Identity Issues (24 page)

I ran to him and crouched, placing my hand on his warm coat. "Rex, buddy, what’s wrong? What’s the matter?" Still breathing, but forced and shallow.

I ran my hands through his fur, searching for an injury with my fingertips like a pianist who knows every key. I knew Rex, all his bumps and lumps. The walnut he carried right between his eyes, the extra pillow on his right hip. Nothing new, no sticky blood, no puncture. I rolled him over. He peered at me, helpless, lost. Hurt.

"C’mon, boy. Tell me. What happened? Can you get up?" I choked out.

Tears warmed my face. Not wanting to leave him but knowing I needed to get help, I raced to the garage, grabbed the flat sled decorated with superheroes figures, and rushed back to his side. He was still breathing, eyes pleading. I lifted his hind legs and slid them onto the sled, then inched his torso over, front legs, neck, and head.

"It’s gonna be okay, Rex, don’t worry. Mom’s gonna get you to the doctor. It’ll only take a minute." I gripped the sled’s tattered rope, wrapped it securely around my hands, and pulled. We were low in the culvert, Rex’s weight growing heavier with each and every step. I tugged and pulled, pulled and tugged. Inch by everlasting inch, it felt like it took forever to haul him up to the garage.

Loading him into the back of the van would be impossible. My eyes swept the garage, falling on the skateboard ramp that Jon and the boys had made. I opened the lift gate, positioned the ramp, and lined up the sled with the ramp.

Adrenaline must have done the trick. Somehow I hauled Rex, still atop the sled, up and into the van. I turned the sled sideways to make sure his paws were tucked in tight, gave the lift gate a firm push, and rushed to the bench for my purse and keys.

"It’s okay, puppy," I told Rex as I backed the van out of the garage. "We’ll have you at the vet in no time."

As I turned the wheel, I caught the glint of metal in my headlights. I paused, puzzled by the sight of an aluminum pie tin tucked to the side of the garage behind my fire bush. I slammed the van into park, hopped out, and moved quickly to examine the metal dish. Blue liquid floated inside. The hair on my arms stood on end. I ran back to the car, hit the remote to open the garage door, and grabbed a Mason jar from the cupboard. I poured the liquid into the jar, sloshing some of it over the edges in my haste. It felt oily. Without a thought, I wiped the residue on my jeans, capped the jar with fumbling hands, and raced back to the driver’s seat, holding the jar between my legs. I hit the button on the remote, the door closed, and I floored the accelerator pedal.

Two miles down the road, I sped into the parking lot of the animal hospital. Lights shone despite the closed blinds. I bounded out of the car, up the steps, and into the vestibule, shouting, "I need help!"

"What is it?" Dr. Johnson emerged from the back.

"It’s Rex. I came home and found him in the woods, just lying there, not moving. I have him in the back of the van, but I can’t get him in here by myself. He can’t move."

The doc removed his gloves as he approached me.

"Let’s go out and get him." He patted my back as he guided me out the door. "I’ll have a look."

Johnson had the kindest, roundest face I’d ever seen on a seventy something year old man. Although a bit stooped with age, he still towered over my slight frame. I’d heard once from his wife that he’d gotten the award for least likely to lose his cool in college. That remained his mode of operation. Exactly what I needed.

He kept his arm steady around my shoulders as we hurried to the van. I looked up into his kind deep brown eyes for strength and found it. He opened the lift gate, scooped up Rex, and turned to carry him inside.

"Come with me, Sam. We’ll check him over."

"Wait. I found liquid in the driveway. I put it in a jar. I’ll get it. Maybe you can tell if Rex got into something he shouldn’t have." I trembled violently, unable to rid myself of the looming fear that someone had hurt Rex to get to me.

Doc placed Rex on the stainless steel table, took his stethoscope, and gently examined him. He spoke to him in hushed, reassuring tones. I stood nearby, bawling my eyes out.

I filled in Doc on what I’d found once I calmed down a bit.

"Let me see that jar," Johnson said as he glanced at me. I tried to wipe my tears and blow my nose with one hand while I steadied the Mason jar in my lap with the other.

Rex began to shudder.

"He’s seizing," Johnson said.

Thirty seconds later, Rex’s convulsing stopped and he started to vomit.

"There, there, boy," Johnson comforted.

I stood, placed the jar on a side table, and went to Rex. "It’s gonna be okay, boy," I told him.

"The jar?" Doc Johnson said as he handed me a towel to clean Rex.

"On the table behind you." As I spoke, I wiped Rex’s mouth and tried to soothe him.

Johnson opened the jar, sniffed the contents, and nodded, his expression grim.

"I’m afraid it’s anti–freeze. Toxic for dogs. It has a sweet taste, so animals are drawn to it."

Stunned, I stared at him. Someone put anti–freeze in my driveway so Rex would drink it and get sick? I couldn’t believe it. How could anyone do this? Especially to Rex? "Oh, my God. What do we do?"

"It’ll be okay, Sam. I’m going to start an IV and administer an anti–dote. If we can minimize the renal damage, he should make a good recovery. He was only by himself for a few hours, correct?"

I nodded, numbly trying to absorb what doc had said, what had happened. Someone had poisoned my dog. Purposely. I knew only one person who might do such a thing. Jon Stitsill. The man who’d poisoned Rosie. The man who’d stolen my husband’s identity and now wanted to hurt me. But why? I watched Doc insert a needle into Rex’s side. I felt suddenly nauseous.

"Are you all right, Samantha?" Doc Johnson put his hand on my shoulder. "Let me get you a chair. You’re looking a little green. You just sit down right here." He guided me into the red vinyl seat. "Put your head between your knees." Doc put his hand on my back and waited.

The room spun. I told myself to breathe. In and out. In and out. Nice and slow. I couldn’t get my sea legs under me no matter how hard I tried. I lost track of where I was, which way was up, which way was down. I felt like I was floating, and I just wanted the world to stop spinning. White noise filled the air.

The next thing I knew, I smelled ammonia. I jerked back to the present.

The climb back from the deep abyss was dark and slow. Scared, weak, and still shaking, I focused on Doc’s long legs as he stood before me.

"How are you doing?"

I lifted my head ever so slightly and saw his kind face. "Better, I think. I just feel weak."

"Well, you’ve had a scare, just like Rex here. You’d be surprised how many humans I treat right along with their pets. Now, if you’re feeling steadier, I want to make sure we get Rex what he needs."

I nodded. "Take care of him, please."

Slowly, ever so slowly, I felt the life coming back to me. Still shaky, but feeling more human, I watched Doc Johnson monitor Rex’ vitals.

"How is he?" I asked.

"He’s better. No more seizing. No vomiting. I think he’s out of the woods for the time being. The cocktail is doing its work." Doc patted Rex with his baseball mitt–sized palm and turned to me. "What about you? How are you feeling?"

"Much better." I smiled to reassure him.

I glanced at the IV. "What do you use?" I asked, trying to regain my bearings.

"Activated charcoal. Now, go home and get some rest. There’s nothing more to be done right now. Rex and I will hang out for a day or two. I’ve got your number, and I can give you a call if need be." Doc took my arm and led me to the reception area after I hugged Rex.

Feeling a bit stronger, I climbed into the van. I started the engine and headed down the road, retracing my route. As I made my way home, I thought about Stitsill setting out a dish of poison for my dog. Why, damn it? Thank God the kids were at the lake, safe from all this madness.

I parked in the garage and lingered there, afraid to go into the house. I couldn’t call Jon or Di. I pulled out my cell and dialed McGrath’s phone number.

H
E ANSWERED ON the third ring.

"Hey. What’s up?"

"I just returned from the vet. Someone may have poisoned my dog. Poisoned Rex. I can’t believe this. Now, I don’t know if I should go into the house or not."

"Where are you now?" McGrath demanded.

"I’m sitting in the garage at my house."

"Are you okay to drive?"

"Yes, I think so."

"Don’t go into the house. In fact, drive to the coffee house. I’ll meet you there in about twenty, twenty–five minutes. If you notice anyone following you or see anyone or anything that looks the least bit suspicious, leave. Do you know where your local police station is?" he asked.

"Yes," I answered.

"Drive there immediately if anything at all seems out of the ordinary," McGrath directed.

"Got it." I shifted the van into reverse, backed out of the driveway and eased the car down the road the two short miles to the coffee house. Our small town had zipped up tight for the night. Only two cars passed by the closed shop as I waited out front. All seemed well.

I was cold, more scared than I had ever been in my life, and feeling like the biggest fool on the planet. Jack had warned me to mind my own business and to stay out of trouble. Putting my beloved Rex in danger left me feeling angry and ready to strike back.

Who would poison my dog? A coincidence didn’t seem likely.

Headlights reflected off of my rearview mirror. I squinted, recognizing McGrath. Bubble on and flashing, he’d kept the siren silent. Good decision. I needed him, but I didn’t want to draw attention to myself or my vehicle.

I waited while he stepped out of his car and walked up to my van before I unlocked my door.

"Thanks for coming," I said.

"You alright?"

"Tough night, but I’m fine. Worried about Rex, but mostly, I’m furious. I’m afraid Stitsill poisoned my dog. It’s one thing if someone wants to take me on, but to hurt a defenseless dog?"

"You have every right to be angry, but all the evidence isn’t in yet," McGrath cautioned.

"I know, but after what happened to Rex tonight, I thought it might be stupid for me to go into the house alone."

"You made the right decision. I’ll follow you home. Don’t pull into the garage. Back into the driveway so you have a clean exit, if need be. I’ll pull in beside you, then go in first and make sure there’s no one inside."

"Are you sure? I could come inside with you," I said as if I could somehow protect him.

"Time for the teacher to follow instructions," McGrath said.

I drove home, making sure he kept pace with me. After I backed into the drive, I watched as he parked, stepped out of his car, and approached mine. I rolled down my window.

"Give me the house key. I’ll be right back. Lock the van doors. Drive to the police station if anything seems odd."

"Should you call for backup?"

"I’m a cop, remember?" He smiled. "I got it."

I watched McGrath draw his gun and hold it against his thigh as he approached the house. I shuddered and wrapped my arms around myself. I couldn’t warm up.

He returned a few minutes later, talking on his cell phone as he walked. He ended the call just as he reached me.

"Everything alright?" I asked as I stepped out of the van.

McGrath placed his hand behind my elbow to guide me through the garage. When he paused, I met his gaze.

"The good news is, there’s no one inside. The bad news, someone’s been here, obviously looking for something. It’s a train wreck, so prepare yourself. And don’t touch anything. Clear?"

I nodded, too shocked to speak.

"I have some local officers on their way. They’ll be along in thirty minutes or so. I asked them to allow you time to do a quick inventory. Now, give me a quick summary of what you found before you delivered Rex to the vet’s office."

I did as he asked, filling him in on the events of the past few hours.

After I finished, McGrath sighed and shook his head. "My best guess is that someone wanted the dog sidelined to allow easy access to your home. The entry point appears to be the door from your back deck."

I managed to say, "This is unreal."

"Let’s go inside," McGrath said. "You might be able to figure out what they were looking for by what’s been disturbed. And remember, touch nothing. You don’t want to disturb possible evidence."

"Alright," I whispered as I tucked my hands into my pockets.

McGrath stroked my cheek with his fingertips. "Good girl." He guided me inside, down the back hall, and into my ransacked kitchen.

I stumbled alongside McGrath as we made a tour of the destruction. My beautiful home resembled the aftermath of a hurricane. Thank God the kids were with their grandparents, because it would take an entire summer to set the place right.

We silently returned to the kitchen. McGrath settled me into the only chair still upright, found a glass and a bottle of bourbon, and poured me a healthy shot.

Words weren’t necessary. McGrath protectively rested his hand on my shoulder as I took one sip, then another. My racing heart slowed to a gallop, and the white noise filling my head eased.

My cell phone vibrated in my pocket a few minutes later.

"Yes?" I said when I recognized the number on the screen. "Thank you, Doc. I’ll call you tomorrow."

I touched the red button, ending the call. Tears stung my eyes and spilled onto my cheeks.

"Sam?" McGrath squatted down in front of me, his hands resting on my knees. "What is it?"

I couldn’t speak. Instead, I gulped the last of the bourbon.

"Rex is gone," he said. Not a question. A statement of fact. He took the empty glass from me and placed it on the table. I watched through tear–flooded eyes. McGrath spoke again with gentle authority. "You’re not staying here tonight. You’re coming to my place. We’ll pick up anything you need on the way."

I nodded. We walked out to my van. Before we drove off into the moonlit night, he recontacted the local P.D., summarized the break–in, and requested that evidence technicians and a detective be dispatched to my violated home, even though we’d had to leave. They’d report directly to McGrath once they completed their investigation. I climbed into the van, locked the doors, and followed McGrath’s vehicle.