Something Missing_ A Novel - Matthew Dicks [77]
It took Mr. Durand an agonizing five minutes to coax the jaws of his dog open, finally managing to do so by tickling the dog’s underbelly. Martin was immediately rushed to the hospital in the back of Mrs. Durand’s station wagon. The wounds were deep and fourteen stitches were required to sew up the holes, but Martin was released from the emergency room that same afternoon.
Though the animal control officer (and Martin) had wanted Valerie to be put down, Martin’s mother prevailed and the animal was allowed to live. Martin was initially angered by his mother’s defense of the dog, unable to understand her lack of concern for such a dangerous animal, but in time he understood and even came to respect her decision. In an age of overindulgent parents, she had gone against the grain and allowed a boy’s beloved dog to live. She placed the needs of a young boy and his dog ahead of the anger and fear of her son, and that could not have been easy. Besides, her decision made sense. Valerie had never bitten anyone before. Ultimately, Mr. Durand chalked up the incident to “one of those things that can’t be explained.”
Though Martin eventually understood his mother’s decision, he had found himself unable to forget the lack of concern his friend had shown him that day, and their friendship slowly dwindled to an occasional hello in the middle-school hallways. Eventually even those moments disappeared entirely.
David had been Martin’s only real friend besides Jim, and the incident had led to Martin’s extreme fear of dogs.
As the Labrador bounded into Laura Green’s kitchen, Martin turned back toward the door, every muscle of his body bent on exiting the house as quickly as possible. Panic had once again seized him, but as he reached for the knob he saw the door to Mr. and Mrs. Matching Volkswagen’s house opening and a woman (older and therefore nosey, Martin thought, despite his haste and panic) emerging from within. Trapped between a dog and a possible witness, Martin did the only thing he could: He ran.
Turning right, Martin ran out of the kitchen and passed through a small dining room, taking in details such as the loose Oriental rug on the floor and a collection of snow globes filling a glass display cabinet as he ran by. Only four chairs around the table, Martin noticed. Laura Green was probably not a frequent entertainer of guests. Once out of the dining room, Martin found himself in a short hallway that ended with a darkened room directly ahead before turning left into what he presumed was a living room.
Martin was running on instinct now, thoughts firing in his brain as he moved as quickly as possible, a combination of adrenaline, experience, and training working together seamlessly. Martin had already mapped the Green home without conscious effort, identifying it almost immediately as a roundabout, the type of home in which the rooms were positioned around a central staircase, allowing for continuous movement through the home without hitting a dead end. The staircase to the second floor was not on his left as he passed through the front hallway and by the front door, as he had expected, leaving him to assume (correctly) that it was on the inner wall of the living room. All of these thoughts flooded his mind instantaneously, his experience and preparation paying off in ways he’d never known it would.
Hearing a thump behind him (probably the dog slipping on the loose rug and running into one of the aforementioned dining room chairs), Martin decided that he might have time enough to enter the room directly ahead and slam the door shut after him. His only other choice was to continue around the house, through the theoretical living room, back into the kitchen, and out the side door for his escape. But there was no telling where Mrs. Matching