![]() ![]() Then I remembered how Owen had seemed to just materialize on Gregor Easton’s head, just the way he’d suddenly seemed to appear in midleap, chasing that bird in the backyard. Of course, three-quarters of the time he came to class in his pajama bottoms. Was that what was wrong? Was I crazy? I remembered a psych prof in first year telling the class that if you could ask the question, then you weren’t. No, that wouldn’t make me look like a nutcase. How else was I going to get Hercules out? Then I thought, Oh, sure, call Detective Gordon and tell him my cat just walked through the door into the room. I shouldn’t have touched the door at all. ![]() “You’re nuts,” I said aloud, sitting back on my heels. ![]() I caught a bit of my reflection in the brass kick panel and realized what I was doing. Then I dropped to my knees and polished the bottom section of the door where I’d looked for some kind of hidden access panel. I used the hem of my T-shirt to rub the doorknob. Now my fingerprints were all over the door. I yanked my hand away from the door like it was suddenly on fire. The room was part of a murder investigation. There was silence and then a faint “meow” from the other side of the closed door. ![]()
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