The room was neat and orderly. Books in straight stacks and toys arranged very precisely. I couldn’t see in the closet, but I had a feeling the hangers were all exactly the same and evenly spaced.

  “Brian’s autistic,” Grace said softly.

  The little I knew about autism was reinforced by Brian’s behavior. It also explained Grace’s anxiety and urgency. Many people with autism often do better with animals. Horses and dogs were more commonly used as therapy pets, but some cats have proven useful as well.

  “Sammie helps?” I asked as I looked around the room.

  “Yes,” Grace replied as she crossed her arms and ran one hand up and down the other arm. “Brian hadn’t responded to any animal when he was first diagnosed, but when he was about four he wandered away. We searched for hours. Had called in the police, everything. Eventually, we found him next door. Our neighbor raises Savannahs. Brian was sitting in front of their enclosure talking to one of the cats.”

  “A breakthrough of sorts?”

  “Oh yes. It was.” Grace smiled. “The cat he bonded with was an older one. We persuaded, Lorraine, our neighbor, to part with her by purchasing a higher generation to replace the cat. Most Savannahs are very active, but Jessie was really good with Brian. Unfortunately, she died last year. It took us almost five months to find another Savannah that could cope with Brian and that he responded to. We’ve had Sammie about four months. The two of them are inseparable.”

  “You didn’t get her from your neighbor?”

  “No. Brian didn’t like any of Lorraine’s cats. We got Sammie from a breeder in New Mexico named Paul Kingman. She cost us a fortune as she is an F1, and Paul didn’t want to part with her.”

  “F1?”

  “That’s a first generation Savannah,” Grace explained. “They’re very rare. An F1 is fifty percent African serval and fifty percent domestic cat. Each next generation has less serval. Jessie was an F5. Because Sammie is so rare, we agreed to allow Paul to breed her one more time. But recently, he told us he had gotten another F1 female who is already pregnant.”

  “So Sammie isn’t spayed?”

  “No. Is that a problem?”

  “No, but it may explain why she’s gone.”

  “We intend to have her spayed. We have an appointment with the vet later this week.” She paused before saying softly, “I don’t know what Brian will do if she is really gone.”

  “Is that Sammie’s bed?” I asked pointing to a cat bed under the window.

  “Yes,” Grace replied. She moved over to the bed. “Sammie sleeps there sometimes, but mostly, she sleeps on this blanket.”

  Grace pointed to a small throw at the foot of Brian’s bed. I walked over to it. It was made of some type of soft material, and I could easily see how a cat would make it its own. I picked it up and held it out to Hero. I gave him the command, and he obediently sniffed the blanket. Once I was sure he had the scent, I turned to Grace.

  “We need to leave the room. There will be too much of Sammie here. We’ll start in the hall.” As we walked out of Brian’s room, I asked. “Are you sure Sammie isn’t in the house?”

  “As sure as we can be. Savannah’s are very agile and can open doors and cabinets, but we searched every room multiple times. We even searched the attic. I hope she’s somewhere in the house, but I don’t think she would stay away from Brian for this long.”

  I didn’t think so either. I gave Hero his search command. We followed him down the stairs, back through the family room where Brian and the girls were, and then into the next room which was a mudroom. Hero walked over to the back door and pawed at the floor.

  “Well, Sammie’s not in the house. She definitely went out the back.”

  There was a gasp behind us. I turned to see Hannah and Natalie standing in the doorway. Hannah had a stricken look on her face.

  “The door was unlocked yesterday,” Hannah said softly. “I noticed it when we were looking for Sammie.”

  “What?” Grace exclaimed. “Hannah, why didn’t you say anything?”

  “I forgot!” Hannah said. “I didn’t think anything about it. I just opened the door to go outside to look.”

  “Is the door normally locked?” I questioned.

  “Yes. We seldom use this door. We enter the house through the garage or the front door.”

  “No one uses this door?”

  “No,” Grace said slowly. “Not usually. There’s a door in the kitchen that leads to the back yard.”

  “Humm,” I said and then unlocked and opened the door.

  Hero continued the search out the back door, across the patio, and onto the lawn. He led us over to the fence. As we walked, I noticed drag marks in various places in the grass. They were minor imperfections as the lawn was thick and green, but if you looked closely, you could see them. I got a sinking feeling in my stomach.

  “How much does Sammie weigh?”

  “Let’s see. She’s big, even for a Savannah. Probably close to thirty pounds.”

  Big enough to make it difficult to carry her if a person was carrying something else. Like a gun. I had a really bad feeling that I wasn’t going to find Sammie anywhere near this house. We went through the gate, and Hero continued all the way to the street. There he stopped and lay down. That was his signal he had lost the trail. I knelt down beside him and gave him his treat.

  “What is it? What happened?” Grace asked sharply.

  I turned around to see Hannah and Natalie had followed us from the house. I glanced back at the street and then down at Hero. There was only one explanation.

  “Someone stole Sammie.”

  Chapter 3

  After my rather abrupt announcement, Hannah started crying. She didn’t sob or make any noise, but her eyes filled with tears and a few ran down her face. Grace did a little better. Tears filled her eyes as well, but she managed to blink them back. Natalie just looked lost. I knew how she felt. I couldn’t find any words to comfort them either.

  “So she’s totally lost to us?” Grace asked.

  “You need to report this to the police,” I said. I could see Brian walking through the gate. “You could also hire a private investigator. Micah’s firm would probably take this case now that something valuable has been stolen.”

  Grace stiffened and a hard look crossed her face. The tears were gone. “Something valuable had been taken when I contacted him in the first place.”

  I was beginning to like Grace. She might be a snob, but she cared about her kids and Sammie. Brian had come to stand by her side. Hero took a step forward and started wagging his tail. Now that he was no longer working, he was back to his friendly happy self.

  “Don’t like dogs,” Brian said softly, rapidly tapping on his leg.

  I pulled Hero back to my side and had him sit. Once he was settled, Brian’s tapping slowed. Grace glanced at him briefly and then studied me a moment.

  “You’re a private investigator,” she said.

  It wasn’t a false statement. I do have my private investigator’s license, and Lost and Found Pets is registered as a private investigation firm, but we are a very specialized agency. We only search for lost animals. I hadn’t conducted a true search for something stolen in years.

  “Well, yes…” I began.

  “I hired you to find Sammie, Ms. Prescott. I would like you to continue.”

  “Micah’s firm could probably do a better job.”

  “You find Sammie,” Brian said sharply. He still didn’t look my way, but the words were directed at me—strongly directed at me. He then turned and moved away. We all watched as he walked back toward the fence and disappeared through the gate. Grace turned to me with an inquiring look.

  “Okay,” I said. There was no way I wasn’t going to doing everything in my power to find Sammie for that boy.

  Grace and I discussed my next steps, and then she phoned the police. I stayed with the Carmichaels until the officers arrived. I showed them the drag marks I had seen in the yard. They dutifully took notes and pictures, but it was obvious they gave little credence to my theory. They did perk up when they learned how much Sammie was worth, but I had my doubts about the efforts they would make. A lost cat, even if it was stolen, was not a priority. I didn’t blame them. They had enough to do with far more serious crimes. One of the reasons my agency is so successful is that we can devote all our time to finding a lost pet.

  Having a police report was important in this case though. If I was able to find Sammie, there would be a record of lost ownership. Grace understood as well so while she was providing all the details, I made my escape and returned home.

  My house is a beautiful old two-story Queen-Victorian my Aunt Nora left me. I love it. It was the first real home I had ever had. Nora had passed it to me along with a full escrow account, a very healthy portfolio, and a love of Broadway musicals. Most importantly, Nora had left me a belief in myself I would have never found without her. She passed away from cancer four years ago, but I still miss her every single day.

  The front door of my house leads into the agency office. I seldom use that door. Instead, Hero and I went through the backyard and into the kitchen. The German Shepard immediately ran through the room, down the hall, and through the pet entry on the door leading from the house to the office.

  I followed slowly and entered to find a large man sprawled on the small sofa near the window. Hero was sitting at his feet, and one of my cats was in his lap. He barely fit on the loveseat. Lukas Gibson is six foot four inches and two hundred pounds of pure muscle. He isn’t traditionally handsome, but he definitely turns heads with his black hair, lean build, and rugged features. He has broad shoulders and a sculptured chest and stomach. His eyes are an unusual gray-blue color that can chill you with just one look. Other times, they burn right into your soul. But it’s his smile that is the most dangerous, at least to me. His smile makes my toes curl.

  “You didn’t forget about our lunch date, did you, Lexie?” Luke said as he turned that smile on me. He is the only one who calls me Lexie. I try to pretend I don’t like it.

  I had forgotten our date, but when I glanced at the clock, I saw I was only ten minutes late. Luke and I had had a volatile, passionate affair three years ago. It ended badly when I discovered he was sleeping with another woman. He had been working a case for his employer, and the woman in question was the main suspect. Luke had started working the case before the two of us had gotten together, but he couldn’t tell me about it.

  We have differing opinions about that time. Luke insists we weren’t exclusive, and he hadn’t made me any promises. I believe he should have never started a relationship with me if he had been involved with someone else. He didn’t think of it as being involved with someone, but as a job assignment. We had argued about it endlessly three years ago before going our separate ways. He had returned recently, helped me solve the case of the lost Great Dane, and renewed his pursuit of a relationship with me. I was still skittish, but we were making progress.

  “We have a new client,” I said quietly as I walked over to my desk. Claire was on the phone with one of the animal shelters.

  “So Claire said,” Luke replied. “Something about a cat?”

  “A Savannah,” I said as I sat down and logged into my computer. Claire ended her call and gave me a quick smile.

  “What’s a Savannah?” Luke asked. He had one leg crossed over the other and was leaning back on the couch. Jerrie, short for Mungojerrie, was perched precariously on one thigh. Her eyes were closed, and I could hear her purr from across the room. My other cat, Rumpelteazer, was sitting on the back of the sofa sunning himself. It’s hard to come to our office and not be surrounded by animals.

  “It’s a hybrid,” Claire said, jumping into the conversation. “I did some research after Alex left with Mrs. Carmichael. It’s a cross between a domestic cat and a serval, which is a wild African cat.”

  “They’re pretty rare,” I said with a nod.

  “And very expensive,” Claire added.

  “How expensive?” Luke asked.

  “It depends on the generation—how far from a serval the Savannah is,” Claire replied. “F1 is first generation and costs the most, but even the F5 are expensive. From what I read, an F5 would cost seven hundred dollars and up. An F1 could be over twenty thousand dollars.”

  “For a cat?”

  “Yes, can you believe it?” Claire said to Luke in a disbelieving tone. “Alex, do you know how much the Carmichaels paid for Sammie?”

  Both she and Luke looked at me. I paused a moment for dramatic effect. It was going to be fun to see their reactions when I told them.

  “Sammie is an F1, and the Carmichaels paid thirty-two thousand dollars for her.”

  “Oh my God,” Claire said astonished.

  Luke’s foot hit the floor, and Jerrie jumped awkwardly onto the couch. She gave Luke a dirty look. He ignored her.

  “No wonder they hired you. Did you find her?”

  “No. What I found was that Sammie was stolen.”

  “Stolen?” Luke said leaning forward. “Are you sure?”

  “Pretty sure,” I replied and proceeded to tell him and Claire about the drag marks and Hero’s search results.

  “Okay,” Luke said slowly. He’s a detective at heart. Any type of mystery gets his mind whirling. “Thirty-two thousand is a lot of money, but I doubt there’s a black market for Savannah cats. What is the thief going to do with her?”

  “That’s what I’m going to try to find out.”

  “You?” Claire asked.

  “Grace Carmichael still wants us to find Sammie.”

  “Why us?” Claire asked with a frown. “This isn’t typically the type of case we work.”

  “I told her that. I even tried to get her to contact Micah, but she said she wants us.”

  “You care,” Luke said. It was my turn to frown. He smiled. “She knows you care as much about that missing cat as she does. That’s why she wants you.”

  “That’s true,” Claire added. “It’s the reason we get repeat customers and so many referrals. Everyone knows you won’t give up if you think you can find the animal.”

  I shrugged but didn’t reply. I couldn’t argue with them, but they were making me sound better than I am. I care about animals, but mostly, I’m just stubborn.

  “I believe Sammie was stolen, and I’m going to work that angle, but we still need to do our usual search. Claire, can you start on it?”

  “Sure.”

  “So does this mean our lunch date is off?” Luke asked.

  Luke and I hadn’t gone out much since his return. Lunch was going to be just our third date. He had been busy getting his business up and running. Luke had been in the military for years. He didn’t talk about it much and most of what he had done appeared to be classified, but his background is investigation.

  Since he left the army, he had been working for a firm specializing in providing security and investigation for high-tech companies. For the past few years, Luke had been saving up capital and making contacts so he could open his own agency. Elite Corporate Security would open in less than a week. Luke had been spending a lot of time searching for an office and hiring personnel.

  Our first date had been to a local theatre to see A Chorus Line. Luke knows I love musicals, and he had purchased tickets to the show. We had a good time even though the performance was subpar. Our second date had been to see a Wildcats’ game. The Wildcats are a local minor league baseball team. I like baseball, but Luke doesn’t. He sat through the game for me. At the end of each date, he had given me a sweet chaste kiss and walked away. He knew I still didn’t trust him so he was taking it slow.

  In spite of the fact I had forgotten, I had been looking forward to lunch with Luke. No matter how important it was I couldn’t spend every waking minute looking for animals. I needed a break.

  “Have you found the Martin’s dog?” I asked Claire.

  “No,” she replied sadly. “And I’ve already spend over two hours searching.”

  The Martin’s had only requested the basic search and had paid the minimum two hundred dollars. Sometimes that was all our clients could afford. We needed their permission to continue.

  “Contact them and see if they want to continue,” I told her. Claire was leaving early, as it was the first week her kids were out of school for the summer. She was taking them to her in-laws. “If they do, I’ll continue the search when I get back.”

  I turned to Luke. He stood with a grin, and I answered him with one of my own.

  “Lunch is still on. Let’s go.”

  Chapter 4

  Lunch with Luke turned into a strategy session for handling my new case. He jumped right in with suggestions and tips. I didn’t mind. Luke is an excellent investigator, and I was a little rusty. Besides, he was bored. He had spent the past five weeks wrapping up old cases, moving to a new town, and setting up his business. What he hadn’t done was work a case and Luke loves to work a case. He had helped me when I was trying to find out why someone had a microchip implanted in the tooth of a Great Dane, but that was all. It was nice to see the excitement in his eyes.

  “What do you know about the breeder?” he asked me. We were seated at an outside table at a nearby bistro. It is a favorite place of mine. They serve soups, salads, and sandwiches for lunch. A hardier menu is available later in the day, but I enjoy their lunch specials.

  “Just what Grace told me,” I said with a shrug. “He’s somewhere in New Mexico. Why?”

  “He might be a suspect. If Sammie is so valuable, he might want her back.”

  “I don’t think so,” I said slowly. “Grace said he was very sympathetic about their son. He offered them any other cat he had, but none of them bonded with Brian like Sammie did. When he saw that, he agreed to sell.”

  “For an awful lot of money. You don’t think he took advantage of the situation?”

  “No. Savannahs are difficult to breed. The reason Sammie was so valuable to him was that she has already produced two litters. Those kittens sold for over ten thousand dollars each. If he was only interested in money, he would have gotten more by keeping her.”