The Bengal Identity

by Eileen Watkins

  “I can’t do this for myself,” he said, between breaths. “You have to.”

  I started to read the instructions on the back of the box. “But I’ve never used—”

  “I have, and you’re gonna do it.” Still with the gun trained on me, he sank down in the ATV’s passenger seat, and I finally saw what handicapped him. His right hand was puffed up to half again its normal size, with two dark puncture wounds on the back ringed by a reddish bruise. The fingers were stiff as sausages, useless to hold anything.

  “Hurry!” Rick barked. “Clean the bite with alcohol. In the packets.”

  I opened the kit, found some small, square envelopes, tore one open, and used the pad inside to do this. Meanwhile, I noticed the kit also included a compact, folding type of straight razor, probably to shave hair from the affected area. Rick didn’t have much hair on the back of his hand, though.

  “Now, see those clear cups? Get one big enough to cover the whole bite—the middle one should do. And take out that yellow pump.”

  The pump, or extractor, was about the size and shape of a toilet paper tube. He directed me to fit it snugly over the cup, and I prayed he wouldn’t make me suck out the venom. But no, I just had to push a plunger at the top, which drew the skin of his hand and some dark blood into the cup. Rick told me to hold it that way for thirty seconds.

  I counted, meanwhile thinking I would have preferred to do CPR on the rattlesnake than to help Schaeffer. Only the gun motivated me. This guy probably had killed at least one person already, maybe two, so I was sure he wouldn’t hesitate to add me to the list. If he thought I could help him survive, on the other hand, that gave me better odds.

  When the waiting time was up, I removed the cup and checked the back of the box again. “Rick, it says to do this within the first five minutes after you’ve been bitten. How long ago did the snake—?”

  “Never mind. Clean that damned thing off and use it again.”

  Still at gunpoint, I complied. My captor was starting to flag, though, and his eyelids drooped.

  “Little bitch,” he spat. “Had to be her.... Tried to kill me. Snake didn’t get in there by itself.”

  I used the extractor again to pull out a little more poisoned blood, but I doubted it would do much good. “Look, this isn’t helping. You need to go to a hospital.”

  “No way. They’ll be looking for me.” He muttered curses. “Jim was supposed to come back for me. . . . Took off in my truck!”

  “Rick, you need a doctor to give you anti-venom. Otherwise you’re going to—”

  Voices floated toward us through the trees not far off. Two people coming.

  “Cassie?”

  “Hey, Cassie, where are you?”

  The gun’s muzzle shifted to my left temple. “Don’t answer.”

  Crap, one of those voices was Mark’s. If he found us first, Rick might shoot him!

  I groped backward with my right hand, as if to brace myself. Made contact with the open snakebite kit. Rick still couldn’t restrain me with his right hand, and I began to suspect that was his good one. He might not be so adept at firing a gun with his left. As long as he had it against my head, of course, he didn’t really need to aim. But if I could twist away somehow . . .

  The voices again, closer. Two silhouettes pushed their way through the bushes.

  “What the—?” Mark said.

  “Oh my God!” said Becky.

  Rick stiffened, focusing for a second on them, not me. I grasped my secret weapon by the stiff handle and worked it open. Mentally picked my spot, just beneath the sleeve of his T-shirt, on his uninjured arm.

  “Stay back,” he told them, “or I’ll—”

  “Watch out!” I screamed, and slashed upward.

  At the sudden pain, Rick jerked his arm away and fired a wild shot into the trees. I scrambled in the other direction, where Mark and Becky caught and shielded me.

  In a bad way by now, Rick tottered on his feet. He gaped in confusion at the blood dripping from his left bicep. Lucky for me, I’d given him a pretty good cut with the razor.

  Meanwhile, Mark took a step forward, as if looking for a way to jump in and grab the gun.

  Rick’s shot finally brought Baylock running, along with another cop. They must have recognized the man they’d been hunting, because Baylock turned his gun on him and quickly relieved Rick of his weapon.

  I gave the officers the shortest explanation that I could. Nodding toward Rick, I said, “A rattlesnake bit him, at least fifteen minutes ago. He made me use a kit on him, but it didn’t do much good.”

  While the other officer radioed for an ambulance, Baylock sat his prisoner on the passenger side of the ATV and handcuffed Rick by his good arm to the steel roll cage. Then the cop slid into the driver’s seat.

  By now, Rick’s head was lolling. Thickly, he asked Baylock, “M’I gonna die?”

  “Probably no such luck.” In a cheery tone, the cop added, “Might lose that arm, though.”

  Jouncing over the rough terrain, he drove off in the direction of the farm.

  I felt unsteady on my feet, too, and was grateful to lean on Mark. Becky and the other officer, meanwhile, had found the body of the snake in the open cargo compartment.

  The cop whistled. “Big mother. What the heck was he doing, carrying it around in this box?”

  “He seemed to think his girlfriend planted it there,” I said. “Probably hoping something like this would happen.”

  “Huh,” said Becky. “She must be a piece of work, too.”

  “He had it coming,” I said.

  I felt Mark’s rib cage twitch as he held back a laugh. “Can’t argue with that.” He turned to peer closely at me. “Are you okay?”

  “Not really, but I will be.”

  Becky also eyed me with sympathy. “If you need to go home, Cassie, I’m sure Scott will understand. You didn’t sign up for . . . this.”

  I smiled. “I kind of did, when I signed that waiver. Anyway, you still need all the help you can get. C’mon, let’s finish getting these cats out of here.”

  Mark held my hand as we walked back, which bolstered my courage. I realized that, in all the excitement, I’d forgotten about the kitten with the crooked leg. Did we leave him in the woods?

  I asked Mark if he had seen the small carrier on the ground, but he didn’t remember.

  “Could be that Becky picked him up,” he said. “Check with FOCA.”

  Sure enough, when we got back to the farm and I passed the dozen carriers already stacked by the rescue group, I recognized a familiar, white-masked face. I poked a finger through the grill to tickle his nose. “You naughty thing—you almost got me killed!”

  It took us another hour to finish the feline roundup, and at the end, we’d rescued more than forty cats. That including a few pets the SPCA found in the house, in better condition than the breeding stock. So many of those in that second group had health problems that a veterinary van filled up, and I had to take about half a dozen patients in my small SUV. The guard dog got a cage of his own in the front of the SPCA van, coming along meekly enough once he was freed from his chain.

  A couple of times during the process, I felt my phone vibrate. When I paused to check it, I confirmed that Mom was trying to reach me. No, I’d need some time before I even tried to describe to her what I’d been up to today. Somehow, I’d have to gloss over the part about being held at gunpoint by a murderer while trying to save his life with a snakebite kit. I didn’t think Mom’s nerves were up to knowing about that. Mine just barely were.

  Our furry caravan was ready to depart when Scott Naughton came up and personally thanked me and Mark for all our help.

  “Detective Bonelli did us a solid when she suggested we work with you,” he told me. “Not every animal lover is cut out for this kind of work. Some just can’t take it, emotionally or physically. You not only handled the rescue well, but from what I hear, you brought the killer to heel rather nicely, too.”

  I shrugged. �
��The rattlesnake did most of the damage to Rick. By the time he threatened me, he was so far gone that it wasn’t hard to outwit him.”

  “Still, it took a cool head. Thanks for being on our team.”

  He clapped me on the shoulder, and I’m sure I blushed. After all, it wasn’t every day that I heard such high praise from a six-foot-plus New Jersey version of Crocodile Dundee . . . in an SPCA uniform.

  I wasn’t the only one who noticed the faint spark between us. As Naughton left for his vehicle, I caught Mark watching from the corner of his eye.

  He and I should have been eager to get going, too, but curiosity made us hang back in the parking lot. Rick had gone off to the hospital, but one mystery remained to be solved. From the gravel lot, we could just see the fringe of woods that now had been taken over by the Chadwick PD, crime scene tape stretched across the outermost trees and an ambulance parked on the grass nearby. Cops continued to search, I guess in case Rick had any helpers still lurking or any more bodies turned up.

  “The dead guy in the mine shaft could just be coincidental,” Mark speculated. “That might not even be on Schaeffer’s property. I heard somebody say most of those mine entrances are covered over with brush. You might not even see one until you’re right on top of it.”

  I went along with his theory. “So someone could have just fallen in, gotten hurt, and not been able to climb out. Maybe a hunter, someone out looking for the killer bobcat.”

  I was on the verge of saying what we both were thinking, though, when Bonelli emerged from the woods, talking on her cell phone. She was followed by a rawboned, older man in a white polo shirt and jeans and two EMTs who carried an orange plastic stretcher that held a black body bag. The medical examiner and forensic team must have finished examining the site, and the body was being released to the morgue. On such a hot day, I’m sure they didn’t want to postpone that any longer than necessary.

  With no more worries about contaminating the crime scene, I jogged out to meet Bonelli. As she got off the phone, I asked, “Who is it? Anyone we know?”

  She answered with a guarded look. “Not sure yet. We have a photo, but it’s a few years old. We’re waiting for a family member to come and make an ID.”

  Was there a reason why she didn’t want to share any of her theories with me?

  Suddenly, I felt as if I’d swallowed a block of ice. “Maybe I can help.”

  “You sure, Cassie?” she asked. “You’ve already been through a lot today.”

  Mark had come up behind me, and I felt his hand on my shoulder.

  I nodded.

  One of the EMTs unzipped the top of the body bag. Gray and slack-jawed, the victim’s face no longer wore the taunting smirk I remembered. Dirt had caked in the hair that still rose in a flamelike peak above the young man’s forehead.

  “You said he was down a mine shaft. Did he die from the fall?”

  The older man in the white shirt shook his head. “Shot at close range.”

  “A hunting accident . . . ?”

  “In the back, probably with a Glock.”

  I swallowed hard. No doubt the same weapon I’d felt pressed against my temple just over an hour ago. Time seemed to stretch out, voices faded into the distance, and I realized I was starting to pass out. Mark grabbed me around the waist and held me until my head cleared.

  With the dead man officially identified, the EMT zipped up the body bag again. I silently forgave Todd all of his boorish blunders, now that I knew he’d never again speed along the ridge, always pushing the limits, in his vintage red Camaro.

  Chapter 21

  In the dusk, I followed Mark’s RAV4 back to his clinic. We all wound over the narrow, rutted roads, finally picking up more speed on the highway spur. The trip felt shorter now that the sun was high, the mist had burned off, and we knew where we were headed.

  I finally had the time to wonder how things were going back at my shop. Since it was Sunday, when I usually cared for all of the boarders myself, I’d asked Dawn to look in on them and give the high-maintenance cats a noon feeding.

  I’d learned my lesson about trusting just anyone to pinch-hit for me. And Dawn was only too glad to help, since she still felt guilty about having pushed Teri on me.

  The drive also gave me time to brood about Todd’s murder. Besides thinking that I could have suffered the same fate, I hated to imagine how the news would affect his poor parents.

  By about seven p.m., Mark, the FOCA volunteers, and I reached his clinic with all the cats that urgently needed to be examined and treated. Dr. Margaret Reed and a couple of the vet techs came in to help. They would deal with the most desperate cases first and then stabilize the animals with more chronic complaints.

  As they all set to work at peak efficiency, I sensed I’d just be in the way. “I’d better get back to my place,” I told Mark.

  “Oh . . . sure.” About to open the carrier with the mother tabby and her kittens, he paused and pulled me aside for a kiss. “You were amazing today, dealing with Schaeffer. I couldn’t believe how you kept your cool.”

  I smiled. “I figured he wasn’t going to shoot me as long as he needed me to help him with the snakebite kit. After that, I couldn’t be so sure.”

  Mark’s arms tightened around me, and I knew he was reliving that terrifying scene. “I was damned scared for a moment that I might lose you. I just wish I could have gotten there sooner, to help.”

  “You did help. You showed up at the right time to distract him so I could use the razor. I’m just glad he didn’t turn the gun on you!”

  He relaxed his embrace a bit. “Guess we all had luck on our side. I have to say one thing for Teri—if she did plant that snake in his vehicle, she at least gave the cops a chance to overpower him.” One of the techs called out to Mark then for help. Before responding, he told me, “I’ll drop by your place later, okay?”

  “Please do. I’m sure it will take you awhile, though, to deal with all of these unexpected patients.”

  He just shook his head, but I know both of us were glad he had a chance to make a difference.

  * * *

  Dawn sat behind my sales counter and buried both hands in her long, wavy hair. “I can’t believe it. Rick Schaeffer murdered two people in cold blood? He was beating up on Teri, and she tried to kill him with a live rattlesnake? I thought these two were nice, peaceful organic farmers! How did I not sense . . . something?”

  “You judged Teri by the fruits of her labor. Which were all pretty good, from what I saw—the crops looked in great shape. The hybrid cats, not so much.”

  “And they bred the vicious cat that went on the rampage?”

  “Seems likely. We did find one big cage, among the wild male cats, where the wire mesh had been chewed or torn through. Guess it wasn’t strong enough to hold their Frankenstein monster.” I glanced around my own shop, which felt like a haven of tranquility after Schaeffer’s farm. “So, nothing new around here, I guess?”

  “Oh!” Dawn grabbed a piece of lined notepaper from the counter. “I hate to even show you this after all you’ve been through today. I found it in under the front door this morning.”

  The paper had been folded in half and one corner had ripped a bit, maybe from being forced under the door. In a loose, loopy script, it said:

  I know what you did. You’ll be sorry!

  All of the fleas I’d been exposed to that day seemed to march in a column down my backbone, and I shuddered. Just when I’d thought I’d left the dangers of Schaeffer’s farm behind me!

  I wanted to scream, Enough. Dawn was right—in my current state, I didn’t feel up to dealing with yet another threat.

  “Who could have written that?” she worried aloud. “Teri’s in jail, right? Could Schaeffer have done it? Maybe last night, before the raid?”

  “Possibly.” I calmed a little. If he blamed me for Teri’s arrest, he might have left me this threat in the middle of the night. Seemed kind of subtle for a guy like him, though—I’d expect him to com
e pounding on the door. Of course, he knew by now that my shop was alarmed.

  What if it was written more recently than that? Who might still be at large? Teri said that Rick was into the breeding operation with a couple of buddies. Maybe one of them heard about my role in the bust and is out for revenge.

  I didn’t share that scary thought with Dawn, though. Refolding the note, I told her, “I’ll show this to Bonelli, just to be safe.”

  “You had a phone call, too,” she told me. “Don Brewster thinks he can come pick up Ayesha at the end of this week.”

  “Fantastic! About time we had some good news.” Impulsively, I hugged Dawn. “Thank you so much for watching my place today. I’m sure you’re eager to get back to your apartment and relax, and I really need a shower. It may be just my imagination, but I feel like I’m crawling with all kinds of vermin.”

  “At least you’re not crawling with snakes.” Dawn shimmied her shoulders in revulsion. On her way out, she added, “Listen, dinner’s on me tonight.”

  “Okay . . .” I paused. “Mark said he might be coming over.”

  “That’s fine. I’ll make enough for both of you, drop it off here about six, and scram.” When I started to protest, she insisted, “It’s the least I can do after hooking you up with the Bonnie and Clyde of Rattlesnake Ridge.”

  * * *

  After my shower, I phoned Mark and told him our dinner would be provided courtesy of Nature’s Way. It was just past four, but he already sounded beat after hours of performing triage on the rescued cats. He vowed to also clean up, though, and maybe take a short nap before coming over.

  I left a message for Bonelli about the threatening note, just in case. I didn’t intend to tell Mark, but that was one more reason why I was glad he would be spending the night. If the threat came from Rick, I had nothing to worry about. If it came from someone else, though . . . I might not be up to fending off any more bad guys on my own.