“Tad,” she shouted, going back to the living room and looking into the first-floor guest room. There was no sign of him.
Mr. Judson came running through the open front door, brandishing a poker. Together they went through the kitchen and out the back door.
“My wife is calling the police,” said Mr. Judson.
“There was a friend with me,” gasped Marissa, her anxiety increasing. “I don’t know where he is.”
“Here comes someone,” said Mr. Judson, pointing.
Marissa saw a figure approaching through the evergreen trees. It was Tad. Relieved, she ran to him and threw her arms around his neck, asking him what had happened.
“Unfortunately, I got knocked down,” he told her, touching the side of his head. “When I got up, the guy was outside. He had a car waiting.”
Marissa took Tad into the kitchen and cleaned the side of his head with a wet towel. It was only a superficial abrasion.
“His arm felt like a club,” said Tad.
“You’re lucky you’re not hurt worse. You never should have gone after him. What if he’d had a gun?”
“I wasn’t planning on being a hero,” said Tad. “And all he had with him was a briefcase.”
“A briefcase? What kind of burglar carries a briefcase?”
“He was well dressed,” said Tad. “I’d have to say that about him.”
“Did you get a good enough look at him to identify him?” asked Mr. Judson.
Tad shrugged. “I doubt it. It all happened so quickly.”
In the distance, they heard the sound of a police siren approaching. Mr. Judson looked at his watch. “Pretty good response time.”
“Taffy!” cried Marissa, suddenly remembering the dog. She ran back into the living room, with Tad and Mr. Judson close behind.
The dog had not moved, and Marissa bent down and gingerly lifted the animal. Taffy’s head dangled limply. Her neck had been broken.
Up until that moment Marissa had maintained cool control of her emotions. But now she began to weep hysterically. Mr. Judson finally coaxed her into releasing the dog. Tad put his arms around her, trying to comfort her as best he could.
The police car pulled up with lights flashing. Two uniformed policemen came inside. To their credit, Marissa found them sensitive and efficient. They found the point of entry, the broken living room window, and explained to Marissa the reason why the alarm hadn’t sounded initially: The intruder had knocked out the glass and had climbed through without lifting the sash.
Then, in a methodical fashion, the police took all the relevant information about the incident. Unfortunately, neither Marissa nor Tad could give much of a description of the man, save for his stiff arm. When asked if anything was missing, Marissa had to say that she had not yet checked. When she told them about Taffy, she began to cry again.
The police asked her if she’d like to go to the hospital, but she declined. Then, after saying they’d be in touch, the police left. Mr. Judson also departed, telling Marissa to call if she needed anything and not to concern herself about Taffy’s remains. He also said he’d see about getting her window repaired tomorrow.
Suddenly Marissa and Tad found themselves alone, sitting at the kitchen table with the groceries still in their bags.
“I’m sorry about all this,” said Marissa, rubbing her sore head.
“Don’t be silly,” protested Tad. “Why don’t we just go out for dinner?”
“I really am not up to a restaurant. But I don’t want to stay here either. Would you mind if I fixed the meal at your place?”
“Absolutely not. Let’s go!”
“Just give me a moment to change,” said Marissa.
r
10
May 20
IT WAS MONDAY MORNING, and Marissa was filled with a sense of dread. It had not been a good weekend. Friday had been the worst day of her life, starting with the episode with Dubchek, then being attacked and losing Taffy. Right after the assault, she’d minimized the emotional impact, only to pay for it later. She’d made dinner for Tad and had stayed at his house, but it had been a turbulent evening filled with tears and rage at the intruder who’d killed her dog.