoise. “You don’t owe me anything. I said I’m happy to do it. I wouldn’t turn down a dinner date though.” I grinned, needing to mess with him. “And now I can snoop through all your stuff while you’re out of the house.”
He laughed. “Be warned; I was in a hurry this morning and I didn’t pick up my clothes off the floor or make my bed.” I snorted. Like that would bother me. Buthmmm, his bed. I needed to check it out. I almost jumped when Foster spoke again. “Hey, I’ve got to run. Let me know if you have any issues. I really appreciate this.” He ended the call. I hoped whatever was going on, he’d be safe.
It was disconcerting to think about Foster risking his life at his job every day. I knew some people couldn’t handle their significant other being in harm’s way all the time, but Foster loved being a detective. So while I wouldn’t be able to stop worrying about him, I wasn’t one of those people who’d demand he quit his job because it was dangerous.
Not that I was his significant other. Or anything. Even if we had talked about getting tested, so far it was just talk.
Around 6:15pm I parked in Foster’s driveway. When I got out of the car, I glanced over to where I’d run into Silvia the other night. I had to find out which house was hers, because I couldn’t stop wondering if she’d have been able to see Foster and me on the driveway after our first date.
I didn’t see any sign of where Silvia might live, only some guy standing next to a tan Toyota sedan parked in exactly the same spot I’d parked in last Monday night. He was wearing a faded red ballcap and sunglasses, leaning against the car and smoking. I waved, trying to make it seem like I belonged and wasn’t a thief who was about to break into Foster’s house. The guy didn’t wave back; he just flicked his cigarette onto the sidewalk and walked away. What a jerk.
The paving stones near Foster’s front porch were easy to see, and I didn’t have any trouble pulling up the third one from the left, but there was no key, only a key-shaped impression in the soil. That was… concerning.
I straightened and turned in a circle. No car in the driveway except mine, and none parked in front of the house. The question was, had Foster removed the key and forgotten, or was someone else already inside? I glanced back to where the smoker had been standing. Was he watching the house for a reason?
I snorted at myself. The sun was still out and people were coming home from work. If someone was in Foster’s house, it was probably one of his friends. Maybe it was Silvia, since she lived so close.
I forced myself to walk to the front door and turn the handle without hesitating. It opened easily. Fuck.
“Hello? Is anyone here?” I called out, stepping through the door and shutting it behind me so Mariposa couldn’t run out.
“Over here.” Even though I’d braced myself to encounter someone, I still gasped and pressed back against the door when I heard the voice.
A man I didn’t know sat on Foster’s couch. He had dark brown hair going gray at his temples, and he sported a wildly untrimmed beard. He had his arms crossed over his chest, and his right leg was propped on the couch, a white cast covering it from his foot to his upper thigh.
Mariposa sat up from where she’d been lying on the man’s lap. “Mrrt?” she inquired, then leaped to the floor and trotted over to me. The man watched without saying anything as she stood on her hind legs and put her front paws on my thigh.
