He had a little science project in a field near our house. A couple of our dogs went missing, first one, than when we got a new one it disappeared too. Then the neighbor's pets disappeared. The same thing had happened when he was 11 or 12, but we never tied him to it, though I'll never forget a stench at that time which later I would figure he caused. This time we knew what he did. My wife saw him one night carrying a dog in his arms and followed him. In a small clearing a bunch of fresh graves had been dug. He injected some mixture of desoxyn and morphine into the critter and pulled out a knife. My wife freaked out and ran to the house. He followed her, yelling that he'd hurt us if the cops were called. Then he grabbed the keys to our station wagon and that was the last we saw him. Didn't even report the car stolen. Didn't want to have anything to do with the boy." I heard the tightness in the father's throat."What was the make and model of the car?" I asked."A 1978 green Chrysler. " I don't know why you're doing this for no pay," she uttered as she looked away. "We don't want charity, but we can't pay." Raymond needs this, Mrs. Jacobs, and I'm enjoying it," James countered.The woman ignored his remark. "I made these for you—to pay something," she mumbled. She thrust a paper plate with a dozen cookies out the open window of the car."Thank you, Mrs. Jacobs. You didn't have to do this, but I'm glad that you did!" It ain't nuthin'," the woman mumbled, looking away again."More than you think, Mrs. Jacobs. A single man like me doesn't get this kind of thing very often unless someone thinks of him," James insisted.Well, alright then!" Raymond's mother answered, her tone brightened a little. She rolled up the window and started backing down the driveway.James watched the station wagon back down about thirty feet or so. Then he waved good bye and turned back toward the back of the house. As he did, there was something moving that he saw in the corner of his eye. It.
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