By Diana Palmer
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She hadn’t seen the cat since. But surely the boy wouldn’t have done something so heartless as to let the cat out. Surely he wouldn’t! Melody had found Alistair in an alley on her way home from work late one rainy afternoon last year. He’d had a string tied around his neck and was choking. She’d freed him and taken him home. He was flea-infested and pitifully thin, but a trip to the veterinarian and some healthful food had transformed him. He’d been Melody’s friend and companion and confidant ever since.
I hate ice cream,” he said triumphantly. “No, he doesn’t,” Amy said sadly. “He just doesn’t like you. He thinks you took our mom away. ” “That’s right,” Guy said angrily. “It’s all because of you! ” He got up, knocking over his chair, and stomped off into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him. Melody took a bite of her own hot dog, but it tasted like so much cardboard. It was going to be a long two days. She didn’t know how true her prediction was going to be. Guy sulked for the rest of the day, while she and the other two children watched television and played Monopoly on the kitchen table.
She called. The big cat was nowhere in sight. He couldn’t have gone out the window. The apartment was on the fourth story and there was no balcony. She searched the apartment, including under the bed, but she couldn’t find him. ” she asked. “Not me,” Amy murmured. She was watching cartoons with Polk. “Me, neither,” he said absently. Guy was staring out the window. He jerked his head, which she assumed meant he hadn’t seen the cat. But he looked odd. She frowned. Alistair had been curled up on the couch just before Guy had stormed off into the bathroom.