AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Vets.”
“Like as in military vets?”
“No. Veterinarians.”
“Oh.”
Rachel winked at him. “I’ll give ’em a call. Thanks for the backing.”
“I mean… wait. Like puppy and bunny vets? Or like big bear and cool shit vets?”
“I don’t know what that means, Morgan.”
She stepped away, phone rising already. It had been a while since she’d spoken with the Dentons. Close friends of her aunt… She didn’t normally like interacting with people from the rez. Ever since she joined the Rangers, she’d been accused of selling out her own.
But the reason she’d joined was tohelp.How often were Native victims ignored? The crimes against them left unsolved?
She shook her head, summoning a stiff, inner resolve, and placed the call.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Rachel glanced over her shoulder, making sure no one was watching as she carefully lifted the police tape and guided Avon and Magnolia Denton through the fence surrounding the crime scene. The sun was high in the sky, casting a bright glow over the desolate field.
“Thank you for coming on such short notice,” Rachel whispered to the couple, both in their fifties and kindly in demeanor. They were local veterinarians who worked for the reservation. Both of them had a clean-cut look about them. And both of them had kind eyes with a distant sort of look, as if they’d seen far too much in the world. The woman, Magnolia, wore a long green dress with a pattern of flowers of many colors. Her hair was long and straight, touching the top of her back. The man wore blue jeans and a short-sleeved plaid button-up shirt. His hair was tied at the back of his head in a ponytail.
“Of course, dear,” Magnolia replied. “Whatever you need.”
As they approached the two lifeless bodies, the couple exchanged glances, and Rachel could see the concern in their eyes. Despite their primary profession, they were highly educated medical professionals—Dr. Avon Denton held an undergraduate degree in forensic science, while his wife, Dr. Magnolia Denton, specialized in pathology during her veterinary studies.
“Such a tragedy,” Avon murmured, kneeling beside the first victim and examining the cuts along the neck.
Ethan Morgan stood off to the side, keeping an eye out in case anyone started questioning the credentials of the two new arrivals. Rachel had instructed him to say they were both CSIs.
Avon’s gloved fingers were steady as he gently probed the edges of the lacerations.
“How are things, Rachel?” he said in that familiar, soothing voice of his. A voice developed over nearly three decades working with wounded and injured creatures.
Rachel had often visited the vet clinic during her time on the rez. It had been one of the happy highlights. Many conversations had occurred there—where she’d sat on the hand-carved wooden bench in the lobby, watching passersby bring their distraught creatures through the entrance. She’d felt, in some ways, that those times had been just as healing for her as for the animals.
“Oh, you know,” she said conversationally. “Same ol’, same ol’.”
He glanced up at her. “You givin’ me a bullshit answer or an answer answer?” He smiled to show he was kidding.
The familiar phrase evoked a grin of her own. He’d often asked the same question when she’d been younger. An answer answer? Or a bullshit answer?
She said, “Probably a bit of both.”
“That’s nice,” Magnolia said, distractedly.
Rachel could feel Ethan’s eyes moving over to them, watching with extreme curiosity. She tried not to look in his direction. It felt vulnerable to reveal these friends of hers, but it was touching that they’d come at a moment’s phone call.
“How long’s it been since we’ve seen you?” said Avon. And though his tone was pleasant, there was a note of acerbity in it, like a hint of lemon in a cup of water.
“Oh, huh. Probably three years? Auntie’s fiftieth birthday party was the last time, I think.”
Magnolia gave Rachel a sympathetic smile. “We’ll have to catch up properly soon.”
Magnolia knelt by the second body, taking care not to disturb any potential evidence. She looked up at Rachel, concern etched into the lines around her eyes. “How have you been holding up, dear? Did things work out with that Martin fellow? He seemed nice.”
