“Thanks,” I chittered, knowing she couldn’t understand me, but needing to say something regardless. The woman smiled and cautiously extended her fingers through the cage. I grazed my whiskers across them because I knew she would like it.

“Sara Jane?” Trent questioned from his desk, and the petite woman turned with a guilty swiftness. “I employ you to manage my office affairs, not be a zookeeper.”

“Sorry sir. I was taking the opportunity to try and rid myself of my irrational fear of vermin.” She brushed at her knee-length cotton skirt. It wasn’t as crisp or professional as her interview suit, but still new. Just what I’d expect a farm girl would wear on her first day on the job.

I chewed ravenously on the carrot left over from Sara Jane’s lunch. I was starving, since I refused to eat those stale pellets. What’s the matter, Trent? I thought between chews. Jealous?

Trent adjusted his glasses and returned his attention to his papers. “When you’re through ridding yourself of your irrational fears, I’d like you to go down to the library.”

“Yes sir.”

“The librarian has collated some information for me. But I want you to screen it for me. Bring up what you think is most pertinent.”

“Sir?”

Trent set down his pen. “Information regarding the sugar beet industry.” He smiled with a genuine warmth. I wondered if he had a patent on it. “I may be branching out in that direction, and need to learn enough to make an informed decision.”

Sara Jane beamed, tucking her fair hair behind an ear in pleased embarrassment. Obviously she guessed Trent might be buying the farm her family was serfed upon. You’re a smart woman, I thought darkly. Follow it down. Trent will own your family. You’d be his, body and soul.

She turned back to my cage and dropped a last celery stick. Her smile faded. Worry creased her brow. It would have looked endearing on her childlike face, except the woman’s family was in real danger. She took a breath to say something, then closed her mouth. “Yes sir,” she said, her eyes distant. “I’ll bring the information up right away.”

Sara Jane closed the door as she left, her footsteps sounding slow in the hallway.

Trent gave his door a suspicious glance as he reached for his cup of tea: Earl Grey, no sugar or milk. If he followed yesterday’s pattern, it would be phone conversations and paperwork from three until seven, when the few people he kept late went home. I imagined it was easier to run illegal drugs from your office when no one was around to see you.

Trent had returned that afternoon from his three-hour lunch break with his wispy hair freshly combed and smelling of the outdoors. He had been decidedly refreshed. If I hadn’t known better, I would have assumed he spent his midday break napping in his back office.

Why not? I thought as I stretched out on the hammock my cell had come with. He was wealthy enough to set his own hours.