It was just before September 11th that Howard Copeley saw the first Offering. He remembered because at first he thought it was a memorial. He thought maybe someone in his apartment complex was memorializing a relative or friend lost in the disaster a year before. He was walking his dog Bo in the common area behind his apartment building. He had taken this route hundreds of times, but this time was different. It was there next to the array of flowerbeds which the apartment management offered to their tenants but which nobody used. Nearby, there was the picnic table and the charcoal grills also provided by management and which few people used. A circle of apartment buildings surrounded the area. The common area itself was just a few trees providing shade for picnickers and gardeners. Howard liked to take his dog here because it was quiet and away from the bustle of the apartment parking lot and because it was shaded from the relentless North Carolina sun in the summer.
The Offering was two circles of rocks about two feet in diameter; and in each circle of rocks was a bed of acorns. Pine straw was arranged neatly around the circumference of each circle. Resting in the middle of one bed of acorns was a foreign object. He started at it for quite some time before he realized it was a slingshot. A nice, new, metal slingshot; a kid’s toy. Arranged neatly in the center of the other circle were a Pepsi can, a wine bottle, and a matchbox car. The scene had a serenity that made Howard think it was a memorial. It had an artistic balance that was incongruous with its contents. Howard thought that maybe it was a memorial to a fallen child, constructed by a young friend who had a natural artistic sense. He stepped carefully around it, gently pulling Bo, who was sniffing excitedly at it. Of course, Bo sniffed excitedly at everything, including nothing. Howard didn’t want to disturb the memorial. Someone had evidently worked hard on it. He felt that whoever built it and whoever it was for deserved respect. It would be torn down soon enough, people being who they are. He moved on and thought no more about it.
Howard had a business trip, which spanned September 11th. It was his first flight in several years, and certainly his first since the disaster. He expected a hassle filled trip, but it was not particularly unpleasant, all things considered. He got home late and went right to sleep. The next morning, he retrieved Bo from the kennel and brought him home. Just before going to work, he took Bo for a walk. Of course, Bo headed straight for the common area; it was his favorite area as well as Howard’s. They passed the stone circles, which were still there. It looked like some of the stones had been kicked around. The acorns were scattered. The slingshot was buried beneath a layer of acorns. The garbage that had been in the other circle was nowhere to be seen. Howard sighed. Some local kids must have decided to destroy the pretty little memorial, just for the sake of destruction. Howard walked Bo back to his apartment building, alongside an outcrop of trees from the woods behind the apartments. Bo started his excited sniffing just on the border of the outcrop. Howard let him advance a little way into the outcrop. Bo came to an area and his sniffing became frantic. There, nestled in the leaves, was a small circle of rocks with a neat bed of acorns within. Ah, thought Howard, our friends have been at work again.
He dragged Bo away, but just as they were about to reach his apartment building they saw a different scene. Here there was another circle of stones, but instead of acorns, there was a neat pile of tree fungus. Tree fungus of this kind was easy to find in this area. Almost every tree had a few white crescents of fungus growing from its bark. The fungus was brittle, and could be broken off the tree quite easily. Someone had found quite a lot of fungus, and had deposited it in the circle of stones. Howard was amused. Whoever had done this had gone to a bit of trouble. They would have had to visit quite a few trees to gather this much fungus. Howard changed his mind about the perpetrator. He no longer thought of the offerings as a memorial. It had to be some kid. An artistic kid, to be sure. The movie “Signs” was currently popular. Howard had seen it but didn’t think much of it. Obviously, however, it had influenced some kid, or kids, in the neighborhood. They were out creating their own “signs”. A harmless prank, Howard thought. It was actually quite amusing.
Again, Howard thought nothing more of it. Over the next few weeks, Howard saw a few more stone circles, with various combinations of acorns, fungus, twigs, and bark. These kids certainly kept at it. Their creations were steadily being destroyed, either by destructive kids or by the grounds crews as they went about their business, doing the mowing, the fall grass planting and laying down layers of pine straw over the grass seed to protect it. Howard never saw anything as elaborate as the original two stone circles, just small circles with their inevitable acorns. Acorns were plentiful at this time of year. There were places where they were so thick on the ground you had to tread carefully for fear of slipping on them. He had seen a neighbor walking along in the common area one day, and suddenly her feet had gone out from under her; she had looked like a character from a cartoon where she pinwheels her feet trying to gain purchase in thin air and her arms are wind milling like a dancer from the 1940’s. That was acorns.
About this time was when Howard first started thinking of them as Offerings. He wasn’t sure why. He thought maybe it reminded him of some kind of Pagan rite; as if some worshiper of The Great Mother were living in his apartment complex, performing daily offerings to assure a good harvest. By the looks of the garden plots in the wooded area out back, it wasn’t doing much good. Howard wouldn’t be surprised if there were a Pagan or two living in the complex. That was one thing he loved about living in an apartment – the diversity of the people who lived nearby.
September passed into October. Howard arose one morning, opening and pulling up the blind in his bedroom as he always did. If he left the blinds closed during the day, Bo was very likely to destroy them. Bo tended to get very excited when people passed by the apartment. It was on the ground floor, and hence Bo could see every person walking by. If that person was walking a dog, Bo would get very excited and start barking. If there was something as insubstantial as a Venetian blind between him and his adversary, Bo wouldn’t think twice about destroying it. Howard already had several beat up Venetian blinds in his apartment. He kept thinking he needed to replace them; the apartment management would probably be very concerned about the destruction of their property. But, somehow, more important things always seemed to stand in the way.
Anyway, Howard opened his bedroom blind that morning to a surprise. There, just outside his window, was what he first thought was a pile of trash. He stared at it a moment. The scene wouldn’t gel in his mind for a moment; it was that unexpected. Finally, it resolved. Evidently, a screen had fallen off of his bedroom window. It was on the ground, and carefully arranged around it was a halo of pine straw. Nestled on the screen was a bed of acorns. There was a plastic juice bottle nearby, and a beer can. A chill went through Howard’s body at this sight. Howard quickly got his clothes on, and took Bo out to inspect it. The screen had not only fallen off, but it looked as if someone had broken the plastic frame of the screen at each corner. Howard got a little angry. This was no longer amusing. Someone was vandalizing. Someone was sneaking around his home. He would have to talk to the apartment management about this.
He continued his walk with Bo, and just behind the adjoining building he saw another Offering. Here, the vandals had taken a paper plate and piled it high with something vaguely disturbing, vaguely organic, white and twisted. Howard couldn’t tell what it was at first until he got close. Piled on the paper plate was a pile of tree fungus. But the fungus had been carefully broken into small pieces. The small pieces were twisted and spiraled, almost as if they had been carved. There was trash surrounding the paper plate; another plastic bottle, and another Pepsi can. Howard had a slight twinge of fear as he looked at the scene. He couldn’t explain the feeling. Howard was not usually given to such feelings, probably the reason why he wasn’t impressed with “Signs”. But he certainly felt them this morning as he stood staring at the latest Offering.
He took Bo back home, and he inspected the Offering outside his bedroom window once more. He piled the trash on the screen and carried it to the edge of the tree outcrop. He didn’t want to antagonize the vandals, so he didn’t throw the trash away. He just set it down and left it. Later, when he contacted the apartment management, he would tell them about the trash and they could come take it away. He went on to work that morning, thinking about what he would say to the apartment management. How could he not sound like a superstitious fool? He knew what they would say, exactly what he had said, it was some kids playing a joke after watching “Signs”. Nothing to get excited about. He would bring up the destruction of property. They would say they would replace the screen, that was no problem. He wondered how he would explain his feeling of unease. These vandals had been right up to his bedroom window. His bed was right inside, under the window. They had been no more than a few feet from the head of his bed. If they had done this at night, they had been just a few feet and a pane of glass away from his head.
This was what really disturbed him. They had been so close. For the first time since he had moved into the apartment two years ago, he was feeling afraid. He had agonized over the choice between a ground floor apartment and a higher level when he first moved in. On the one hand, an upper level meant no one could look into his windows, and no one could break in through the windows. On the other hand, an upper level meant stairs. Climbing stairs during the move-in, climbing stairs with the groceries, climbing stairs at least once every day. He had finally decided on the ground floor apartment; he absolutely hated stairs. The apartment faced the back of the building, so he didn’t have to worry about people in the parking lot, peeking in as people will do when the opportunity presents itself. He had Bo to act as his security, probably a damned sight more effective than some expensive alarm system. He even had what he thought of as a back yard, an area behind his apartment where there was terraced landscaping. This landscaping formed an enclosed little yard-like area around the back of his apartment. Because it was enclosed, not very many people went there, preferring instead a path just above the landscaping that led along the outcropping of trees, up the hill to the common area.
Howard had then thought his choice of the ground floor apartment was a good one. Now he was not so sure. He fully intended to call the apartment management when he got to work. However, he got busy immediately and forgot about the incident completely. It did not come back to his consciousness until he got home from work that day and got ready to take Bo for his evening walk. He remembered just as he was leaving the apartment with Bo. He went around back and into his “back yard”. He looked around; nothing out of the ordinary. He took Bo up the path along the outcropping. The screen was still there with its pile of junk. Farther up the path, the paper plate with its tree fungus was still there. Howard then remembered that he had resolved to call the apartment management. It was too late now. It was after 6:00, the time the management office closed. He briefly considered calling the night maintenance number. He rejected that thought; he was letting his imagination get the better of him. This was Friday, there would be someone at the office tomorrow until noon; he could talk to them then.
To tell the truth, he was a little preoccupied as well. His teenage daughter Annie was coming to spend the weekend with him. He was looking forward to the visit, even though Annie had made plans which occupied most every minute of the weekend. Those plans mostly did not include him, she was too busy with her friends. His only chance to see her and talk to her would be in the car as he taxied her to her next engagement. He didn’t mind, after all, she was a teenager, that’s what they did. He was happy that she had an active social life; he was content that she would be with him at all. It is therefore not surprising that Howard completely forgot to go to the management office on Saturday. He also forgot to get the Saturday newspaper; the one newspaper he usually bought because it contained the TV schedule. Most other days he didn’t bother with a newspaper; he could get all the news, sports, and comics he needed from the Internet. He was quite busy that weekend; he completely forgot about the Offerings.
His daughter went back to her mom on Sunday, and Howard settled in, finally able to relax after all of the excitement. His daughter’s visits always pleased him, but he was also happy to get back to his own life after those visits. He had gotten used to living alone in the two years since his separation from his wife. He got mildly annoyed when he discovered something not in its usual place. For example, when he got home Sunday after dropping his daughter off, he looked all through the apartment for his portable CD player. Annie had borrowed it, and had left it somewhere other than its usual place atop the entertainment center. He finally found it, in all places, in the laundry area next to the kitchen. Annie must have been listening to it while doing laundry, and had set it down and forgotten about it. He would have to talk to her about it, just a gentle jibe to reminder her to respect his property. But he would probably forget entirely about it before he talked to her again. It just wasn’t that important.
He didn’t think about the Offerings until Monday morning, just as he woke up. He had had dreams that night; the kind which completely disappear from memory the moment you wake up, except for the memory that the dreams had been disturbing. He had an odd feeling, he just knew he would open his bedroom window and find a new Offering. He reached for the blind but hesitated. He thought he would wait a bit. He wiped some of the sleep out of his eyes. He put on his robe. He went out to the kitchen and started a pot of coffee. He came back to the bedroom. It was time. He reached for the cord. He pulled it quickly, wanting to get it over with. He looked out the window. Nothing. No Offering. He looked out, past the landscaping, to the edge of the trees where he had taken the screen. It was gone as well. Maintenance must have come and taken it away. He breathed a sigh of relief. He gave a little laugh. Come on, Howard, now your imagination is really getting away from you, he said to himself.
He busied himself with his morning routine. He took his shower, got dressed, got a cup of coffee, and took it with him when he took Bo on his morning walk. He looked around, but there didn’t seem to be any Offerings. The paper plate with the tree fungus was gone. Up the hill in the common area, the two rock rings had been scattered so that the rocks were now just randomly sprinkled about the area. After the walk, he occupied himself with breakfast for Bo and himself. He got a second cup of coffee and settled down to drink it and eat his breakfast. He bumped the cup against the side of the table, and hot coffee spilled out on his hand. He yelped at the pain. In reflex, he pulled his hand toward him, the coffee cup still in it. He stopped the reflex but coffee slopped over the edge of the cup and onto his shirt. Damn, he thought. I’m going to have to change shirts. He pulled off the soiled shirt and went to the laundry area, stopping only to pour some cold water over his burned hand. He opened the folding doors to the laundry area and started to throw the shirt in on top of the washing machine. He stopped, frozen. There, sitting on top of the washing machine, was his CD player. He could have sworn he had returned it to its usual place on top of the entertainment center last night. Well, I guess not, he thought. He made sure that he returned it this time, thinking all the time to himself: “Okay, I am now moving the CD player to the entertainment center. I have done it. It is now there.” He always used a little litany like this when he needed to remember that he had done something, to reinforce some thought or idea into his memory.
Again, it was a busy day, again, he completely forgot about Offerings. He got home after work, very tired. His dreams had interfered with his sleep. They had left him tired and drowsy all day. He collapsed into his easy chair. He just wanted to sit back and vegetate, maybe watch the tube for a while before he got tired enough to go to bed. No, he thought, I’ll listen to some music instead. He looked over to the entertainment center. His CD player was not there. All right, he thought, what now? I’m getting very tired of this. He got up, walking slowly into the kitchen and up to the folding doors into the laundry area. He didn’t want to open them. He didn’t want to open the doors, and look in and see his CD player sitting on top of the washing machine. He had to force his hands to the door. He opened the door. He reached in and turned on the light. There, on top of the washing machine, was his soiled shirt from this morning. Was there something underneath it? He reached out, and knocked the shirt off the washing machine, pulling his arm back quickly as if something would reach out and bite him. Nope, nothing there. Just a dirty shirt lying on the floor. He closed the doors, leaving the shirt on the floor and the light on.
Okay, I’m very tired. I can’t think straight. I’m just going to get something to eat and go to bed. Things will make sense in the morning. He opened the pantry and stared at its contents. He couldn’t really concentrate. Nothing there particularly excited him. He was too tired to fix something. Okay, just nuke a TV dinner and choke it down, he thought. He opened the freezer and scanned its contents. No TV dinners, damn. Okay, I’m going to eat an apple, that’s nice and simple and easy to prepare, he thought. He opened the refrigerator and started poking through it. He picked up a plate of dead chicken. Yuck, gonna have to toss that. Holding the plate in one hand, he picked up a Styrofoam doggie box from a night out at the restaurant two weeks ago, and there, underneath it, was his CD player. The plate went crashing to the floor. Oh shit! What is this? He slammed the refrigerator door shut. He backed away from it, chills racing shockingly up and down his spine.
He went into the living room and sat down. Okay, think this through, he thought. I definitely remember putting the CD player away. Was that this morning? I remember walking to the entertainment center, with it in my hand, talking to myself, telling myself what I was doing. Doing my litany. I did it. I put that CD player right there on the entertainment center, and now it’s in the refrigerator. Howard did the best he could to reason the situation out. Okay, I did do it, he thought. And then, I got busy getting ready for work. I don’t remember actually putting the CD Player down. Maybe I got distracted, with it still in my hand. Maybe I went to the refrigerator, yes, to get my lunch out, and I set the CD player down to get my lunch. In the refrigerator. It wouldn’t be the first time he had done something stupid like this.
It sounded thin to him. But it was the only explanation he could find that made sense. He was tired this morning. That had to be it. Okay, just don’t think about it anymore. He swept up the pieces of the broken plate, mixed in with chunks of dead chicken meat. He sat back into his easy chair and turned on the tube. Within five minutes he was asleep.
He awoke to the sound of gunfire on the TV, some late night gangster movie. It was three o’clock in the morning. The TV sounded very loud. His neighbors would probably be very pissed at him. He turned off the TV, and started turning out lights around the apartment. He had turned out the last light in the apartment and was headed into his bedroom when he realized the apartment wasn’t dark. There was a vague, diffusive suggestion of light. Had he left the TV on? He went back into the living room. No, the TV was off. The light was in the kitchen. He looked up at the little light in the kitchen ceiling he left on during the day for Bo. It wasn’t on. The kitchen lights definitely weren’t on, they were fluorescents and they would not leave this dim glow. He finally realized where the glow was coming from; the laundry room. Then he remembered – he had left the light on this evening when he had checked for his CD player.
He thought about his CD player. It was still in the refrigerator. Shouldn’t he take it out? Would the cold harm it? He didn’t want to deal with the CD player right now. He didn’t want to open the refrigerator and find that the CD player was no longer there. Maybe by now it was in the dishwasher. He didn’t want to know. He just wanted to go to bed. Psychokinetic consumer electronics could wait till morning. He was too tired to think. He went to bed, again forgetting to turn out the light in the laundry room. He thought maybe he might have a hard time getting to sleep after the evening’s mysteries, but he was wrong. He was asleep in minutes. He did not set his alarm. He thought maybe he would call in sick tomorrow.
He woke up late the next morning. It was 9:30 A.M. when he rolled over to look at the alarm clock. He felt like shit. Yep, no doubt about it, I’m calling in sick. He got up and went to the bathroom. He started his coffee and got dressed, in his “home sick” clothes – shorts, a tee shirt, and flip flops. He skipped his shower this morning. He got his cup of coffee and then he and Bo went out to greet the morning. Bo headed toward the path to the common area. Howard glanced over into his backyard, and felt a shock travel down his spine. One intense shock, much more intense than the series he had felt last night when he had seen his CD player in the refrigerator. There, leaning against his bedroom window, folded up into a pyramid, was the ruined screen. The screen was resting inside an old Christmas tree stand. Stuck into the screen were leaves, hundreds of them, making the screen look like some kind of strange Christmas tree. To complete the scene, in the bowl of the stand was a bed of acorns.
Oh, shit, shit, shit! Howard said to himself. What is going on here? Bo was eager to move on. He pulled on his leash. Howard was too stunned to resist. He followed Bo up the hill into the common area. He dropped Bo’s leash. He had to sit down at the picnic table. He had to figure out what was going on here. He sat there, playing back the scene in his mind, the screen pyramid with its leaves and its acorns. Bo started getting restless, wanting to move on. Howard just sat there. He couldn’t get the pyramid out of his mind. He couldn’t get the CD player out of his mind. Bo came back and sat down in front of Howard, and started whining. That broke Howard out of his trance. He decided he would go straight to the management office and get this taken care of. The hell with what they thought.
He did so. He thought he presented an image of a rational human being to them. He told them about the vandalism, and that he was upset about people snooping around his place at night. He didn’t mention the CD player. He figured that would only get him branded as a kook. The young lady in the management office was very attentive. She listened very carefully to him. She made a note; they would send someone down immediately to clean up the vandalism. She asked if he wanted her to call the police. He thought about it for a moment. Yes, he decided, it was high time to get these vandals taken care of. She said that she would call them. Was there anything else she could do for him? He guessed that there wasn’t anything more. He thanked her and left.
He was reluctant to go back to his apartment. He didn’t want to see the pyramid again. But he really didn’t have any other place to go. He would have to stay at home and wait for the police. He was shaken, he had to admit it. He had never been more shaken in his life. He didn’t want to be alone inside that apartment. Well, he thought to himself, I won’t be alone. At least I have Bo to keep me company. With that thought, he went back. He peeked around back; the pyramid was still there. He went inside. He did not open his blinds. He was afraid of what he might see. He did muster up enough courage to open the refrigerator. The CD player was still there, underneath the Styrofoam box. He left it there. He sat down in the living room and turned on the tube, barely paying attention to the morning shows.
He fell asleep for a while. Bo started barking and he jumped out of sleep. There was someone knocking at the door. Telling Bo to keep quiet, he went to the door and peeked out through the peephole. It was a policeman. He opened the door and invited him in. He told the policeman about the Offerings and the vandalism, and about how it occurred just a few feet from his head. The policeman asked to see the vandalism. Howard led him out back. The pyramid had been cleared away; the maintenance staff was for once on the ball. The policeman told Howard that he would speak to the maintenance staff afterward. The policeman told Howard that they would send a squad car out this evening to take a look. Howard asked if they would do a stakeout. The policeman replied that they didn’t usually do stakeouts for vandalism incidents. The policeman made noises like he was ready to leave. Howard realized that the police were not going to do much about this. Yeah, right, send out a squad car this evening. Make them miss their sleep for twenty minutes looking into some prank complaint.
It was getting late in the afternoon. Howard couldn’t stand the thought of sleeping in his apartment. He called a friend of his, Bobby, to see if he could stay the night at his place. Bobby had helped him before, when his marriage was breaking up and he just needed to get out of the house for a couple of nights. Bobby consulted with his wife, Kate, for a minute, and then said sure, come on over. Howard left, he just got into his car and drove. He didn’t pack anything, not even a toothbrush. He just had to get out of that place; it was driving him crazy. He got to Bobby’s place just as they were serving dinner. Bobby and Kate had a place ready for him. While they ate, Howard told them about the Offerings and about the police response. He just couldn’t bring himself to mention the CD Player to them. They made appropriate noises. It must be so frightening to have vandals so close. You must have been scared out of your wits. Bobby made a suggestion: tomorrow he would come over to Howard’s place and spend the night. They would stay up and wait for the vandals. When they arrived, he and Howard would catch them and scare the hell out them. They’d never terrorize poor innocent citizens again.
They played cards for a while. It started getting late. Howard was just thinking he was ready to turn in when he thought of Bo. He had left the apartment without feeding Bo. He would need to be fed and taken out. If he didn’t go out tonight, there’d be hell to pay and a lot of cleaning up tomorrow. Howard was already deep into his apartment security deposit because of the blinds; he didn’t need to forfeit anymore because of soiled carpets. Bobby offered to drive over with him, but looked as if he’d rather just go to bed. Howard said no, he’d just be a half hour or so. Bobby said he’d leave the door open.
Howard ran to his car, and raced back to his apartment. Bo would be getting desperate. He got home and unlocked the door. He went in. Bo greeted him effusively, as usual. You could leave that dog alone for five minutes; and when you came back he would greet you as if you had abandoned him for days. He would whine and vocalize and rub his side against your leg, inviting you to pet him. Howard had always thought of him as half cat. Bo would pick up his bone and carry it around with him as he went through his greeting ritual. Howard and his daughter had started calling it his “greeting bone” because of this behavior. Howard took Bo out right away. The dog was desperate and peed and pooped immediately, rather than waiting and sniffing around for half an hour like he usually did. They came back in. Howard would feed the dog, and then take him out again in case he had to go after dinner.
Howard busied himself with refilling the dog’s water dish in the glow of dim light from the laundry area. While that was pouring, he picked up Bo’s food dish and went over to the laundry area where he kept the dog food. He noticed that he had left the laundry area light on again. He opened the folding doors. At that second, the light in the laundry area burned out with a pop. The bulb broke clean out of its socket, fell down from the fixture, and landed with a clank into the dog food dish Howard was holding. Howard jumped a mile. The dog food dish went flying, and landed on the floor with a metallic clang. He was now in semi-darkness. He had not turned on the kitchen light; the glow from the laundry room light had been sufficient to work by. Howard came out of the laundry area into the kitchen; he would have to replace the light bulb in order to see the dog food. It was too dark otherwise.
Just as he turned away to turn on the kitchen light, he heard a noise coming from the darkened laundry area. It was a stealthy scratching sound. It reminded him of rats. Long ago, when he was a kid, he had been asleep in his basement bedroom when he had heard scratchings and scurryings in the walls. It had scared the hell out of him. He had called his Dad down. His Dad was pissed off at first over having been awakened. Then, he had heard the noises. It had sounded like it was coming from the ductwork. His Dad had gotten mousetraps, and the next night Howard had heard the trap snap. He had called his Dad down and they had examined the trap. A big rat had gotten its neck broken in the trap. These memories flew through Howard’s brain as he stood there staring into the dark laundry area and listened to the noise coming from it. If this was a rat, it was one big rat. The noise made Howard think of a large cat skulking around among the old boxes of laundry detergent, the cleaning solutions, and the broom and mop and pail. Howard hesitated, and then reached for the switch for the overhead kitchen fluorescents…
Bobby woke up in the middle of the night. He got up and went to the kitchen, being careful not to disturb his wife Kate. He got some ice water and then realized that the light from the refrigerator might disturb Howard, who was asleep on the couch. He looked over. The couch was empty. He looked around. No Howard anywhere. Funny, he must have stayed at home instead of coming back here. Bobby found that strange. Howard had seemed so upset over the acts of vandalism going on at his place. Bobby felt sure that Howard would come back to sleep here tonight. He decided that he was going to check on his friend. He called his number. No answer. He went back to the bedroom, kissed his wife and told her he was going to check on Howard.
He got in his car and drove over to Howard’s apartment complex. When he arrived, he looked around and saw Howard’s car. He called Howard’s number again, and again there was no answer. He was getting worried. As he sat there thinking over what to do, a police squad car with search lights lit up on either side. This was apparently the promised squad car, here for their inspection of the premises. As it passed, he got out of his car and waved the police car down. He explained the situation. He was worried about his friend. His car was here but he was not answering his phone. One of the cops remarked that some people don’t hear their phones ringing at three o’clock in the morning. Bobby explained that Howard was the man who had made the complaint which had brought them out here in the first place; so maybe they ought to investigate. They weren’t too happy about this guy telling them how to do their job. However, they agreed to go take a look. They parked their car. The cop in the shotgun seat got out and started over toward Howard’s building. Bobby followed him. The other cop got out but stayed near the car.
Bobby and the cop reached Howard’s door. The cop knocked on the door. They waited. There was no answer. He knocked again. Around the corner came Bo, whimpering. Bobby called Bo over to him and started petting him. What was Bo doing outside in the middle of the night, and where was Howard? The cop said that the door looked like it was unlocked. He pulled his gun out of its holster, and held it up alongside his flashlight. He motioned Bobby away from the door, and Bobby grabbed Bo by the collar and complied. The cop then kicked the door. It slammed open and he cautiously went inside. Bobby followed, not really wanting to but fearful for his friend.
There were lights on inside. It was quiet. The cop passed by the bedroom door and shone his flashlight in. He moved on down the hallway, stepping around the CD player that lay on the hallway floor. He came to the living room. Nothing out of the ordinary. He went into the kitchen, which was lit by the overhead fluorescent lights. Bobby followed closely. Water was flowing from the tap in the kitchen sink. It had completely filled the dog dish and spilled over into the sink. Bobby peered over the cop’s shoulder. The laundry area folding doors were wide open. The cop shone his flashlight into the partially lit laundry area. There, on top of the washing machine, was a neat circle of stones, lined with pine straw and filled with a layer of acorns.
Bobby called out the back door. Bo came rushing in, eager for dinner. In the months since Howard’s disappearance, Bobby and Kate had come to love Bo. It really is true about dogs, they are Man’s best friend. And Woman’s best friend. Kate thought Bo seemed at times to grieve for his former owner. Bobby said that was ridiculous, dogs don’t grieve like humans. At any rate, both Bobby and Kate thought Bo was adapting to his new surroundings and owners just fine. He was a good dog and well trained. For that, they were thankful. Because it was beginning to look like Howard was not going to come back. Ever.