Every night, I set up the tape recorder, and every morning I listened to the cassettes. Sometimes Ray came over and we’d bend our heads close to the speaker, trying to hear something—anything—but so far, nothing. Even with the longer tapes, I was only getting an hour and a half or so each time, and it was about the same slice each night.
I started setting my alarm for five o’clock in the morning to insert a new tape and then I’d go back to bed. Most mornings, I’d fall right back to sleep, but Friday morning I felt restless. Jack’s legs sprawled across the bed and I couldn’t get comfortable. I tried lying on my side, my back, my stomach, but finally, I got up and changed into my clothes.
Dad was just leaving as I went downstairs. I hadn’t forgotten what he said the other day about getting rid of Jack if anything else happened. Inside, I felt mad at him for that—he knew Jack; he liked Jack. How could he even think about giving him away? But I couldn’t let on my feelings without reminding Dad about it, so I got my breakfast and tried to act like everything was normal between us. Maybe he’d forget what he said about Jack.
After he left, I felt fidgety; I needed to get out of the house. I left a note for Millie, then hooked up Jack and got on my bike. “Let’s go to Ray’s,” I said. Jack didn’t care where we were going; he just loved to be outside running. He looked like a racehorse, slicing through the wind.
After we rounded the curve to Ray’s, I spotted a police car and a bunch of people standing outside the house before Ray’s. That old lady’s house. Maybe she died or something.
As we got closer, I saw Ray and waved. A look of horror crossed his face when he saw me and he made weird gestures I didn’t understand. I heard sobbing and hysterical wailing.
“That’s him!” someone shrieked, and that’s when I saw her, Mrs. Brenner, pointing at Jack. Her hair was wild and her eyes looked crazy. She wore a housecoat. “That’s the dog!”
I felt like someone had punched me in the gut.
“Now, hold on a minute, Mrs. Brenner,” the police officer said, holding her arm.
As the policeman tried to calm the old lady down, Ray cut through the crowd to me. “Something killed her cat,” he said quietly. He puckered his face. “It was all shredded apart on her sidewalk.”
Before he could continue, the old lady shuffled up to me with the policeman right behind her. She shook her finger at Jack.
“I saw him,” she hissed. “I saw his yella eyes glowing. I saw his bushy tail—”
“His tail’s not bushy!” I yelled.
The policeman looked at Jack’s wire-thin tail. “You sure this is the same dog?”
“I saw him!” she insisted.
“Son, where was your dog early this morning?”
Just then a car screeched to a stop.
All heads turned as Dad got out of the car and strode up the sidewalk. I felt proud and relieved as I watched him walk up in his sharp, blue air force uniform, with its ribbons and stripes. They wouldn’t gang up on me now.
Dad acknowledged me with a sharp nod. “Joshua,” he said. He was in air force mode. He looked at the policeman. “What’s going on here, Ed?”
The policeman sighed. “Another attack on small game.” He shook his head.
“I’ll tell you what’s going on!” the old lady yelled. “That devil dog killed my cat.” Tears ran down her face. “I saw him my own self. I went to get the newspaper and saw him—” She broke off, sobbing.
The policeman shook his head. “I’m sorry, but I got to ask you this, Rich. Was the dog out this morning?”
Dad didn’t even pretend to be friendly. “My boy and his dog were eating Pop-Tarts half an hour ago.”
“And the dog was in the house all morning.” It was a question, but the policeman made it sound like a statement.
“Ed, this is ridiculous.”
“I know, I know, I’m just doing my job here, Rich.”
Dad glanced upward and sighed. “Look, Joshua and Jack were just getting up when I left a little while ago.”
The policeman nodded his head. “Okay, then.”
“Joshua, get in the car,” Dad said.
“You’re letting them go?” the old lady shrieked.
“Joshua,” Dad said firmly. “Get in the car.”
“I’ll come over later,” Ray said quickly.
I got into the backseat with Jack as Dad loaded my bike into the trunk. Dad settled in behind the wheel, but before we could leave, the policeman walked up to Dad’s open window.
“Hey, Rich, no hard feelings, okay? Just doing my job. A lot of talk’s been going around about your dog, but her description and the timing don’t work out.”
“That’s ’cause Jack didn’t do it,” I yelled from the backseat.
“Joshua,” Dad warned.
I grabbed the back of Dad’s seat and pulled myself forward. “You should look up on the mountain—there’s a coyote up there.” I said. Good. Now the police knew. Maybe they would do something about it.
But instead of concern, a look of doubt crossed the officer’s face. “Son, I’ve heard a lot of things about your dog. I’d advise you to not go around making up stories.” He turned to Dad and tapped the top of the car. “Sorry, Rich.”
Dad gave him a quick nod and drove home. He didn’t say one word the whole way. This was going to be bad.