“I think this night will be fresh in my mind for a long time.”
When they moved to sit at the kitchen table Tom noticed Michelle in the doorway from the hall. She looked haggard, her hair hanging in disheveled strands, her blue eyes haunted. “Hey,” he said. “You all right?”
“I was telling Rachel right before you got here that I think I should go home. I’m so sorry I brought all this on the two of you.”
“We don’t know that this was meant for you. It could be connected to the murder case I’m investigating.” Tom paused. “Would you feel safer in Bethesda?”
He thought Michelle’s departure was the best idea he’d heard in a long time, and he hoped she would say yes. But she dropped her gaze and shook her head.
“Then stop talking about leaving,” Rachel told her. “I’m sure nothing else will happen tonight. Go back to bed and try to get some sleep.”
Silently Michelle turned away and disappeared down the hall toward the stairs.
Tom closed the door, sat down again. Speaking quietly, he said, “She ought to be with her husband.”
“He won’t help her,” Rachel said, her voice low and furious.
“You can’t fix this for her,” Tom said. “She’s got money. She can hire security.”
Rachel’s mouth dropped open. “That’s your solution? Hire a bodyguard? For how long? The rest of her life?”
“She has to go back to the Montgomery County police with this. I’ll give them a report on what’s been happening here. I’ll get them to take it seriously.”
“Can you get her husband to take it seriously?”
“He knows this is real. He knows you heard the stalker on the phone.”
“But he still went home and left her here.”
“And we know why. She didn’t want him to stay.”
Rachel leaned closer over the table to whisper. “They’re having problems. Aside from this stalker stuff. He’s not going to make her feel safe. He makes her feel even more vulnerable.”
Tom scrubbed a hand over the stubble on his chin. He was worn out. He wanted to take a hot shower and fall into bed. “Okay, let’s put that aside for now. Tell me what you saw tonight.”
Rachel described the figure she’d glimpsed sprinting toward the woods. “Like I said, I don’t know if it was a man or a woman. From the height and the way he was running, long strides, I’d say it was probably a man. But a lot of women are tall and powerful runners, so I can’t swear to it. Slender build, I’m sure about that. Average, really. Not skinny, not overweight.”
“You couldn’t see the face or hair?”
“No.” Rachel paused a moment, examining the brief memory. “I don’t believe I saw any skin, now that I think about it. The hair was covered. I’m sure of that. Dark clothing, head to toe, and a hood over the hair.”
Tom sighed. “Great.”
“I watched until he, she, ran into the woods, but altogether it wasn’t more than a few seconds.” Rachel spread her hands. “Sorry. That’s all I can tell you.”
“That’s a lot better than nothing. If this is the same person who’s been harassing Michelle, it’s a man.”
“He called again this afternoon.” Rachel repeated what the caller had said: Our time is coming, Michelle. We’ll be together very, very soon. Be ready for something special. “There’s one more thing you need to know about. I was going to wait until morning to tell you, so you could get some rest first, but that seems pointless now that we’ve got blood all over the front porch.”
A chill ran through Tom. “What is it?”
He listened with growing apprehension as Rachel told him about finding a dead rat, its throat and belly slashed open, inside a cabinet in her office. “Jesus Christ. He’s escalating, Rachel. This is a dangerous situation. I’m starting to think Michelle ought to get away someplace where he can’t follow her.”
“Go into hiding?” Conflicting emotions flitted across Rachel’s face. “How would that help you catch him?”
She was right about that. He needed to lure the stalker into revealing himself, and that wouldn’t happen if the guy lost sight of his quarry. “Dennis will keep trying to track down the calls and the e-mails. We’re getting the word out that we want to know about any strangers who’ve shown up in the county lately, even if it’s just somebody who stopped at a gas station to tank up. That might help us with the Beecher case too. Let me think about this a little more when I’m not so beat.”
“You do look a little tired.” Rachel smiled at him, one of those soft smiles so filled with love that Tom had no doubt about how lucky he was to have her in his life. “Did you make any progress today?”
“Some, I think. I didn’t want to believe it at first, but everything I’ve heard makes me think Shelley was murdered because she was looking into Brian Hadley’s murder.”
Rachel frowned. “Do you think it’s possible the wrong man was arrested and convicted? That would mean your father made a colossal mistake.”
“I don’t care,” Tom said. “I can’t put on blinders because my dad was the cop on the case. If Vance Lankford didn’t kill Brian Hadley, the real killer is still free, and he had a strong motive for killing Shelley. I don’t think I can solve Shelley’s murder unless I take another look at the Hadley case.”
Chapter Twenty-four
Tom halted in the doorway of the conference room, taking in the six bulging cardboard file boxes on the table. “Oh, man,” he said to Dennis. “I didn’t think it was going to be this much of a slog.”
From the far side of the table Dennis surveyed the material with a bemused expression. “It was an open and shut case, but Vance Lankford kept saying he didn’t kill Brian, so your dad talked to just about everybody in the county to make sure he didn’t miss anything. The clerk’s office is printing out the trial transcript for us. Are you real sure we need to look at all this stuff again?”
“Yeah, I’m sure.” Tom stripped off his uniform jacket and draped it over the back of a chair. “By the way, I’m sending a bottle of blood to Roanoke for analysis. As soon as the report comes in, I want to know about it, even if you have to track me down.”
Dennis was staring at him. “Back up a little, will you? A bottle of blood?”
“It’s evidence, but I don’t know whether it has to do with the Beecher case or Michelle Goddard’s stalker.” Tom pulled out a chair and sat down. Dennis sat across from him and listened without questions as Tom described what he’d returned home to the night before. “I’m telling the lab that it’s evidence in the Beecher case, so they’ll get to it faster. I want to know what kind of animal it came from. If it turns out to be cow blood or pig blood, that could narrow down the source.”
“But if it’s deer blood,” Dennis pointed out, “almost anybody with a hunting rifle could have collected it.”
“Right. That’s what I’m afraid of.”
“Rachel told you about the rat, I guess.” Dennis pulled off his glasses and rubbed one lens on the sleeve of his uniform shirt. “I put it in the fridge in the break room in case you want to take a look. You think the same person’s responsible for the blood on your porch? Could be somebody trying to scare you off the Beecher case.”
“He’d have to be an idiot to think it would work. But I don’t know who’s doing what.” Tom shook his head. “I don’t like this kind of thing getting so close to home. Close to Rachel. The stalker’s after her sister, not her, but when Rachel’s with Michelle she’s going to get sideswiped by anything he does. God, I wish Michelle would go back to Bethesda, but Rachel wants her to stay here.”
“How’s the guy getting into the animal hospital without leaving any sign of a break-in?” Dennis slid his glasses back on.
“Good question. The tumbler locks could be picked, but not the deadbolts.”
“Maybe one of the employees is forgetting to turn the deadbolt,” Dennis suggested. “Don’t some of them go in after hours, to walk any dogs that are being boarded or check on animals re
covering from surgery? Somebody leaves a deadbolt unsecured, the stalker comes along, testing the locks, finds a door that’s easy to get open.”
Tom nodded. “That occurred to me too. I want to question the employees myself, but Rachel says no, she has to do it.”
“Nobody’s going to admit to it.” Dennis pulled one of the file boxes closer and removed the lid. “They don’t want to get fired.”
“But if that really is the problem, just talking to them ought to take care of it, and the guy won’t get into the building again.” Tom half-rose to reach for another of the boxes and dragged it over. “He’ll keep up the phone calls and e-mails, though, and he might try something at the house again. Following Michelle here was pretty extreme behavior. I think he’s got more in mind than just scaring her.”
“You got any idea what’s behind it? What set him off?”
“No,” Tom said. “He’s not dropping many clues to his motivation. He sent an e-mail that sounded like a love letter, then he put a dead rat in Rachel’s office, where Michelle’s spending her days. He could be the one who threw blood on our porch. Not the most romantic gestures I’ve ever seen.”
Dennis tapped his fingers on the table. “So what are we going to do?”
“Make sure nobody gets hurt, hope the guy trips up and lets us know who he is.” Tom pried the lid off the overstuffed box in front of him. “Right now, we need to go through my dad’s records on the Hadley murder.”
***
Rachel had cleared an hour of her schedule so she could speak to all the staff members one by one, in the privacy of her office. With Michelle temporarily shunted to the staff lounge, Rachel steeled herself and opened the door to the first person she’d summoned.
She told Dr. Diane Davis, a wisp of a young woman who had joined the staff recently, that an intruder had been getting into the building at night, apparently through an unlocked door.
Dr. Davis drew herself up straight in the visitor’s chair, making herself appear a little older. With her slight figure and makeup-free face, her brown hair pulled into a ponytail, she usually looked around fourteen. “I hope you don’t think I’ve been leaving doors unlocked. I’m always very careful about—”
Rachel held up a hand to cut her off. “Whoever did it, I know it wasn’t deliberate. I’m sure none of you would knowingly leave a door unlocked. But the fact remains that somebody has gotten in at least twice without having to break in.”
“What did they take? Meds? None of the equipment’s missing, is it?”
Rachel sighed. How much should she tell the staff? She didn’t want to drag Michelle’s problems out in the open for everyone’s scrutiny. She was amazed that she’d been able to keep the staff from finding out about the dead rat. “Nothing has been stolen that I know of. Not yet, anyway. But there’s been some minor vandalism in my office.” She went on, talking over another question from Dr. Davis. “I hate to do this, and I hope you won’t take it personally, but I’m going to limit the number of people who have keys to the building. Of course, if you know you’ll need to get in after hours on a particular night, you can take a key. I’d like you to sign for it, though, so I’ll always know who has one.”
The young vet’s cheeks flushed pink as she reached into the pocket of her white coat and pulled out a key ring. She detached a key and slapped it onto Rachel’s desk.
“Thank you,” Rachel said, feeling miserable about offending the other doctor. “I’m glad you understand.”
“What good will it do, if the cleaning woman’s got keys? She comes in here at night when nobody else is around. Are you sure it’s not her or somebody in her family?”
“I plan to talk to her about it,” Rachel said.
So it went with the other three vets—denials, protests, indignation, and suggestions that the cleaning woman was to blame. Rachel moved on to the rest of the staff.
Shannon, the front desk manager, would be allowed to keep her key to the front door because she was always the first to arrive in the morning, she never came to the clinic after hours, and Rachel considered her totally trustworthy about safeguarding her key. The clinic’s farm vet, who went to his clients instead of the other way around, and came in only when he needed supplies, would keep his key too.
Holly handed over hers promptly and without argument, as did another aide and a second young woman who worked behind the front desk with Shannon. However, the clinic’s technician, a taciturn middle-aged woman named Marjorie, greeted Rachel’s request with silence and an incredulous expression.
“This is just temporary,” Rachel told her.
Marjorie pulled her key ring from her pants pocket, yanked off two keys, and dropped them into Rachel’s palm, her lips set in a hard red line. Catching Rachel’s eye, she conveyed in one blazing glance the depth of her outrage at being treated as untrustworthy.
Marjorie spun and walked out, back straight and head high. She slammed the office door behind her. Rachel squeezed her eyes shut for a moment and drew a deep, calming breath before following Marjorie. She would have to salve the woman’s bruised feelings. She couldn’t afford to lose the clinic’s only licensed tech.
Before she could catch up with Marjorie, though, Rachel encountered Jordan Gale, who had just walked through the front door with his locksmith’s tool kit in hand. Rachel had asked him to come over and install additional locks on both front and rear doors.
Shannon, behind the desk, gave the locksmith a flirtatious smile. “Hey, Jordy. You just can’t stay away from us, can you?”
He grinned back. “Hey there, Shannon. How’re you doing?”
“Oh, just fine, thanks.”
Rachel hadn’t paid much attention to the locksmith’s appearance before, but now she noticed how attractive he was, with his boyish face and wavy dark hair. Older than Shannon by a few years, but apparently available. Married men around here always wore wedding rings, and Jordan’s ring finger was bare.
He turned his attention to Rachel. “You know we’re always glad to get more business,” he said, “but are you sure you need new locks? Like I told you before, what you’ve got is the best on the market.”
“I’ll feel better if we add to what we already have.”
“The customer’s always right,” he said cheerfully.
Rachel was relieved that he didn’t press her to tell him what had inspired her sudden concern about security. Rachel didn’t want the stalker story to get around, and she knew if she told a single person, half the county would be gossiping about it by this time tomorrow.
An hour later, all three doors to the outside—front, rear, and the door leading to the dog run—had been equipped with additional heavyweight deadbolts. Rachel sent Holly to the hardware store to have copies of the new keys cut.
After Jordan Gale left, Rachel fingered the new mechanism on the front door and wondered if she’d wasted her money. Reclaiming keys from the staff and urging them to be careful might have been all that was necessary. But how could she be sure?
The only thing she knew for certain was that somebody who scared her half to death had gotten into the building. The frames being askew—that might have an innocent explanation. A mutilated rat in her office cabinet was a different matter.
“Dr. Goddard?” Shannon said. “You’ve got a call. The Sheriff’s Department dispatcher.”
The dispatcher? Rachel’s first thought was that something had happened to Tom. Instead of taking time to return to her office to take the call, she crossed the lobby to the desk in five quick strides and grabbed the receiver from Shannon. “This is Dr. Goddard. What’s wrong? What’s happened?”
“My goodness,” the dispatcher said with a laugh, “I didn’t mean to scare you. I got a report about an injured hawk—a Cooper’s hawk, I think the man said. He sounded real upset about it. He said he saw somebody shoot it and break its wing, but he wouldn’t give me any names because he doesn’t want to get anybody in trouble.”
Rachel blew out a breath. Her heartbeat was
dropping back to a normal pace, but anger replaced alarm. Some people thought shooting at wild birds was great sport, and they couldn’t care less if they were maiming and killing protected species.
The dispatcher went on, “He wants somebody to save the hawk and he asked me if we’ve got any wildlife rehabbers around here. I thought you’d want to go out and get it.”
“Did you call the animal warden?” Tom would not be thrilled if she went out by herself in search of a bird.
“Yes, I did call the animal warden first, but he said you’re the only one he knows of who could handle a bird like that when it’s hurt. He doesn’t think he could.”
Of course not. She glanced at her watch. She could manage an hour away from the clinic to pick up the bird. And the stalker was focused on Michelle, not Rachel. Without her sister around, she had no cause to be afraid. And she had to do her job, after all. “Okay, tell me where it is.”
She took notes on the location. A familiar road, one she’d been on last Saturday with Tom and the teenagers doing litter cleanup. She paused, her fingers tightening on the pen, when the dispatcher told her which milepost to look for. It was no more than a quarter mile from the ravine where Shelley’s lifeless body had been found.
Chapter Twenty-five
Hawk, hawk, where’d you go?
Rachel stood on the shoulder of the road, pulling on her elbow-length leather gloves and scanning the woods. A net on a long pole lay at her feet. She’d spotted the bird flopping around in the ditch, one wing wrecked and useless. By the time she’d pulled ahead thirty feet and parked, the hawk had disappeared. Finding it might not be easy in a patch of woods made up mostly of pines and other evergreens.
There. A movement through the underbrush.
She scooped up the net and held it aloft as she pushed into the woods, to keep it from snagging on the cat briers that caught at her jeans. She grimaced with every snap of a twig under her thick-soled athletic shoes. But the racket she made hardly mattered. The bird knew she was after it.
Bleeding Through: A Rachel Goddard Mystery (Rachel Goddard Mysteries) Page 18