FOLLOW THE LEADER - Chapter 76

 

Chapter 76


I was bone-tired as I left the BART parking lot in Glen Park. As usual, there had been no parking spots on Chenery.  I pictured the commuters tucked in their beds. Maybe up late watching an old movie on TV.  Glen Park had its share of seniors. Only one was of interest to me: Dorothy Latham.

I crossed Bosworth in deep-sea diver’s weighted boots. Or so it seemed. Pick up the pace! Things were falling into place after the raid on Power’s camp. Sheena had been found not far from where Terry lay. The medics said she suffered facial bruising and abrasions and a fractured femur bone. Peewee was dead. 

And Terry…?

I could scarcely bare to think of him; yet there were moments when I could think of nothing else.

Just ahead of me somewhere a dog was howling. I realized that I had heard its mournful bawling back in the parking lot. I had been so wrapped up in the night’s cataclysmic events that I had scarcely noticed it. It was just ahead, to my right.

A small dog.

It’s Reggie! 

I saw that all lights were off in the Latham house. Two things were abundantly clear: Dorothy was tied up and gagged or dead. Or possibly lying unconscious. Otherwise she would have calmed Reggie; quite possibly, Powers had fled the scene.  If he were in the house, there would be no howling. He couldn’t risk drawing attention to himself. I wondered why he hadn’t shot the little mutt. Reggie must have run away and hid, I concluded. I crossed the neighbor’s front yard and bolted toward Dorothy’s unattached garage. There was a three-foot hedge I could hide behind.

I made it there safely.

Now I could see that there were no lights on in the back of the house, either. No sounds except for Reggie’s howling.

The years in prison had taught me to trust my instincts. My common sense said there was no one alive in this house except the dog. My instincts told me to act as if there was a shooter, waiting for me inside. Somewhere. 

I ran for the back door, staying low.

And made it.

I carried a club, a hunting knife and a flashlight; none of which would help me if I were face to face with an armed man. I would have to rely on the element of surprise. Under my probation I was not allowed to carry any knife except the small Boy Scout type. There was no time to worry about that now.

I heard a tiny sound: the dog’s paws skittering and sliding on the linoleum floor. He had stopped barking.

Which told me that he recognized my scent.

I tried the handle to the screen door. Unlocked. The door knob. Also unlocked.

I entered the utility room and went straight to the kitchen door. It was also unlocked. And warm to the touch. And there was something else: The faint scent of bath soap. Powers had just left the scene or he was inviting me in. Based on the total silence in the house, I guessed he was gone. 

I entered the kitchen. There was just enough light to let me see that there was no one hiding there. I figured that any shooter would have fired at me by now. I’d been a perfect target inside the screened porch.

Reggie was at my feet now, whimpering softly. I let him lead me through the living room and then to the stairs.

We made it to the landing.

I immediately knelt and held out my hand. “Good boy,” I whispered.  He sniffed my hand and wagged his behind. 

I headed up the stairs on tiptoes. He followed me up on his rickety legs.