A Bird in the Hand by Dane McCaslin Read Free Book Online

slip from the bed and stand upright, gripping the nightstand momentarily to stabilize myself. When I was sure I could move without listing to one side, I tiptoed to the bathroom and nearly fainted again, this time from shock.
    Not only did I feel like I'd been worked over by a prizefighter, I looked the part as well. My nose, swollen to nearly twice its size, was centered between two very black eyes. Good lord , I thought as I surveyed the damage, I'd have to wear a sandwich board with the explanation written all over it, otherwise my friends might think that Gregory …I paused mid-thought. No, better to remain silent about the whole thing and let the world think what it would, I thought a bit self-righteously. After all, who was I to tell folks what to think?
    And with cheery thought, I started off down the hall to make coffee.
    I generally love the early morning hours. I tend to have the most energy then, and for me it is not an age thing. I have always preferred the day to the night, except for a brief time during my late teens. The men in my life, both husband and friends alike, accuse me of operating only during daylight hours. Once the sun goes down, I follow suit. It's really not that drastic, but close enough to gain the reputation of being a sunup to sundown type of gal.
    I dragged my single cup coffee maker to the edge of the granite counter, the better to insert a tiny container of Nantucket blend coffee. I nearly knocked an African violet to the floor as I turned to grab a mug from the open shelf near the stove. It is one of the few potted plants that refuses to succumb to my obvious indifference.
    Eventually, mug of coffee in hand, I sank into one of the kitchen chairs and stared unseeing out our window. My mind felt as though cotton had been tucked around all the edges, which could probably be blamed on the drugs, but it wasn't an unpleasant feeling. Quite the opposite, in fact. I hadn't sat down and truly relaxed in a great while.
    A slight movement brought my mind to bear once more, and I leaned forward to get a better glimpse of whatever it was skulking—yes, I did say skulking— behindthe Cat Lady's house. Either one of her precious felines had learned to walk upright, or else there was someone who was up to no good.
    I got to my feet as swiftly as my battered body would allow and retrieved my birding binoculars from my office. Training them on the window, I adjusted the eyepieces and nearly dropped them in the process. A man, all in dark clothing and working what looked like a metal bar, was attempting to pry open my neighbor's back door.
    I hesitated, chewing on my lip as I sorted out a few things, such as, would Gregory still feel inclined to chivalry this morning? Or perhaps I should be the one to call in the cavalry. At least I wouldn't get mad at myself for waking me up, since I was already up and…I stopped. I was arguing with myself while whoever it was—and maybe it was just an HOA board member, fed up with all the complaints—let himself into the neighbor's home.
    I looked back at the window, squinting just right to see what the perp was doing. Wait—he'd moved to another window, and this time I could tell that he wasn't trying to open anything but was instead squirting a substance along each window frame as well as the foundation. I gaped, wondering if this was some joke.
    Just as I stretched out my hand to grab the house phone, Cat Lady herself emerged from the back door. I watched, fascinated, as the burglar pulled the hood off of his head and accepted the mug that she handed him. Good grief, I thought, eyeing the tableau with amazement. Was it now considered proper form to hand out refreshments to criminals?
    I saw the man take a few sips and then set the mug down on the back steps, ostensibly listening as my neighbor bent his ear about something. Probably raving on about her wonderful cats , I thought sourly, and then my attention was once again riveted to the scene before me.
    A second