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

by Parshall, Sandra

  “Have you talked to her doctor about her condition?” Tom asked.

  Ethan frowned, puzzled. “No. Should I?”

  Jesus Christ, Tom thought. Did the woman have to die in front of her son before it would occur to Ethan that she might need medical help? “Yeah, I believe you should. You should have let him know she was going downhill so fast. Now she’s reached a crisis point. Don’t expect her to be back home anytime soon.” If ever.

  “Oh, shit, she’ll hate being in the hospital.”

  “Not if it saves her life.”

  “But the nurses in the dialysis center have been seeing her,” Ethan said. “If she’s all that sick, why didn’t they do something?”

  “She hasn’t been to dialysis since Friday,” Tom said. “She hasn’t been anywhere but this house. You should have kept an eye on her condition.”

  “Rayanne takes care of her.” Ethan leaned against the wall, rubbing his eyes.

  “Why isn’t somebody better qualified looking after your mother?”

  “All Mom needs,” Ethan said, “is somebody to drive her to dialysis and do things for her at home. I don’t know what you mean by better qualified. Why would she need anybody with special training?”

  “How did Rayanne get this job?”

  Ethan shrugged. “Don’t ask me. I wasn’t around when she was hired.”

  “How much do you know about her?”

  “Why would I know anything about her?”

  “Seems to me you’d want some information about a woman who’s in the house all day and into the night.”

  Beth spoke up before Ethan could answer. From the doorway of her mother’s room, she said, “Soo Jin accused her of stealing.”

  Tom looked at the girl. “Come over here. Stealing what?”

  “She doesn’t know what he’s talking about,” Ethan said.

  Ignoring him, Tom asked Beth, “What did Soo Jin think Rayanne stole?”

  Beth folded her arms and hunched her shoulders as if she were suddenly chilled. Tears still swam in her eyes. “Money, and some other stuff she could sell. Silverware and stuff.”

  “She’s just making this up,” Ethan told Tom.

  “I am not,” Beth shot back. “I heard them. I heard Soo call her a thief. She said she was going to tell on her and get Mom to fire her.”

  “Don’t listen to this,” Ethan said. “My sister is a chronic liar.”

  “Don’t you dare call me a liar.” Beth started toward Ethan.

  “Hey, whoa.” Tom grabbed Beth’s arm and got between her and Ethan. “Cool it, both of you.”

  Beth’s lower lip trembled and tears spilled down her cheeks as she suddenly abandoned the argument. “When’s the ambulance getting here? Mom can’t seem to stay awake.”

  “It’ll be here in a few minutes. Go back in there with her.”

  When Beth was gone, Tom asked Ethan, “Are you aware of anything missing from the house? Anything that could have been stolen?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t count the silverware. And I told you, you can’t take Beth’s word for it.”

  And if Beth hadn’t made it up? Was Rayanne the one who had slashed Soo Jin’s tires? Tom was already reasonably sure that Sylvia, Burt Morgan’s girlfriend, had told her cousin Rayanne about the planned raid on the dogfight, and Rayanne had passed the information on to Leo. Had Rayanne also tried to kill Soo Jin? Was Ethan showing a natural resistance to an unpleasant truth, or did he have some reason to protect Rayanne?

  Tom wanted to keep at him until he got some answers, but he could hear the ambulance siren in the distance, faint but coming closer. He only had a couple more minutes here. He turned to the question that mattered most to Rachel. “What’s going to happen to these kids if your mother dies? Beth and David and Marcy.”

  “My mother’s not dying. She’s going to be fine. You’re exaggerating everything—”

  “Listen to me. Your mother is being kept alive by dialysis. Your father’s death seems to have pushed her over the edge—”

  “That’s not true!” Ethan spun away from Tom and bumped a knee against the leg of a console table. “Shit.” He grabbed his knee and squeezed his eyes shut.

  Tom waited, and listened to the ambulance siren growing louder by the second.

  After clutching his knee and grimacing for a few seconds, Ethan took a deep breath. “My mother is not dying,” he said again, his voice still tremulous. “Once the funeral’s behind us, she’ll be better.”

  “Do you really think she’ll be okay without your father? They were very close, she leaned on him—”

  “She’ll learn to lean on me.”

  “That’s not the same thing.”

  Ethan’s certainty dissolved as quickly as it had appeared. “Oh, shit, what a mess,” he groaned, covering his face with his hands.

  “Somebody’s going to have to make a decision about David and Marcy’s future, if your mother can’t take care of them.”

  “That’s our family’s business. It’s not something for you to get involved in.”

  Beth rushed out of her mother’s bedroom. “The ambulance is coming up the driveway.”

  Chapter Thirty-five

  Rachel had never met the tall black man, but she knew who he was the instant she opened the door. His skin was darker, but his features, especially his large, beautiful eyes, were strikingly like those of his son David and his daughter Marcy.

  Before she could find her voice, Tom came up behind her. “Hey, Raymond,” he said. “I didn’t know you were back in the county. What can I do for you?”

  “Hey, Tom,” the man said. “I just got here a while ago. Drove down from Richmond. Sorry to bother you at home, but I need to talk to you.”

  “Come on in,” Tom said. He reached over Rachel’s head and pushed the door open all the way.

  “Yes, please,” she said. She gave Tom a pointed look: An introduction might be good at this point.

  “Rachel, this is Raymond Porter. Raymond, this is Dr. Goddard.”

  “Hello,” she said.

  He nodded to Rachel without meeting her eyes.

  She couldn’t stop staring at him. He was around Tom’s age, early to mid-thirties, and had the same kind of lean athletic build. Rachel could imagine them on a basketball court together as teenagers.

  He stepped inside but halted just inside the door, hands in his jacket pockets. “Am I interrupting your dinner?”

  “No, no, we’ve finished dinner,” Rachel said. “Come into the living room.”

  He seemed uneasy, and he sat down hesitantly, as if he doubted the wisdom of being there at all.

  Questions swarmed in Rachel’s mind as she sat on the couch across from him. Are you here for your children? Do you want them? Do you care about them at all?

  “What can I do for you?” Tom sat beside Rachel. “And what brings you back home?”

  Raymond clasped his hands between his knees and stared down at them for a moment before answering. “I’ve been hearing all this stuff—Dr. Hall getting killed, his daughter having a bad accident, and just a little while ago my cousin Rhonda that works at the hospital told me Mrs. Hall’s real bad off. Rhonda said she might die. Is that true?”

  “She’s been hospitalized in serious condition,” Tom said.

  Rachel watched Raymond, taking in every flicker of emotion on his face, every tense angle of his posture. What she saw was a man in turmoil, a man who felt helpless.

  “What’s happening to David and Marcy?” Raymond asked. “Who’s looking after them, making sure they’re okay?”

  “The Halls’ daughter Beth promised me she’d take care of them,” Tom said. “She’s sixteen. She told me she’ll do the cooking and make sure everybody gets their meals on time.”

  Raymond nodded, but the information didn’t seem to relieve his concern. “But what’s going to happen if Mrs. Hall dies?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Rachel waited for Tom to say more, but he didn’t. Why didn’t he ask
about Raymond’s plans? Was the man here to take David and Marcy away from the Hall family? Before she could stop herself, she blurted, “David told Marcy that he’s going to run away and find you. He wants to take Marcy with him. He thinks they’re going to live with you.”

  Raymond looked dumbstruck, staring openmouthed at Rachel.

  “Are you in touch with David?” Tom asked.

  “No. No, I’ve steered clear. I thought that was the best thing for everybody.” Raymond shook his head. “Why would David even think something like that?”

  “Maybe their uncle Leo offered to help them find you,” Tom said.

  A harsh laugh burst from Raymond. “Leo hates my guts. He always said—” He broke off, shaking his head. “Hell, what does it matter? It’s too late now.”

  “Why didn’t you take them when their mother died?’ Rachel asked. “Why did you let the Halls have them?”

  “Rachel,” Tom said, the one word conveying shock and disapproval.

  “It’s a fair question,” Raymond said. He kept his gaze on his clenched hands as he went on. “The Halls already had them before I even knew what was going on. Leo said he’d fight me if I tried to take them. He’d make sure everybody thought I was a drug addict and wasn’t fit. I didn’t think I could fight the Halls, anyway. They had money; Dr. Hall was head of the hospital. I couldn’t win.”

  “Did you even try?” Rachel asked. “Did you see a lawyer about it?”

  “Yeah, I did. He said the same thing. With my history, I didn’t stand a chance against the Halls. Funny thing is, by the time Jewel died I had myself straightened out. I never got hooked bad, the way she did. I was getting my life together. I’d been talking to Jewel on the phone a lot, talking about her and the kids leaving here, coming to live with me. I thought she was finally clean. Then—” He spread his hands helplessly. “All of a sudden she was dead. I haven’t seen our kids since before she died.”

  “Wait a minute,” Rachel said. “Did you ever sign a document relinquishing your parental rights?”

  “No, I didn’t. And I never would have.”

  “Then the adoption wasn’t—”

  “I’ll try to keep you informed about what’s happening,” Tom broke in. He got to his feet, signaling an end to the conversation.

  “Tom,” Rachel protested.

  He ignored her and asked Raymond, “Are you staying with your folks?”

  Raymond nodded. Rising slowly, he looked weary and disappointed. “All right. I guess that’s the most I can expect.”

  “I want you to stay away from the Halls’ house,” Tom said. “And from the Riggs family.”

  “Don’t worry,” Raymond said, moving toward the door. “I can’t imagine any two places I’d be less welcome.”

  After seeing Raymond out, Tom turned to Rachel, a hand up to stop the torrent of words ready to spill out of her. “I know you want to talk about this, but I’ve got to get going. My men are waiting for me at headquarters.” He pulled her into his arms. “We’ll talk later, okay?”

  “Yes. Okay,” Rachel said, her voice muffled as she pressed her face against his shoulder. For a few minutes she’d been able to forget where he was going tonight. Now it hit her again, and brought a flood of paralyzing fear. She held onto Tom, knowing he had to leave, not wanting to let him go out into the night. “Be careful,” she said. “Please, please don’t get hurt.”

  He kissed her forehead and gently pushed her away. “Don’t worry about things that probably won’t happen. I just hope this isn’t another false lead. I’ll call you if any of the dogs need treatment right away.”

  When he was gone, Rachel leaned against the closed door and listened to his cruiser start up and drive away. She would be trapped in a state of pure terror until she heard the raid had gone smoothly. After the ambush on Saturday night, she couldn’t believe a raid on a dogfight was a routine operation with little risk. Even with Pete Rasey locked up, unable to communicate with the people in the dogfighting ring, Rachel worried that they had somehow found out about the raid and would be lying in wait for the deputies. Somebody could get killed tonight.

  Chapter Thirty-six

  “Oh, man,” Brandon said, “I don’t mind admitting I’m nervous about this.” He rode with Tom, leading a caravan of eight Sheriff’s Department cars with Joe Dolan bringing up the rear in his animal control van.

  “There’s no way Pete could have got a message to Leo,” Tom said. “They don’t know we’re coming.” What he said was true, he believed it, but reason couldn’t dissolve the knot of dread in his gut.

  Before setting out, the deputies had gathered at headquarters and donned bulletproof vests. They hadn’t bothered with vests last time, and it was pure dumb luck that nobody had been killed. Acknowledgment that they might need the protection had upped the tension among them to an almost palpable level.

  They drove deep into Rocky Branch District, the most sparsely populated section of the county, where their headlights cut through a darkness rarely relieved by the lights from houses. Heavy cloud cover hid the moon and stars.

  Tom slowed, worried about missing the turnoff. “Is that it?”

  Brandon leaned forward to squint through the windshield. “Could be. Oh, yeah, there’s that little reflector Pete said to look for.”

  Another dirt track through dense woods. Tom braked and stared into the black hole he and his men had to enter. This time they would drive in, to prevent anybody from escaping and to give themselves another layer of protection if somebody opened fire. The track wasn’t wide enough for them to turn their cars around, though. If they had to flee, they would have to do it by driving in reverse. Not a thought Tom wanted to dwell on.

  “They might see us coming,” Brandon said, “with most of the leaves off the trees.”

  “Remember they’re inside a building, a shed with no windows.” Tom had made Pete describe it in detail so the deputies would know what they were dealing with. “Pete said he’s never seen anybody acting as a lookout. They seem pretty sure they won’t get caught. But now that they know we’re after them, we can’t assume anything.”

  Tom turned onto the dirt track. He could hear Brandon’s rapid, shallow breaths.

  He switched off his headlights, and in the rearview mirror he saw them blink off on every car, one by one. Only the running lights allowed them to see each other and stay on track in the inky darkness.

  Half a mile in, Tom saw lights up ahead through the trees. “Looks like lanterns on poles,” he said. “You see any men?”

  “No,” Brandon said. “But there’s plenty of cars parked in there. “

  “We’ll go the rest of the way on foot.” Tom shifted into park and killed the engine. The deputies behind him did the same.

  Silently they emerged from their vehicles and closed the doors without a sound. Only Joe would stay behind with his vehicle. Tom drew his pistol. Everybody had extra handcuffs, metal and plastic, attached to their equipment belts. They were as ready as they would ever be.

  Tom gave a short, low whistle, his signal to follow him in. Moving forward, he raised his weapon. Behind him, he heard the deputies’ boot soles scuffing through dry leaves as they picked their way along the dark path.

  As they got closer, Tom heard men shouting encouragement and curses, groaning in disappointment. When he entered the clearing, he crouched behind one of the parked cars and motioned for the other men to get down too. He wanted to watch and listen for a few minutes and get some idea of what they might encounter. The “shed” Pete had described was a good-sized building, maybe forty by thirty feet. No windows. Tin roof. It wasn’t built for human habitation and had probably been constructed specifically for the dogfights. Battery-operated camp lanterns hung on hooks outside the door and in several places around the clearing, probably to make parking easier.

  Tom estimated twenty vehicles in the clearing, some of them older trucks and cars, some newer, more expensive cars. These exhibitions of animals tearing each other apart attra
cted men from the lowest to the highest levels of society. Tom had heard that some spectators would drive a hundred miles or more to gamble on a fight.

  A sudden howl made Tom jump. It took him a second to place the sound. It was coming from inside a big van parked next to the building’s door. Another dog joined in. The dogs waiting their turn were getting worked up by the noise of the crowd inside.

  Tom waited to see if anybody would come out to silence or check on the dogs in the van. When nobody did, he stood and motioned to his team. He drew in a deep breath and, heart suddenly racing, charged toward the shed. He slammed a booted foot into the door, knocking it open, and ran inside with his gun raised and ready. The other deputies piled in behind him.

  Curses and shouts of alarm rose from the men in the room. Several made for the door, but they ran into a barricade of deputies with drawn pistols. Cigarette smoke clouded the air, and the only light came from the lanterns hanging above the fighting pit.

  “Face the wall!” Tom yelled. “Now! Put your hands up and keep them where we can see them.”

  The deputies shoved men against the walls and started patting them down.

  “Cuff everybody,” Tom said. “We’re taking all of them in.”

  That was greeted with a chorus of groans. “Aw, come on,” one man protested. “Don’t the cops have anything better to do than keep people from having fun?”

  “Shut up, all of you,” Tom said. Scanning the room, he realized with a stab of disappointment that the one man he wanted wasn’t there.

  Brandon, frisking the big man named Ellis, called out to Tom from the far side of the room. “Hey, Captain!” He held up a pistol. “This guy was carrying.”

  Tom edged past lined-up men to reach Brandon and Ellis. “You in charge tonight?” he asked Ellis.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Captain.”

  “Yeah, and I guess you didn’t notice what was going on here.” Tom looked down into the depression in the dirt floor, where two pit bulls had backed away from each other, distracted by all the activity among the people in the room. One dog’s cheek dripped blood from a torn flap of skin. The other dog cowered against the side of the pit, alternately staring up at the people and licking at a gash in its side. The fight, Tom guessed, hadn’t been underway long before the deputies broke in.