Chapter 2 - The Falling Shadow
The silence that followed Buddy’s lick was heavier than the one before. For a split second, nothing happened. The golden retriever smacked his jowls, his tail giving a hesitant, confused wag as if looking for approval.
Then, his front legs buckled.
"Buddy!" Ethan shrieked, his voice cracking with the raw terror only a seven-year-old could muster.
The dog didn't just lay down; he collapsed sideways, his heavy ribs striking the hardwood floor with a dull, sickening thud. His breathing became instantaneous gasps, puffing shallowly against the floorboards. His dark eyes rolled back, showing the whites, and a thick, foamy line of saliva bubled at the corner of his mouth.
"Oh my god, oh my god!" Lauren screamed, dropping to her knees beside the dog. She didn't care about the gravy staining her jeans or the shattered glass of water she knocked over in her panic. She pulled Buddy’s heavy head into her lap, her fingers clawing at his jaw to keep his airway clear. "Daniel, do something! He’s dying!"
The dining room erupted into chaos. Chris shoved his chair back so violently it overturned, his beer bottle shattering against the sideboard. Tyler began to wail, terrified by the sudden violence of the dog’s illness.
But my eyes weren't on the dog. They were on Megan.
The neat, practiced smile she had worn all evening had dissolved into a mask of pure, unadulterated horror. She wasn’t looking at Buddy. She was looking at the steak, her hands trembling so violently that she had to grip the edge of the dining table to keep from falling over. Her skin had turned the color of curdled milk. She had expected me to eat it. She had calculated the time it would take for me to go home, to feel sick in the privacy of my own house, to pass away quietly in my sleep from what everyone would assume was a sudden, tragic heart attack. She hadn't accounted for a child’s sensitive nose. She hadn't accounted for a greedy nephew. And she certainly hadn't accounted for the dog.
"You did this," I said. My voice didn't sound like mine. It was low, vibrating with a feral, primal rage that made Chris freeze mid-stride. "You tried to kill me."
"No! No, I didn't!" Megan shrieked, her voice skyrocketing into a panicked register. She backed away from the table, her heels clicking frantically against the floor. "It was an accident! It was just a mistake! A bad spice!"
"A bad spice doesn't drop an eighty-pound retriever in three seconds!" I roared, stepping around the table.
"Daniel, stop!" my mother pleaded, her hands clutching her chest as she sank into her chair, her face grey with shock. "Not in front of the children! Chris, do something!"
Chris looked between me and his wife, his face a map of profound, pathetic confusion. "Megan... what did you put in the meat? Megan, look at me! What did you do?"
"Nothing! She’s lying!" Megan pointed a shaking, manicured finger at Lauren. "She’s always hated me! She’s trying to ruin this family!"
"I saw you!" Lauren screamed back, her face streaked with tears as Buddy shuddered violently in her arms, his legs twitching in the grip of a massive seizure. "I saw the bottle, Megan! You hid it in your sleeve!"
"We need to go. Now!" I grabbed Ethan with one arm, scooping him up as he sobbed into my shoulder, and with the other, I reached down to help Lauren lift Buddy’s limp, heavy body.
"Daniel, please," my mother wept, reaching out a frail hand. "Don't leave. We can fix this. We can talk about this."
I looked at my mother—the woman who had spent the last five years telling me I was paranoid, telling me that Megan was just 'eccentric,' that Chris was just 'going through a hard time' and needed our financial help. I looked at her, and for the first time in my life, I felt absolutely nothing.
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"If my dog dies," I said, my voice dropping to a deadly, quiet whisper that cut through the noise of the room, "I am coming back for her. And if I die, the police already know where to look."
We didn't wait for Chris to reply. We didn't wait to see if Megan would run. I carried Ethan, Lauren held Buddy’s front legs, and together we hauled our dying dog out into the freezing Iowa night, leaving the warmth of my mother’s house behind forever.
