Hidden in the Blood: A Novel of the Terribly Acronymed Detective Club (Book 5)

Chapter Sixteen: Joe, Saturday

In the end, it took Rachel assisting the nurses, cajoling with the open beach bag, a catnip toy and some well-placed treats, to get Samson to stop his flight response and climb back to safety. Apparently Rachel was Samson's favourite human, usurping Al's place at the top as soon as he moved in with her. Joe felt a rush of spiteful satisfaction when she explained this to him later; it seemed Al wasn't beloved of everybody after all, but now that he was awake, he'd certainly be the centre of attention for a long time. Joe wouldn't have admitted this to anyone, but as long as Al was in his coma, alive but unable to threaten the fine balance Joe was maintaining in his household, Joe's stress levels had been at their lowest in months.

As predicted, the nurses were not impressed that Rachel smuggled in a cat; it was a violation of hospital policy, they reminded her, and it was unsanitary, and Samson could have potentially injured or killed somebody if, in his mad dash, he accidentally tripped over a cord or ripped out a tube providing someone the gift of life. Their indignation at this disruption of the calm atmosphere of the ICU was tempered, however, by the news that one of their coma patients was showing his first real signs of consciousness, motility and even recognition of loved ones after opening his eyes, and that it might have happened as a result of setting his cat upon his chest. 

The miracle cat still had to go, though, right now, so Joe volunteered to take him back to the Versa and sit with him while the others visited with Al.

"Are you sure?" Lauren asked him as Rachel handed him keys and beach bag.

"Do you really need to ask me that?" he asked, raising his eyebrows to imply what he didn't want to say in Mrs. Mackenzie's hearing: Al isn't my favourite person because he slept with you multiple times. I don't need to be at his bedside, pretending to be happy he woke up.

"Have you even looked after a cat before?" she asked with a smirk.

"How hard can it be? He's like, what, twenty pounds?"

"Just make sure he doesn't bolt before you get to the car," Rachel said. 

As he walked with the incongruously colourful beach bag in this sea of beige, and that shade of green that was apparently able to hide blood and vomit, it didn't escape him that Lauren hadn't offered to go with him to the car and keep him and the cat company. Sure, Al was awake, and Lauren hadn't gotten the chance to see him yet, but they weren't out of the woods yet where their marital problems were concerned, and it probably never even occurred to her that he might see her desire to see Al instead of be with her husband as a punch in the gut. 

He found the Versa, opened the door and ratcheted the passenger seat all the way back so he could sit down. He placed the beach bag in the back seat. As soon as it settled, Samson peeked his head out of the opening. He stared at Joe, never blinking, and Joe felt a lilt of unease.

"Hello," he said. "You don't know me that well. You and I have been rather tangential to each other's lives since I reunited with your fur daddy, so I don't blame you for being suspicious of me. Your fur mommy will be back soon to drive you home but, until then, you and I will just have to live with each other."

In slow motion, Samson emerged from the beach bag, front paws pushing the opening down so he could slink out. He snaked his neck out to Joe's hand resting on the seat and sniffed it, tickling him with his whiskers. He had a cold, wet nose. Joe emitted a giggle that surprised him, it was so juvenile. He stayed as still as he could and let the cat get the measure of him. Samson placed one light foot in front of the other, rubbing against Joe's arm.

Watching this slow, graceful creature, feeling its quiet energy, Joe found himself hypnotized. It was something he'd never experienced before. He'd been around dogs; Johnny had two who'd stolen his heart with their cheerfulness and affection. This was different. Joe was witnessing a predator in miniature, nature's cutest killing machine, its efficiency of movement evolved over millions of years to enable it to hide, pounce and catch prey with its needle-like claws and teeth. If Joe were a mouse, he would have had cause to fear Samson but, safe in the comfort of his size, he could just sit back and watch him explore the confines of the little car, and he found that he rather enjoyed the show.