Witness by Susan Page Davis

refused the officer’s escort. But if she did that, would they see it as confirmation that the man in the parking lot wasn’t really Rex, and that the mental association she’d made was the result of an overactive imagination?
    The officer walked beside her to her car without speaking. She drove home sitting bolt-upright on the car seat, very aware of the squad car following a few yards behind.
    Another police car sat in her driveway. At least the lights were off so the whole neighborhood wouldn’t wake up to flashing blue strobes. She eased her car past it into the garage and waited until Blake and the second officer entered. As usual, Mason was barking on the other side of the kitchen door.
    “My dog is very friendly.”
    Blake nodded.
    Her hand trembled as she unlocked the door between the garage and the house.
    The officers stepped into the kitchen behind her. Mason let out another bark and lunged forward.
    “Down!” Petra grabbed Mason’s collar before he could reach Blake, not that there was any danger. He’d probably jump up and try to give the man a kiss.
    Her stomach twisted as she recognized the second officer—Stenwick, the one who’d responded the night she saw the murder. Just what she needed.
    The big patrolman jerked his chin up and glared at the dog. Petra pointed silently at Mason, releasing his collar, and he slunk to his bed.
    Her hand shook so badly that she was surprised Mason had obeyed. She sank into one of the oak chairs at the kitchen table.
    “W-won’t you sit down, Officers?”
    “Thanks, there’s no need,” Stenwick said. “I just came to tell you that Mr. Harwood feels you are harassing him.”
    “That’s…ludicrous.”
    “No, ma’am, it’s not, from what he tells me. Now, I advised him that I would speak to you about keeping your distance and keeping your dog under control.”
    “My dog?” She stared at him. The tight, breathless feeling returned.
    “Yes, ma’am. Mr. Harwood says your dog trespassed on his property about a month ago and did some minor damage. We have a report of the incident.”
    Petra jumped up. “Mason didn’t damage anything! I asked Mr. Harwood at the time if there was anything I needed to have taken care of, and he said no, just keep Mason out of his yard. And I have!”
    The officer shook his head, a resigned look in his eyes. “Well, Miss Wilson, all I know is that we have a record of his complaint against your dog, followed by an accusation you made last week, saying Mr. Harwood injured or killed a woman, for which our investigators found no evidence. Tonight you called in and said he attacked you in the parking lot at your workplace.”
    Petra gasped. “That is not what I said. And I did not call the police, either. The hospital guard did that.”
    Stenwick looked at Blake.
    Blake cleared his throat and consulted his notebook. “That’s correct. Miss Wilson reported a man chased her in the parking lot. The subject possibly had a weapon. And he was tall and built like her neighbor, but she couldn’t see his face clearly. She couldn’t make a positive identification.”
    Stenwick stood silent for a moment. “And no one else saw this man in the parking lot?”
    Petra pushed herself to her feet.
    “You think I’m making up things because Rex Harwood called the dog officer on me once?”
    “No, ma’am, I’m not saying that. All I’m saying is, I advise you to stay away from the Harwoods, leave them alone, and keep your dog hitched.”
    His scolding tone was identical to the one her mother had used when she and her sister Sharon were caught thirty years ago using several of their father’s silk neckties to hold the poles together on their teepee.
    She bowed her head, unable to look at Stenwick any longer. Inside, her frustration grew.
    “All right, then.” The officer opened the door.
    Blake hesitated. “Would you like me to look around the house, ma’am?”
    “No, thank you. I’m sure my dog will alert me if anyone comes around