Under the Dog Star: A Rachel Goddard Mystery #4 (Rachel Goddard Mysteries) (24 page)

“All right, all right.” Ethan threw up his hands. “I went to see Leo Riggs, okay? I told him to back off and let the dog warden and Dr. Goddard catch the damned dog pack.”

Interesting. When Tom saw Riggs earlier in the evening, he already seemed to know that Ethan had changed his mind about tracking down the dogs. “Why didn’t you want to tell me that?”

Ethan swiped the back of a hand across his mouth. “I should’ve just answered your question.”

“Did you know Soo Jin was following you?”

“No. I never saw her. I swear.”

“Did you see her car after it wrecked?”

“Of course not. I would’ve called 911 if I had. And I would’ve stayed there and tried to help her.”

For a moment Tom studied Ethan, who stared back at him with a belligerence that had a strong undertone of fear. Maybe it was time to reveal the truth and see whether Ethan was surprised by it. “We believe somebody tried to kill Soo Jin.”

Ethan’s face went slack. “Kill her? What do you mean? How?”

Tom doubted Ethan was faking that stunned reaction. “Somebody slit her tires. I think it was done at the house, probably sometime yesterday.”

Ethan stared into space as if trying to absorb the information. Then he focused on Tom again. “Are you saying you think one of us did it?”

“Is that possible?”

“No. I mean—” Ethan stumbled over his words, and Tom had the impression he couldn’t keep up with his thoughts. He ended up saying firmly, “No. Absolutely not. Nobody in the family would’ve done anything like that.”

“Soo Jin and Beth had a pretty bad scene over Pete Rasey.”

Ethan took his time responding to that. When he did, all he said was, “Beth’s had a hard time of it lately. Because of that boy. I haven’t been here, but what I’ve heard… She’s been doing things I never thought she was capable of. It’s like he’s turned her into a different person.”

“What are you saying? Do you think she could
have gotten back at Soo Jin by slashing her tires?”

Ethan raised his hands. “Now wait a minute. I’m not accusing my sister of anything. If she did something like that, it would’ve been vandalism. I mean, wouldn’t a kid expect the tires to go flat right away? She wouldn’t expect the car to be drivable and dangerous. And how would she know Soo would go out last night anyway?” He added quickly, “I’m not saying I think Beth did it.”

First Ethan had seemed committed to total denial. Now he was defending the sister he’d been haranguing a few minutes ago. Tom wondered how he would get any straight answers out of this family. “Do you think David could have done it?” he asked. “Did he have any reason to?”

“Don’t expect me to explain what goes on in that kid’s head. You’ll have to figure it out for yourself. Now I have an appointment with a funeral home about my father’s service, so if you don’t mind, I’m leaving.”

Chapter Twenty-four

Rachel frowned as she pulled in next to Jim Sullivan’s van outside the animal hospital. Why was he here again? Just a couple of days before, he’d picked up enough medical supplies to last a month.

Joe Dolan, still acting as her escort, parked his van beside Rachel’s Range Rover and waited while she went in to pick up vaccines for the dogs they hoped to capture that night.

Inside, Rachel stopped in the pharmacy room doorway. This time Sullivan was taking bandaging materials, rolls of gauze and surgical tape. He looked like a farmer in his old jeans and plaid shirt, and his battered boots gave off a distinct odor of manure. “Hello again,” Rachel said.

“Dr. Goddard,” Sullivan answered, without looking her way.

“Did you forget something when you were here the other day?”

One corner of his mouth lifted in a humorless smile. “Obviously.”

She moved past him, found the right key on her key ring, and unlocked the vaccine cabinet. “Thanks again for helping out at the rabies clinic,” she said. “And for helping us get that big dog under control.”

He responded with a grunt. Whatever friendly feeling had led him to assist her the day before had apparently vanished overnight.

“Dr. Sullivan—Jim—you treat some dogs on the farms you visit, don’t you?”

“Some, yeah.” He stuffed boxes of gauze rolls into his leather bag as if he couldn’t get it done and leave fast enough. “No point in people bringing their dogs all the way into town when I’ll be stopping by anyway.”

“Oh, sure. That’s fine with me.” Rachel plucked a vial of distemper vaccine from the cabinet. “I was just wondering if any farm dogs have gone missing lately.”

He raised his head, frowning, and almost met her eyes. “You mean like the dogs in those notices out front?”

“Yes.”

“Not that I know of.”

“Good. That’s a relief.” She turned the key in the cabinet lock. “I was afraid there’d been some disappearances we hadn’t heard about.”

“Well, like I said, none that I know of.” He zipped his case, lifted it off the counter, and turned toward the door.

“One other thing before you go,” Rachel said.

Sullivan hesitated before turning back to her. “Yeah?”

“I think it would be a good idea for you to bring all your records in so we can make copies, and in the future I’d like to keep duplicate copies here routinely.” He would fight her on this, Rachel was sure. He wouldn’t win.

Sullivan looked directly into her eyes now, pinning her with a cold stare. “Why? What brought this on?”

God, the man had an intimidating manner. If Rachel worked for him instead of the other way around, she would avoid contact as much as possible. “It’s the proper business procedure. This is my practice, and I’m accountable for every aspect of it. I don’t want things going on that I’m not aware of.”

“Are you accusing me of something?”

“Of course not. I—”

“If you think I’m incompetent, just say so. You could’ve gotten rid of me when you bought the place.”

Rachel took a moment to breathe deeply. He had good reason for his resentment. It wasn’t personal. “I’ve never said you’re incompetent, and I’ve never thought so, not for a second. Look. Let’s clear the air once and for all. You wanted to buy the clinic. I was an outsider and I ended up with it. If you don’t like the way things turned out, I understand. But I own the practice, and I’m legally responsible for what every employee does on the job, whether you’re working in the building or outside. So please, bring in your records to be copied, and keep copies of all your future records on file here.”

“Yes,
ma’am
.” Sullivan pivoted toward the door.

He might walk out on her again, but Rachel wouldn’t let him have the last word. “I’m glad we understand each other,” she said to his back.

Sometimes, Rachel thought as the door swung shut behind him, she envied her patients the ability to produce a deep growl or a wet hiss.

***

The full moon cast a bright silvery glow over the pastures and cornfields as Rachel and Joe Dolan sped past in the county animal control van. Tom rode in a cruiser ahead of them. They would spend at least an hour searching for the dogs, but Tom and Joe had something else going on later in the evening that Tom refused to talk about. Rachel was sure he was planning a raid on a dogfight, and the thought of the violence that might erupt scared her witless.

“We don’t really need security, do we?” Joe asked. “If Ethan Hall’s told his pals to back off.”

“Tom’s not sure they have,” Rachel said. “Ethan probably didn’t tell anybody to set our house on fire, but somebody did. Those people enjoy scaring us too much to stop. They’re probably beyond listening to Ethan.”

Joe didn’t answer, and in the silence Rachel felt sure his thoughts were taking the same track as hers. If anyone wanted to hurt her and Joe, Tom alone wouldn’t be much protection.

Back at Tom’s farm, every light in the house was burning and several neighbors, including Tom’s uncle and a couple of retired deputies, had a poker game going in the living room. The house, at least, was safe for now. But what would they encounter out here on the dark back roads of Mason County?

Relax. Concentrate on the job at hand.
What they were doing was necessary, not only for the safety of the feral pack but also for the safety of Mason County’s citizens and the local farmers’ livestock. The dogs had to be captured.

A couple of sightings had been reported tonight in the southern half of the county, not far from Tom’s place. Rachel knew this part of the county better than any other because she had lived out here on the McKendrick horse farm for more than a year before moving in with Tom. Many of the people in this area grew crops and raised livestock for their own use and for sale at the county farmer’s market. Some were younger couples who had day jobs and tended their farms on the weekends. Others worked full-time on land their families had owned for generations. It wasn’t an easy way to make a living. Losing anything, from eggs to livestock, could create a hardship.

Rachel’s cell phone rang, and she dug it out of her shirt pocket.

Tom was calling from the car ahead of them. “I just heard from dispatch,” he said. “The dogs are on the Buckham farm right now. It’s right down the road.”

Rachel passed the message to Joe, and he sped up, staying close behind Tom’s cruiser.

“The Buckhams have got calves,” Joe told her. “They haven’t lost any yet, but one of them got its hindquarters torn up pretty bad the last time the dogs came around. Dr. Sullivan had to patch it up.”

“Let’s go get the alpha dog,” Rachel said, sounding more confident than she felt.

“He looks like a real mean son of a bitch.”

“That he does.” Rachel’s mouth had gone dry. Mrs. Turner seemed sure she could handle the dog. She probably could, after he was locked in a cage. Rachel was more concerned about whether she and Joe could get him into that cage.

The Buckhams’ small wood frame farmhouse sat close to the road, with rolling hills spread out beyond it in the moonlight, looking like a spot the entire modern world had passed by. At the entrance to the gravel driveway, a tin mailbox on a wooden post leaned to one side.

Even before Joe powered down his window, Rachel heard the dogs baying.

The elderly farmer emerged from the house and hurried over to Joe’s van. “You got here in the nick of time. I penned up my cows to keep the calves safe, but those dogs just went right over the fence. Hurry, before they kill one of my calves.”

“We’ll get rid of them, Mr. Buckham,” Joe said.

With Tom leading, they raced past the house toward the pen. The noise rose in volume, dogs baying and yipping, calves bleating, frantic cows bellowing. Joe raised his voice to be heard over the racket pouring in through his open window. “I don’t think we have to hide. They’re too busy to notice us.”

Joe and Tom braked their vehicles twenty feet from the pen. Rachel watched, horrified, as the cows and calves roiled and stumbled, with dogs nipping at their legs and flanks.

Joe lifted the tranquilizer gun from the rack behind their seats. “Getting a shot won’t be easy,” he said. “I need to get up higher—”

He flung open his door. Dart gun in hand, he mounted the hood of the van. Tom clambered up beside him with a handheld spotlight and focused it on the pen.

Holding her breath, Rachel watched Joe take aim. He released a dart. A split second later a dog yelped, then let out a long howl. “I got him!” Joe yelled. “I got the leader.”

In the confusion, Rachel couldn’t see which animal Joe had hit.

The other dogs panicked and jumped at the fence, clawing their way over. Joe reloaded, aimed again. A dart caught one of the fleeing dogs in the flank.

In seconds, the rest of the pack vanished, leaving behind the two Joe had darted. Rachel jumped out with her medical case. She sprinted to the nearest dog, the one outside the pen. A medium-sized Lab mix. She touched its chest, confirmed it was breathing, then ran to the gate of the pen.

Tom and Joe went in ahead of her. They herded the cows out of the way while Rachel dropped to her knees beside the leader of the feral pack. He was solid black, filthy from head to tail, undernourished but probably well over a hundred pounds, with a pit bull face and rottweiler body. He breathed in ragged gulps.

Rachel yanked the dart from his flank, then pulled a muzzle from her case and slipped it over the dog’s nose and mouth.

His head jerked up. He shook off the muzzle and bared his teeth. A growl sounded deep in his throat.

“Oh my god.” Rachel scooted backward. “Joe! He’s not under!”

“Rachel!” Tom cried. He ran to her side, grabbed her and pulled her back from the dog.

The animal struggled to his feet, swayed, and lunged. Rachel and Tom jumped out of his path and hit the fence. Trapped. Tom yanked his pistol from his holster.

“Don’t shoot him!” Rachel cried. “Joe, dart him again!”

The dog wobbled for a moment, then regained his balance. Snarling, he threw himself at them again, his bared teeth glinting in the moonlight.

Joe fired a dart into his flank. The dog spun, teeth snapping, trying to get at the dart. Within seconds, he dropped to the ground.