Under the Dog Star: A Rachel Goddard Mystery #4 (Rachel Goddard Mysteries) (32 page)

“No,” Rayanne said from behind Rachel.

Startled, Rachel turned to find the woman no more than three feet away. She hadn’t heard Rayanne approach. Stepping back to a more comfortable distance, Rachel addressed Ethan again. “I’d like to speak to your mother about Thor’s care. Would you let her know, please?”

“She’s not seein’ any company,” Rayanne said.

Rachel looked from Rayanne to Ethan, her brows raised quizzically.

Clutching the stair railing with a white-knuckled hand, Ethan didn’t respond with the decisiveness Rachel expected. As Mrs. Hall’s adult son, he should be the one acting on her behalf, but he looked at his mother’s employee as if she were in charge.

Rachel stepped closer to him. “Ethan, is your mother all right?”

“She’s got people takin’ good care of her,” Rayanne said. “It’s not anything for you to worry about.” She moved forward as if trying to get between Rachel and Ethan, but Rachel stood too close to the stairs for Rayanne to edge her way in.

“I’ll tell her you want to talk to her,” Ethan said. He mounted the stairs without looking back.

Two red spots burned on Rayanne’s cheeks as she watched Ethan go, and her pinched mouth showed her displeasure.

Rachel took advantage of Rayanne’s distraction to head down the hallway toward the office. She heard Rayanne’s footfalls behind her but didn’t look back. Once in the office, she shut the door without bothering to check whether she was closing it in Rayanne’s face.

Thor, stretched out on his bed, lifted his head and thumped his tail as Rachel approached. At one end of the sofa sat Marcy, her legs tucked under her, so unobtrusive that Rachel hadn’t noticed her at first.

“Hi,” Marcy said in a whisper. Her gaze met Rachel’s for a second before darting away.

“Hi. How are you, Marcy?”

“We’re gonna have a funeral.”

Rachel stooped and scratched Thor’s ears. “Are you staying out of school until then?”

“Yeah, I guess. I’ve been studying, though. I don’t want to get way behind.”

“Good for you. I’m sure you’ll be glad you did that.” Opening her bag, Rachel debated how deeply she could pry into what was going on in this household. She had a feeling Rayanne was listening at the door, and anything Rachel said to Marcy could be used to cause an unpleasant scene.

They didn’t speak while Rachel examined Thor’s wounds and changed the dressing on his neck. When she was finished, she sat on the couch next to Marcy. “He’s healing very well. I don’t think we have to worry about him.” Dropping her voice, she asked, “Is there anything you want to tell me about?”

The girl hesitated, chewing her lip and picking at the seam of her jeans leg.

Rachel spoke in a whisper. “What is it, Marcy?”

“David says our mom’s gonna die. This mom, I mean.” Marcy’s voice was so faint that Rachel had to lean within inches to catch her words.

“David doesn’t know that for sure. Nobody does.” Rachel clasped one of Marcy’s hands. “But I know you’re scared. I don’t blame you.”

“He says when she dies we’ll go live with our real dad, because nobody here wants us.” Marcy screwed up her face in an effort to hold back tears. “David remembers him but I don’t. Our real daddy. He never wanted us before. What if he’s mean to us?”

“Oh, sweetheart.” Rachel slipped an arm around the girl’s shoulders.

Marcy slumped against her, tears spilling over. “She’s so sick. It’s like she’s not here anymore.”

“I know she’s ill, and your father’s death was a terrible shock to her, but she can come through this. Life will get back to normal.” She was lying to the child, she didn’t believe a word of what she was telling Marcy, but what else could she say? That nothing would ever be normal again? What was normal for these people, anyway?

The door flew open and Rayanne stood there, her freckled face mottled with anger. “There you are,” she said, pinning Marcy with stern eyes. “Why are you hiding in here? You have to try on that dress for the funeral.”

Marcy rose obediently. Rachel had to restrain an urge to grab her, hold onto her.

“Are you ready to leave now?” Rayanne asked Rachel.

Rachel stood. “After I talk to Mrs. Hall.”

“I told you she’s not seein’ company.”

Rachel started to speak but held back when she heard the click of footsteps in the hall. Ethan appeared behind Rayanne in the doorway. “Dr. Goddard,” he said, “I’ll take you up to see my mother if you’re ready. I’ll have to ask you not to mention Soo Jin, though. It upsets her.”

If Vicky Hall was in that fragile a state, Rachel thought, she should be in a hospital.

“
Ethan
,” Rayanne said, “she doesn’t want—”

“It’s all right. She wants to see Dr. Goddard.”

Rayanne crossed her arms over her chest. “You’re just wearin’ her out.”

Rachel collected her bag and squeezed past Rayanne, who didn’t budge to get out of the doorway. Why did they
put up with this woman? Rachel wouldn’t have kept her as an employee for five minutes.

They mounted the stairs, Rayanne on their heels. At the top, Rayanne scurried around Rachel and Ethan to one of the closed doors on the right side of the landing. “I have to be with her in case she needs anything.”

“If she does, I’ll take care of it,” Ethan said.

But Rayanne had already opened the door to enter the room.

Rachel followed Ethan inside. With the draperies still closed, the big room was dark except for a pool of light cast by one bedside lamp. In the middle of the king-sized bed, Vicky Hall slumped against a mound of pillows, most of her body concealed by a puffy comforter. Rayanne positioned herself like a sentry by the head of the bed, arms folded, eyes fixed on Rachel.

“Good morning, Mrs. Hall,” Rachel said from just inside the doorway.

“How is Thor doing?” Mrs. Hall asked in a whisper.

“Very well,” Rachel said. She moved closer to get a better look and try to assess the woman’s condition. In the shadowy light she looked like a cadaver propped up in bed. “I’m sure he’ll make a full recovery.”

Mrs. Hall’s faint smile, barely visible to Rachel, came and went in a second. “Gordon loved that old dog so much. We have to take good care of him. That’s what Gordon would want.”

And what about taking care of your children? Would he want that?
Aloud, Rachel said, “I’m sure Thor has a few more good years left.”

Mrs. Hall drew in an audible breath and released it as a shuddering sigh. “Yes, a few more years…”

She seemed on the verge of drifting into unconsciousness, and alarm pushed Rachel toward the bed. “Mrs. Hall? Are you all right?”

“She’s fine,” Rayanne said, placing a hand on Mrs. Hall’s shoulder.

“I’m not so sure about that.” Rachel lifted the woman’s limp hand and felt for her pulse. A regular rhythm, but weak and rapid.

“What are you doing?” Rayanne demanded.

Rachel ignored her and spoke to Ethan, who waited by the door. “Your mother needs to be in the hospital.”

“Who are you to decide?” Rayanne protested. “You’re an
animal
doctor!”

Hesitating, Ethan looked from Rachel to Rayanne to his mother. “She’s going in for dialysis in a little while.”

“That’s right,” Rayanne said. “A
real
doctor can check her out.”

“Good,” Rachel said. “I’m glad to hear that. But I wouldn’t delay it even by an hour. She needs to go right now.”

“She has her regular appointment time,” Rayanne said.

“She goes in three times a week at the same time,” Ethan said.

“What…” Mrs. Hall murmured. Her eyes remained closed. “What’s… wrong?”

“See, now you’ve upset her,” Rayanne said. “Ethan, I need to start getting her dressed.”

“Right, right,” he said. “Dr. Goddard, if that’s all—”

Rachel walked out because she had no choice, but she wasn’t going to let this drop. Something was going on here that had to be stopped.

In the hallway, she found Marcy with her back pressed against a wall, as if trying to make herself invisible. Rachel wanted to look confident and reassuring for the girl, but her expression felt more like a grimace on her face. “Your mom’s going to the hospital for her treatment. She’ll feel better afterward.”

Marcy, her head bowed, whispered something.

“I’m sorry, sweetie, I didn’t hear you.” Rachel leaned closer.

Marcy kept her head down, but this time Rachel heard what she said. “She doesn’t feel better afterward. She used to, but now she always feels worse.”

Ethan stared into space as if he’d totally detached himself from what was happening.
Dear god,
Rachel thought,
this is a madhouse.

Shifting her bag from one hand to the other, Rachel surreptitiously drew one of her business cards from an outer pocket. The card had her cell phone number on it as well as the animal hospital number. She slipped it into Marcy’s hand at the same time she leaned close enough to speak without Ethan overhearing. “Remember what I said. You can call me anytime you need help.”

Rachel got out of the house as fast as she could, and when she was outside, in her car, she called Tom’s cell phone. Straight to voice mail. He must have turned it off. She left a message. then called the sheriff’s department and asked where Tom was. At the jail, she was told, talking to a prisoner. “Tell him to call me as quickly as he can,” Rachel said. “It’s important.”

Chapter Thirty-three

A few hours behind bars had done wonders for Pete Rasey’s attitude. No more backtalk. No more profanity. Resentment simmered in the boy’s eyes, but he didn’t give voice to it. He waited silently, his gaze skittering between his father and Tom while the jailer opened the cell door.

“You’re not being released,” Tom said. “We’re just going back over to headquarters to talk some more. Hold out your hands.”

Pete looked as if he might burst into tears, but he stuck out his hands and let Tom snap the cuffs onto his wrists. Head down, he shuffled between Tom and Beck along the passageway between the jail and the Sheriff’s Department. At one point, Beck reached out to pat his son’s back, a gesture that made Tom hopeful for a good outcome.

He ushered Pete and Beck into the conference room. “I’ll let you two talk,” he said. “I’ll be back shortly.”

He closed the door on them, then joined Dennis and Brandon at the intercom in the sheriff’s office next door.

For a while, Tom couldn’t make out anything they said to each other. Tom pictured them with their heads together, Beck talking in a low, urgent tone. A couple of times Pete broke in with, “But, Dad—” and Beck silenced him with an order to be quiet and listen.

Tom waited half an hour, the time he and Beck had agreed on. He rapped on the door before entering. Pete slumped forward, his cuffed hands resting on the table. Beck, sitting next to his son, told Tom, “I think I’ve managed to talk some sense into him. Pete? Tell the captain what he wants to know.”

When Pete raised his head, he looked like a terrified child. “They’ll kill me,” he said. “I’m not kidding. They’ll
kill
me.”

Tom pulled out a chair and sat down across from Pete and Beck. He placed a small tape recorder, already running, on the table. “Who’s
they
?”

Pete stared at the recorder, then threw a pleading look at his father.

“You gotta tell him,” Beck said. “Think about yourself now.”

“I
am
thinking about myself. I told you, they’ll kill me if I talk.”

“Sounds like real nice people you’re mixed up with,” Tom said. “How long have you been working for them?”

Dropping his chin, Pete mumbled, “All summer.”

“Doing what, exactly?”

“Different stuff. Finding dogs.”

“Finding dogs?” Tom asked. “What do you mean?”

“Tell him,” Beck ordered.

Pete hesitated, but at last he said, without meeting Tom’s eyes, “Dogs for training. You know, to teach the fighting dogs.”

“Bait, you mean,” Tom said.

Pete nodded.

“Where did you get these bait dogs?”

Pete mumbled something, his chin so low it almost touched his chest.

“What was that?” Tom asked. “I didn’t hear you.”

Pete drew in a deep breath, let it out, and spoke clearly. “Out of people’s yards.”

“You stole people’s pet dogs out of their yards?”

Pete nodded.

“I need to hear you say it,” Tom told him.

Clearing his throat, Pete spoke directly at the recorder. “I stole dogs out of people’s yards.”

“Did you get paid?”

Pete nodded. “Yeah. Fifty bucks for every one I brought in.”

The price of a conscience, Tom thought, was depressingly low these days. He bit back the things he wanted to say, the shaming lecture about breaking the hearts of kids and older people whose only company was a pet, the cruelty of throwing a pampered pet into a situation where it would be torn apart. He wasn’t sure this boy was capable of shame in any conventional sense. He cared what his parents thought, though, and Tom had to rely on that. He probably cared what Beth Hall thought too.