Leave a Mark by Stephanie Fournet Read Free Book Online Page A

that her eating?” Wren called from the living room, clearly surprised.
    A grin broke across Lee’s face. “Yeah, I guess she’s a good judge of character.”
    “Or she’s starving.”
    He didn’t miss the dry tone in her reply. Lee picked up the cat’s water dish and brought it to the cast iron sink. He looked around the kitchen. Like most houses in the Saint Streets, Wren’s little duplex was old school. He guessed it had been built around the 30s or 40s. The cabinets were narrow and spare. There was no dishwasher, but the space was big enough to eat in. The enamel-top chrome rim table with its black vinyl chairs looked right at home. If it weren’t for her appliances, Wren’s kitchen could have made an authentic mid-century portrait.
    He set down the cat’s water dish and popped his head back into the living room. “Don’t get up. Permission to do a perimeter sweep for poop bombs.”
    Wren’s eyes went wide, and she seemed to suppress a laugh. “You’re serious about that, aren’t you?”
    “I am. I just want to make sure you don’t hurt yourself, and then I’ll be out of your hair.”
    Wren gave a sigh. “Fine. If you must.”
    “I must,” he confirmed before stepping back into the kitchen.
    Agnes swished her tail as she ate, and Lee crossed to the other doorway, which led to a short hall. A utility room stood to his left and a bathroom to his right. The hall ended at Wren’s bedroom door.
    Again, it was like stepping back in time. A Victorian iron bed with a long center spoke and brass S scrolls stood in the middle of the room. Pink rosebuds covered the quilt that lay across the mattress, and half-a-dozen pillows stuffed into vintage lace shams were stacked neatly against the headboard. The bed had been made with precision, and there wasn’t a cat turd in sight.
    Lee found that he had the urge to step inside the bedroom, but, instead, he made himself turn toward the utility room where he’d spotted the litterbox. It needed emptying, so he cleaned it and bagged up the garbage. An exterior door in the utility room led to a second set of stairs, and Lee took them down to dump the trash. When he came back inside, he heard Wren calling from the front room.
    “I’m scared to ask what you are doing.”
    “Agnes was good,” he assured her. “I’m just taking care of a few things.” He poured fresh litter into the box and crossed the hall to the bathroom to wash his hands. A pair of tortoise-shell glasses rested next to an empty contact case. Lee smiled. She was nearsighted, too.
    He walked back into the kitchen and began opening cabinets. When he found the glassware, he grabbed a tumbler, went to the fridge, loaded it with ice, and walked to the tap. As the glass filled, he tried to think of anything else he could do to make Wren’s next few days a little easier.
    Lee admitted to himself that he’d never done anything like this for a patient. He’d never even thought of doing anything of the sort. But he also knew that helping Wren in this moment was something he really wanted to do.
    He carried the water glass back to her living room. “What are you going to do for dinner?” he asked. As soon as the question was out, Lee froze.
    Sushi. Marcelle.
    Shit.
    “I… um… I was thinking of ordering Chinese.” She tilted her chin down and gave him a sidelong look. “Would… you… like to stay?”
    Her obvious discomfort made him laugh. What else could he do? He found a coaster and set down the glass of water on her coffee table, realizing as he did that it was a Queen Anne piece. Probably mahogany.
    “Actually, I need to go.” He stood and dried his hands on his slacks, ignoring the fact that eating Chinese with Wren Blanchard sounded better than anything he’d done in a long time. “I just wanted to make sure you had everything you needed.”
    “I’ll be fine,” she said, nodding. “But thank you — for everything." This time she held out her hand, giving him a view of her black