Bad Debt (Savannah Martin Mysteries Book 14)

by Jenna Bennett

  Out in the front of the house, there was the sound of the door opening. Pearl took off down the hallway like a shot, barking frantically.

  I lifted my head. “Did we remember to lock that when we came in?”

  Rafe nodded, at the same time as Mother raised her voice. Pearl, naturally, had stopped barking once she recognized Mother. “Hello?”

  “Kitchen,” I managed, and listened to Mother’s heels clicking down the hallway toward us, accompanied by the lighter clicking of Pearl’s nails.

  Mother came in saying something mundane, I’m not even sure what it was, and then she stopped. “Oh, dear. Savannah, darling...”

  “I’m all right,” I said. “I just feel like I’m going to faint.”

  Mother nodded. “Rafael—”

  And then she saw what he was doing, and turned pale. “Urk!”

  He glanced at her. “It’s OK. I’ve had worse.”

  Mother swallowed. I could see the effort it took. She was probably sick to her stomach, too, but she pushed through it. “Let me help you with that.”

  She disappeared out of sight around the island, and they got busy with band aids and gauze. Pearl abandoned me to stand there and watch, her tail twitching back and forth.

  “This isn’t a gunshot,” Mother asked, “is it?”

  “If it was a gunshot, there’d be a round hole.” Rafe’s voice was steady. “This is just a graze.”

  “From a bullet.”

  Rafe nodded. “He was waiting in the woods when we drove up.”

  Mother’s hands stilled for a second. “I hope he’s gone now.”

  “Pearl chased him off,” I said, from down on the floor. “Rafe saw his taillights drive away.”

  “Good.” Mother wound gauze around Rafe’s arm, pure white against his dusky skin. “Do you need anything for the pain?”

  “A couple Tylenol oughta do it. I don’t wanna drop out, just in case we have more trouble.”

  Mother nodded and went to get him the Tylenol. “I appreciate that.”

  “Don’t mention it.” He was smiling. I could hear it in his voice.

  It was probably time for me to get myself together, too. I wasn’t the one who’d been shot, after all. Or grazed.

  I dragged myself to my feet to take a look. Yes, neatly bandaged. Nothing to see here. “Sorry I wasn’t any help.”

  He shook his head. “Baby all right?”

  “Seems to be asleep.” At least there were no cartwheels anymore. I put a hand on my stomach. “We should try to get some of that, too. I don’t think I’m up for dessert after all tonight. I have to be up early to take the dog to the vet. And you need to rest.”

  He nodded. Mother dropped the Tylenol into his hand, and he knocked them back, with a water chaser.

  “What happens now?” She stood holding the glass and looking worried.

  “We go to sleep,” Rafe said. “Chances are the excitement is over for tonight. There’s nobody else left to take a shot at.”

  “How about Lupe Vasquez?” If someone had shot at the sheriff and at Rafe because of the Skinner investigation, maybe they’d shoot at her, too.

  Rafe glanced at me. “I’ll send her a text and tell her to be careful. But if I’m right, I don’t think she’s in any danger.” He suited action to words before he turned to Mother. “Set the alarm. The dog’ll let us know if anyone stops by.”

  Pearl wagged her stub of a tail from where she was lying in front of her food and water.

  “Does she need to go out again?” I asked.

  He shook his head. “If she didn’t take care of business in the woods, she can wait.”

  He had to push himself upright with his good hand. I moved to support him. “Hang onto me until we get upstairs.”

  “Don’t mind if I do.” He grinned down at me. It wasn’t his best effort, but it made me feel better. If he could smile like that, he was all right.

  We dragged ourselves up to the top of the stairs, and staggered down the hallway to my room. I dumped Rafe on the edge of the bed, and got to my knees in front of him to help him take off his boots. He grinned down at me. “If I wasn’t about to drop dead...”

  “Hold that thought,” I told him, as I yanked, “for twelve hours or so.” The boot came off and I started on the other one. “Unless it would make you sleep?”

  He shook his head. “I don’t think I’m gonna have a problem with that. And I’d rather be feeling good enough to participate.”

  I’d rather he felt good enough to participate, too. That’s not to say I wouldn’t do whatever I could right now to make him feel better. “Let’s take your pants off. Can you stand for a second?”

  He could. I unzipped him, and pulled the jeans down his legs. “OK. You can sit back down. It’s probably best if you just sleep in the T-shirt. Wait until your arm feels a little better to try to take it off.”

  He nodded. “Night, darlin’.”

  “Good night,” I said, and tucked him under the blankets before I got ready for bed myself, too.

  * * *

  I’d been worried about what else might happen, but we spent a quiet night. Nobody knocked on the door, nobody phoned, and there were no more shots outside. Obviously the unknown gunman had gotten what he came for. Rafe had dropped to the ground when the shot grazed him, so maybe the shooter thought he’d actually hit him, instead of just plowing a bloody furrow in Rafe’s upper arm.

  Somebody wanted him out of commission, obviously. He and the sheriff both.

  Someone who wanted the Skinner investigation stalled? Someone hoping to get away?

  But if someone had shot all the Skinners and wanted to get away with it, why had that someone even stuck around Maury County this long? He could have jumped in his car two nights ago, after plugging the last Skinner, and been long gone before anyone knew the Skinners were dead.

  So whoever it was had a reason for staying. A reason that was more compelling that the need to go. A family in Maury County? A job? A life?

  And maybe no obvious connection to the Skinners, making it easier to believe he wouldn’t come under suspicion?

  Whatever Rafe was thinking, I couldn’t imagine what it was. So I turned to look at him instead.

  It was early-ish, just after seven. I’m not sure what woke me, since I don’t usually wake up this early. Maybe it was the knowledge that I had to be at the veterinarian’s office in Columbia by nine. Or maybe Rafe had moved or made a noise. Maybe I was just worried about him.

  He was asleep now, anyway, his skin dusky against the white sheets. The wounded arm was on the outside of the blanket, the bandage still pristine. He hadn’t bled overnight, then. That was something to be grateful for. And he was sleeping peacefully.

  He’s a good-looking guy, whether he’s awake or asleep. Good bone structure, gorgeous physique. Pretty eyes, with long, sooty lashes that were lying against his cheeks right now. His lips were soft and slightly parted, and he was breathing quietly.

  Mostly, he looks very capable of taking care of himself—and everyone else who happens to come along. Mostly, he is. But there’s something about him when he’s vulnerable like this that just tugs at my heart. I love him so much it hurts, but at times like this, I just melt.

  He opened his eyes. From one second to the next, from sleep to alertness. “Morning, Goldilocks.” His voice was raspy, sending shivers down my spine.

  “Good morning,” I managed. “How are you?”

  “Fine.” His lips curved.

  I thought about telling him that yes, he was, but settled for a simple, “Me, too.”

  “So I see.” He reached for me. “C’mere.”

  “I’m not sure this is a good idea,” I said, even as I let him pull me closer. “Your arm...”

  “Ain’t gonna be bothered if you climb on.”

  Ah. Well, no. That shouldn’t affect his arm. “Are you sure you’re up for... I mean...”

  He chuckled. “Yes, darlin’. I’m definitely up for that.”

  H
e was. “I don’t want to hurt you,” I tried.

  “You ain’t gonna. Walking around like this all day is gonna hurt more than taking care of it now. There you go...”

  I positioned myself and sank down, and his eyes rolled back in his head.

  I stopped moving. “Oh, my God! Are you all right?”

  He smiled, his eyes hot under sleepy lids now. “Just keep doing that.”

  I kept doing it. And I’ll spare you the details. They’re private. Suffice it to say that when I staggered to the bathroom a bit later to clean up, we were both in a very good mood. And the bandage around Rafe’s arm was still pristine.

  “Are you going to the hospital this morning?” I asked when I came back out of the bathroom after showering and brushing my teeth.

  He nodded. “I gotta give the sheriff an update on everything that happened yesterday.”

  “Any chance you can get them to take a look at your arm while you’re there? Just to make sure you don’t need stitches?”

  “I don’t need stitches.” He was sitting on the edge of the bed preparing to get up. “But I’ll ask someone to take a look.” Since you insist. He didn’t say it, but it was implied.

  “Thank you,” I said. “Do you need a hand up? Is it OK for you to take a shower?”

  “It’s fine.” He accepted my hand to help him get upright. “I’m gonna unwind the bandage before I go in. Will you help me get it on again later?”

  I said I would. By now, hopefully that bloody furrow in his arm had healed enough that I wouldn’t pass out when I saw it. Worst case scenario, I’d ask Mother to help again.

  So he rinsed off while I got dressed and dried my hair, and ten minutes later we were on our way down the stairs together.

  Mother was in the kitchen sipping coffee. Between the sheriff and a shooter right outside her house, she might have spent a restless night. I had no idea. I’d dropped off pretty much as soon as my head hit the pillow. But she did look closer to her own age today, a bit more drawn and tired than usual. “I want to go to the hospital and see Bob,” she announced, with no preliminaries. “Would you like a ride?”

  Rafe nodded. “I’ll text Officer Vasquez and tell her to meet me there.”

  “The dog’s been out.” Mother turned to me. “She’s ready to go to the vet when you are.”

  “I need something to eat first.” The baby did uncomfortable things to my stomach lining when I was hungry. And I was hungry almost all the time.

  “There’s yogurt in the fridge,” Mother said, “and oatmeal in the cabinet.” She concentrated on pouring coffee into a travel mug, which she handed to Rafe. “Banana?”

  “Don’t mind if I do.” He snagged one from the bowl and winked at me. “Looks like we’re going.”

  It did look that way. “Stay in touch,” I told him, while I poured instant oatmeal into a bowl and added water. Steelcut oatmeal made properly on the stove is better, but I didn’t have that much time, either. This would have to do. “Please get someone to take a look at that wound. It’s great that it’s stopped bleeding, and it’s probably OK, but humor me.”

  He nodded. “Take care.”

  “I’m going to the vet,” I said. “It isn’t like I’m the one chasing down dangerous criminals.”

  “Humor me.” He dropped a quick kiss on my mouth, and then followed Mother out the back door. Pearl moved aside, politely. I closed and locked the kitchen door behind them, and watched them walk across the dead grass to the old carriage house, now the garage, where Mother’s car was parked.

  By then, my oatmeal signaled its completion from the microwave, so I didn’t stick around to watch them drive away. I did hear the car pull past the house and go off down the driveway, though.

  Pearl and I only stayed long enough for me to finish my oatmeal and a glass of milk. Not only did we have an appointment to keep, but I felt a little uncomfortable in the house by myself, to be honest. What if someone was watching? What if someone had seen Rafe and Mother drive away, and knew I was here by myself?

  I bundled Pearl into the car, and didn’t draw a deep breath until we were both locked in and on our way down the driveway.

  The drive to Columbia was uneventful. Nobody shot at me. Nobody stopped me. Nothing untoward or interesting happened. The phone didn’t even ring. I pulled into the Animal Hospital’s small lot with almost fifteen minutes to spare, and sat in the car for a minute to look around.

  A handful of vehicles were parked on the other side of the lot. Employees, most likely, staying out of the way and leaving the parking spots right up front to paying customers. (Yes, I had parked right up front.) There were a couple of seen-better-days small compacts—I guess maybe you don’t get rich from working in a veterinarian’s office—and a beat-up pickup truck. A nice BMW probably belonged to the doctor of veterinary medicine—Anderson, wasn’t it?—and then there was the big white truck with the multiple doors on the sides.

  Animal Control.

  I arched my brows and opened my door. “C’mon, Pearl. I know we’re early, but let’s go check it out.” And see if maybe the young woman I had met at Robbie’s crime scene two days ago was here.

  Was that significant, if she was? If she knew Doctor Anderson?

  Or was she here to take Pearl back? Yesterday, they’d told me I could keep her. But maybe it wasn’t that easy. Then again, possession is nine-tenths of the law. She was mine now. And in my possession. Wearing the leash and collar I had bought her.

  Bottom line, if anyone thought they could take her away from me, they had another think coming.

  I squared my shoulders and marched toward the entrance, ready to do battle. Only to be yanked back when Pearl dug her claws in and refused to walk through the door.

  I bounced back, and turned to her. “What’s the matter, sweetheart?”

  She was cowering, her head and stub of a tail drooping.

  “It’s all right,” I told her, stroking a hand down her back, where the bones of her spine stood out too prominently. “I won’t let them hurt you. If they have to give you a shot, it’s so you’ll feel better. But nothing bad’s going to happen to you. I promise. You’re coming home with me.”

  She shivered, and kept shivering. My hand came back covered with tiny hairs.

  Maybe this wasn’t a good idea. If there was a puppy or a kitten in the lobby, would Pearl feel compelled to attack it? And could I hold her back if she did?

  Maybe it would be better if I checked and made sure the lobby was empty before I took her inside. For everyone’s safety. And then had them take her directly into an exam room.

  I looped her leash over a handy hook that seemed to be there just for that purpose. “I’ll be right back.”

  I took the couple of steps toward the door and pushed it open, into the lobby. Now that I wasn’t holding on to Pearl’s leash anymore, and wasn’t trying to make her move, Pearl seemed more inclined to go with me. Or maybe she was just concerned that I’d run up against something I couldn’t handle, if she wasn’t there to protect me.

  The lobby was empty, and by now Pearl was standing next to me, ready to bark at any sign of trouble. I stepped back to unhook her leash, and we walked in. She started shivering pitiably as soon as we were inside, but by then we had made it through the door, and there was no turning back.

  “Savannah Martin,” I told the young woman—pink-haired—behind the counter. “Collier.”

  “That the name of the dog?”

  I shook my head. “That’s my husband’s name. I’m just getting used to it. The dog’s name is Pearl. I spoke to Doctor Anderson yesterday.”

  She nodded. “We have you on the schedule. Fill this out, please.” It was a sheaf of papers a half inch thick, attached to a clipboard.

  I looked at the top sheet. “I don’t know any of this information. I’ve had the dog since yesterday. We think she was used for dog fighting. If she wasn’t, she’s spent her life chained outside, underneath a trailer, without much to eat or drink. I just need som
eone to take a look at her to tell me if she’s healthy. But I have no idea about her history.”

  “Do the best you can,” Pink Hair told me.

  That would be easy enough, anyway, since the only thing I could do, pretty much, was sign the bottom of each page.

  “Do you have somewhere we can go, maybe? As I said, I think she was used for dog fighting. She decapitated a stuffed toy yesterday. I don’t want to be responsible for the consequences if someone brings a puppy or a kitten in here.” Or, God forbid, something even smaller, like a pet hedgehog or guinea pig. There wouldn’t be anything left.

  She looked at me in silence for a moment before she nodded. “Just a sec.”

  It was no more than that before the door between the waiting room and clinic opened and she waved us through. “You can wait in Exam 1. Doctor Anderson will be right in.”

  “Thank you.” I pulled Pearl, shivering like in a strong wind, into the empty exam room. “Sorry.”

  “She can smell the other dogs,” Pink Hair said. The voice of experience.

  I reached down to pet her. Pearl, not Pink Hair. “I saw the car from Animal Control outside. Is... um...” What was the name Rafe had given me two days ago? “—June here?”

  Pink Hair lowered her voice conspiratorily. “She and Doc Anderson are dating.”

  No kidding? “How long has that been going on?”

  “A year or so,” Pink Hair said, with a flip of those pink tresses. “How do you know June?”

  “Oh, I don’t really.” I reached to give Pearl another stroke. “I just met her at a crime scene a couple of days ago. When she picked up the dog.”

  “I heard about that.” She nodded. “A family up in the hills was shot.”

  “The Skinners. Did you know them?”

  But she hadn’t. Or said she hadn’t. Doctor Anderson had said the same thing, so it was probably true that the Skinners didn’t bring their dogs here for treatment. They probably hadn’t brought their dogs anywhere, the bastards. Just put a bullet in their brains if they got sick or hurt.

  Just as someone had done to the Skinners.