The Second Trial (13 page)

Danny's jaw clenched as tight as his fists.

“Come on, Buddy,” Sgt. Sandhu said. The police officer slapped his thigh and the dog's tail started to beat. “Let's go for a ride.”

Buddy jumped into the truck, his tail slapping back and forth against the bench seat. Sgt. Sandhu left the passenger door open and then got in the driver's side. He sat quietly, looking out at the warming summer day. He waited.

A few minutes later Danny got in and shut the door. Sgt. Sandhu said nothing as he drove away.

Buddy's first experience with the vet hadn't been good. Before they'd had a chance to vaccinate him, he'd contracted parvovirus. When he started vomiting Mom had rushed him to the vet, where Dr. Kuskovski injected him with a sedative, shaved his leg, and started an intravenous drip of antibiotics and fluids. Buddy was at the clinic for days. Danny and his mom visited every day. Dr. Kuskovski told them Buddy had a fifty-fifty chance of living, and if he did survive, he might have permanent heart damage that would leave him unhealthy for life. Danny had cried every day, and at night he'd whisper promises to be good and keep his room clean and listen to his parents, if only Buddy would live.

Dad was disinterested. “Should've had him vaccinated earlier, Catherine,” he said. On the fifth day, the dog was awake, and two days later Danny triumphantly led the skinny puppy into the house. Mom followed, carrying the package of antibiotics they'd picked up at the pharmacy. Dad just read his magazine.

Since then, two things were guaranteed to make Buddy squirm – the smell of chlorine bleach they used to disinfect the cages and the green neon Emergency Animal Hospital sign on 34th Street. And there it was. Buddy dropped his Frisbee on the truck floor.

Inside, Sgt. Sandhu remained standing until the vet appeared. She wore her white lab coat unbuttoned. Dark-rimmed, rectangular glasses set off her high cheek bones. She reached across the counter to shake hands. “I'm Dr. Kuskovski.”

“Rajiv Sandhu.”

She looked at Danny and Buddy. “Hi, Danny. What can I do for you?”

“Can we speak with you privately?” asked the police officer. Sgt. Sandhu closed the examination room door. “The dog needs his microchip removed,” he said.

“Is there something wrong with it?”

“No. It just needs to be removed.”

Dr. Kuskovski looked at Danny, then back at Sgt. Sandhu. “And you are…”

“A family friend.”

She looked at Danny. “Is this right, Danny?”

He shrugged his shoulders and avoided her eyes.

Well,” said the vet, “I guess you can always have one reinserted later.”

The procedure only took a few minutes. When it was done, Buddy shook himself and then raised his hind leg to scratch at the incision.

“You'll have to keep him from scratching until the freezing wears off, and then he won't notice it anymore. It shouldn't take more than an hour,” the vet said.

Sgt. Sandhu pulled out his wallet and placed a few bills on the counter. The assistant handed him a receipt. Then she offered Danny the dog's collar.

“Don't forget this,” she said.

Danny reached for it, but his hand was intercepted by the police officer's. “I'll take it,” he said quietly.

Danny jerked his hand back from the police officer's touch as if he'd been burned.

Oh my God. It's really happening.

Chapter 20

Thursday

“Why are you doing all of this?” Danny asked, abruptly breaking the silence.

Sgt. Sandhu stopped at a red light. “Because I have to. Because I care about you.” He turned to face the boy. “Because I have a wife and two daughters. And because I hope someone would help them if they were in danger, like you are.”

He turned off the ignition in front of the house. “Spend some time working on your room. Later this afternoon, my wife, Anita, and I will have your family over for a barbeque. You're going to practice meeting strangers.”

Four o'clock came quickly. Catherine tapped on Danny's door. “We're leaving in twenty minutes. I thought maybe you'd like to get washed up and changed.”

He was lying on the unmade bed, looking up at the stars. He hadn't washed or even brushed his teeth and was still wearing Wednesday's clothes. Reluctantly, he decided to take a shower.

On the way to the Sandhus, Catherine explained the visit. She sounded like she had a sore throat. “It's kind of like a rehearsal,” she said. “The Sandhus are going to pretend they're our neighbors at the new place. We're going to speak with them as if…in our new identities.”

So that's what Sgt. Sandhu meant by
practicing
. Danny felt light-headed. He began scratching Buddy's head mechanically, back and forth, back and forth.

Sgt. Sandhu was sitting on the front steps of the small white house. Perched beside him were his identical twin daughters, their short, black hair pulled into messy pigtails. They were wearing identical outfits – baggy, red shorts with flowers on the borders and white T-shirts with the same flowers trimming the sleeves. From a distance, there was no way to tell the girls apart. He'd seen them a couple of years ago when their dad brought them to soccer practice, but they were just toddlers then, and he hadn't paid them much attention.

As usual, Buddy bounded up ahead, tail wagging, muzzle thrust forward in greeting. Sgt. Sandhu stood and gave them a welcoming smile.

“Hello. I'm glad you could make it,” he said, reaching out. “I'm Rajiv and these are my children, Amina and Amruta.”

Catherine shook his hand. “I'm Susan Mayer, and these are my children, Julia and David,” she said.

“Pleased to meet you, Julia, David,” Sgt. Sandhu said, his face not betraying that this was anything but a neighborly visit. “Come around to the back. We've got some cold drinks waiting.”

With a giggle, the twins jumped up and chased the dog through the gate. A chemical smell of lighter fluid lingered around the flaming charcoal briquettes. Danny started when he recognized Phil at the grill. He wore a small apron that barely reached around his waist. Several plastic deck chairs circled a patio table shaded by a green umbrella. Pitchers of lemonade and iced tea sweated on the table beside a stack of daisy-print plastic tumblers.

Two of the deck chairs were occupied – one by Sgt. Sandhu's wife, and the other, by Dr. Sung.

Sgt. Sandhu made the introductions. “Susan, this is my neighbor Phil, and over there is his wife, Connie,” he said, pointing at Dr. Sung. “And, of course, my wife Anita.” He gestured toward Danny and Jennifer. “And here are David and Julia.”

Smiles, nods, hellos, and small talk. “Isn't it a beautiful day?” “Yes summer's been just great this year.” “Even the mosquitoes aren't too bad….”

The twins grabbed Jennifer and yanked her to the corner of the yard. “Wanna see our sandbox? We could play house. I have a tea set,” one of them said.

“It's my tea set too!” the other twin whined.

“Lemonade or iced tea?” asked Anita.

“Iced tea, please,” Catherine replied.

Danny buried his hands in his pockets and looked away.

“I think David would like lemonade,” Catherine answered for her son.

The refreshing drink splashed over the ice cubes. Anita walked over to Danny and handed him the glass. “Here you go, David.”

“Homemade, David,” Phil called from the barbeque. “I squeezed the lemons myself.”

Buddy nosed every corner of the yard, then returned to brush against Danny's legs. When Danny reached down to pet him, Phil tried to restart the conversation.

“David, what's your dog's name?”

Danny turned his back. “Come on, Buddy,” he said, leading the dog away from the patio to the shade of a leafy tree. He sat on the ground and leaned against the trunk, far enough away to remain uninvolved.

Disregarding his attitude, the others continued with questions and small talk in voices loud enough that he would hear them.

“So – where do you come from?”

“Saskatoon.”

“And what made you move to Winnipeg?”

“Well, I…we…always thought it would be a nice place to live…” Catherine's voice thinned.

“Got any relatives here?”

“Ah, no.”

“Well it's a great place to raise a family,” Phil stated pleasantly. He arranged hot dogs and steaks on the grill. “Connie and I have lived here all our lives. Got to prepare yourselves for the winters, though. Downtown Winnipeg is the coldest place on earth, they say. What were the winters like in Saskatoon?”

“Well, they're…cold too….”

“What kind of work do you do?” asked Dr. Sung.

Catherine took a long sip of iced tea. “I usually work in sales – retail sales.”

“And are you looking for a job or have you already lined one up?”

“I'm still looking for a job…. I wanted to move first and get the children settled before school starts.”

“Susan, how do you like your steak?” Phil asked.

“Medium, please.”

Anita rose from the table. “Rajiv, come and help me bring plates and the food.” She looked over her shoulder. “I hope Julia and David like potato salad and corn on the cob, because we've got plenty.”

“Sounds wonderful,” replied Catherine, sitting back.

Phil called over to the sandbox. “Julia, hot dogs or a steak?”

The twins were busily slapping wet sand between their palms to make mud pies, while Jennifer added dry sand to the yellow plastic water bucket.

“Julia?” he called, this time a little louder.

It was not the name, but the silence and the pressure of three sets of eyes that caught Jennifer's attention. She looked first at her mother, then at Phil who immediately held her gaze and said, “Julia – hot dog or steak?”

“Hot dog.”

He nodded. “Comin' right up!” He smiled at Danny. “And you?” he asked, without using a name.

“Steak,” Danny mumbled.

“Sure thing.”

Anita brought out a casserole dish covered in plastic wrap, and a few more trips in and out produced a steaming pot of corn, French bread, hot dog buns, a green salad, and assorted condiments.

Phil slid the steaks and hot dogs onto a platter. On any other day, Danny would have been first in line.

“Girls!” Anita called. “Wash up for supper, please. Amina, Amruta, please show Julia where the bathroom is. And bring me your glasses; I've got more lemonade here.”

Dr. Sung and Catherine started making their way around the table, filling their plates and topping up their drinks.

Jennifer and the twins reappeared, and Anita helped her daughters with their plates. The only ones still without food were Sgt. Sandhu and Danny.

Sgt. Sandhu walked over to the boy and crouched beside him. Instead of looking at him, he reached out to stroke the dog.

“Why don't you come over and eat,” Sgt. Sandhu said gently. “I'm sure Buddy would like your steak bone when you're finished. I can only imagine – no, I can't even imagine – how hard this must be for you. But there is simply no way to make it easier. Please, come over to the table. You don't have to participate, but at least come and listen. You need to know what's still ahead of you.”

Sgt. Sadhu reached to touch Danny's arm. The boy pulled away, but his actions were slower, more resigned. His anger was gradually ebbing away, like the dying coals on the barbeque. He no longer had the energy to keep it burning. He felt exhausted. He just wanted someone to take care of him.

Sgt. Sadhu returned to the patio. The boy followed, his lemonade glass ready for a refill.

A lull fell over the group as they sat with plates balanced in their laps. Only the twins chattered on, still absorbed in their world of play. When everyone started leaving their cutlery on their plates and lifting napkins to their lips, Sgt. Sandhu caught Danny's eye.

“Would you like to give a couple of these bones to Buddy? He's been so patient, waiting for us to finish.” Sgt. Sandhu gave Danny permission to leave the table – allowing him to be a spectator for a while longer, instead of a participant. As soon as he moved away, Sgt. Sandhu resumed the rehearsal.

“So tell us a bit about yourself, Susan. Have you always lived in Saskatchewan?”

“No…,” answered Catherine. “I was born in Edmonton, but my parents and I moved to Saskatoon when I started school. I'm an only child,” she volunteered a bit too quickly. Self-consciously, she took a gulp of iced tea.

Dr. Sung spoke. “You must have gone to Lake Diefenbaker, just south of Saskatoon, for summer holidays. I hear the swimming and boating is great, and the fishing's not bad either.”

“Well…yes,” faltered Catherine, “of course we went there many times. Great place.”

Anita turned to Jennifer. “Are you looking forward to school, Julia? What grade are you going into?”

“Four.”

“What's your favorite subject?”

“Science.”

“How old are you now?”

“I'm eight. I'll be nine in…” There was an awkward silence as she realized her mistake. “I guess I'm…” She turned to her mother. “I
missed
my new birthday?” she asked in a voice that was equal parts confusion and distress.

“Ah….” said Catherine. “Maybe we'll have to rethink that one.”

Dr. Sung smiled reassuringly. “Just let us know.”

Silence stretched over the group as if they were all holding their breath, waiting for someone to take the lead.
Where are they
going with this charade?
Danny wondered.
Haven't they said enough,
squirmed enough – suffered enough?

Sgt. Sandhu spoke up. “I think this would be a good time for dessert. Rhubarb pie with ice cream.” He cleared the dinner dishes as Anita set out the dessert plates.

Phil cleared his throat. “Remember, you can steer a conversation by asking questions, moving the focus away from you and onto others.” He sighed. “Most people are only too happy to talk about themselves, and they'd rather talk than listen.”