Still working late hours at the bank, Keith felt relieved that they had a guard dog who wasn’t afraid to protect his family. Peanut was a big, solid mass of muscle—with a few extra pounds. His eyes were wild, making him even scarier looking. Keith liked that. He wasn’t the type of dog that you’d see and want to pet. No, he was the type that would send you running for cover, praying someone would find you or get the dog away. He was intimidating and looked ferocious.
About four months after Peanut had joined the family, Keith came home to find the dog lying in his usual spot on the front porch. It comforted him that Peanut slept right in front of the front door. As he walked up onto the porch, he noted that Peanut didn’t move a muscle. This was highly unusual. Typically when the dog heard a noise, his head popped up, but not this night. He was dead to the world. Literally.
As Keith walked up the stairs of the porch, he saw a pool of gore lying beneath the dog. His dark brown coat was matted with blood. Horrified, he examined the dog closer; he appeared to be completely gutted just like the raccoon. He was sliced open from the edge of his collar all the way down to his hip. His flesh gaped open as his intestine and guts spilled out of him. If it had been during the summer months, flies would’ve surely had a field day landing on him. Luckily, it was only the end of February; the chilly night kept down the odor of decomposition. His heart sunk when he saw the dog. Imagining what the kids and Ashley would think, his mind began to race. He’d have to bury the dog before they woke up. It would take forever with the ground still partially frozen from the harsh snow and ice they’d received only three weeks ago.
He stepped over the lifeless dog’s carcass as he entered the house to change his clothes. Removing his business attire, he slipped into a ratty pair of sweatpants and pulled a hooded sweatshirt over his head. Searching for his sneakers, he almost woke Ashley, but he quickly ducked down along the side of the bed. After he was sure she was asleep, he tiptoed out of the bedroom and headed to the living room. Finding his tennis shoes on the shoe rack, he put them on and headed to the shed to grab the shovel and a black trash bag. Using the shovel, he scooped the dog’s body onto the black trash bag and drug him to the edge of the woods that surrounded the house. Turning on a lantern he’d taken from the shed, he switched it on and began digging into the hard, frozen ground.
Hours had passed before he finally dug a burial ground deep enough to bury the dog in. Grabbing the edges of the black trash bag, he lowered the dog into his eternal home and said a prayer before shoveling dirt over the top of him. Dripping with sweat, he went back inside, showered and disposed of his bloody, soiled clothes using another plastic grocery bag after he’d wiped up the porch. He’d never been more thankful that his wife recycled them for mini trash bags for the bathroom waste containers.
Falling asleep only three hours before his alarm went off, he had nightmares about the dog all night. He pictured some sick person carving his dog up as though they were a professional butcher as the dog cried. The alarm clock went off at 6 AM, interrupting one of his dreams.
Relieved to be awake, he groggily got dressed for work. As Ashley made breakfast for the family, he fixed himself a glass of orange juice; slipping a few ounces of vodka in it when no one was looking. He needed something to help get him through his day after the night he’d had. Sitting down at the breakfast table, Chloe offered to go feed the dog. Initially, he wanted to stop her, but that would alert the family that something was wrong. He decided to let her go out to feed Peanut. She returned a few moments later, complaining that she couldn’t find him.
“I’m sure he’s out in the woods or something. Did you put some food in his dish?” Ashley asked her daughter.
“Yeah, but mom, Peanut’s always outside. He sleeps on the porch. Where is he?”
“Maybe he saw an animal in the woods or something and ran after it,” Chase suggested.
Keith knew he’d have to come up with something when the kids didn’t see the dog after a few days. He didn’t know what to say to them. It would break their hearts whatever he told them; they loved that dog. One thing was for sure; whoever killed the dog was sure to have injuries themselves. When the kids hadn’t seen Peanut for two days, they began to worry that something had happened to him. He couldn’t bear to watch his kids suffer any longer.
“Keith, have you seen Peanut when you’ve come home from work? The kids said they haven’t seen him for a couple of days.” Ashley said.
“No, I haven’t seen him.” He hated lying to his wife.
The next morning at the breakfast table, he noticed Chase crying.
“What’s wrong bub?” he asked his son.
“We haven’t seen Peanut. I think someone stole him,” he pouted.
“You know, sometimes dogs run off,” Keith suggested.
Everyone’s eyes darted at him as he went on. The kids couldn’t believe that their beloved pet would voluntarily run away from them.
“Yeah, I bet he just ran off. He probably saw some animal, like you said, in the woods. I bet Peanut’s out in the woods hunting. Maybe he’ll turn up,” he offered his children some hope.
Ashley shot a glance at him that said she wasn’t so sure about that. He shrugged his shoulders. What else was he supposed to say to the kids?
§
Not long after the dog incident, Ashley and Bryce were at home while the other children were at school; Keith was at work. It was early April and they were finally having a break in the weather. For the first time in a long time, the weather was beautiful outside. It was unseasonably warm that early in the month. Ashley noted the house was a mess. There was clutter spread throughout from one end to the other. It was driving her nuts. In their home, everything had its own place. Bryce had been begging to play outside with a few construction trucks he’d gotten for Christmas. She debated whether or not she should allow him to play outside for a bit as she straightened the house. Finding a middle ground, she made him play inside until she had the living room and dining back in order. Ready to clean the kitchen, she allowed him to play in the backyard since she could watch him from the kitchen window as she washed dishes. Following him outside, she carried his bulky construction trucks and instructed him to play where she could see him; in front of the window.
“Now don’t you go playing outside of this area. Mommy won’t be able to see you if you get too far from the house,” she explained.
“Okay, mommy,” Bryce, now two years old, agreed.
“All right. I mean it. You don’t go past that tree over there,” she pointed, “and not past that rose bush,” she pointed again.
“Okay, Mom!” he pronounced. “I’m not ‘tupid!”
She laughed, “I know you’re not stupid. I’m just telling you what your boundaries are. Give mommy a kiss; I’m going back inside. I’ll be watching you from that window,” she pointed again, “so if you need anything, just holler.”
Bryce gave her a kiss before she headed back inside. As soon as she was in the kitchen, she knocked on the window, drawing his attention. He looked up at her as she waved to him. The busy toddler waved back as he began playing with his trucks. Carrying the dishes from the table to the counter, she peered out the window every few minutes, keeping an eye on him as he played. He’s so cute, she thought, look at him out there, driving his trucks over the mounds of dirt and into the mud. I’m going to have a big mess when he comes back inside. I’ll probably have to give him a bath—and wash his trucks, too! She laughed to herself. Squirting soap into the dish pan, she scraped the plates into the trash as the bubbles filled the sink. Bryce was still busy running his trucks through the mud and dirt as he made engine sounds for the vehicles, stopping to laugh to himself as he played.
She’d only washed a few plates when the home phone began to ring. For Pete’s sake, she muttered, drying her hands on the dish towel. She gazed out the window, making sure Bryce was still playing and walked over to the phone hanging on the kitchen wall. Answering it, she tried to stretch the long s
piral phone cord back over to the window, but it wouldn’t reach.
“I’m sorry. Who is this?” she asked, confused by the babble she heard on the other end of the line.
“This is Rose, I work for M.P.H., also known as Magazine Publishing House. We have an incredible deal for you today! But before I tell you about it, do you have children?”
“Yes? Listen, I need to go,” she tried getting off the phone with the woman.
“Oh, this will only take a moment. Today we’re offering a limited number of subscriptions for Children Now, which features educational material. Your child, or children, will learn their letters, colors, and numbers. They’ll also learn….”
“Listen, Rose! I need to go. I’m trying to clean and watch my baby, he’s in the….”
“Okay, I understand you’re busy,” she interrupted, “but for only $21.99, you can have a one-year subscription—and we’ll throw in 3 free bonus issues at no extra charge! I can sign you up today, all we need….”
Ashley sighed into the phone, “I told you, I don’t have time for this!” She said as she placed the phone back on the receiver, disconnecting the pushy sales woman.
Hanging up the phone, she walked back over to the window to check on Bryce while she finished up the morning dishes. As she looked outside, he was no longer in sight. Aggravated that he disobeyed her direct orders to stay where she could see him, she started out the front door to bring him back inside. Playtime was over. Standing in the front yard, she began calling his name as she made her way over to the side of the house that faced the kitchen window.
“Bryce!” she called, walking closer to the area.
No answer.
“Bryce Jackson Marshall! You better answer me!”
Still no answer.
“Bryce Marshall! If you’re hiding, you better come out!” she warned him.
The yard was silent. A few birds flew overhead as she began to panic. This time she yelled even louder.
“Bryce! Where are you?”
She began feverishly running around the perimeter of the house, thinking he was hiding or had fallen and was hurt. As she ran, she continued calling his name. In tears and out of breath, she ran back inside the house to grab her cell phone to call Keith at work. She headed back outside as she dialed and continued searching for him.
“JoMo Bank, this is Keith,” he answered the phone.
“Keith! You’ve got to get home!” she panted into the phone.
Sitting up in his chair, he asked, “Why? What’s going on?”
“Bryce! He’s missing! I can’t find him anywhere,” she began to break down.
“Slow down. What do you mean?” he said, searching for his car keys in his desk drawer.
“You’ve got to come home right now!” she screamed into the phone. Her heart was racing a mile a minute and her legs felt like they were jelly.
“Okay, I’m on my way. I’ll call you from the car,” he said, hanging up the phone as he made a dash for the door. On his way out, he passed his boss’s office and quickly told her his son was missing.
In the car, Keith called his wife from his cell phone as he backed out of the space.
“Okay, tell me everything,” he said, turning into traffic.
“Bryce wanted to play outside with those dump trucks or construction trucks, whatever they are! And I needed to clean, so I made him wait until all I had was the kitchen left to do, and then I let him go outside. He was supposed to stay where I could see him—in front of the window—but the phone rang. Some stupid sales person. I hung up on them, and when I came back to the window, he was gone!” she began balling again as she walked through the woods surrounding the house.
“Calm down, Ash. It’s not going to do you any good to be hysterical like this. You need to focus. Think. Where would he have gone?”
“I don’t know, Keith! That’s the problem. I’ve been calling his name, but he’s not answering me!”
“I’m about 25 minutes out. I’ll be there as soon as I can. Keep looking,” he said as he let her go.
Racing home, his tires screeched as he threw his car into park. Ashley was nowhere in sight; he called her name. Listening carefully, he could hear her answer.
“Where are you?” he shouted back.
“Over here,” her voice echoed.
“Which direction did you go in?” he asked.
“I went east,” she called back to him.
Heading east, he made his way into the woods and found her. Her eyes were red and puffy from crying, her nose was the same crimson color from wiping it so much.
“Which ways have you searched? Like, what areas?”
“I don’t know, I’ve just been running all over. Keith, he won’t answer me,” she cried into his chest with her fist balled.
“How long has he been missing now?”
“I don’t know. Five, maybe ten minutes, before I called you,” she sniffled.
He looked at his watch. “Christ that was over a half hour ago! Ashley, I don’t know if you’ve ever Google mapped our house before, but there’s a ton of creeks and ponds that run through our woods. He could’ve fallen into any one of them. We’ve got to call the police.”
Horrified that her two-year-old baby might be drowning in a body of water, she called 9-1-1 as fast as her fingers would allow.
The operator answered the phone, “9-1-1, what’s your emergency?”
“My son is missing. He’s only two-years-old and I don’t know where he went!” her crying continued.
“Okay, ma’am, what is your address?”
“It’s 2364 Old Highway 73,” she spat out.
“Is that within city limits?” the operator asked.
“No, it’s in the country. Why?”
“Okay, we’ll have to transfer the information to the county police. They’ll be there as soon as they can to take a report,” she explained.
“Transfer the information?” she couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “Did you listen to what I said? I said there’s a two-year-old who’s missing. He could be anywhere!”
“I’m sorry, ma’am, that’s the procedure. Would you like to call them yourself?”
“Yes, I will. What’s the number?” she asked as she made her way to the van to get a piece of paper and something to write with.
“It’s 417-3…”
“Hold on, I’m trying to get this pen to work,” she shook the pen and licked the tip of it, hoping to make it work. No, use. She fished through the glove box and pulled out a Crayola marker. This’ll have to do, she thought, “Okay, I’m ready.”
After the dispatch operator had given her the number, she hung up and called the county police. Explaining what was going on, they sent officers to the house immediately.
§
When the police arrived, they figured the little boy couldn’t have wandered too far from home. At the age of two, their legs are so small that they can’t cover as much ground as a teenager or adult could. The police called for backup and spread out, searching for the missing toddler. Ashley left to pick up the other children from school while Keith stayed behind with police. As dusk began to darken the woods, they called off the search and handed the case off to a detective who could help organize an official search and rescue team.
Detective David Roderick called the Marshall’s the next morning as soon as he saw the report on his desk. He noted that the boy was only two and had only been gone approximately 45 minutes before police arrived on the scene. As he studied the case file, he thought they would likely find the boy curled up in the woods. Scared and shaken, but otherwise fine.
“Hello? Is this Keith Marshall?” the detective asked as he answered the phone.
“Yes, it is. Who is this?”
“This is Detective David Roderick. I received your case this morning about a missing two-year-old,” he looked at the paperwork. “Bryce Marshall? Is that your son?”
“Yes, he went missing yesterday early afternoon. My wife was clean
ing the house while he played in the yard. When can you have your guys start searching for him?”
The Silencer: A Bad Boy MMA Romance Page 20
