The Servants of Twilight

Whatever was wrong, it wasn't simply a standard complaint, no ordinary childhood trauma. She sensed that much and her mouth went dry with fear.

He tried to speak, couldn't get out even one word, pointed to the kitchen door, took a deep shuddery breath, began to shake, and finally said, "The p-p-porch."

"What about the porch?"

He wasn't able to tell her.

Frowning, she went to the door, hesitated, opened it. She gasped, rocked by the sight that awaited her.

Brandy. His furry, golden body lay at the edge of the porch, near the steps. But his head was immediately in front of the door, at her feet.

The dog had been decapitated.

5

Christine and Joey sat on the beige sofa in the living room. The boy was no longer crying, but he still looked stunned.

The policeman filling out the report, Officer Wilford, sat on one of the Queen Anne armchairs. He was tall and husky, with rough features, bushy eyebrows, an air of rugged self-sufficiency: the kind of man who probably felt at home only outdoors and especially in the woods and mountains, hunting and fishing. He perched on the very edge of the chair and held his notebook on his knees, an amusingly prim posture for a man his size; apparently he was concerned about rumpling or soiling the furniture.

"But who let the dog out?" he inquired, after having asked every other question he could think of.

"Nobody," Christine said." He let himself out. There's a pet portal in the bottom of the kitchen door."

"I saw it," Wilford said." Not big enough for a dog that size."

"I know. It was here when we bought the house. Brandy hardly ever used it, but if he wanted out badly enough, and if there wasn't anyone around to let him out, he could put his head down, wriggle on his belly, and squeeze through that little door. I kept meaning to have it closed up because I was afraid he might get stuck. If only I had closed it up, he might still be alive."

"The witch got him," Joey said softly.

Christine put an arm around her son.

Wilford said, "So you think maybe they used meat or dog biscuits to lure him outside?"

"No," said Joey adamantly, answering for his mother, clearly offended by the suggestion that a gluttonous impulse had led to the dog's death."

Brandy went out there to protect me. He knew

the old witch was still hanging around, and he went to get her, but what happened was… she got him first."

Christine was aware that Wilford's suggestion was probably the correct explanation, but she also knew that Joey would find it easier to accept Brandy's death if he could believe that his dog had died in a noble cause. She said, "He was a very brave dog, very brave, and we're proud of him."

Wilford nodded." Yes, I'm sure you've got every reason to be proud.

It's a darned shame. A golden retriever's such a handsome breed. Such a gentle face and sweet disposition."

"The witch got him," Joey repeated, as if numbed by that terrible realization.

"Maybe not," Wilford said." Maybe it wasn't the old woman."

Christine frowned at him." Well, of course it was."

"I understand how upsetting the incident was at South Coast Plaza yesterday," Wilford said." I understand how you'd be inclined to link the old woman to this thing with the dog. But there's no solid proof, no real reason to think they are linked.

It might be a mistake to assume they are."

"But the old woman was at Joey's window last night," Christine said exasperatedly." I told you that. I told the officers who were here last night, too. Doesn't anyone listen? She was at Joey's window, looking in at him, and Brandy was barking at her."

" But she was gone when you got there," Wilford said.

"Yes," Christine said." But-"

Smiling down at Joey, Wilford said, "Son, are you absolutely, positively sure it was the old lady there at your window?"

Joey nodded vigorously." Yeah. The witch."

"Because, see, when you looked up and noticed someone at the window, it would have been perfectly natural for you to figure it was the old woman. After all, she'd already given you one bad scare earlier in the day, so she was on your mind. Then, when you switched the light on and got a glimpse of who it was there at the window, maybe you had the old woman's face so firmly fixed in your mind that you would've seen her no matter who it really was."

Joey blinked, unable to follow the policeman's reasoning. He just stubbornly repeated himself: "It was her. The witch."

To Christine, Officer Wilford said, "I'd be inclined to think the prowler was the one who later killed the dog-but that it wasn't the old woman who was the prowler. You see, most always, when a dog's been poisoned-and it happens more often than you think-it's not the work of some total stranger. It's someone within a block of the house where the dog lived. A neighbor. What I figure is, some neighbor was prowling around, looking for the dog, not looking for your little boy at all, when Joey saw them at the window. Later they found the dog and did what they'd come to do."

"That's ridiculous," Christine said." We've got good neighbors here.