Excerpt of Escape Claws by Linda Reilly

Hugging herself against the morning chill, Lara strolled
toward the top of the hill and looked out over the
landscape. A light wind lifted the ends of her hair. In the
meadow below, behind the town park, the field grasses
tilted in the breeze. How many winters had she sledded on
this hill, gliding down the snowy slope on her aunt’s
ancient Flexible Flyer? This was the parcel of land, she
realized, that Theo Barnes had been pressuring her aunt to
sell.

From where she stood, the block that housed Sherry’s coffee
shop was visible. Across the street from that was the town
library, a one-story red brick affair that looked as if it
hadn’t changed in decades. Another old building squatted
next to the library. With its dreary gray shingles and
shallow front steps, it had all the trappings of an ugly
apartment house.

A sudden flurry of movement in the meadow caught Lara’s
attention. It was an animal on the prowl, sleek and
stealthy, and—
Lara took in a quick breath.

It was Blue, stalking through the field toward the base of
the hill, her aquamarine eyes seemingly fixed on Lara’s.

“Blue,” she called softly to the cat. “Come here, sweet
kitty.”

The cat continued moving but then shot off through the tall
grass, heading in the direction of the brook.

Lara scuttled down the hill as quickly as she could,
determined to catch up with the elusive feline. The cat was
trotting through the grassy field as if on a mission. Lara
was so focused on keeping Blue in her line of vision that
she didn’t notice the jutting rock embedded in the ground.
It caught the toe of her boot. In the next instant she
pitched forward, her arms flailing in a clumsy attempt to
break her fall. She tumbled to the ground, skidding on her
stomach, almost to the bottom of the hill.

For a moment Lara just lay there, her breath coming in
sharp gasps. She rolled over and sat up, groaning as she
tested her limbs. Everything worked, although the palm of
her right hand was scraped and sore.

After tossing a few colorful curses at the rock that
betrayed her, she hauled herself to her feet and began
brushing dirt and grass from her hands and sweater. She
slapped at her jeans to dislodge the clinging bits of dirt
and grass. She hoped Aunt Fran’s washing machine was in
good working condition. At the rate she was going, she’d be
running a load through very soon.

One last time, Lara glanced around for any sign of Blue,
but the cat was MIA. By now Aunt Fran was probably awake
and wondering where she’d disappeared to. She felt her
stomach rumble. It was time she made breakfast for the two
of them.

Lara turned to start back up the hill when something caught
her eye—a swatch of red, maybe thirty feet away, that she
hadn’t noticed before. Whatever it was, it was slumped
behind the granite bench at the rear of the town’s
property. Had someone left an old blanket there? Could it
be something that belonged to Aunt Fran?

She moved gingerly toward the red lump. A weird chill crept
up her spine. Nothing in the meadow had ever frightened her
before, but now she felt oddly afraid.

Lara halted abruptly in her tracks.

It wasn’t a blanket, as she’d first thought. It was a
jacket—a red-and-black checkered jacket.

A jacket still worn by its very dead owner, Theo Barnes.