Maybe, Ethan agreed, though something about it still felt off to him. As they stored the groceries, Ethan glanced out the kitchen window and noticed Harold’s car pulling into his driveway across the street. Harold got out and opened his trunk, revealing a metal dog kennel with what appeared to be a German Shepherd inside.
From this distance, and with Harold’s back to him, Ethan couldn’t see the dog clearly, but he could make out the distinctive coloring. He’s back already, Ethan remarked, with a German Shepherd, it looks like. Claire joined him at the window.
That was quick. He must have really connected with the dog. Love at first sight does happen, I suppose, Ethan said, echoing Claire’s earlier sentiment.
But it’s still odd. I used to be a breeder. I know these transactions usually take some time with paperwork and everything.
He was in and out incredibly fast. They watched as Harold struggled to maneuver the kennel across his snowy yard, the dog making the task more difficult with its movements. He’s having trouble with it, Ethan observed.
I should go help him. Before Claire could respond, Ethan was already heading for the door. He crossed the street quickly, calling out to Harold as he approached.
Need a hand with that? Harold’s head snapped up, his expression momentarily startled. No, no, I’m fine, he said quickly, his tone sharper than the situation warranted. I’ll see you this evening, he added, clearly dismissing Ethan.
Taken aback by the abrupt response, Ethan hesitated. All right, if you’re sure. Harold just nodded, already turning his attention back to the kennel and struggling to push it through the snowy yard.
Ethan returned to his house, a growing uneasiness settling in his stomach. Something about Harold’s behavior seemed off. But what reason did he have to be suspicious of his neighbor? The man had been nothing but quiet, if distant, all these years.
As he entered his house again, Claire gave him a questioning look. He didn’t want help, Ethan explained with a shrug. Said he’s fine on his own.
Claire nodded, returning to her dinner preparations. Some people just don’t like accepting help. It makes them feel vulnerable.
I suppose, Ethan agreed, though he couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to Harold’s strange behavior than simple pride. The hours passed slowly as the snow continued to fall outside, blanketing Maple Hollow in a fresh coat of white. Ethan had returned to his stack of police documents, finally able to concentrate on reviewing them.
There weren’t many new developments, just the same frustrating lack of concrete leads that had characterized the search for Joshua from the beginning. One report mentioned a possible sighting in a town 200 miles south, but the description was vague, and the follow-up investigation had yielded nothing. Another referenced a child matching Joshua’s description, who had been enrolled in a school in Montana under a different name.
But when authorities had checked, it turned out to be a case of mistaken identity. Ethan rubbed his temples, fighting off the headache that always seemed to accompany these review sessions. Eight years of false hopes and dead ends had taken their toll, but he couldn’t give up.
Somewhere out there, Joshua might still be waiting for them to find him. As evening approached, Claire’s cooking filled the house with warm, inviting aromas. She had prepared a pot roast with vegetables, fresh dinner rolls, and an apple pie for dessert.
It was more elaborate than their usual meals, a sign of how important this small social occasion was to her. Do you think he’ll actually show up? Ethan asked as he helped set the table. Claire arranged napkins beside each plate.
Why wouldn’t he? I don’t know. He’s been acting strangely today, all these last-minute changes of plans, the way he reacted when I offered to help with the dog. Ethan trailed off, unsure how to articulate his vague misgivings.
He’s probably just nervous about socializing after being alone for so long, Claire reasoned. Let’s give him the benefit of the doubt. At precisely six o’clock, the doorbell rang.
Harold stood on their porch holding a bottle of wine, his coat dusted with snow. I hope Red is all right, he said, handing the bottle to Ethan. Perfect, thank you, Ethan replied, stepping aside to let him in.
Come on in out of the cold. Claire greeted Harold warmly, taking his coat and thanking him for coming. The initial awkwardness of the reunion gradually eased as Claire served drinks, and they settled at the dining table.
The conversation remained light at first, local news, the weather, harmless topics that required little emotional investment. As they began to eat, Ethan decided to broach the subject of Harold’s new pet. So I see you got a German Shepherd today.
How’s it settling in? Harold’s fork paused midway to his mouth, and Ethan noticed a subtle tension in his posture. It’s fine, still adjusting to the new environment. That was a quick trip to the breeder, Ethan said casually.
I saw you heading that way on my drive back from the supermarket, right after you mentioned meeting up with some friends. Harold’s eyes flickered nervously. I’m sorry about that.
My schedule became unpredictable. My friend canceled last minute, and I was so excited about getting a dog that I just went ahead to the kennel. Ethan nodded, sipping his wine…
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