“We should’ve taken care of him my way when we had the chance,” one of the senior citizens murmurs.
“Now’s not the time, Ruthie May,” another mutters back. “Olivia’s safety is what’s important right now. And remember what we discussed about not talking about certain plans in public, mm-kay? Plausible deniability is going to be important when the man disappears.”
Indeed. As a lawyer, I couldn’t agree more. I’m appalled the American justice system allowed this madman back on the streets. Once I’ve passed the necessary bar exam and am cleared to practice in this country, I’ll do what I can to help keep dangerous men like this behind bars where they belong.
But in the meantime…
I glance around, looking for something to use to diffuse the situation and save Savannah’s friend, but there’s nothing, not so much as a large stick or heavy rock. This entire area has obviously been cleared to make room for the treasure hunters and spectators.
“I’m going to drive away, thanks. And you don’t get to tell me what to do anymore! I’m the boss of my life.” Steve backs toward a car. “Get ready to drive,” he tells his girlfriend, whose jacket is still slightly smoky.
She eyes him uncertainly, making me think she’s the weak link in this plan.
“I said get ready to drive,” he snarls.
“You’re doing it again, Steve,” Savannah calls. “You’re ruining your own life. You can’t keep treating people like extras in The Steve Show. Olivia is a wife and a mother and a sweet person who never did anything to deserve being threatened and mistreated. Come on. Seriously, don’t you want to be a better man than this? Because you still can be. You can choose to be better!”
“And you can choose something better, as well,” I urge his girlfriend, catching and holding her troubled gaze. “Do you really want to align yourself with a man who’d happily see you incarcerated as his accomplice in crime?”
“Shut up!” Steve screeches, his face turning red.
“No, Steve, you shut up!” Olivia shouts. “And say hello to my little friend.”
She swings an elbow into his gut at the same time that mischievous raccoon leaps from the overhang above the factory entrance, landing on Steve’s head, scratching and slapping at his cheeks while chittering something that sounds like a scolding I used to get from my mother.
Olivia darts away as Steve spins, trying to shoot the raccoon with the taser. But the half-plucked goose joins the fray then, charging forward with a vicious honk as it aims its beak at his family jewels.
The goose hits its target, Steve drops the taser, the raccoon grabs it, and then—
Steve makes a shocked, gargling noise and drops like a sack of potatoes.
“Olivia,” Savannah cries again, dashing to snatch her friend up in a hug.
“Savannah! Oh, you’re home! I missed you! And—look at you! Look at you! Your aura is glowing! You’ve found love again, haven’t you? I can’t wait to hear all about it! Tell me everything!”
I gape at the two women and point to Steve’s twitching form on the ground. “That man was holding you hostage.”
“But I wasn’t alone this time, and I wasn’t in that horrible clown school, and I knew I’d be okay.” Olivia beams at me as though all of that makes perfect sense. “You must be Colin. Your aura has the same glow as Savannah’s. Oh, you two are just the cutest! I’m so glad to meet you! Welcome to Happy Cat!”
“The prize!” one of the ladies yells, motioning for the others to follow her into the factory as two familiar men come rushing in to tie up Steve, with the help of a third man in a fire department shirt and uniform pants.
“Can I punch him?” the firefighter asks.
“After me,” the man I now recognize as Jace replies.
“Hey. Don’t mess him up too badly. He has to be recognizable in his mugshot. No technicalities this time around,” Blake says. “Especially while he’s still half-unconscious. The sheriff’s on his way. We need this to go down right.”
“Can George please get a medal for his bravery this time?” Olivia calls to them.
Jace goes moon-eyed. “Anything for you, my angel.”
She beams.
Savannah slips to my side and tucks her hand into mine, the simple squeeze of her fingers doing more to assure me that the danger has truly passed than anything else. “So, this is Happy Cat,” she says with a smile. “Maybe we should do a trial period to make sure you’ll be comfortable here? We’re weird. Fun, good weird, mostly, but weird.”
“Papa!” Bea races up to us and hugs us both. She’s nearly as tall as Savannah these days, and as I wrap my arms around both of them, I feel something I haven’t felt in too long.
Complete.
“It’s all right,” I tell my daughter. “Everyone’s safe now.”
“George is so brave,” Bea says, awe in her tone.