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

by Parshall, Sandra

  Chapter Eleven

  Rachel turned into the Halls’ driveway and found a man with a shotgun blocking her way. She slammed on the brakes. Her mouth went dry. Had she stumbled into a crime scene? Had someone come to kill the rest of the Hall family?

  The stocky, balding man approached her window. Rachel shifted into reverse, ready to flee. Then she recognized the middle-aged man as one of Ethan’s followers. One of the men determined to hunt down and kill the feral dogs. Were they having a meeting at the Hall house?

  The man rapped on her window.

  Reluctant to respond, Rachel stared back at him.

  “What do you want here?” the man shouted.

  Rachel powered down the window about two inches. “Mrs. Hall is expecting me. I’m here to check on the dog.”

  The man studied her, his gaze crawling over her face and dropping to her breasts, his smirk making her feel vaguely soiled. Then he straightened and jerked a thumb, giving her permission to move forward.

  Rachel stepped on the gas, blowing out a long breath of relief as she left the armed man behind. Now she had to worry about encountering Ethan and putting up with his nastiness and verbal abuse.

  Maybe, Rachel thought, Ethan wasn’t at home.

  No such luck. He answered the front door.

  “Your mother’s expecting me,” Rachel said before he could react to her presence. “Would you tell her I’m here to see Thor, please?”

  She expected bluster, or at least a disapproving sneer to remind her that he thought she was crazy for championing the killer dogs. Instead, Ethan looked back at her without expression, his eyes dull and red-rimmed. Had he been crying?

  “She’s in the sun room with Thor,” he said, his voice a low monotone. “I’ll show you.”

  It’s finally hit him, Rachel thought as she followed Ethan down the hall. This guy ticked her off in quite a few ways, but she felt a surprising pang of sympathy for him. His father had just been murdered, after all, and in a particularly gruesome way.

  Ethan left Rachel at the door to the sun room. The German shepherd, stretched on a big dog bed, raised his head and thumped his tail once when she entered the glass-enclosed space. Potted plants, some soaring toward the roof, gave the air a pleasant woodsy aroma. In the corner where Mrs. Hall sat in a wicker chair, blooming orchids of various sizes crowded several tabletops.

  “There’s a man on your driveway with a gun,” Rachel said. “He didn’t want to let me in.”

  Mrs. Hall sighed. “I’m sorry. We have an alarm system and the house can be locked up like a fortress, but Ethan thinks we need additional protection. So he’s paying those men to march around with their rifles.” She waved a hand. “They won’t bother you again. Thank you for coming out to see Thor.”

  Rachel looked down at the dog. “So he’s been up and moving around, huh? That’s a good sign.”

  “I don’t know. He seems so depressed. He used to keep Gordon company when he sat in here reading. I think he came in here hoping—” She broke off and shook her head sadly.

  Vicky Hall looked terrible. Her condition had deteriorated visibly in the last twenty-four hours. She was probably due for dialysis and would feel better afterward.

  “He’s grieving,” Rachel said, “and he doesn’t understand what’s happened.” She sat on the stone floor and stroked the dog’s head.

  “He must have been terrified while he was tied up,” Mrs. Hall said. “Do you think he was beaten? Nobody’s ever hit him before.”

  “I didn’t find anything to indicate a beating,” Rachel said. As far as she could tell, all of Thor’s wounds had been inflicted by another dog.

  Rachel began her examination and didn’t look up when Rayanne Stuckey summoned Mrs. Hall to take a telephone call from the funeral home. She was listening to the dog’s heartbeat—back to normal—when something brushed against her arm. Startled, she jerked back.

  The Halls’ youngest daughter knelt beside her.

  “Oh,” Rachel said, exhaling, feeling her own heart rate slow from a momentary spike. “Hello. You’re Marcy, aren’t you?”

  The girl nodded, her face solemn. She was a stunning child who looked younger than eleven, with delicate features, huge brown eyes, and curly black hair. Her skin was a lovely, light milk-chocolate shade. Rachel had heard that Marcy and her brother David had a black father who dropped out of their lives long before their birth mother died.

  Marcy stroked the dog’s head and muzzle, and Thor made soft moaning sounds of pleasure.

  “He likes you,” Rachel said. “Maybe if you spend lots of time with him, he’ll start feeling better. He misses your dad too, just like you do.”

  Rachel sensed the girl stiffening at the remark, and she wished she hadn’t mentioned the father.

  Her head bowed, Marcy whispered something.

  “I’m sorry,” Rachel said. “I didn’t hear you.”

  Marcy raised her head a couple of inches, but Rachel still couldn’t make out her words.

  Rachel touched her shoulder. The girl’s body had gone as rigid as a block of wood. “I’m sorry, sweetie, could you speak a little louder?”

  The girl looked directly into Rachel’s eyes. She was frightened. No, that was too mild a word. Marcy was terrified. She said, “Please help—”

  “Marcy!”

  Rachel jerked her head around to see David Hall in the doorway, his hands fisted at his sides. Marcy pulled away from Rachel and seemed to shrink, head down and shoulders hunched.

  “Stop bothering the doctor,” David said. “Come on out of there.”

  “She isn’t bothering me at all,” Rachel said. Was everybody in this family crazy? The dog had begun whimpering. “She has a good effect on Thor. I’d like her to spend some time with him.”

  David ignored her. “Marcy,” he said, “come on. Right now.”

  The girl gave Rachel an imploring look, her eyes wide and swimming with tears. Rachel placed a hand on her shoulder, but Marcy slid away, pushed herself up and walked to her brother, dragging her feet as if she faced a dreaded punishment. David grabbed her arm and pulled her out of the room.

  “Wait a minute!” Rachel scrambled to her feet and hurried after them. David was marching Marcy down the hall toward the stairs. “I asked you to wait!”

  At the foot of the stairs, David finally paused and turned. His face, as striking as his sister’s, twisted in an ugly sneer. “You don’t give me orders, lady.”

  “What are you doing to this child?” Rachel demanded. She caught up with them and reached out to Marcy.

  David yanked the girl backward so hard Marcy stumbled and lost her balance. David forced her upright. “Leave us alone,” he said to Rachel. “You ain’t got nothin’ to do with us.”

  Vicky Hall reappeared, emerging from her husband’s home office. “What’s going on? David? Marcy? What are you up to?”

  Marcy whimpered but didn’t speak.

  “We ain’t doin’ nothin’,” David said.

  Mrs. Hall winced. “Oh, David, your grammar. You know better than that.”

  The boy glared at her but didn’t answer.

  Rachel had no idea what was happening here, and she told herself it was none of her business. But the despair on little Marcy’s face tore at her heart.

  “Go to your rooms,” Mrs. Hall said. “I don’t want to hear another peep out of either of you.”

  They climbed the stairs, David dragging his sister along by the arm. When she fell behind, he jerked her hard and she almost fell forward onto the steps. Rachel watched, baffled and helpless.

  “Those two,” Mrs. Hall said with a shake of her head. “Sometimes I think they were the worst mistake we ever made. They’re such beautiful children, they look like angels. But appearances can certainly be deceiving. Now, how is Thor?”

  “He’ll be fine,” Rachel murmured. Her gaze followed Marcy and David up the steps.

  At the top, as they turned to the left, Marcy looked down and her eyes connected with Rachel
’s. The girl opened her mouth. Although she made no sound, Rachel was certain her lips formed a silent plea: Help me.

  Chapter Twelve

  “I don’t want you getting involved with that family.” Tom shook a little more salt on his chicken salad sandwich. He and Rachel occupied a secluded corner booth at the Mountaineer, sharing a quick lunch before they both got back to work. Glancing around to make sure no one was eavesdropping, he added, “It’s not your responsibility to fix every problem you see.”

  “I’m not saying I want to fix it.” Rachel dropped her unfinished sandwich onto her plate and pushed it aside. “I want you to fix it.”

  Tom laughed in spite of his effort to maintain a disapproving scowl. “I’m not even sure what’s wrong, if anything is.”

  “Oh, something’s wrong, all right.” Rachel leaned over the table and whispered, “That poor girl is scared to death. I know she’s afraid of her brother, but I believe there’s more to it—whatever it is—than her relationship with David. You should look into it.”

  “She has a mother, Rachel.”

  “But her mother’s part of the problem! Mrs. Hall is wrapped up in her own grief, and she seems to care more about the dog than her children. I don’t think it’s just a response to her husband’s death. If you saw the way she acts toward them—”

  “I have seen it.”

  “Then you know she’s not going to be any help to Marcy. She talks about Marcy and David as if they’re exotic plants that need too much care. I doubt there’s a single person in that house Marcy can count on.”

  Tom bit into his sandwich. Rachel was probably right about Marcy feeling isolated in the Hall family, and about Vicky Hall’s lack of interest in the girl. But what the hell was going on with David? “Are you sure you didn’t misread the situation? Her father was murdered night before last, and she saw his body. She’s upset, and she might also be afraid the killer’s coming back for the rest of the family.”

  Rachel shook her head. “No. I’m positive she was reacting to David. And Mrs. Hall’s not going to step in. She saw David drag Marcy up the stairs, but all she did was complain about both of them being too much trouble.”

  The waitress, a woman of about sixty who already seemed worn out at midday, appeared to top off their coffee. Watching the steaming liquid flow into the mugs, Tom thought about what Soo Jin had told him that morning in his office. She’d painted a picture of a household where none of the kids felt comfortable. After the waitress walked away, Tom said, “I remember when they adopted those two. I was living in Richmond, but I heard the whole story from my mother. She was furious about it.”

  “Furious that they were adopting the kids? Why?” Rachel sipped her coffee.

  Tom scanned the room for eavesdroppers again. The economy had been so bad that fewer and fewer customers came to the Mountaineer for lunch. Under the hanging wagon wheels that served as lighting fixtures, people sat in just four other booths, and they seemed too engrossed in their own conversations to listen in on him and Rachel.

  “Mom got along with Hall because she had to,” Tom told Rachel, “but she never liked him. She thought he was a phony, a hypocrite. I was here for a visit around that time, and she talked the whole weekend about what the Halls were doing.”

  “That sounds sinister. What bothered your mother so much?”

  “Oh, man. I’m crazy to be telling you any of this. I don’t want you involved.”

  “If you stop now, I’m going to kick you,” Rachel said. “I want to know the background on those kids.”

  Tom sighed, hesitated, then continued. “Mom felt the same way you do—David and Marcy were pretty little things Vicky Hall wanted to own but she didn’t care much about them as people. She thought they were beautiful, she wanted them, and her husband made sure she got them.”

  “After their mother died, right?”

  “Yeah, but the Halls were trying to get them even before that. There were rumors going around that they offered Jewel Riggs a lot of money for them.”

  “What? They tried to buy them?” Rachel’s voice rose in outrage, and Tom made a hushing motion with his hands.

  “Let me tell you the whole story. David and Marcy’s mother—Jewel—was an addict. She was in rehab a couple of times, but she couldn’t stay clean. Even after Marcy was born addicted, Jewel couldn’t straighten herself out and do what was right for the kids. She kept landing in the emergency room, usually with David and Marcy in tow.”

  “God, how awful,” Rachel said. Tom saw tears moisten her eyes, but in a second she’d blinked them away. “Is that where Mrs. Hall first saw Marcy and David? At the hospital?”

  “Yeah. Vicky was the ER administrator. She got Social Services involved, and the kids were taken away from Jewel a couple of times, but she got them back when she was clean again. Then the Halls got the idea of adopting them—rescuing them—and they started pressuring Jewel to give up her parental rights.”

  “Didn’t their father have anything to say about it?”

  “Raymond wasn’t around at the time. He was never really in the picture. They never got married—her parents were dead set against her marrying a black man—and he was in and out of Jewel’s life because he couldn’t find work here. As far as I know, he never supported the kids.”

  “But their mother wouldn’t give them to the Halls, not even for money?”

  “No. Both times after she was in rehab she tried to stay clean and take care of them. But in the end she died of an overdose. Then the Halls went to court to get the kids.”

  “What about their relatives? Grandparents?”

  “Jake and Maddy Riggs kept the kids when Jewel was in rehab,” Tom said, “but they didn’t want them because they were half black.”

  “Oh, gee, that’s nice.” Rachel drummed her fingers on the table as a complex mix of anger, sorrow, and pity played across her face.

  “Believe me, if you knew them, you wouldn’t want the kids to be with them.” I’m going to regret telling her all this, Tom thought. Rachel would jump right into the Hall family’s mess if he didn’t stop her. And he was seldom able to stop her from doing anything. “Their uncle was at the Hall house yesterday. Leo Riggs. He was with Ethan at the shelter last night, too.”

  “That lowlife is their uncle?”

  “Yeah, and he was totally in favor of the adoption. From what I heard, he thought the kids really lucked out when the Halls adopted them.” And Leo lucked out too. Tom had heard that the Halls provided the money to set up Leo’s car repair shop at the time of the adoption. Tom’s mother had always contended that the Riggses sold the kids to the Halls.

  “So,” Rachel said, “the Halls went to a lot of trouble to take two kids away from their biological family, maybe for very good reasons, but then they refused to give them the love they deserved. I will never understand why people do things like that.”

  Tom wondered if Rachel was thinking of the Halls or her own family. Marcy had struck a chord with her, and she probably saw herself in the child. He hated the thought of her old wounds being opened up again. If the Halls’ dog hadn’t been injured, Rachel would never have become involved. “I can’t explain it,” he said. “Don’t let this eat away at you. Try to put it out of your mind. Okay?”

  She didn’t answer, and Tom supposed that was the right response to his suggestion that she do the impossible.

  He dropped his napkin on the table and motioned for the waitress to bring the check. “Whatever’s going on in that family, it’ll have to wait. I need to get back to the hospital and talk to some more of Hall’s employees, but first I want to follow up on the dogfighting angle. If Hall’s dog was being held by somebody in a dogfighting operation, that’s the key to finding his killer.”

  Tom handed the waitress a couple of bills, telling her to keep the change. “Be careful out in Rocky Branch District this afternoon,” he told Rachel. “I’ll have a deputy out there to look after you and Holly. I’d like to get through the rest of the day withou
t worrying about you every minute.”

  ***

  The dog they had captured the night before cringed in a corner of the enclosure when Rachel stooped next to the chain link fence. Holly hung back. Rachel was afraid the dog would feel threatened if both of them came close.

  “Hey, boy,” she murmured. She stuck a sausage-flavored treat through the fence. “Look what I’ve got for you.”

  The animal’s nose twitched as he picked up the strong aroma. Rachel found the smell revolting, but dogs loved the stuff.

  “Wouldn’t you like to have this?” she coaxed.

  Drool leaked from the dog’s mouth and plopped on the ground. He swallowed and inched closer, his eyes never leaving the enticing morsel in Rachel’s fingers.

  “Come on, boy, come on over here and you can have it.”

  A couple more steps. A high-pitched whine rose from his throat. When Rachel shifted slightly on her haunches, the dog jumped away again, hitting the fence behind him.

  “Okay, sweetie,” Rachel crooned, “that’s enough for one day. You can have it. Come and get it.”

  She dropped the treat through the fence and shuffled backward two or three feet. She didn’t want to spook him by suddenly rising to her full height.

  The dog’s eyes shifted between Rachel and the treat on the ground and back again. Then he sprang forward, snatched the treat, and bolted for the doghouse at the rear of the enclosure. After he was safely hidden away, Rachel heard him munching noisily.

  “Poor thing,” Holly said. They turned and walked back toward Rachel’s Range Rover. “He must be so lonesome and scared without all the other dogs.”

  “We have to break their bond as a pack,” Rachel said, “and help them bond with people again. That connection is still there. We just have to bring it to the surface.”

  “I know you’re right. I just—” Holly’s eyes filled with tears. “I feel so sorry for them. People have been so mean to them, I don’t know why they’d ever trust any of us again.”

  Rachel touched her shoulder. “They will, Holly. We have to work with them and be patient. You need to be tough to do this kind of work.” She looked around, assessing the progress that had been made on construction. “We can only bring in as many dogs as you have room for.”