Free Moving Is Murder by Sara Rosett

floor mats in the front, I knew something was wrong, but I couldn’t place what it was. I stood still and listened.
    Silence. I put the vacuum down and trotted up the steps. It was quiet inside the house, too. An article I had read about SIDS at one of my prenatal appointments leapt into my mind. Could she really be asleep? Of course, she was fine, but I’d just check on her. I tiptoed down the hall and struggled to open Livvy’s door as stealthily as a spy breaking into a foreign embassy. Peeking in the crack in the door, I saw Livvy, her blanket twisted in a knot beside her, her hands loose and relaxed. I watched her little chest rise and fall and let out my breath, silently. And Mitch said I worried too much. Ha!
    I went back to the van and worked my way around to the driver’s seat, throwing away the trash, then vacuuming. I was thinking about what I would have for lunch when I pulled a cup from under the gas pedal. It was wedged, so I gave it a good jerk. I glanced in it as I turned to toss it in the trash can. I dropped it on the ground like it burned me, jerking my hand backward.
    After a second, I poked it with my toe. When nothing happened I grabbed one of the sticks that littered our driveway under the pine tree. I gently slid the stick into the squished opening and angled the cup until it stood up. Then I peeked in, still ready to dive for cover. I wasn’t wrong. I’d seen it right in that first glance. Black and yellow smears and a few wings circled the inside. At the bottom of the cup there were a few fairly intact bees or maybe wasps. Stinging things, anyway.
    I stood there the hand-vac dangling in my hand, looking from the cup to the van. The cup was a generic, medium-size cup with the red and white Coca-Cola lettering. It didn’t have a lid on it and I didn’t see one inside the van. The cup had been wedged under the gas pedal. How long had it been there? How did it get there in the first place? The back of my neck felt prickly. This had to be a bizarre coincidence. Slowly I put the vac down and rubbed my forehead. Thoughts were skittering through my mind that I didn’t even want to examine. What I was thinking was impossible. I squatted down to look at the cup again.
    I felt a presence beside me and turned. A brown and black dog stood beside me, his face only inches from mine. I could see each sharp white tooth in detail as warm doggy breath engulfed me.
    “What’s up?”
    I jerked around. Mitch, still in his flight suit and carrying his gym bag, stood behind me. I hadn’t even heard him drive up. The dog trotted back to him, paused with his head under Mitch’s hand. I took an uneven breath to calm down.
    “Isn’t he great?” Mitch rubbed the dog’s ears. “Sit, Rex.” The dog obeyed. His brown eyes fixed on Mitch adoringly.
    “Where …” my voice trailed off. “That’s Joe’s dog.”
    “Yeah, Tommy was watching him for Joe, but Tommy had to go TDY, so I volunteered to keep him. I figured he could sleep in the garage. Rex, that is.”
    Tommy was gone on a trip, or Temporary Duty, as the Air Force referred to it. I’d never understood why the acronym for Temporary Duty was TDY instead of TD, but there’s a lot of things I don’t understand about the Air Force. What mattered now was Tommy was gone and Mitch had Rex. “Mitch,” I paused, unsure which objection to voice first. “We don’t know what that dog would do around Livvy. It might be dangerous. And does it shed?” I stood up to gain a better bargaining position.
    “Oh, he’ll be fine. Joe says he’s great around kids.” Rex’s gaze bounced back and forth between us, like he knew he was being talked about.
    “What kids has he been around?”
    “Look, it’s just for a few days. I thought he might get lonely, but if it will make you feel better he can stay over at Joe’s house and we can go over and feed him and take him for walks. We’re already going to be over there getting the mail.”
    Mitch wanted a dog. I’d