Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 73861 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 369(@200wpm)___ 295(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73861 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 369(@200wpm)___ 295(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
So if there was some big kinda crazy fan out there or something, it was totally possible they found me, and were sniffing around.
Creepy as hell.
It could become a lot more than creepy.
I went ahead and bought the security system I'd been hemming and hawing.
I went to the pound and brought home a big Rotti/Pittie mix who looked mean as hell, but ended up being terrified of the clock hands as they moved around the face, thought the coffee maker was out to kill her, and cried whenever the neighbor's door slammed.
"Yogurt, I don't know what to say," I said as I pulled her with me up the stairs she seemed convinced were trying to bite her feet or something. "You are a mess." I considered leaving her on the main floor, but was afraid if I did so, she'd develop three new phobias by morning.
The shelter had told me she had issues. It was my fault for assuming they meant lunging at the mailman issues, and not "afraid of the microwave chime" issues.
"Come on, dudette. I will give you a treat if you come to be—" I started, cutting off when there was a clattering in the backyard.
The backyard.
That was fenced.
As in a six-foot fence.
I didn't know a whole hell of a lot about raccoons or anything like that, but I was reasonably sure they would have no reason to climb my difficult fence to look for food when there were dozens of other un-fenced yards to mess around in.
"Um, Yogurt, girl, can you at least pretend to be mean and scary for a couple minutes?" I asked, hearing another loud clang, a sound that made my heart leap right up into my throat. "Okay okay. Um. Best option, girl, up or down?" I asked, debating my bedroom or the basement. Outside, clearly, wasn't much of an option since whatever or whoever was out there could get me before I got to the car.
This was why I needed to start parking in my garage.
"Okay, I vote for basement," I said, rushing back down the stairs, grabbing Yogurt's baby pig toy off the ground so she would follow me as I unlocked the basement door with fumbling hands. "And go," I said, tossing the toy down the stairs, then yanking the door closed, locking it from the inside, before rushing down the stairs myself.
"Okay okay okay," I said, trying to take slow, deep breaths as I found my hidden weapons.
I could call the police.
But I wasn't one-hundred-percent sure that there was an actual, viable threat. And in a town like Navesink Bank, the police force was already stretched thin with one-hundred-percent certain crime.
We'd already established I was feeling just a bit paranoid. Dare I even think it? A wee bit hysterical.
There was probably nothing to be worried about.
I was cowering in the basement over some wind or wild animal or something.
"We are quite a pair, Yogurt," I said, reaching for my phone. "I think you have this whole thing backward, girl," I added, watching as she rolled around on the floor with her pig like she hadn't a care in the world. "Now is when you're supposed to be freaking out."
It was right then that I realized something horrific.
I'd accidentally managed to call Finn's phone like five times in a row as I was trying to get us down in the basement and safe.
How was that even possible?
"Shit. Shit shit shit." Great. That was just great. Now he would probably think I was some clingy chick who couldn't take a hint.
Lovely.
Just lovely.
Maybe, if he wasn't too freaked out, I would get a chance to explain the situation, so he didn't think I was a complete and utter psycho.
With that small bit of hope, I swiped to my fancy new app that would let me view the feeds from my cameras.
Or, you know, it was supposed to.
Except the one in the front wasn't giving me any kind of feed. And the one in the back was knocked slightly askew, making me view more of the fence than anything else.
"Okay. Alright. Ah. What to do here, huh, girl?" I asked, stomach flip-flopping. "Is it police-calling time or do... oh," I hissed, seeing a figure move into the frame on the back camera.
Not a shadowy murder figure.
Unless you were a friendly, neighborhood field mouse or something.
A cat.
It was a damn cat.
"Jesus," I snapped, my air rushing out of me.
The adrenaline was still coursing through me as I lowered myself down on the floor next to Yogurt, trying to take slow, deep breaths to calm myself back down.
"You know what I think we might need? A little break from work, yeah?" I said, reaching out to pat Yogurt's head. "It's making me a little coo-coo. And there is only enough room for one crazy-ass in this house. And, let's face it, that is going to be you," I said, exhaling hard. "Maybe we can go see Grandma for a few days. Get some normal back. She has a nice, big house full of lots of things you can be scared of. And maybe while we are there, we can get some extra security measures in place too. Ones that stray cats and the wind can't mess with. We will head out first thing in the morning, 'kay? After we, you know, hang out down here for a little bit longer."