Under the Dog Star: A Rachel Goddard Mystery #4 (Rachel Goddard Mysteries) (20 page)

Rachel’s heart rate had slowed, but when she held out her hands she saw they still trembled. The night air blowing into the house chilled her, even after she’d changed into jeans and a sweatshirt. Leaning her head against the stair railing, she closed her eyes and willed the tension that gripped her to let go and drain away. The dispatcher had located Tom, and he was on his way home. All of this would seem less threatening when he was here.

But she couldn’t shake off the horrifying reality of what had happened. Somebody had set fire to the house with her in it. If she’d been asleep, if Tom had been home and they’d both been asleep—

Was this my fault? Did I bring this on by trying to save the dogs?

But what else, in good conscience, could she do?
She couldn’t leave the fate of the animals to cretins like that. Dealing with Tom’s reaction was what she dreaded. It didn’t take much to kick him into super-protective mode, and he drove her crazy when he took that I-know-what’s-best-for-you attitude.

Footfalls pounded up the front steps and across the porch. She opened her eyes as Tom barreled through the front door. He caught Rachel in his arms before she was fully on her feet.

“Are you all right?”

“Yes, I’m fine, I’m not hurt.” For a moment she clung to him, soaking up his warmth and strength, feeling safe again. Then she glanced toward the living room, where the fire chief now stood on a ladder to take down the damaged drapes. “That window’s going to need some work, though.”

“I don’t care about the damned window, I care about you,” Tom said. He kissed the top of her head.

She might as well put it into words before he did. Moving out of his embrace, she said, “I suppose this happened because I’m trying to rescue—”

“No.” Tom shook his head. “I think it was a message for me.” He stepped over to the living room doorway. “Nobody but an idiot would do something like this at a cop’s house, and I know exactly which idiot to look at first.”

“Who?” Rachel followed him. “And why do you think it was aimed at you? You weren’t even here, your department car wasn’t here.”

“This is how a coward would do it. If you get hurt, it hurts me, too.”

“Who do you think is responsible?”

“I’d rather not say right now.”

“Don’t you think I have a right to—” Rachel stopped herself. “Okay. I understand. I just hope you’ll be able to prove it and arrest him, whoever he is.”

In the living room, the fire chief had taken down both drapery panels and laid them over the top of the ladder. The odors of burnt cotton fabric and fire extinguisher chemicals still hung in the air, despite the draft through the shattered window.

“Stay where you are,” the chief said from the ladder. “I’ll show you what we’ve got.”

He backed down off the ladder. Dressed in a rumpled plaid shirt and baggy khakis, he looked like he’d thrown on whatever was handy after being roused from a sound sleep.

From a cardboard box he pulled out a sealed plastic bag containing a brick. “This was probably used just to make sure the window broke and there was an opening. Then this came in.” He swapped the first bag for one that held a beer bottle. “Gasoline was the accelerant, I’d say, with a burning rag as a wick. Instead of exploding like an amateur might expect it to, most of the gas splashed out. See the pattern here?”

He pointed to the draperies. Ragged swaths edged with black marked the uneven burns on the fabric.

“But here’s where the bottle landed.” With the toe of his boot he indicated the black patch on the rug in front of the window. The red fire extinguisher still lay where Rachel had dropped it.

For a second she was back in that moment, her heart thudding, her throat dry with terror, swinging the extinguisher back and forth.

“Jesus Christ.” Tom slid an arm around Rachel’s shoulders and pulled her closer. “Thank god you were still up when it happened.”

“Oh, my gosh!” Holly’s exclamation from the doorway made Rachel and Tom turn. Holly had come in with Brandon, and she rushed forward and threw her arms around Rachel, forcing Tom to let go of her. “Are you all right? I just about fainted when I heard your house was on fire.”

“I’m fine. You didn’t have to come over so late.” Rachel blinked back tears and extricated herself from Holly’s fierce hug.

“I couldn’t keep her from coming to make sure you’re okay,” Brandon said. With a grim expression on his young face, he surveyed the burned drapes and carpet, the smashed window. He asked Tom, “What do you think about this, Captain?”

“It probably has something to do with the Hall case.”

“I still think it might have been intended for me.” Rachel couldn’t let go of the idea that the gang they’d encountered at the Hall house and the sanctuary had come after her tonight.

“Because of the dogs?” Holly asked.

Brandon’s professional demeanor vanished in an instant, giving way to wide-eyed alarm. “Then they might come after Holly too.”

“Well, I got news for them,” Holly said. “We’re not quittin’. We’re not gonna give up and just let people shoot those poor creatures.” But her voice wavered when she asked Rachel, “We’re not, are we? You won’t quit, will you?”

“Of course not.” Rachel glanced at Tom, hoping he wouldn’t argue.

But he wasn’t looking at her. He seemed in the grip of his own dark thoughts. The rigid set of his jaw sharpened the angles of his face, and the cold anger she saw building in his eyes made her suddenly afraid of what he would do, not to her but to some unknown enemy.

***

Tom and Brandon walked into the yard, out of the women’s hearing range. Pausing next to his cruiser, Tom said, “Whoever did this, I don’t think they’ll stop with one brick and one bottle of gas through a window. If they want to do some real damage, they’ll try again. I have to get on top of it before anything else happens.”

“You think it’s somebody who’s mad about the dog pack?”

“Could be. But it also could have been the guy who set his dog on Gordon Hall. If Hall’s death is connected somehow to the dogfighting, this might have been a warning to back off.”

“They’ve gotta know we’ve been nosing around,” Brandon said. “You can’t keep something like that quiet for two minutes in this county.”

“There’s another possibility, though. Beth Hall and Pete Rasey. They both think they’ve got reason to hate me. Beth left home without permission tonight, and nobody in the family knows for sure where she went, but they said she’s in the habit of sneaking out to see Pete. I’m going to track him down right now and see what he has to say.”

“Okay, I’ll go with you.”

“No, I want you to stay here with Rachel, just to be on the safe side.”

Brandon’s face fell, but he didn’t argue.

“Don’t say anything to Rachel about Pete,” Tom told him. “She’s still afraid of him because of what happened at that meeting at the Rocky Branch school, and I don’t want her to know he set this fire until I’ve got proof.”

When Tom went back inside and told Rachel he had to leave for a while, she simply nodded, didn’t ask questions.

Holly, however, was never one to restrain her curiosity. “What’s so important that you gotta leave right now?”

“I can’t talk about it. I need to get moving. Brandon’s going to stay here until I get back.”

“And I’m stayin’ too.” Holly moved closer to Rachel and threw an accusing look at Tom. “She ought not to be by herself after gettin’ a shock like this.”

No, she shouldn’t be, Tom thought. Rachel was too quiet, too calm, and that probably meant she was scared to death.

He put an arm around her shoulders and whispered, “I’m sorry. I wouldn’t leave if it wasn’t important. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

“I understand,” she said. “Be careful, wherever you’re going. Come back in one piece, okay?” She tried a short laugh but didn’t quite carry it off.

She was afraid for his safety, Tom realized then, not her own.

***

Pete’s car wasn’t in the driveway. Tom parked on the road near the Rasey house, cut his engine, and waited. Twenty minutes later, he saw headlights approaching from the opposite direction. Near the house, the headlights suddenly went out. Illuminated by the moon, the black Thunderbird rolled slowly into the Raseys’ driveway. Pete was trying to get back into the house without waking his parents.

Without turning on his own headlights, Tom started his engine and moved the cruiser to the bottom of the driveway, blocking it. Pete climbed out of the Thunderbird, caught sight of Tom getting out of the police car, and paused with one hand still on his open door.

Tom was walking up the driveway when the front door of the house banged open and Beck Rasey charged out. Standing under the dim porch light in a tee shirt and boxer shorts, he shouted at his son, “Where the hell have you been? I told you to get back here by nine o’clock. I swear, if you’ve been sneaking around with that Hall girl again, I’m gonna kill you with my bare hands.”

“
Dad
.” Pete pointed at Tom.

“Evening, Beck,” Tom said, with a little wave of his hand. “I was just about to ask your son the same question. Where have you been, Pete?”

“What the hell business is it of yours?” Beck stomped down the steps in his slippers and hustled over to Pete, reaching him the same time Tom did. Side by side, they looked like a before-and-after illustration of how a handsome young athlete might end up if he let himself go. “This is family. Keep your damned nose out of it, Bridger.”

“I need to know where Pete was tonight.” When he looked at Pete, the boy’s gaze connected with his for a second before jumping away. “Were you anywhere near my place?”

“What?” Beck said. “What are you talking about? What are you accusing him of?”

His father might be startled and defensive, but Pete didn’t seem surprised by Tom’s question. Jamming his fists into his jeans pockets, he hunched his shoulders and fixed his gaze on the ground. In that moment, Tom was certain Pete had thrown the brick and firebomb into his house. For now, though, he didn’t have a shred of proof.

“Pete knows what happened tonight,” Tom said.

Beck poked his son’s shoulder. “What have you been up to?”

The boy jerked back from his father’s touch. “Nothing! I didn’t do anything. He’s just winding you up.”

Beck rounded on Tom. “I want to know what this is all about.”

“Somebody set my house on fire tonight.”

Beck’s mouth dropped open. His expression wavered between incredulity and outrage. “And you think my kid was responsible?”

Tom didn’t answer, but kept his eyes on Pete, pinning him with a stare that seemed to make the boy shrink back inside himself.

“Where’s your evidence?” Beck demanded. “You don’t have any, do you? And you’re not gonna find any, because my boy didn’t do squat to your precious house. So you’ve got no right coming on my property throwing around blame. Now get on out of here.”

Tom held his ground for a moment more, long enough for Pete to dare eye contact again. Silently, Tom sent him a message.
I’ll get you for this, you little punk.

Chapter Twenty-one

As if I’m going to sleep tonight. I may never sleep again.

After sitting up until nearly three waiting for Tom’s return, Rachel grew tired of Holly and Brandon fussing over her and urging her to rest. She climbed the stairs, changed back into her nightgown, and settled on the bed with Frank curled up at her feet. Although she felt safe with Brandon there, she was certain she wouldn’t be able to sleep until Tom came home.

She awoke to see sunlight streaming through the windows. She sat up with a jolt. Where was Tom?

The sheet and pillow on his side of the bed looked rumpled as if he’d slept there. Thank god. If he’d been home, he must be all right. But she hadn’t been aware of him coming to bed or getting up again.

Pulling on her robe as she went, she walked down the hall to the bathroom. Tom stood at the sink, wearing his uniform pants and a tee shirt, running an electric shaver over his chin.

She went to him and wrapped her arms around his waist, pressing her face into his neck. Safe and sound, no gunshot wound, no bruises. “Why didn’t you wake me up when you came in?”

He hugged her with his free arm, the razor still buzzing in his other hand. “You needed your sleep.”

“I wish you’d woken me up. I wanted to hear—” Rachel broke off to yawn.

Tom laughed. “You’ve made my point for me.” He switched off his razor and lifted her chin with a finger so he could kiss her.

“Where did you go?” she asked. “Do you know who started the fire?”

“I’ve got a suspect. I don’t have any proof.”

“Who?” Rachel moved away and leaned against the door jamb.

He hesitated, silent as he stowed the razor in the medicine cabinet.

“Tell me,” she said. “I have a right to know who’s trying to hurt me. Hurt us.”

“Just let me handle it. And I will handle it, don’t worry.”

What was he protecting her from this time? “Isn’t it better for me to know—”

“A guy’s coming to replace the glass in the window. He’ll be here in the next hour. Do you mind dealing with him? He’ll send a bill.”