He pushed to retrieve more of the dream. Something came forward—a feeling more than an image. The dogs . . . they had been angry. Something had trespassed on their territory. Phantom snarls echoed in his mind.
“I think the dogs may have killed something else.”
Maggie’s face stiffened a bit. She thought he was trying to change the subject. “Oh, why do you think that? I don’t smell any skunks.”
“I’m not shrugging you off. I wasn’t dreaming of Iraq. I think I heard the dogs barking last night, that’s all. Just watch out for animal corpses.”
“Well I’m going straight from here to the garage, and from the garage to work. If I run across any dead animals along those paths I’ll be seriously upset.”
Casper walked Maggie to the car. The fog stood at the edge of the open garage door but made no attempt to enter. Twenty feet from the house the car was blotted out, leaving only the taillights staring back at him like the eyes of an angry demon. When the taillights were gone, he pressed the button on the wall to drop the door and started back inside. The door made it about halfway before it stopped and reversed itself. The lights in the garage door opener blinked several times indicating something had crossed the safety sensors.
Shadow stood just inside the threshold of the garage. Her sleek black fur was clumped and matted. A large scratch ran from between her eyes down her vulpine muzzle.
Casper’s injury still wouldn’t allow him to squat, so he sat on the single step leading into the house.
“Come here, girl.” Shadow pranced up to him. “What happened to you? Did you guys finally lose a fight?”
The gash on her muzzle looked bad, but it was no longer bleeding. On her left side was a wound that looked as if she had been stabbed, but it seemed shallow. Shadow trotted back out of the garage as if nothing was amiss.
Casper went back inside. Lucy sat in her Tinkerbelle pajamas, her blonde hair still tousled from sleep, watching cartoons. “Lucy, honey, I’m going to go outside for a minute.”
“‘Kay, daddy,” she said without looking away from the TV.
“I want you to stay put. Stay out of the kitchen and don’t come outside. It’s very foggy.”
“Alright.”
The wall of white still stood at the door, as thick as shaving cream. When he approached it, he half expected it to resist him. He stepped into the fog and the mist enveloped him. He walked around the side of the house, staying close enough to keep the outer walls in sight, but found nothing out of the ordinary.
Casper stood near the back deck looking out into the white oblivion. He pictured the lay of the land and did his best to calibrate his position in his mind. There were no visible landmarks and the sun had not yet raised high enough to filter through the fog.
Why am I doing this? In a few hours the fog will burn off and then I can search to my heart’s content. But that feeling of displacement—now greatly exaggerated by the unnaturally obtuse fog—taunted him.
Casper walked toward the pole barn, his steps short and slow. The visibility didn’t extend much more than his reach. The day was quiet to the point that the grass crinkling beneath his footfalls popped like bubble-wrap.
A dark and giant figure, with many groping arms, loomed before him. Casper looked up at the weeping willow tree and frowned. He’d somehow veered off course too far to the east. He readjusted his route and started again in pursuit of the pole barn.
Casper looked down at his feet (for that was the only thing there was to look at) and nearly walked face first into the dogs’ pen. “How the hell did I get over here?”
This was getting ridiculous. He had been well-trained on how to find his way in forests, deserts, swamps and all other terrains in the dark and in the blinding sun. How was it that a roll of fog had befuddled him in his own yard?
Sky limped out of the fog and nuzzled against his good leg. Large tufts of her thick fur were missing and what remained was frayed and tangled. Dried blood encrusted her left front paw. Her right eye remained as blue as a winter sky, but the left was swollen almost closed and what could be seen was muddied red.
A slice of his dream rolled through his mind. The dogs had been barking and snapping at something, either angry or enraged. As always, when he dreamed of the dogs, he saw through their eyes. The dogs had been going after something large. Casper saw the face of a woman . . . someone he recognized.
“Please say you didn’t.”
Sky whined in response.
It could take hours to search the grounds in this fog. Casper needed some help. “Take me to her.”
Sky gave a gentle grunt then limped into the fog. She moved at a slow pace allowing Casper to keep her in sight.
Sky didn’t walk in a straight line, but wound around to where King sat. Several deep scratches covered his muzzle and his left ear was sliced nearly in half. His tail was bent at an odd angle and hung lifeless from the midpoint back. Globs of dried blood were congealed in the fur on his back.
Casper tried to swallow but his throat was too dry. Judging from the dogs’ wounds it must have been a brutal battle, but they were still standing. He shuddered when he thought of the loser. He reached out and gently patted King, but had to stop because he couldn’t stomach watching the lab try to wag his tail.
On the ground next to King was a shattered glass bowl. Beside the bowl was a pile of hamburger that looked to have glass shards mixed into it. The saccharine scent of antifreeze filled the air.
Casper scanned the grounds but the fog still blinded him. “Please tell me you guys didn’t attack her. Tell me you just scared her away and she’s safe at home.” King and Sky trotted off into the fog then turned back to look at him. Casper didn’t want to follow them, but he knew he had to.
Not far from the broken bowl he found the first shoe. It was loosely laced and lying on its side as if it had been lost during a fast escape. The second shoe was flipped upside down; Casper imagined it had been inadvertently kicked off during a struggle. He turned the shoe upright and saw that a spot of blood stained the toe.
As he observed this, the dogs led him along the outer rim of trees. Along the way they passed a tattered robe, a bloody sock, and several pieces of torn clothing, stained red and gathered into a pile. Casper had suspected the worst, but the severed hand lying a few feet away removed all doubt.
The hand rested palm up, fingers curled in like the corpse of a large spider. It had been amputated below the wrist; the cut was surgically smooth, more as if it had been snipped off with a pair of garden sheers than a dog’s teeth.
But where was the rest of her?
King and Sky stopped long enough to sniff the clothes then moved on into the fog. Once again they glanced back at him. From somewhere in the fog Shadow’s high, sharp bark sounded. Sky whined; King grunted. But Casper stood his ground. If there was more hidden by the fog, he didn’t want to see it.
Casper closed his eyes but he continued to see. The dogs were determined to show him something. He glimpsed the thin path that led past the quarry pond and eventually to The Pine Belt. It was Shadow’s eyes he looked through. She wanted him to see something on the ground, but Casper fought against the vision and pulled his mind free from Shadow’s.
“No,” he said aloud. “Come here, Shadow.”
King and Sky sat at his feet and soon the little black dog pranced out of the fog. “Lead me back to the house.”
The three dogs did as ordered without question.
Back at the house, Casper opened the door in the rear of the garage. When he stepped inside, the dogs entered without being ordered to. They seemed to understand what was happening, but made no attempt to escape. King and Sky both flopped down onto their sides while Shadow tended to their wounds. Casper closed the door then went inside the house.
Tad and Beth were in the kitchen, poking through the cabinets in search of a quick breakfast.
“What’s wrong with you?” Tad had that scrunched up puzzled look he always got when he suspected someo
ne was keeping a secret from him.
Beth read her father’s face and fear filled her own. “Daddy, are you all right?”
Parents are liars. Most don’t want to be, but it is the nature of life. Most start off an idealist, imaging themselves laying down every lesson as though they were teaching a class. But then the tough questions come. Where do babies come from? Why do mommies and daddies sometimes leave? Why do bad things happen to good people? Children are too perceptive for their own good, and because parents either aren’t ready or are ill-equipped, they do the next logical thing, which is lie.
Casper stared long into the faces of his two eldest children. There was no joy in being right. No pleasure in I-told-you-so. His disdain for the dogs festered into hatred. They loved you and you betrayed them. Their pain is your fault. Would they understand? He would have to make them understand. He couldn’t lie to them.
“I need you two to listen to me very carefully. Are you listening?” Both children gave a subtle nod. “The dogs have . . . done something bad. They are locked in the garage. I don’t want any of you to open this door. Stay clear of the garage and make sure Lucy does, too.” He turned and locked the deadbolt. “And nobody goes outside until I say so.”
“But dad—” Tad started, but Casper cut him off.
“This is not negotiable. No one goes outside or into the garage until I say so. That’s an order.”
Casper rarely, if ever, treated his children like subordinates. He was their father, not their commanding officer and he tried his best to live by that understanding. There were times, however, when his word had to be treated as law and it was those times that the father played second fiddle to the Marine.
“Okay,” Tad said. Beth merely stared at him with panic brewing in her eyes.
Casper went to his office. He stood for a minute, his hands resting on the center book shelf, while he considered his options. He went to the tall green safe sitting in the corner. The large black dial watched like an accusing eye from the door. Casper spun the dial, stopping at the appropriate numbers, and then opened the safe.
Casper looked at the Colt 45 pistol, but quickly decided against that. He skipped right over the .22 rifle and the 12-gauge pump shotgun. He placed his hand upon the 30/30, hesitated for a moment then moved on to the Browning 30.06.
The 30.06 had the power to kill the dogs with one shot each, but the problem was what would happen once the first shot was fired. He couldn’t shoot the dogs in the garage, and if he turned them loose in the yard they might make a break for it, or worse, turn and attack.
Could the dogs see through his eyes like he sometimes saw through theirs? If so, they would know what was coming. But maybe they would still obey him. If he ordered them into the pen he could get three shots off before they managed to dig under the fence. The reports would be loud and unmistakable. His heart sank at the thought of his children’s faces when they realized what he had done. No lie or apology could dispel that pain, and no matter how good the reason, his actions would forever alter their perception of him.
Casper slid the 30.06 back into the safe, closed the door and spun the dial. He went to his desk and picked up the phone instead. He dialed the number while trying to swallow the knot lodged in his throat.
“This is Wicket.”
“I’ve got a problem.” Casper’s voice seemed years older somehow. “Any chance you can swing by the house?”
Dale’s answer came slow and cautious. “I’m driving the beat right now. Can I come by after my shift?”
“I really need you to come by right now. It’s probably better if you’re on the clock, anyway. I imagine you’ll want to handle this by the book.”
“Okay, hold tight. I’m on my way.”
Casper hung up the phone then sat down in the chair. He closed his eyes and buried his face in his hands. He needed to call Maggie to let her know what was going on, but he couldn’t seem to focus. His mind was caught in a vortex of thoughts, spinning and churning violently around one another, and from the eye of the storm came the terrible vision of Rebecca Reid and the dogs.
She was on the ground, immobile and in pain. The dogs snarled and snapped, but to be honest Casper couldn’t tell if they were biting her or biting at her. Rebecca seemed to be in the midst of a fire; the air about her body curled and twisted with waves of heat distortion. Every time one of the dogs would lunge in to bite, it was sent hurling backward by some unseen blow. Rebecca Reid never once moved; even to shield her face from her attackers. But on three different occasions Casper watched as her arm jerked over her head and her body slid across the grass as though she were being dragged by an invisible rope. And quite suddenly her hand separated from the rest of her arm. Casper tried to scream but he had no voice. He wanted to turn away but was forced to watch the fingers spasm and curl. Barely a trickle of blood oozed from her wounds. Why would that be? But before the answers could come someone touched his shoulder and he jerked awake with a start.
Tad stood beside the desk with his hand recoiled as if he had been stung. Casper looked about the room feeling groggy and disoriented.
“I tried calling you, but you wouldn’t answer me.” He watched his father; a dark storm gathered behind the boy’s eyes. “Officer Wicket is here. He said you called and asked him to come over.”
“Tell him I’ll be right there.”
Tad left the room and Casper went over to the window. The sun had burned the fog to a wisp, just as the dream had burned his belief that he was doing the right thing.
When he walked downstairs, he saw that Dale’s face seemed carved from ice. “What’s wrong?”
Casper looked behind him. Tad and Beth were trying to eavesdrop, but hadn’t yet become masters of the art. “Not here. Let’s talk outside.” He turned to the kids. “Stay inside the house and out of the garage.”
When the door was closed Dale turned and locked eyes with Casper. “What’s happened?”
Casper took a deep breath. Dale was his friend, but he was also a cop. There was no way to know which side he would play. “I found some remains near the woods behind my house,” he said flatly.
Dale’s mouth dropped a bit and he made several small shakes of his head as if trying to kick-start his brain. “Come again.”
“My neighbor, Rebecca Reid, is dead.” Casper swallowed and his throat made a painful dry click. “I think my dogs mauled her.”
Casper led Dale through the dwindling fog, along the trail of clothes to the severed hand. Dale knelt by the hand, staring at it in silence. Finally he stood and looked around the yard. “Where is the rest of her?”
“I don’t know.” The timber of his own voice caused his hair to stand up.
“Where are the dogs?”
“I locked them in the garage.”
Dale went back to his cruiser and called in on his radio. Within minutes their quiet plot of land was ablaze with the resplendent flashing of red and blue. Curiosity brought Tad, Beth and Lucy out onto the back porch.
Casper ran over as fast as his bad leg would allow. “I told you to stay inside. Don’t come out until I tell you.”
Beth and Lucy, the tender-hearted duo, turned with tear filled eyes and went back inside. Tad, however, held his ground. “What’s wrong, dad?” He watched with wide eyes as the swarm of police officers and first responders scoured the property.
“Please go back inside.”
“No.” A familiar stubbornness lit upon his face. Casper had passed its likeness many times in the mirror. Tad seemed so much like a grown man that Casper’s heart ached. “Tell me the truth.”
“It won’t be easy to hear.”
Tad stood straight, as if this could save him from the pain. Casper sighed. “Ms. Reid, from across the street, was attacked last night. Here in our yard. The dogs may have killed her.”
Tad shook his head, and with every turn more of his newly gained manhood broke away. Tears spilled from his eyes, but they were not of sadness. These were tears of anger. “They w
ouldn’t do that. Even to an old bitch like her.” He knotted his hands into tight fist and trembled all over.
“Tad, she snuck over here last night with a bowl of raw meat mixed with glass and antifreeze. She was trying to poison them.”
“I don’t care what she was doing. They wouldn’t hurt her. King wouldn’t bite you even if you were trying to kick him.”
Casper tried to place his hand on his son’s shoulder, but Tad snapped away. “Dogs act funny when they pack together. It’s hard to predict what they’ll do or what’ll set them off.”
Dale approached with two men, both in brown coveralls, each holding a long pole with a noose at the end.
Tad regarded the men as though they were demons incarnate. “What are they going to do?”
“They have to take the dogs into custody,” Casper said. He couldn’t bear the look of hopelessness on Tad’s face. “It’ll be all right. They won’t hurt them.”
“They didn’t kill her,” Tad screamed. “You can’t take them away.” And suddenly Beth and Lucy were back outside pleading hysterically for the dogs.
“I believe you,” Dale said when they finally calmed the children. “I don’t think the dogs hurt your neighbor, either.”
“You don’t?” Beth stared intently into his eyes, trying her best to discern the truth. To be honest, Casper was having trouble reading the man.
“No, I don’t. It’s possible we have a pack of coyotes that have gone feral. I don’t know. But we have to take the dogs in so they can be observed. If they are innocent then no one will touch them. I give you my word.”
Casper pointed to the snatchers in the dog catchers’ hands. “I don’t think you’ll need those. I should be able to get the dogs in your van without any trouble.”
The dog catchers looked unconvinced, especially since Casper was leaning on a cane. Dale gave them a nod and they reluctantly agreed. Casper knew it wouldn’t be an issue. He went to the keypad and typed in the code to raise the garage door. The two dog catchers stood ready to snag any mutt that tried to flee, but all three dogs sat calmly in a row behind the Jeep. King gave a great toothy yawn as if this was all very tedious.
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