Chapter 4

The steps creak as Thomas steps onto the porch of the small light green house that rests at the end of the street. Brutus shuffles closely behind with his nose dragging through the dirt searching for new scents. Thomas’ finger trembles seconds before pushing the doorbell and he pulls it back, sucking a deep breath through his teeth. ‘God, please help this to go well. I just want to help her and figure out what I did wrong five years ago…’

Raising his hand to the doorbell again, he exhales slowly while reaching to push it. Before it rings, the door swings wide and Amie looks at him, smiling.

“There you are.” Her hands fidget with the tie of the cooking apron around her. “You finally got her. I’m so happy to see you finally.”

Thomas feels something collide with his calf as Brutus runs forward to greet Amie. His face runs into the screen door as Amie swings it open; welcoming him with baby talk. Brutus shakes his head and then bounds into Amie’s arms, slight woofs echoing around his tongue as he licks her face. Thomas crinkles his nose at the smell of Brutus’ gaseous excitement.

Amie turns around and walks into the house, cooing at the dog that follows her all the way. Thomas wipes his shoes off on the straw mat lying in front of the threshold before clearing his throat and stepping into the cool, tiled entryway.

‘Brutus, you little traitor, I didn’t get a reception like that.’ Thomas’ mind quickly assesses the living room beyond as he unties his shoes and steps onto the worn carpet. The brown shag carpet matches the wood paneling on the walls while the furniture is a total contrast. One cream couch sits against the wall in front of the fireplace while a matching armchair rests ninety degrees from the couch in front of the old television on the battered cabinet against the other free wall. A doorway on one side of the room leads down a hallway while another leads to the kitchen where Thomas hears Amie clattering dishes around.

“Did you need any help? Is there anything I can do?”

“No, no. Just find a seat in the living room and we’ll be right there.”

Thomas hesitantly sinks into the armchair, uncomfortable with the way it pulls him deep into the cushions. The sound of a diesel engine traveling down the street startles him. I need to be ready for anything. I’m on a job. He fights his way out of the cushions that envelop him as he tries to sit up straight.

Hearing a sound behind him, he turns to see Amie entering the room. He stands to help her with the tray that she carries in with her. Brutus still follows dutifully at her heels. Thomas carries the tray the rest of the way into the room and sets it on the coffee table in front of the couch and armchair.

“I thought you might want some coffee. Do you still prefer cream and sugar?”

“Yeah, I mean, yes please. I would love that.”

Amie grasps a small china cup and sets it on the table in front of her. Then she grabs a large coffee mug off of the tray and sets it next to the cup. She fills each leaving room just for the cream which she adds next. She hands the prepared coffee to Thomas who cups it in both hands, blowing across the surface and waits for her to sit.

“You still prefer the huge mugs to the dainty china cups, don’t you?”

After Amie sits with her own cup Thomas seats himself and watches as Brutus jumps up onto the couch and lays down, his head in Amie’s lap.

“Brutus, you’re going to get the couch all dirty. Get down,” Thomas stares in shock. That dog hates couches preferring his own battered, beaten pillows.

The dog stares at him as Amie says, “No, it’s okay, Tom. I don’t mind at all. I’ve really missed this pooch.” She rubs the large head on her lap affectionately as her voice coos lightly to Brutus.

Thomas takes a sip from the coffee, grateful for the burning liquid as it courses over his tongue and down his throat. Brutus missed her just as much as I did. I never thought to consider how he felt about her absence.

Thomas waits for Amie to speak about the case, sitting quietly. He learned long ago not to force information out of someone.