Into the Dark. Rick Mofina

       1

      Temple City, California,

      2007

      It started with the neighbors’ dog.

      Tucker, the Bradfords’ cocker spaniel, was barking, but Ruth Peterson, who lived next door, paid no attention to him as she got ready to run errands. Her thoughts were on the new shoes she needed for her son’s graduation from Berkeley in two weeks. Then, moving through her home, she glimpsed Tucker in the Bradfords’ yard.

      That’s odd. Why doesn’t Bonnie see to him?

      Ruth dismissed it, but as she collected her purse and keys, the barking made her wonder for a few seconds. Tucker was a good dog, friendly, and Bonnie Bradford’s kids, Jimmy and Jessie, adored him. Ruth never heard a peep out of him, certainly not at night.

      In her driveway, Ruth reached for her car door but hesitated.

      Tucker’s barking was stronger now as it rose from the backyard.

      Ruth took stock of the Bradfords’ neat ranch-style house and bit her bottom lip. She hated to disturb Bonnie, not when she was trying to meet a deadline for her latest screenplay. Bonnie’s ex, the building contractor, had the kids with him in Thousand Oaks for a week and she was using the time to finish her script. At least that’s what she’d told Ruth when they’d chatted over the fence the other night.

      Still, Ruth grew concerned at Tucker’s continual barking.

      After giving it a moment, she walked over to Bonnie’s front door and rang the bell. Nothing happened. Not a hint of movement inside. Bonnie’s car was in the driveway.

      She had to be home.

      Ruth went around to the back, where Tucker greeted her on the patio with more barking before entering the house through his little dog door. It squeaked a few times, swinging in his wake.

      Ruth knocked.

      Nothing happened, other than Tucker resuming his barking, now with an eerie echo as if the house were vacant. Ruth knocked again harder, but this time when she struck the door, it opened, startling her.

      Strange.

      Catching her breath, she gripped the handle firmly and poked her head inside the entrance to the kitchen.

      “Bonnie! It’s Ruth Peterson, is everything okay?”

      Tucker emerged, barking in the silence.

      Unease swirled in Ruth’s mind.

      Maybe Bonnie’s slept in, or left her house with a friend, or forgot to lock the door, or she’s listening to music with headphones...

      “Bonnie!”

      Ruth stepped into the kitchen and took quick inventory. She saw nothing on the table or counter, no dishes in the sink. The stove was switched off. Nothing was on. Nothing seemed awry, except for the dog.

      She lowered herself, and Tucker rushed into her arms.

      “Goodness, you’re trembling.”

      His barking evolved into a mournful yelping, then he squirmed until she set him down and watched him trot down the hallway still barking.

      Ruth followed him.

      She was familiar with the house. Bonnie had invited her over for tea several times and they got along well. Scanning the family room and living room, she saw nothing that looked out of place.

      The air was still.

      Ruth called out for Bonnie again as she walked along the hall.

      The children’s rooms with their movie and pop-star posters were empty, their beds were made and all toys were in place. A wide-eyed teddy bear, its mouth a permanent O, stared at her from Jessie’s bed.

      Ruth moved down the hall and stood at the entrance to Bonnie’s small office. Sunlight flooded the room. Pages of script were spread over her desk and credenza. Next to her computer keyboard: a ceramic mug, half-filled with tea, with World’s