Bleeding Through: A Rachel Goddard Mystery (Rachel Goddard Mysteries) (15 page)

“The artist who draws the comic strip?” asked Mrs. Rose, Max’s owner. She scooped up the little dog. “I’m dying to meet him. I still can’t believe he actually lives here. Would you introduce me to him?”

“Sure. We’re finished anyway.” Ben had come to Mason County to live a quiet, anonymous life, but as the only celebrity in a rural mountain community, he attracted attention everywhere he went. “Come with me.”

Ben held court by the front desk, having effectively brought the whole place to a standstill. Shannon, the receptionist, regarded him with dreamy eyes. Holly flushed with pleasure at having Ben’s arm around her shoulders, marking her as a friend. The other vets, along with their clients, peppered Ben with questions about Hamilton and Sebastian, his Maine coon cat and dachshund, whose fantasy lives he chronicled in the wildly popular syndicated comic strip
Furballs.
Michelle looked on with a smile. Ben’s arrival, Rachel was happy to see, had done wonders for Michelle’s mood.

Rachel introduced Mrs. Rose as promised, but Ben focused on the dog rather than the owner. Although he was friendly and polite with people, almost any animal interested him more than humans did. In that way he was a lot like Rachel.

“This is Maximilian,” Mrs. Rose said.

“Hey, little guy, that name’s longer than you are,” Ben told the dog, scratching its head. “You’re more like a maximillionth.”

Everybody laughed. Rachel rolled her eyes.

“Sorry to break this up, folks,” she said, “but my sister and I have a lunch date with this gentleman, so we’re going to take him away from you now.”

With parting words and smiles, the crowd around Ben started drifting away. Only Holly remained, standing awkwardly at the edge of their little group.

“Holly,” Michelle said, lightly touching her arm, “would you join us? You and I should get to know each other better.”

Holly beamed. “Oh, I’d love to! Thanks for asking me.”

That’s my sister
, Rachel thought. You never knew whether you were going to get a prima donna or sweetness itself. Then she realized Michelle probably had another motive for inviting Holly. With her along, they could get through the meal without talking about the stalker.

Rachel took a minute to give Mrs. Rose’s bill to Shannon, then stashed her white coat in her office and grabbed her shoulderbag. As she rejoined the others at the front desk, the main door opened and Detective Nate Fagan walked in.

He spotted Rachel a few feet away and headed toward her. She took a step back. What the hell was he doing here? How could he dare to come to her place of business, to sail right in as if he had a right?

A smile that looked more like a grimace appeared on Fagan’s face. He held out a hand to Rachel. “Dr. Goddard. It’s good to see you. I was hoping you’d have some time to talk to me.”

“I don’t have any information to give you about the Shelley Beecher case, if that’s why you’re here.” She ignored his outstretched hand, and after it hung in the air between them for an awkward moment he withdrew it.

“No, it’s not that. It’s, uh, something else.”

What would that
something else
be? Did he want to discuss all the ways he had failed her after Perry Nelson tried to kill her? “I’m sorry, but I’m on my way out to lunch,” Rachel said.

By now Fagan had recognized Michelle. He didn’t bother offering his hand to her, probably because she was glaring at him as if he’d sprouted horns and cloven hooves. “I didn’t realize you were in Mason County,” he said. “I’m glad to see you. How are you?”

Michelle stepped closer to Rachel and laid a hand on her back, a gesture of solidarity Rachel found a little surprising but comforting. “We’d like to go now, if you don’t mind.” Michelle’s tone said what she would never say aloud,
Get the hell out of our faces, jerk.

Holly threw a questioning glance at Rachel, but Rachel wasn’t about to explain anything or introduce her to Fagan.

He stuck the rejected hand in a pocket and started jingling his keys. He still had that damned annoying habit. “One minute?” he said to Rachel. He darted a glance at Michelle. “Actually, I’d like to talk to both of you.”

Both of them? What the heck was he up to? For a second Rachel wondered if he wanted to discuss the stalker, but Fagan worked in Fairfax County, Virginia, not in Mason County and not in Bethesda, Maryland, where Michelle lived. He probably didn’t know Michelle was being stalked, and if he did it wouldn’t concern him professionally.

“Why do you want to talk to me?” Michelle asked.

“Because I have some—”

“I’ll give you one minute,” Rachel told Fagan. She might as well surrender. If she didn’t, he would keep coming back. “There’s no reason to involve my sister. Step into my office, please.”

She strode toward her office with Fagan close behind. Once there, with the door closed, she faced him and said, “Well?”

“How have you been? You have a nice business here.” Fagan scanned the office as if he could assess the entire veterinary practice from this small space.

Was she imagining his nervousness? No. Fagan had a tight, jittery look about him, from his slightly flushed face to his stiff posture. “I’m doing very well, thank you,” Rachel said. “Could we get to the point, so I won’t keep my sister and our friends waiting?”

He drew a breath, let it out, met her eyes for the first time. “Look, Dr. Goddard—Rachel. I know you blame me for Perry Nelson getting off, and maybe it was partly my fault—”

“You did a great job of defending him. His lawyer hardly had to say a word.”

“Maybe my testimony wasn’t what—”

“The damage is done, it can’t be changed. What’s the point of discussing it now?”

Fagan sighed. “I’m glad things worked out for you.”

“Is that what you came to say? If it is, I’d like to join my sister and our friends now.”

He held up a hand. “No, Rachel, listen to me. Please. I need time to talk to you properly, we need to sit down together, someplace where we won’t be interrupted.”

A prick of apprehension kept Rachel silent, frowning at him.

“If you don’t have time now, could we arrange to talk later? You and your sister both. She really needs to hear this too.”

“No,” Rachel said. “I don’t know what you’re getting at, but I’m sure there’s no reason to drag my sister into it. Whatever you have to say, you’d better say it right now, because you won’t get another chance.”

“It’s important,” Fagan said, pleading. “It’s probably the most important information anybody will ever give you. And it’s just as important to your sister. It’s about…” His voice fell and softened. “…your mother.”

Rachel shivered as if she’d plunged into freezing water. She wanted to turn and run, but she felt rooted to the spot, unable to move. When she spoke, some detached part of her mind noted with surprise that her voice sounded firm and calm. “You don’t know anything about our mother. You have nothing to tell us.”

“Rachel, just listen to me, please.” Fagan stepped closer, but she moved back, refusing to let him within three feet. He gave up, stood still. “I do have something to tell you. Something you deserve to know. I’ve thought about you off and on, I knew Nelson was harassing you even after he went to the hospital, and I felt bad about that. Anyway, I learned a little about your family when I was working that case, and I’ll admit I was curious enough to want to know more. Being curious is what I do for a living, I guess you could say. I’m a born snoop.”

Fagan tried a self-deprecating little smile, but Rachel’s face felt as if it were carved from stone. She gripped the shoulderbag’s strap with both hands, her fingernails biting into her palms.

Fagan’s short pause passed in silence. Rubbing a hand over his stubbly dark hair, he said, “God, this is hard. I knew it wouldn’t be easy, but—I have to get it out, though. I’ve kept it to myself too long already. What happened was, I remembered how your mother—how Judith Goddard died, and I wondered what might have led her to do that. I started looking into her life, her marriage, the family’s background—”

“Stop.” Rachel’s mouth had gone dry. She backed up against her desk, sought the edge with her hands, grasped it to steady herself. “I don’t want to hear any more.”

Fagan stared at her. “Good god. You already know, don’t you?”

“You started digging around in our family history because you were
curious
?” Rachel heard her voice rising and fought to stay calm.

Holding up both hands defensively, Fagan said, “I put the pieces together. They’re all there for anybody who wants to look.”

The same way I did it
, Rachel thought.
Piece by piece.
But she’d had a reason. It was her life, hers and Michelle’s. “What right did you have? It’s none of your business.”

“Are you serious? Rachel, a crime was committed. A crime against you and your sister and your family.”

“And the person who did it is dead. You can’t arrest her. What do you want from me? Why are you here?”

“I assumed you didn’t know. I mean, your sister was just three, but you were six when Judith Goddard abducted you, so I thought you might have some memories of your real family, but I didn’t see any indication that either of you knew the truth.”

“And you wanted to be the one to tell us.” The cold shock she’d felt at first was melting into fury. “You thought you’d walk in here and drop this bomb on us, and then—what? We’d fall on our knees in gratitude?”

“I guess I expected—” Fagan broke off, frowning, looking baffled. “Well, I sure didn’t expect
this
reaction.”

“Who else have you told?” Rachel demanded. “Have you informed the police in Minnesota that you’ve solved their cold case? Have you told—” She couldn’t make herself say
our mother.
“Have you told the family?”

“No, I haven’t told anybody. I thought you and your sister deserved to hear it first.”

Thank god, thank god for that, at least.
But what would Fagan do now? “I want you to keep this to yourself,” Rachel said. “You won’t be doing anybody any favors if you bring it out in the open.”

He shook his head. “Why, Rachel? You were raised by a woman who stole you from your real family. I know she treated you well, and you probably loved her—Is that it? You want to protect Judith Goddard’s memory? You don’t want her exposed? But don’t you want to know your real family?”

“My sister is my family, and I’m hers,” Rachel said. “Can’t you leave us alone and forget about us? You seem to think you’re helping us, but you’re not. Believe me, you’re doing a lot more damage than good right now.”

“I don’t understand.”

“No, you don’t.” Rachel felt herself veering out of control, and she paused, squeezed her eyes shut for a moment. She tried to breathe deeply, but she couldn’t force enough air past the tightness in her chest.

“Then explain it to me,” Fagan said.

He sounded like Tom. How many times had Tom said those words?
If I don’t understand, then explain it to me.
With Tom she knew she would find understanding if she could get the words out. But how could she make Fagan see that he couldn’t trample all over other people’s lives and expect gratitude in return?

When she didn’t speak immediately, Fagan started filling the silence. “Regardless of how well she treated you, what Judith Goddard did to you was…monstrous, that’s the only word I can come up with. I’ve got kids of my own, and I can’t even imagine what it would be like to—How did you figure it out? Did you remember your real family and start looking for answers? How long ago did you—”

“I’m not going to confide in you.” Rachel stood straighter, squared her shoulders. “I’m not going to spill out my whole story for you, no matter how many questions you ask. But I will tell you that I know who my birth mother is and where she lives. I know my birth father is dead, that he killed himself after we disappeared because the police hounded him, trying to prove he was responsible. I know all that. I’ve chosen, and my sister has chosen, to continue living the only lives we know. As Rachel and Michelle Goddard. That’s who we are. We won’t take on new identities at this stage.”

“But they’re your real identities. You have a family—”

“No.” Rachel held up a hand to stop him. “Those people are strangers to us. We don’t have any emotional ties to them, and we don’t want to be forced into pretending we do while the whole world looks on. We don’t want to open up the past. We don’t want to be on television and in magazines and newspapers as the long-lost children who came back home.”

Fagan stuck a hand in his pants pocket and began jingling his keys. “Man, I really called this one wrong.”

“What are you going to do with the information? Are you going to use it, or will you forget it and leave us in peace?”

Fagan took an agonizingly long moment to answer. While he stared at the floor and ran a thumbnail back and forth over his lower lip, Rachel had to stifle an urge to grab him and shake him until he said what she wanted to hear.

His eyes met hers. “I don’t know how you can be so cold.”