Chapter 8

He breathed in the fresh smell of the mist and fine rain, not putting up the hood of his jacket. The sensation of the cool wet drops on the skin of his face and back of his neck was wonderful.

“God, I love this city,” he murmured.

He had spoken without thinking and it wasn’t until a minute or two later that the profundity of the statement struck him. He was on one of the side streets he followed on his way home. He stopped and turned around on the spot, looking at the house fronts, the lawns, shrubs, sidewalk, and pavement. A black cat darted from underneath one of the parked cars that lined one side of the street, crossed quickly, and disappeared beneath a hedge on the far side.

Garner smiled to himself. He always welcomed cat sightings—as opposed to, say, skunk. Cats prowling the stillness of the night felt so right, so proper. They combined three of his favorite qualities: beauty, grace, and mystery.