Page 66 of No Judgements

Instead, I reached for a pen and a pad of paper that sat near the Hartwells’ landline. The pad saidHOMEin fancy cursive across the top.

“Give me Chett’s phone number, and I’ll get in touch with him about his bird.”

“Oh, you’re such an angel, Bree,” Lydia said, and gave me the information.

After I’d said good-bye and hung up, I looked at Gary. Displaced from his favorite seat, he regarded me resentfully from the Persian carpet.

“What have you got to be so upset about?” I asked. “You’re living in the lap of luxury. I’m the one with problems.”

Gary yawned, then turned his head to lazily lick a paw.

Sighing, I dialed Chett’s number. He answered on the first ring. “Hello?”

“Hi, Chett? This is Bree, Sonny’s frie—”

“I know who you are, ma’am.” Chett spoke with a Southern accent, his voice breathless and impossibly young. “Sonny already let me know that you’d be calling.”

“Oh.” Sonny must have texted Chett while I’d still been on the phone with his mother. “Okay. Well, so he must have told you that—”

“Yeah, that you’re in Little Bridge, and you said you’d check on my birds?”

“Um... birds, as in more than one?”

“Yeah, I have eight of ’em?” Chett’s voice rose at the end of his sentences to make it sound like he was asking a question, even when he wasn’t. “They’re cockatiels. I put ’em in the attic because I was afraid it was going to flood. But now I heard on the news that it didn’t, it was more of a wind event? I live on Roosevelt, so maybe you would know. Did it flood over there?”

I was still trying to absorb the bombshell he’d just dropped on me. “Did you say you haveeightcockatiels?”

“Yeah, eight of them. I left ’em plenty of food and water, but if the power is out I imagine it’s getting really hot in that attic. Cockatiels are sensitive to heat. Do you think you could go over there and check on them? I rent a room at 804 Roosevelt. There’s a key under the welcome mat in front of the door. I’m in room three. You shouldn’t have any problem getting in.”

“Um... okay.”

“I can’t thank you enough, ma’am, this is real nice of you. Also, I know a bunch of other people from the college who can’t get back to their pets, either. Would you mind if I gave you their names?”

I hesitated with my pen poised over theHOMEnotepad. “A bunch of other people who left their pets behind?”

“Well, yes, ma’am, I know it sounds bad, but we’re students so it wasn’t like we could afford hotel rooms or anything. We’re all staying at this one girl’s grandma’s condo in Boca, but her grandma said we couldn’t bring pets on account of she’s allergic to animal dander. We thought it would be okay to leave our animals behind because we’d only be gone a little while. We didn’t know the bridge was going to—”

I cut him off, as I could sense a growing hysteria in his voice. “It’s okay. I’m not judging you. I know you love your pets.”

“We do, ma’am.” I could hear tears in his voice now. “We do love our pets. My ’tiels are my life. I thought I’d be right back, but then when I tried to drive back this morning, the sheriff—”

“It’s okay,” I repeated gently. “Just give me your friends’ addresses and... uh, well, I guess what kind of pets they have, and how I can get into their homes, and if they have spare keys under the mat, like you do, or any other way I might be able to get into their place.”

Chett happily obliged. By the time he was finished, I had filled a whole page of theHOMEnotepad.

I also had writer’s cramp.

“So will you call us?” he asked eagerly. “Will you call us and let us know how it goes? Because I’m real worried about my birds. They’re just the sweetest things.”

“I’ll call you, Chett,” I said. “Don’t worry.”

All I could think about was how much gas all of this was going to take. Ed was going to kill me.

But since Ed was also an animal lover, I knew he’d be happy to donate to the cause.

Probably.

Speaking of which, I knew I had one last—and much more difficult—call to make. Which I did as soon as I’d hung up with Chett, finally dialing the number I’d been avoiding for so long.