He jumped off the bike and glanced up at the roof of the house. No smoke curled out of the pipe vent connected to the wood burning stove. That worried him.

Quickly pushing the bike into the barn, he dusted off his jeans and hurried toward the back door. Sniffing the air, he thought it odd that he couldn't smell any food cooking. Mom always had something going on the stove that made his mouth water.

His dog Ruffy hadn't run to greet him either. As he raced up the rickety wooden steps, he glanced quickly under the raised back porch for his large Golden Retriever, but didn't see him. Giving his seat one more dusting, he opened the squeaky screen.

Richard had no more stepped into the kitchen than he staggered backwards against the door jam. He sucked in his breath as he stared in horror at his mother's body sprawled on the floor in a pool of blood. And Ruffy's furry body lay beside her, blood still flowing from the slit in his throat.

He swallowed hard, then forced himself forward, stretching out his arm so that only the tips of his trembling fingers touched his mother's cold, lifeless body. As the smell of death invaded his nostrils, the taste of bile bubbled into his throat.

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