Leann Sweeney

“Please call me Jillian.” I glanced at his clipboard. “And tell me what you’ve learned and how we can do this.”

Just then Chablis jumped on the table, carefully avoiding our hot drinks. She settled on the clipboard and raised her crystal blue eyes to Tom. He rubbed his knuckles on the top of her head and she began to purr.

I said, “How did you know she loves to have her head rubbed? And don’t tell me Mercy is talking about that, too.”

He laughed. “I have a cat. Dashiell appreciates exactly the same treatment.”

He had a cat? And Chablis had quickly given him her approval? Why did that make me want to smile? I stood and lifted Chablis from her spot, saying, “You’d sleep on the man’s paperwork the rest of the day if I let you, sweetie.” I held her close and we rubbed noses. Then I sat and offered her a new spot in my lap. Never thwart a cat, though. She ran off to sulk, since she’d had other plans.

“First,” Tom said, “I need to know your budget. Cameras are pretty cheap these days, but if you want to be wired to my security service, that will cost more.”

“Do I need to be set up with your service?” I asked.

“Not necessarily. I can rig your phone to alert the local police if there’s another break-in. And you can check your own wireless cameras for anything suspicious, both inside and outside of your house. I can even set up a feed to your cell phone when you’re out. We’ll call it your cat-cam.”

I smiled. “I like that. Cat-cam.”

“Is your computer networked?”

“I have two computers, a desktop in the office and a laptop that I take with me on business. Do I need a network?”

“You do—to monitor your cameras. But that’s part of what I do. Set up the computer network for you. I can use your desktop as the hub. And since the town is so small, the police hookup is probably all you need rather than a line directly to my security service.”

“You’re turning down money?” I said.

He smiled. “It’s not that much.” He went on to tell me what everything would cost, a figure that was higher than I would have liked. Tom assured me he would mount the cameras to capture everything going on inside, as well as motion detectors with floodlights outdoors that would scare away man and animal alike, and told me that was what I needed. But when he said he’d get started tomorrow, I balked.

“No. Today. You have to do this today.” I gave him my best tight-lipped determined expression. I couldn’t haul my cats around town all the time, and I had to get busy on the quilt orders I’d taken at the Greenville show—especially since this system would cost more than what I’d made the other day. I would need at least an hour at the Cotton Company tomorrow to purchase fabric, and I didn’t want to cart Merlot and Chablis along with me or leave them here without safeguards in place.

Tom and I stared at each other in silence for a few uncomfortable seconds. He finally said, “If not for your amazing coffee I wouldn’t agree to a Saturday-night job. Hope you have plenty of java. This could be a long evening.”

And it was. Tom didn’t complete his work until almost one a.m. He’d finished off two pots of coffee and a delivery pizza while he worked. But I was grateful, and he must have known my thanks were sincere, because he gave me a kind and engaging smile when he finally said good night.

After he was gone, I sat in John’s recliner with my laptop. The network was working fine, and I practiced all the skills Tom had taught me—how to do split-screen monitoring, how to check the cat-cam feeds from the half dozen wireless cameras and even get the live picture on my cell phone.

My head was aching from all the new things I’d learned in such a short time. If the house alarm was triggered, it would alert the Mercy police—something Tom would inform them about in the morning. Seemed they needed my information and a code. That worried me a little. I could picture Morris Ebeling rolling his eyes if a call came from my house and then taking his time getting here.

One thing bothered me—the possibility that Syrah might return but be scared away by the motion lights. Cats like their environment to remain unchanged—but things had certainly changed around here in two days. If he came home, maybe it would be in the morning. That would be a dream come true.

After I’d brought up the feeds on the laptop over and over, I still wasn’t the least bit tired. Besides the headache that wouldn’t go away, I’d had too much coffee coupled with too much stress. I closed my computer and leaned back.

Merlot, who’d been asleep at my feet, raised his head, and his amber eyes seemed to ask, “Can we go to bed now where it’s warm?”

Chablis, tucked beside me, didn’t move a whisker. She was happy right where she was.