The Silence of the Llamas (9 page)

Maggie thought Tink and Walley looked very cute, though she’d have to send Phoebe out later with some paper towels and a bottle of Windex. Lucy’s canine friends had fogged up the entire lower half of the glass.

•   •   •

Lucy hadn’t thought much about Maggie’s tough love when she left the shop that morning. But that night after dinner, when she took the vest out of her knitting bag and spread it out on her lap, she suddenly regretted that she had not persuaded her knitting mentor to fix the messy spot and leave her to build character with some other, more important, life challenge.

Picking over the wayward stitches and trying to figure out where she’d gone wrong, she sighed out loud in frustration.

“What are you working on, honey?” Matt was stretched out on the couch in their small sitting room, channel surfing. The dogs were stretched out side by side on the area rug, working on chew toys.

“Building character. ‘What doesn’t kill us makes us stronger,’ ” she mumbled, quoting Friedrich Nietzsche and knowing Matt had no idea what she was talking about. She looked up at his puzzled expression. “I’ve messed up your vest, and Maggie wants me to figure it out for myself. She thinks it will make me a better person.”

“I get it. Well, I think you’re a pretty cool person right now. I don’t see much room for improvement. Can’t you just cut out the tangled part or something?”

Lucy had to smile at his compliment and the suggestion. “Wish I could. But, once again, knitting imitates life.”

She dug the pattern out of her bag and tried to figure out where she’d gone wrong. Matt finally stopped the remote on a nature documentary about giant grizzly bears. Not Lucy’s first choice. But at least it wasn’t sports and he wasn’t bouncing around the channels for hours, which gave her a headache.

The mighty brown bears were ambling through rushing streams and gorging on wild salmon. Matt was dozing off, one hand hanging off the couch, absently patting Walley on the head.

His cell phone rang, jarring him awake, and he pulled it from his shirt pocket. “Dr. McDougal,” he answered as he abruptly sat up. “Really? That’s terrible. . . . Where is the wound?”

That single word and the sharp tone of his question caught Lucy’s attention. He was totally focused, listening with a somber expression to the pet owner on the other side of the line.

“Keep pressure on it. I’ll be there as fast as I can.”

Lucy had already dropped her knitting and waited for him to end the call. “Who was that? What’s wrong?”

Matt picked up one of his jogging shoes and pulled it on without untying the laces. “The Kruegers. . . . One of the llamas was just stabbed. Dot found it out in the pasture. I have to get over there right away.”

“How awful . . .” Lucy’s mind spun with inferences. More violence at the Krueger farm. Who was doing this? Why? How cruel to target these poor animals . . .

She couldn’t stay home alone, waiting hours for Matt to come back and tell her what had happened. She wouldn’t be able to stand it.

“Can I come with you? Maybe I can help.”

Lucy had never asked to go on one of his calls before. But Ellie was a friend. And she did think she could help him. If only to carry the heavy instruments he might need to examine the injured animal.

He glanced up as he tugged on his other shoe. “You can come if you want to. But it sounds bad. A lot of blood,” he warned. “It won’t be pretty.”

Lucy jumped up and grabbed her jacket and house keys. “Don’t worry, I can take it.”

Lucy knew that she sounded very calm. But secretly, she only hoped that was true.

•   •   •

As they drove out to the farm in Matt’s truck, he stared straight ahead with complete concentration on the road.

Lucy felt her anxiety building the closer they got. “This is so strange . . . and horrible. They have to call the police now, don’t you think?”

Matt nodded. “I gave them a chance, but it looks like I
have to contact the police this time. I don’t know what’s going on over there between them and their neighbors. But I’m not going to see any more animals hurt. Not if I can help it.”

Lucy nodded but didn’t answer aloud. She reached across the seat and held his hand.

Once they were out in the countryside, Matt’s foot was heavy on the pedal and they flew along the empty roads. Lucy hoped they wouldn’t meet up with a trooper and a radar gun, hiding in a cruiser behind the trees somewhere. Maybe the police gave a pass to veterinarians on emergency calls?

They arrived at the Laughing Llama Farm about forty minutes later, and Matt only slowed down a little as he drove the truck through the gate and straight out to the meadow where the llamas were corralled.

Darkness had settled across the landscape, but out in the field they saw a cluster of flashlights and a large camping lamp. Lucy could make out the shadowy figures of Dot, Ellie, and Ben gathered around a llama stretched out on the ground. Dot knelt beside the animal, wearing yellow rubber gloves and pressing a folded towel to the llama’s shoulder. A blood-soaked towel, Lucy realized as they drew closer.

In the darkness she could see a dark pool beside the animal and Dot’s gloved hands covered in blood, as well.

Matt ran straight to the llama, clutching his medical bag. Lucy followed.

“Matt . . . thank God you’re here. She’s fading. We can hardly hear her breathing anymore . . .” Ellie sounded nearly hysterical. Ben stood beside her and touched her shoulder.

The animal seemed in distress, breathing heavily. Dot
was near the llama’s head, petting her body and making soft sounds. She looked distressed, too, her face tear-stained.

Matt knelt down and quickly examined the llama. He lifted the towel to check the wound, which was in the animal’s shoulder, just below its long neck. Then he put it back again. “You need to put more pressure on this wound, Dot. It’s in a tough spot. We can’t make a tourniquet.”

Dot nodded, her expression bleak. Lucy watched her lean forward and press down with both hands on the blood-soaked towel.

Matt quickly peered into the llama’s eyes, which were almost closed, and then listened to its heartbeat with his stethoscope. He already had gloves on, somehow, though Lucy had not noticed when he’d managed to do that.

He flipped open his bag and pulled out instruments. “We have to stop the bleeding. She’s lost a lot of blood and there’s no time and no way to give her a transfusion. I can’t give her any tranquilizer—her heartbeat is too slow. We have to hold her down while I close this up. . . . Someone hold that light up for me. Right here, above her head . . .”

Ellie grabbed the camp light and held it where Matt said.

“The rest of you get down here and help hold her.” He turned to Dot, Ben, and Lucy and showed them where to grab on to the animal. “She’s very weak. She won’t put up much of a fight,” he predicted, pulling out what looked like a plastic clamp from the bag. “The cut is deep. Looks like it hit an artery. I’m going to try to clamp it and stop the blood flow . . .”

He pushed the towel aside and began working on the wound. Lucy turned her head away. Matt had been right—it
was difficult to watch. She focused on her task, holding down the llama’s right foreleg, which jerked back and forth a bit. But the poor thing was quite weak, and Lucy was able to hold the leg steady.

Matt worked on the wound for a few minutes. Lucy couldn’t tell if he was making any progress, though he did begin putting in stitches.

Suddenly the llama made a horrid, gasping sound. It shivered all over, and pink foam bubbled up at its mouth.

Ellie screamed and dropped the light. “What’s that? What’s happening to her?”

Ben looked up at her but didn’t say anything. He looked stunned, Lucy thought, his eyes about to spill over with tears as he stared back down at the animal. Matt had taken out a syringe but didn’t use it.

The llama went rigid, its eyelids flickering wildly for a moment. Then it shuddered again and its body went limp. The llama stared up at them with a sightless gaze.

Lucy knew instinctively it had died.

Matt felt its neck for a pulse, then closed the llama’s eyes with his hand. He sat back on his heels and looked up at Ellie and Ben. “I’m sorry. . . . I did all I could. I clamped that artery. But she’d lost too much blood. . . . I’m sorry,” he said again. “She’s gone.”

“Gone? You mean she’s dead?” Ellie sounded shocked. Her mouth hung open a moment, and her eyes widened in a horrified stare. “That’s horrible! I can’t believe it. It was just a cut on her shoulder. How could that be?”

Matt stood up and tugged off his gloves. “The wound was
short but deep. The blade hit an artery. By the time I closed it off, it was too late.”

“Oh . . . I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to blame you. It’s not your fault,” Ellie apologized. She turned back to the llama and reached down to touch her head. “Poor Daphne . . . she was my very favorite . . .”

Ellie’s voice trailed off on a loud sob as she started crying. Ben comforted her, turning her face in to his broad shoulder.

“Why is this happening to us, Ben?” Lucy heard her say. “Why?”

Ben didn’t answer at first, just stroked her back and hair.

He looked at Matt. “I still don’t understand. It was just her shoulder. How could she have died from that?”

Matt nodded. “Yes, I know. It didn’t look serious. But it was.”

Lucy was amazed at his patience. He explained again how the cut had severed an artery, which caused severe blood loss. That, combined with the time it had taken him to reach the farm, had left her with only a slim chance of survival.

Dot let out a long sigh, then a quiet sob. She sniffed hard and wiped the back of her hand across her eyes. “Poor thing. . . . It just isn’t right. She was such a sweetheart. The sweetest in the herd. Who would do a thing like that to poor little Daphne? I don’t understand. I don’t get it at all.”

She looked over at Ellie and Ben, tears squeezing out the corners of her small blue eyes and down her chapped cheeks. Ellie stepped over and patted Dot’s broad back.

Matt stood up. Lucy’s heart hurt for him; he looked so sad and defeated. She knew that he lost patients from time to time and had to put many animals down. That was just part of his
practice. But she knew it hurt him to see an animal die, especially this way, from a violent, unnatural cause.

“I’m sorry,” he said again. “You can have an autopsy performed to find out the exact cause of death.”

“We will have her autopsied,” Ben answered in a low tone, edged with anger. “We’ll need that for court. When the police arrest Justin Ridley.”

Ellie turned to him. “We need to call the police, Ben. This time, we really have to.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll call right now.” Ben took out his phone and dialed 911. Lucy heard him talking to the dispatcher, explaining the situation. While it wasn’t a true emergency, Lucy guessed that uniformed officers, or even detectives, would be sent out to make a report and examine the area. She wondered if they could find any clues at all in the dark.

She did recall that there were security cameras set up around the property. She wondered if any had captured the stabbing incident. The police wouldn’t have to look too far to catch the guilty party if the cameras had done their job, she reflected.

Matt was talking quietly with Dot. Lucy walked over and stood beside him.

“We’ve been keeping the herd in the barn at night,” Dot was explaining to Matt, “ever since Saturday. I had led most of them back and put them in their stalls. Only Daphne was left. I saw her at the very edge of the pasture, by the road, and decided to come back for her. It had gotten dark, and I could hardly see without my light. When I came back out, she was gone. I thought maybe she had bust loose somehow. Taken a
leap over the fence. But she was a good girl. Never a jumper. So that didn’t make sense.”

Dot sighed, looking sad again, recalling the llama’s sweet disposition. “I flashed the light around, calling her name. Then I heard her bleating and found her. She’d fallen to her knees, the blood streaming out of her side. . . . It was . . . horrible.” Dot shook her head, overcome now with emotion. She wiped her hand across her mouth and sighed. “I started screaming and Ellie came out. We tried our best to stop the bleeding. We didn’t know what else to do.”

Matt reached out and touched her arm. “You did all you could, Dot. That was a mortal blow. Short of a transfusion, there was nothing anyone could do to save her.”

Dot sighed and nodded. “At least I was with her at the end, talking to her, stroking her head. I think that calmed her a little.”

“I’m sure it did,” Matt said knowingly.

Dot had removed her large rubber gloves, but the front of her clothes—a flannel shirt and jeans—were covered with blood. She seemed unmindful of the mess. She was in shock, Lucy realized, but still holding herself together. She was a hardy one, that was for sure.

Ben and Ellie had been talking privately after he finished his call to the police. As they walked over together, Ellie held Ben’s arm and wiped her eyes with a clump of tissues.

“The police will want to talk to you, Dot,” Ben said. “And with you, too, Matt,” he added.

“We can stay. It’s not a problem,” Matt replied.

Ben nodded. “I guess they could catch up with you in town tomorrow, but it’s probably best to just get this over with.”

“Were you out here with Dot when she found Daphne?” Matt asked him.

“No, I was on my way home from town. Ellie was in the house, starting dinner. Right, honey?” He turned to her and she nodded.

“I was at the sink, and I heard Dot scream. I grabbed a light and ran out as fast as I could. After I saw what happened, I called Ben on my cell phone. Dot and I didn’t know what to do. Well, she had some idea. But I was . . . horrified. I’m afraid I wasn’t much help.”

Lucy could imagine the panicked scene. A replay of Saturday’s event . . . only this time with real blood instead of paint.

“Luckily, I wasn’t far,” Ben added. “I told Ellie to call you and drove straight out to the pasture.”

Dot had walked back to the barn and now returned. Lucy could see that she’d changed into a clean sweatshirt and khaki pants rolled up at the cuff to accommodate her short legs. She carried a large blue tarp and spread it carefully over Daphne, as if tucking a beloved child into bed.