Dad was disinterested. “Should’ve had him vaccinated earlier, Catherine,” he said. On the fifth day, the dog was awake, and two days later Danny triumphantly led the skinny puppy into the house. Mom followed, carrying the package of antibiotics they’d picked up at the pharmacy. Dad just read his magazine.
Since then, two things were guaranteed to make Buddy squirm – the smell of chlorine bleach they used to disinfect the cages and the green neon Emergency Animal Hospital sign on 34th Street. And there it was. Buddy dropped his Frisbee on the truck floor.
Inside, Sgt. Sandhu remained standing until the vet appeared. She wore her white lab coat unbuttoned. Dark-rimmed, rectangular glasses set off her high cheek bones. She reached across the counter to shake hands. “I’m Dr. Kuskovski.”
“Rajiv Sandhu.”
She looked at Danny and Buddy. “Hi, Danny. What can I do for you?”
“Can we speak with you privately?” asked the police officer. Sgt. Sandhu closed the examination room door. “The dog needs his microchip removed,” he said.
“Is there something wrong with it?”
“No. It just needs to be removed.”
Dr. Kuskovski looked at Danny, then back at Sgt. Sandhu. “And you are…”
“A family friend.”
She looked at Danny. “Is this right, Danny?”
He shrugged his shoulders and avoided her eyes.
Well,” said the vet, “I guess you can always have one reinserted later.”
The procedure only took a few minutes. When it was done, Buddy shook himself and then raised his hind leg to scratch at the incision.
“You’ll have to keep him from scratching until the freezing wears off, and then he won’t notice it anymore. It shouldn’t take more than an hour,” the vet said.
Sgt. Sandhu pulled out his wallet and placed a few bills on the counter. The assistant handed him a receipt. Then she offered Danny the dog’s collar.
“Don’t forget this,” she said.
Danny reached for it, but his hand was intercepted by the police officer’s. “I’ll take it,” he said quietly.
Danny jerked his hand back from the police officer’s touch as if he’d been burned.
Oh my God. It’s really happening.
Chapter 20
Thursday
“Why are you doing all of this?” Danny asked, abruptly breaking the silence.
Sgt. Sandhu stopped at a red light. “Because I have to. Because I care about you.” He turned to face the boy. “Because I have a wife and two daughters. And because I hope someone would help them if they were in danger, like you are.”
He turned off the ignition in front of the house. “Spend some time working on your room. Later this afternoon, my wife, Anita, and I will have your family over for a barbeque. You’re going to practice meeting strangers.”
Four o’clock came quickly. Catherine tapped on Danny’s door. “We’re leaving in twenty minutes. I thought maybe you’d like to get washed up and changed.”
He was lying on the unmade bed, looking up at the stars. He hadn’t washed or even brushed his teeth and was still wearing Wednesday’s clothes. Reluctantly, he decided to take a shower.
On the way to the Sandhus, Catherine explained the visit. She sounded like she had a sore throat. “It’s kind of like a rehearsal,” she said. “The Sandhus are going to pretend they’re our neighbors at the new place. We’re going to speak with them as if…in our new identities.”
So that’s what Sgt. Sandhu meant by practicing. Danny felt light-headed. He began scratching Buddy’s head mechanically, back and forth, back and forth.
Sgt. Sandhu was sitting on the front steps of the small white house. Perched beside him were his identical twin daughters, their short, black hair pulled into messy pigtails. They were wearing identical outfits – baggy, red shorts with flowers on the borders and white T-shirts with the same flowers trimming the sleeves. From a distance, there was no way to tell the girls apart. He’d seen them a couple of years ago when their dad brought them to soccer practice, but they were just toddlers then, and he hadn’t paid them much attention.
As usual, Buddy bounded up ahead, tail wagging, muzzle thrust forward in greeting. Sgt. Sandhu stood and gave them a welcoming smile.
“Hello. I’m glad you could make it,” he said, reaching out. “I’m Rajiv and these are my children, Amina and Amruta.”
Catherine shook his hand. “I’m Susan Mayer, and these are my children, Julia and David,” she said.
“Pleased to meet you, Julia, David,” Sgt. Sandhu said, his face not betraying that this was anything but a neighborly visit. “Come around to the back. We’ve got some cold drinks waiting.”
With a giggle, the twins jumped up and chased the dog through the gate. A chemical smell of lighter fluid lingered around the flaming charcoal briquettes. Danny started when he recognized Phil at the grill. He wore a small apron that barely reached around his waist. Several plastic deck chairs circled a patio table shaded by a green umbrella. Pitchers of lemonade and iced tea sweated on the table beside a stack of daisy-print plastic tumblers.
Two of the deck chairs were occupied – one by Sgt. Sandhu’s wife, and the other, by Dr. Sung.
Sgt. Sandhu made the introductions. “Susan, this is my neighbor Phil, and over there is his wife, Connie,” he said, pointing at Dr. Sung. “And, of course, my wife Anita.” He gestured toward Danny and Jennifer. “And here are David and Julia.”
Smiles, nods, hellos, and small talk. “Isn’t it a beautiful day?” “Yes summer’s been just great this year.” “Even the mosquitoes aren’t too bad….”
The twins grabbed Jennifer and yanked her to the corner of the yard. “Wanna see our sandbox? We could play house. I have a tea set,” one of them said.
“It’s my tea set too!” the other twin whined.
“Lemonade or iced tea?” asked Anita.
“Iced tea, please,” Catherine replied.
Danny buried his hands in his pockets and looked away.
“I think David would like lemonade,” Catherine answered for her son.
The refreshing drink splashed over the ice cubes. Anita walked over to Danny and handed him the glass. “Here you go, David.”
“Homemade, David,” Phil called from the barbeque. “I squeezed the lemons myself.”
Buddy nosed every corner of the yard, then returned to brush against Danny’s legs. When Danny reached down to pet him, Phil tried to restart the conversation.
“David, what’s your dog’s name?”
Danny turned his back. “Come on, Buddy,” he said, leading the dog away from the patio to the shade of a leafy tree. He sat on the ground and leaned against the trunk, far enough away to remain uninvolved.
Disregarding his attitude, the others continued with questions and small talk in voices loud enough that he would hear them.
“So – where do you come from?”
“Saskatoon.”
“And what made you move to Winnipeg?”
“Well, I…we…always thought it would be a nice place to live…” Catherine’s voice thinned.
“Got any relatives here?”
“Ah, no.”
“Well it’s a great place to raise a family,” Phil stated pleasantly. He arranged hot dogs and steaks on the grill. “Connie and I have lived here all our lives. Got to prepare yourselves for the winters, though. Downtown Winnipeg is the coldest place on earth, they say. What were the winters like in Saskatoon?”
“Well, they’re…cold too….”
“What kind of work do you do?” asked Dr. Sung.
Catherine took a long sip of iced tea. “I usually work in sales – retail sales.”
“And are you looking for a job or have you already lined one up?”
“I’m still looking for a job…. I wanted to move first and get the children settled before school starts.”
“Susan, how do you like your steak?” Phil asked.
“Medium, please.”
“Sounds wonderful,” replied Catherine, sitting back.
Phil called over to the sandbox. “Julia, hot dogs or a steak?”
The twins were busily slapping wet sand between their palms to make mud pies, while Jennifer added dry sand to the yellow plastic water bucket.
“Julia?” he called, this time a little louder.
It was not the name, but the silence and the pressure of three sets of eyes that caught Jennifer’s attention. She looked first at her mother, then at Phil who immediately held her gaze and said, “Julia – hot dog or steak?”
“Hot dog.”
He nodded. “Comin’ right up!” He smiled at Danny. “And you?” he asked, without using a name.
“Steak,” Danny mumbled.
“Sure thing.”
Anita brought out a casserole dish covered in plastic wrap, and a few more trips in and out produced a steaming pot of corn, French bread, hot dog buns, a green salad, and assorted condiments.
Phil slid the steaks and hot dogs onto a platter. On any other day, Danny would have been first in line.
“Girls!” Anita called. “Wash up for supper, please. Amina, Amruta, please show Julia where the bathroom is. And bring me your glasses; I’ve got more lemonade here.”
Dr. Sung and Catherine started making their way around the table, filling their plates and topping up their drinks.
Jennifer and the twins reappeared, and Anita helped her daughters with their plates. The only ones still without food were Sgt. Sandhu and Danny.
Sgt. Sandhu walked over to the boy and crouched beside him. Instead of looking at him, he reached out to stroke the dog.
“Why don’t you come over and eat,” Sgt. Sandhu said gently. “I’m sure Buddy would like your steak bone when you’re finished. I can only imagine – no, I can’t even imagine – how hard this must be for you. But there is simply no way to make it easier. Please, come over to the table. You don’t have to participate, but at least come and listen. You need to know what’s still ahead of you.”
Sgt. Sadhu reached to touch Danny’s arm. The boy pulled away, but his actions were slower, more resigned. His anger was gradually ebbing away, like the dying coals on the barbeque. He no longer had the energy to keep it burning. He felt exhausted. He just wanted someone to take care of him.
Sgt. Sadhu returned to the patio. The boy followed, his lemonade glass ready for a refill.
A lull fell over the group as they sat with plates balanced in their laps. Only the twins chattered on, still absorbed in their world of play. When everyone started leaving their cutlery on their plates and lifting napkins to their lips, Sgt. Sandhu caught Danny’s eye.
“Would you like to give a couple of these bones to Buddy? He’s been so patient, waiting for us to finish.” Sgt. Sandhu gave Danny permission to leave the table – allowing him to be a spectator for a while longer, instead of a participant. As soon as he moved away, Sgt. Sandhu resumed the rehearsal.
“So tell us a bit about yourself, Susan. Have you always lived in Saskatchewan?”
“No…,” answered Catherine. “I was born in Edmonton, but my parents and I moved to Saskatoon when I started school. I’m an only child,” she volunteered a bit too quickly. Self-consciously, she took a gulp of iced tea.
Dr. Sung spoke. “You must have gone to Lake Diefenbaker, just south of Saskatoon, for summer holidays. I hear the swimming and boating is great, and the fishing’s not bad either.”
“Well…yes,” faltered Catherine, “of course we went there many times. Great place.”
Anita turned to Jennifer. “Are you looking forward to school, Julia? What grade are you going into?”
“Four.”
“What’s your favorite subject?”
“Science.”
“How old are you now?”
“I’m eight. I’ll be nine in…” There was an awkward silence as she realized her mistake. “I guess I’m…” She turned to her mother. “I missed my new birthday?” she asked in a voice that was equal parts confusion and distress.
“Ah….” said Catherine. “Maybe we’ll have to rethink that one.”
Dr. Sung smiled reassuringly. “Just let us know.”
Silence stretched over the group as if they were all holding their breath, waiting for someone to take the lead. Where are they going with this charade? Danny wondered. Haven’t they said enough, squirmed enough – suffered enough?
Sgt. Sandhu spoke up. “I think this would be a good time for dessert. Rhubarb pie with ice cream.” He cleared the dinner dishes as Anita set out the dessert plates.
Phil cleared his throat. “Remember, you can steer a conversation by asking questions, moving the focus away from you and onto others.” He sighed. “Most people are only too happy to talk about themselves, and they’d rather talk than listen.”
Catherine nodded.
“And try not to volunteer information. It’s likely to just trip you up and cause you grief later on. You can also turn conversations to your advantage,” he coached. “For example, take the Lake Diefenbaker comment. Instead of floundering around and wondering what to say about it, ask her if she’s ever been there or knows someone who goes there. If she says no, you’ll be safe in making up a few things. If she says yes, then ask her about it – how did you like it? Where did you stay? What did you do? – and you’ll learn some things for the next time you’re asked.”
Catherine nodded again. Her face had taken on a gray, ashen look, as if she, too, were suddenly exhausted, overwhelmed by the rehearsal. She picked at her dessert while Anita reminded the twins it was bath time. The sun stretched their shadows and Catherine stood to say good-bye. Her shoulders sagged and she kept her distance from her hosts. The gap ensured there wouldn’t be any embracing – only nods and concerned looks, thank-yous and take-care-of-yourselves, and good-byes.
But before they could leave, Sgt. Sandhu approached Danny. The next words fell from his lips like a verdict.
“You leave tomorrow.”
Chapter 21
Friday
Not a single thing in Danny’s room had moved when his mom knocked on the door the next morning and said it was time to go to his grandparents’. As he rubbed the sleep from his eyes, his thoughts tumbled together and he developed a plan.
I’ll stay with Grandma and Grandpa. Mom can move away for a while – and Jen too, if she wants. Then Dad’ll get out of jail and he won’t go after Mom. In a couple of months Dad will have had time to prove he can keep his promise and Mom will realize he isn’t a threat. Then Mom and Jen can move back – and I’ll still be Daniel Paul McMillan.
The new plan nudged him forward. He opened the door and went downstairs.
Three suitcases were lined up at the door. Four family photo albums lay in a pile beside a pillar of CDs and DVDs. Jennifer sat on the floor beside a pillowcase bulging with stuffed animals, twiddling her hair around and around her finger.
Danny called Buddy and quickly maneuvered out the door.
It was a beautiful summer morning on Grandma and Grandpa’s street. The neighbors paused from weeding gardens to give them a cheery wave. Danny pulled his mouth tight, dropped his eyes, and headed inside.
The table was set for brunch. Grandma was at the stove, flipping pancakes.
“Hi Danny. Grandpa’s out back, would you tell him we’ll be ready in ten minutes?”
“Hi Grandma,” he replied. He took a breath and his new plan helped him settle his stomach butterflies.
Grandpa stood out back. He clenched a red spool the size of a basketball hoop in one hand, and with the other he was teasing apart the strings tethering the wings of his freestyle kite.
“Danny!” Grandpa said. “Don’t let the dog over here or I’ll never get these strings straightened out!” Buddy was just brus
hing past Danny’s legs.
“Buddy!” Danny called as he reached to grab the dog’s collar.
No collar.
Buddy loped up to Grandpa. He rubbed his body against Grandpa’s legs, his tail slapping at the kite strings.
“Buddy! Sit! Lie down!” Grandpa commanded. Buddy did his best and eventually sat, but not before hopelessly tangling the strings.
Grandpa gazed at Buddy and then over at Danny. “I was hoping we could go together and fly the kite until brunch is ready, but it seems Buddy had other plans for us.”
“Buddy, get over here,” Danny scolded. Kite-flying would have been the perfect time to talk to Grandpa about his new scheme.
“It’s okay,” Grandpa said, untangling the dog and shifting the disabled kite onto the picnic table. “There probably wouldn’t be enough time, anyway.” He smiled thinly. “Why don’t you put some food and water out for Buddy while I wash up.”
Danny retrieved dog food from the garage, filled the dishes, and made sure both gates were securely closed before he went in. He didn’t need Buddy deciding to chase down a squirrel, especially when the dog had no collar or ID tags.
They took their usual places at the table. Danny inhaled deeply and tried to set aside his worry about his planned talk with Grandpa.
For the first few minutes, the warm food was comforting. Light conversation centered on the meal. “Please pass the eggs.” “Is there more toast?” “Anyone for more pancakes?” But lifting his eyes from the plate was like popping the cap off a bottle of soda water – the calm water wasn’t calm anymore.
Mom’s eye twitched.
Jennifer twirled her hair.
Grandma and Grandpa pushed cold food around their plates.
The butterflies started again.
Grandpa coughed into his napkin and dropped it on his nearly-full plate. “Let’s just leave the dishes for later,” he said. “Maybe we could go to the living room.”
The Second Trial Page 10