EPPINGTON: THE GUARDED SECRET, Tanya Taylor [books to read in a lifetime .txt] 📗

were riding at a decent speed and saw a couple of others out riding their bikes as well. After we entered the subdivision adjacent to ours called Kensington, which we needed to pass through on our way to Meadows, we noticed the strangest things. Dogs were up and about the neighborhood, dressed in clothing humans would normally wear. A Border Collie and what I presumed was his pup were outside on the lawn of one of the residences playing catch and he was applauding the pup for every time he caught the ball. Another dog, a Scottish Deerhound was dressed in a red blouse, and white shirt and got behind the steering wheel of a blue sedan. A canine couple were on a front porch sitting at a small outdoor table sipping a drink; and a scruffy looking one near the end of the corner was downing wine straight out of the bottle. Rob almost lost control of his bike and swerved a little. I was praying it wouldn’t be the end of us because dogs were everywhere in that neighborhood. What’s also alarming is that we saw absolutely no people and I wondered if they were all inside the houses or off to work while their animals took over their properties.

When we turned right onto a quieter street, I picked up a bit of speed and asked the guys if they were okay.

“Yeah,” Rob replied, catching his breath. “I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t nervous at what I saw back there though.”

“I thought I was gonna have the runnins like you did last night, Hewey!” Sam exclaimed.

“At least we know now it’s not just our neighborhood that’s affected,” I said. They both nodded. “Anyway, let’s keep our cool, no matter what. We have to make it to the station.”

Just then, the dog in the blue sedan drove past us and continued down the street.

We finally hit Meadows Ave and the police station could be seen straight ahead on the western side of the road. Rob and Sam allowed me to get ahead of them as they had no intentions of leading the conversation with the police.

We dismounted our bikes several feet away from the main door. “You two stay here,” I told them. “I’ll go in.”

“Fine by me,” Rob replied.

Sam just had a look of concern on her face. I knew she was worried about what type of interaction I might get inside the station. The cops around our parts weren’t the nicest group of individuals you could find on a regular basis. Look at Chief Mays, for example. He might’ve been the worst out of the whole bunch!

I took a deep breath in and headed toward the entrance.

“Hewey, wait!” Sam whispered loudly. “What’re you gonna say?”

“Not sure yet.” I shrugged.

I knew not having a plan wasn’t necessarily the wisest move in the world, but every time I didn’t have one, things basically worked out for me anyway. I figured in that instance, it wasn’t bound to be any different.

I walked into the station and took a quick glance around the open area. The rectangular reception desk was a good ten feet away from the entrance and surrounded by drab-looking off-white walls.

I always thought police stations had a certain air about them that I couldn’t quite put my finger on. I never had any reason to step inside this one other than when I accompanied Dad to pay a visit to his friend, Joe, on several occasions. I did go on a tour to the other station in Forestville a few miles down with my seventh-grade class. Back then, I thought cops were pretty cool—that is, until I started puberty. Or maybe it was when I started getting in trouble with the guys and my mom threatened to call Joe and have me locked up for good. One time, she actually convinced Dad to have Joe stop by after work and when he showed up, he gave me a lecture I wasn’t listening much to and pretty much threatened me in a polite manner.

I sauntered over to the receptionist desk where a rather lanky officer was seated. He was staring at his computer screen, then he looked up and his eyes locked on mine.

“Can I help you?” he asked monotonically.

I was shocked that he said anything. Even so, I couldn’t help but notice that dead stare in his eyes.

“I’m here to report a murder...a death...at number 21 Rosemore Lane,” I said.

The lady’s name is Mrs. Christie—Johnette Christie.”

He kept looking at me.

“Maybe if you can also reach her husband to let him know what happened… He works out of town somewhere, but I have no idea where. I guess you can pull that info up on your computer somehow, huh?”

The guy seemed to be looking straight through me.

“Uh, hello…” I waved.

He started keying something into his computer. Maybe he understood what I was saying—at least, I hoped he did.

I saw cops walking back and forth mainly in the area behind his desk. All of them seemed to be in a daze and I wondered how they managed to function like that. Maybe it was an innate instinct for cops to be able to function even in such a state. My folks obviously didn’t have that same instinct and neither did anyone else I’d come across lately who were under that spell.

The guy finished typing then I thought he fell asleep with his eyes wide open. He was sitting and staring at the computer screen like he was when I’d first walked in.

“Sir, did you understand what I said?” I glanced down at his computer, but knew I wouldn’t have been able to see anything since the screen was facing him and not me. He seemed to just completely blank out now. What about all that kind stuff I said about cops having that innate capacity to function even in a zombielike state? Anyway, I was about to leave when I noticed something far at