Whispers at Midnight by Karen Robards

moment Matt said nothing. Glancing up, Carly caught his gaze. A smile played around the corners of his mouth as his hand rose to flatten on the truly awesome pectoral that lay over his heart.
    “Ladies, you wound me,” he said, holding her gaze as his smile widened. “You really wound me.”
    Carly’s chin snapped up. Her temper shot toward boiling. Before she could lose it entirely, Sandra once again stepped up to the plate.
    “Can anybody here say bacon?”
    Matt laughed. Sandra bridled. Her own outrage put on hold as she mentally yielded the at-bat to Sandra, Carly awaited the inevitable showdown with bated breath.
    It never came. Instead, an ungodly moan filled the air. Carly’s eyes widened. The sound was otherworldly, haunting—and it seemed to be coming from directly beneath their feet.
    “What the hell?” Matt’s brows knit as he looked down.
    “That’s it.” Sandra did an about-face, scuttling down the steps. “Chicago, here I come.”
    “It’s only Hugo,” Carly called after Sandra, having recovered her wits enough to recognize the sound as one she had heard before. “He hates getting wet. He must be holed up under the porch. Anyway, you can’t go. I’ve got the keys, remember?”
    “Shit,” Sandra said, turning to glare up at Carly. A stray moonbeam touched her face, which was already glistening from the increased humidity that the rain had left behind.
    “Hugo?” Matt asked at the same time.
    “My cat,” Carly explained in an aside.
    “Think that’s going to keep me here?” Sandra was sounding belligerent. Her fists were planted on her hips again. “Hah! Not a chance. I’ll just call myself a taxi, so what do you think of that, huh?”
    Carly looked at her with no small degree of satisfaction. “There are no taxis in Benton.”
    Sandra groaned.
    Another unearthly moan shivered skyward.
    “Give me that.” Fed up, Carly snatched the flashlight from Matt’s hand and marched down the steps. Squatting beside the crawl space, she pointed the beam inside.
    Bright eyes gleamed unblinkingly back at her. There was Hugo all right, huddled in a miserable-looking ball in the farthest corner of the dark, dank-smelling space. Planted directly in front of him and blocking his exit was another animal. Another growling animal that Carly couldn’t quite see clearly because a concrete support pillar blocked her view of it. But whatever it was, it seemed to strike fear into Hugo’s sheltered soul. He moaned again, clearly at bay.
    “Hugo,” Carly gasped, training the flashlight on him. Her cat looked at her imploringly. Then, to the other animal, which from what little she could see of it seemed to be a fox or a raccoon or, God forbid, a large skunk, she added, “You! Beat it! Shoo!” Glancing around, she spied the pea gravel that her grandmother had always used around the landscaping in lieu of mulch. Scooping up a handful, she tossed it at the predator. “Shoo!”
    It didn’t budge. Which wasn’t much of a surprise because she missed. Hugo flinched as gravel peppered the area around him, and let loose with another of those hair-raising moans.
    “Are you sure that’s a cat?” Matt asked dryly. Both he and Sandra were standing beside her now. Carly looked up at them.
    “Something’s got him trapped under there. Another animal.” Her conscience smote her. She’d been so caught up in this latest series of unfolding disasters that she’d pretty much left her poor cat to fend for himself ever since they’d arrived. As a result, she was now faced with the ultimate calamity: Hugo was about to become some predator’s lunch meat. Desperate to save him before the other creature could attack, she dropped to all fours and started into the crawl space.
    “Shoo! Shoo!” She waved the flashlight threateningly. Hugo stared at her in alarm.
    “Don’t be an idiot.” Matt grabbed her around the waist and dragged her back. Keeping a precautionary hold on the waistband of her jeans in case she