Page 69

CHAPTER 69

AS THE VETERINARY NURSE exited the emergency vet’s examining room, she gave Baby the kind of disgusted look you give to something pulled out of a shower drain. Granted, Baby felt a little like something dragged through a pipe by a hook. She was tired, battered, and scared. They’d rushed Mouse to the emergency vet clinic, but it had been hours of waiting. The nurse directed the same look to Arthur as she peeled off her surgical gloves and tossed them into a bin behind the counter.

“That animal,” she said coldly as she approached them, “has been used as a fighting dog. Is that correct?”

“I don’t know,” Baby said. “It’s possible. We’ve had him only a few days. I noticed the scars on his belly and his throat.” She tried to sound confident. “I assumed he got them either from dogfights or from beatings from his previous owner.”

“Uh-huh.” The nurse sighed through her nose. “And where did you obtain the dog, exactly?”

Baby thought of the ruse she’d pulled at the shelter. She licked her dry lips. “A friend gave him to us.”

“Does this friend have a name?” the nurse asked. “Because we’d sure like to know about those beatings or dogfights.”

“It wasn’t my friend who, uh, who did them.”

“Is the dog — ”

“Mouse. His name is Mouse,” Baby said.

“Is Mouse registered to you?”

“No ... not yet.”

The nurse sent her a look so icy, Baby felt the pang of frostbite in her fingertips.

“Look, we love that dog,” Arthur said. “We didn’t give those scars to him, and we don’t know who did. How we got him isn’t what counts here. What counts is that we’ve fed him and cared for him every second we’ve had him. If you choose to believe otherwise, I can’t help ya. Just tell us what the hell’s wrong with him and whether you can help him.”

The nurse folded her arms and made them wait while she thought it over for a long, painful moment.

“Antifreeze,” she said eventually. “Tastes sweet. Dogs love it. Just one lick can be enough to kill ’em, but not quick. Usually takes a couple of days. Shuts the kidneys down first, then goes through the body flicking lights off one at a time. Judging from his stomach contents, I’d say it was in the pork.”

“We didn’t give him any pork.” Baby looked at Arthur. “He’s been on wet and dry food but it’s all chicken-based.”

The vet nurse rolled her eyes. “I’ll need you to fill out some forms. And I’ll need a valid credit card to take a deposit for the treatment.”

“Is Mouse going to be okay?” Baby said. “Can you at least tell us that?”

“I’ll let the doctor decide what to tell you,” the nurse said. “He’s on the phone to the SPCA right now.”

Baby went to the counter and tried to fill out the form she was given, but her hands were shaking too badly. She wiped sweat from her brow onto the shoulder of her T-shirt. Arthur was at her elbow, looking twenty years older than he had yesterday. The hard light of midmorning was tormenting them both, making his eyes water and hers sting. All she wanted to do was go to sleep, but back on Waterway Street, the air was thumping as loudly with stereo systems as it had been the previous night. She’d caught a small nap in the plastic chairs in the vet’s waiting room as Mouse fought for his life somewhere in the bowels of the building. But it hadn’t helped alleviate her guilt.

When Rhonda called, Baby let her thumb hover over the decline button for a long moment before picking up. “Yeah?”

“Listen to this,” Rhonda said in greeting. “‘A resident of Ukiah, six-year-old Chelsea Hupp, perished yesterday in a devastating forest fire that consumed acres of farmland on the east side of the county. Police said they are investigating how the large-scale ecological disaster began but won’t say yet whether they suspect foul play.’”

“Well, that’s horrifying,” Baby said. “Is this your new side hustle? You call people and tell them awful news? How do I unsubscribe?”

“Baby,” Rhonda said, “this is a story from thirty years ago. Troy’s parents believe Chelsea Hupp was their son’s first victim.” She described the aggressive encounter at the Hansen house, Barney Hansen’s assertion that his son had killed before, Reina Hansen delivering the covert note to Rhonda with Chelsea’s name.

“So is the assumption that Troy lit the fire?” Baby said. “Even if Chelsea died in it, that doesn’t mean Troy wanted to kill her. Maybe it was an accident. I mean, how old is Troy now?”

“I think thirty-seven?”

“So he would only have been seven years old when Chelsea died. Who starts killing at seven ?”

“I need to know more. I’m coming home.” Rhonda sounded like she was already driving. “Is everything okay there? Where are you?”

“I’m at the vet,” Baby said. “Mouse, uh ... ” She thought about telling her sister that she was hopelessly, miserably stuck in a situation she saw little to no hope of resolving and then describing the myriad ways she might’ve destroyed Arthur’s and Mouse’s lives in her unwinnable fight against a murderous corporation. Baby thought about telling Rhonda that she was in over her head. That she’d been wrong.

She envisioned what would happen next: Rhonda would sweep in and clean everything up with the kind of calm certainty that comes only from experience. It was tempting. Baby chewed her lip and watched Arthur, who’d taken over filling out the veterinary forms.

“Mouse needed a checkup, that’s all,” Baby said.

There was a pause. Baby heard Rhonda’s car rumbling. “I feel like there’s more you want to say, Baby.”

“There’s not.” Baby played with a pamphlet from a rack nearby. It was about intestinal worms. “When will you be back?”

“This afternoon.” Rhonda gave a stressed sigh. “I had some trouble on the way up. Took me longer than I thought.”

“What trouble?”

“Oh. It’s nothing. I thought someone was following me but ... I was wrong.”

Baby felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. “I feel like there’s more you want to say, Rhonda.”

“There’s not.”

Baby nodded. The sisters were silent for a time.

“Travel safe, then,” Baby said. “Keep me updated.”

“You too.”

As Baby hung up, an alert from the hidden camera on Arthur’s porch appeared on her screen. She opened the app and saw two people standing at Arthur’s front door: a man in blue coveralls with a clipboard under his arm — and Su Lim Marshall.