She stepped up to the porch and knocked on the outer screen door. There was the sound of someone moving within the house, but the heavy front door did not open. She waited a few moments, then knocked again. “Hannah!” she called.

“Get out of here!” came her friend’s angry voice from inside the house.

“It’s me, Trish!”

“I said get the hell out of here!” Hannah Nelson opened the door, standing behind the screen. Her hair was tangled and unkempt, her housedress dirty. Tritia could not remember seeing her friend looking anything less than her best, ever, and the sight of her disheveled form was shocking.

“Hannah!”

“Get out of here, bitch.”

Tritia stared, not knowing what to do, not knowing how to respond.

“Dog-killer!” Hannah screamed. She spat at her. The saliva, caught in the fine screen mesh, dripped down in thick sickening threads between them.

Tritia was confused. “What are you talking about?”

“We got the letter. We know all about it. Ron!” She turned back toward the living room, leaving Tritia to stare at the glob of dripping saliva.

Ron emerged from the dim gloom of the living room, opened the screen door, and stepped onto the porch. He stood before Tritia, legs slightly spread in a stance of threatening belligerence. “I didn’t think you’d ever have the guts to show your face around here again.”

“I don’t know what you—”

“Get out of here!” Hannah screamed.

Ron glared at Tritia. “You heard my wife. Get out of here. And don’t you never come back.”

Tritia backed off the porch, feeling for each step. “I really don’t—”

“Go home, bitch.” Ron spit on the ground in front of her. “And you tell your boy we don’t want him around here neither. I know he’s been coming here and stealing our lemons, and if he don’t stop it, he’s liable to catch a bullet in his butt. Get my drift?”

Tritia felt a rush of white-hot anger rush through her. “My son has never stolen anything in his life! He has been at home the past week. And if you weren’t such an ignorant uneducated asshole, you might be able to figure that out!”

Ron advanced on her, fist outstretched, and she ran from him.

She turned back at the end of the driveway. “And if you thought about it some more, you’d know we wouldn’t do anything to harm Scooby either!”

Ron picked up a rock and threw it at her. It went wide, missing her entirely, and she held up a defiant middle finger before running tearfully toward home.

She had regained her composure by the time Doug and Billy returned an hour later. She told Doug what had happened, and both of them marched down the road to the Nelsons’ house, warning Billy to stay inside while they were gone.