A Story to Kill by Lynn Cahoon

husband’s laptop. Do you have it over at the station?” She held her breath, hoping the answer would be yes.
    â€œI’ve got the evidence list right here.” Her uncle paused while he went through the list. “Nope, sorry, no laptop. We have his cell, though. Could that be what she meant?”
    A writer didn’t go to a retreat without a laptop. Cat mused about the last time she’d seen Tom: on the walk to the library. With his tote bag over his shoulder. Of course, that didn’t mean there was anything in the tote. But Rose talked to him that day; she would know what he was writing on.
    â€œCat, are you really all right? I’m beginning to worry about you.” Her uncle’s words broke through her wandering thoughts.
    She forced a small laugh. “My blood sugar must be low. I’ve got things to get done this morning for the retreat group, so I better get cracking.”
    â€œIf you need me . . .” He let the statement go unfinished and disconnected the call.
    Cat set the cell on the table and grabbed a piece of the sweet zucchini bread. She ate everything on the plate, except for the sliced kiwi Shauna had put on the tray. She was always trying to get Cat to try something new, but she’d already told her friend that she didn’t like kiwi. Shauna just didn’t believe her. She finished off her coffee and stared into the cup. Maybe too much caffeine had her jittery. Whatever it was, there was one thing that was certain. The call had not come from the dark beyond. She pressed her hands on the desk to try to stop the shaking. Whoever was messing with her, they were doing a pretty great job of scaring the crap out of her.

Chapter 9
    When the question-and-answer session started, the four remaining retreat attendees were sitting in the living room. Sara was on her phone, texting. Rose and Daisy were busy scribbling in spiral notebooks. And Billy had his laptop on his lap, his fingers flying over the keyboard.
    â€œGood morning.” Cat smiled at the group. “I hope you all slept well and enjoyed breakfast this morning.” She paused, looking at the four, and sighed. “This was where I planned on asking you how the experience had been so far, but I’m kind of afraid of your answers.”
    Billy looked up from his laptop. “I assume you think we’ll say bad things since Tom Cook bit the big one here?” He looked around at the group. “I don’t know about the rest of you, but I’m getting way more done on this manuscript than I had expected. It’s funny, I assumed retreats were just for the rich playing at writing. But it’s actually been helpful to be away from my normal life.”
    Cat smiled, but didn’t add she wondered what the guy’s normal life was like if a dead body in the next room didn’t cause him any stress or writer’s block. She turned to the sisters, “What about you two? How has the week so far been?”
    â€œYou know I’m terribly disappointed in the way things turned out with Mr. Cook.” Rose shrugged. “But with his wife here, I realized my fantasies were mostly pipe dreams anyway.”
    â€œMostly? How about totally? You didn’t have a chance with the guy mostly because you’re so much older than he was.” Daisy patted her sister’s hand and looked up at Cat. “Sometimes reality therapy is the best idea. Anyway, I’ve written almost ten thousand words in the last three days. I’m so excited. It took me three months to get that much done at home.”
    â€œI’m glad the separation from your normal life is working for you.” Cat looked toward Sara who must have felt everyone’s attention and shoved the phone into her bag.
    â€œWhat?” Her question made it clear she hadn’t been paying attention.
    Something about the girl felt off, but Cat couldn’t pinpoint it. After Tom’s death, Cat had gone back and