By J. S. Scott
Copyright© 2012 by J.S. Scott
All Rights Reserved
It all started over a cat.
Holly West cursed as she jumped and threw her leg over the ornate, black, metal fence. She wasn’t tall, but she could jump high enough to grip the top and pull herself over. She landed with a graceful leap to the ground on the opposite side and frowned as she looked back at the offending barrier. It had sharp metal posts along the top that could have ruptured several vital organs.
Her brow continued to wrinkle as she gazed at her camera and equipment on the other side of the fence. She hated to leave them there, but wasn’t about to scale this fence trying to carry her equipment. It would just have to wait until she returned. It was a beautiful summer day and it wasn’t likely they’d get stolen—Her small log home and this opulent, extravagant residence were the only ones in the general area.
Holly lived in the perfect place for her work as a photographer. This thriving mountain community was home to some of the most breathtaking vistas and harbored some fantastic wildlife. Her small studio in town and various other types of contracted photography paid the bills...but photographing outdoor shots, especially wildlife, was her real passion.
She turned from the fence and started striding toward what sounded like a cat yowling. Holly had a weakness for cats. With two of her own that helped keep her loneliness at bay, she just couldn’t ignore the pleading, desperate cry. It sounded like a feline in distress.
She had been out shooting pictures of the mountains when she had heard the ear - piercing, plaintive sound that had prompted her to make her way in this direction. It led her to the boundaries of the residence of Logan Chandler.