“I’ll be back at five to pick everyone up. Right here in this spot. Make sure y’all are here—we don’t wait.”
Everyone says goodbye to the driver and makes their way off the shuttle. I avoid the older couple, who seem like they would tag along if I showed any interest. Instead I move to the far ticket booth, paying the entrance fee in cash.
The black phone buzzes. Good old Barry is here. And it’s a sign. They’re heading for the Africa exhibit first, with its large, open areas and plenty of places to hide. Today I’m the lion in the brush, waiting to pounce on the gazelle.
CHAPTER 30
KEEPING A LOOKOUT FOR BARRY and his distinctive orange hat, I stop to buy another bottle of water. It’s sweltering. Most of the animals will be in the shade, not moving around much. When an hour passes and I haven’t spotted him, I get nervous.
A vendor selling lemon ice is doing a brisk business. It’s cold and refreshing, sliding down my throat as I sit on a bench people-watching. There haven’t been any more notifications for Barry, and I’m about to call it a day when I spot a group of four. He’s with the girlfriend and her two kids. The girl and boy shy away from his touch, almost as if they know what kind of person he is. The girlfriend…she looks oblivious. They are always the ones you see on the news later saying they had no idea. How the murderer seemed like such a nice person. Kids can sense when there’s a monster in their midst. I’ve become one of the monsters.
A mother walking by has a nervous look on her face. She pulls her two boys away from me, gives me a wide berth. Probably telling the kids to stay away from the crazy lady mumbling to herself.
“But I don’t want to see the lions. I want to go back to Lemur Island,” the little girl shrieks at her mother. The woman looks conflicted.
Barry speaks up. “Let’s not ruin the day. I’ll take Jason and you take Laura back to Lemur Island.” He looks at his watch. “How’s about in an hour and a half we meet up there?”
She looks relieved and nods. Jason doesn’t look too thrilled to be with Barry, but he tells his mother to go ahead.
Trailing along behind them but staying far enough back so he doesn’t notice, I almost miss it. When Barry puts his hand on the boy’s shoulder to show him something, the child flinches. Seems to pull within himself like a turtle. Abuser. Not just of animals. The door inside of me opens wide, letting the darkness out.
Most of the people are congregated around one area. Two lion cubs, oblivious to the heat, are playing. They’ll keep the crowd occupied for a while. Looks like this visit may be a total waste.
Jason looks to his mother’s boyfriend then away.
“Mr. Barry, I don’t care about baby lions. Can we go see the rhinos?”
“Sure, buddy.” His hand lingers a moment too long on the boy’s shoulder, making me sick to my stomach.
The rhino viewing area is deserted. It’s far from the other exhibits and it’s as if we suddenly have the zoo all to ourselves. Not wanting to spook them, I slow my pace. Give them space.
The boy’s fascinated by a huge rhino. I ignore the animal, looking around and spotting a section of tall grass near the western edge of where we’re standing.
There’s not even a breeze to cool me off. How do I separate them so the boy isn’t scarred for life? I’ve seen Barry eyeing every attractive woman he passes, and I wonder if there is a way for me to pull him aside, flirt with him? His phone rings. By the tone of his voice, it’s not someone he wants to talk to.
“Hold on a damn minute.” He turns. “I have to take this call. You stay right here and I’ll be back in a few minutes, okay, buddy?”
The boy looks relieved. He’s scribbling notes in a journal and sketching the huge beast. Occupied. My target is completely oblivious to his surroundings. He’s arguing with someone. Sounds like he’s in debt. As he moves out of earshot, I watch him step into the brush, lean against a tree. A natural dip in the landscape. It couldn’t be more perfect if I picked it out myself.
Without knowing how long the lion cubs will hold everyone’s attention, I’ve got to act. The clasp of the bag is warm against my gloved hand as I flip the top over, exposing what’s inside. Cool steel waits for me. I keep my hand on the gun inside the bag and step toward him. He’s sweating from the heat, face glistening in the sun, sweat stains darkening the underarms.
Instead of keeping an eye on the kid, he moves a few steps further away, ensuing the boy doesn’t hear him as he argues with the bill collector. My time is now, before people come looking for the rhinos.
There’s time for me to take aim. The noise is deafening. I have to get out of here quickly. My shot hits him in the head. He falls on the edge of a ditch and I squat down, shoving as hard as I can so he rolls over the edge into the tall grass. When I stand, I’m panting with exertion and sweating from the effort. There’s dirt on my black shorts and hands. I brush myself off as best I can and walk away from the exhibit. The sound of fast-moving footsteps and voices make me cringe. Good samaritans, or those who want to be first witness, are coming. I thrust the plastic gloves into my bag.
Jason is looking around, worry clear on his face. Fuck. I can’t just leave him there.
“Gosh. That was a loud noise. Where’s your dad?”
“Mr. Barry isn’t my dad. I can’t find him.” The boy’s voice breaks. He’s about to cry.
“I know your mom warned you about strangers. There’s a zoo employee around the bend. Look for the uniform. They can help you get back to your mom, okay?”
A little hand grabs mine. “I’m scared. Would you please help me find my mom?”
I start to refuse then realize no one’s going to be looking for someone walking with a child.
“Of course I’ll help you. I’m sure Barry just went to the bathroom. Do you want to wait for him?”
Old eyes inside a young face look up at me. “I don’t like him. He’s mean to Fluffy…and to me and Laura.”
“Come on.” I see a group of people looking around.
“We thought we heard what sounded like a gunshot. Did you see anything?” a man asks.
Jason and I look at each other. “We heard it too, but didn’t see anything.”
A woman puts her hand on the man’s shoulder. “It was probably the tram backfiring, hon.”
We leave them there arguing and make our way out of the Africa exhibit. “You know where your mom is?”
“They went to see the lemurs.”
I get him to the entrance of the exhibit and can’t go any further. While he might not put it together, she certainly will. I pretend my phone is vibrating and have a fake conversation.
Two zoo employees run past me toward the rhino exhibit. Another employee is talking to people. Reassuring them everything is fine. “This young man’s mother is lost.”
The guy immediately gets what I’m saying. “What’s her name, little dude? We’ll put out a call over the loudspeaker.”
The boy looks up at me and I nod. “It’s okay, he’ll help.”
“Please don’t leave me until she gets here.”
“I won’t.”
He gives the man the information and the announcement goes out over the loudspeaker. Jason’s looking around and his face lights up. He points. “There she is.”
The guy says, “She’ll be here in a moment. Don’t run off.” A crowd of tourists come through, cameras clicking, and I take my chance, backing away, melting into the crowd.
According to my phone, I have a mere twenty minutes to make my ride back to the hotel. I duck into a restroom and wash my hands. I’ve been incredibly stupid. The first time I didn’t bring a change of clothes with me. I was too focused on what I needed to do. Can’t make this kind of mistake again unless I want to end up in jail for the rest of my life. If I were standing closer to Barry, I would be covered in evidence. When I get back to the hotel, I’ll put the clothes in a bag and dispose of them in one of the hotel trash cans.
As the shuttle drives away, I look out the window to
see police cars pulling in. People are talking about what might’ve happened. I hear everything from terrorism to gangs. Not engaging, I pretend I’m busy on my phone.
Barry Hinkle is the fourth person I’ve killed. For the first time, I don’t cry. Not one tear. Who cried for the animals they hurt? No one. What about Jason? I know he did something nasty to the boy. Barry doesn’t deserve a single tear from me. He made a choice and today he paid for his choices. Justice for all.
Eventually, everyone pays.
CHAPTER 31
“NO.” I LOOK TO SEE if anyone heard me, but the row is empty. Everyone’s attending a departmental staff meeting that I elected to skip. I couldn’t care less about what’s going on in the industry right now. Used to be you’d find me sitting in the front third of the room. Now I only go when I’m told to. Even then I’ve been pretending to get a call and slipping out early.
Standing there before the meeting starts and making conversation—I’m finding it harder and harder. There’s too much to do. I don’t have time to stand around and talk about the bloody weather and latest celebrity gossip. Have we humans always been this shallow, or has it gotten worse in the last ten years? If aliens were looking down, I think they’d say screw it and wipe humanity off the face of the planet. Start again.
Over the weekend, I saw a mom and her daughter at the grocery. The little girl asked if she could have two treats instead of one. Said she’d been nice to the mean girl in her class. I swear she must’ve been six or seven. Mean girls are starting earlier than they used to. Her mom smiled and said sure. Watching them together…I’d like to have a normal life. Get married and have kids. But how could I? What would I say, “Hey, honey, you feed the baby while I go shoot this scumbag”? It just wouldn’t work.
We have a cafe in the lobby of my building. Sweet tea is calling my name.
“That all, hon?”
“And a pack of Spree.” In my desk I always keep ten or twenty dollars for times like this.
She hands me back my change. “Love the dress.”
The change goes in my pocket. “Thanks. Trying to stay cool.” The blue and white gingham sheath dress is perfect for summer.
With a swipe of my keycard, I’m back on my floor. A quick glance down the hall at the closed doors tells me I have time. It’s risky, but I do it anyway—pull up the article on my desk monitor. Walt Cunningham was found. And there was a witness. The cops think the shooting was related to money he owed to a lot of very bad people. Possibly drug-related.
Someone in the house with the lights on must’ve seen me. All the article says is they’re looking for a person of interest. A snort escapes. I’m interesting as hell. Did I leave any evidence at the scene?
Waves of heat roll over me and sweat pools under my breasts. When I pull my dress away from my skin to blow air, I see spots. If I were twenty-five years older I’d think I was having a hot flash. What I’m experiencing sounds exactly how a woman in customer services described it. The screen in front of my eyes starts to waver. I clench the armrests of my chair so hard one of my nails breaks, the pastel blue tip landing on the desk.
The guns aren’t registered, and I alternated them. Nothing is mentioned about the others. Maybe the ballistics haven’t come back yet? What else do they know? It’s not like I can go to the local gun shop and buy another gun. Nowadays they’re all registered. And that won’t do at all.
Think, Hope. Disguises will help. A list. Lists always calm me down. One of those party stores will have cheap wigs. Who cares what color, as long as they’re not brunette. With my hair short, they’ll work. I would have never gotten them over my long hair. Add baseball caps and baggy sweats and hoodies. Might work to make me look like a skinny guy, especially with the short hair. Look up clips of men walking online. Practice stomping about. Here I thought I’d been careful by always looking for security cameras. Making sure the neighbors weren’t looking out their windows.
The rest of the day passes while I make notes on how to alter my appearance, finding ways to vary how I’m executing my plans. Because one thing I know…there’s so much work to be done. The list of those who deserve to be punished is growing every day. It seems never-ending.
“Come on. You’ve been saying for months you’d join us.”
The guy standing in the aisle is grinning. “We’re all going. Don’t be boring.”
He and two other coworkers are ex-military. They’re fascinating. It would do me some good to be around normal people.
“Where are we going?” I stand up as he whoops.
“The world is ending. Hope’s joining us for drinks.” He waves to someone a few aisles over. “We have the best place picked out.”
The location they’ve selected has some of the others looking a little nervous. We’re at the Locked and Loaded Grill in Garner. A favorite hangout for biker types. If you ask me, a lot of them look like weekend riders with nice, fancy bikes that cost more than my car, but still. A lot of my coworkers look even more nervous once we’re inside. This is probably a walk on the wild side for them. I’d like to tell them: Honey, you think this is wild, you ought to come out with me on a weekend—you’d run away screaming.
There’s a guy kicked back at one of the tables with his friends. His Levi’s are so old and faded they’re almost worn through at both knees. A pale blue. The plain white fitted t-shirt shows off his ink. Tattoos cover both arms and I wonder if they go all the way across his shoulders, chest, and back. I’m completely mesmerized. I excuse myself to go to the restroom, and on the way back I see the guy walking toward me.
“Excuse me?”
The guy looks at me, a wary look on his face.
“I was just wondering, I’ve been wanting to get a tattoo…” Feeling awkward, I let the words dangle. But his face brightens and he smiles down at me. A good ten inches taller than me. Geez, he’s got to be six four, and totally hot in that rough and ready kind of way. The kind of guy you know would be fun to spend a weekend with but you’d never take him home to meet your parents. Or, in my case, Gram.
I point to his arm. “I love the bird with the words underneath.”
“Go to Warlock’s on Western Boulevard. Ask for Vinny. Tell him Noah sent you.”
When I thank him, he takes a step closer into my personal space and gives me a look so hot that the metal supports on all the tables should be turning to liquid.
“You with those suits?”
“We all work together.”
He looks me over again. Slowly. “What’s a sweet thing like you want a tattoo?”
“Something I’ve been thinking about for a long time. Never been one to commit to anything permanent, but now I’m ready.”
He nods like he understands what I’m really saying.
“Be careful. Once you get one, others tend to follow.”
That’s the truth about a lot of things. “I’ll remember. Appreciate the recommendation.”
“You get bored over there, come on over and I’ll buy you a drink.”
Blushing, I make a beeline for the bar. Order a round for my table. When I sit, the ex-military guys give me a hard time.
“The biker type, huh? Didn’t figure you for that kind of guy.”
I wrinkle my nose at Jim. “What type did you figure me for?”
The other guy, Mark, says, “A fireman. He’ll put up with your drama and bullshit and not blink an eye.”
Everyone laughs. I do get intense when it comes to my work.
CHAPTER 32
GRAYSON LIT UP A MARLBORO red. The Zippo hit the center console with a thud. Hope was giving him a hard time the other day about smoking. Most animal control officers he knew smoked. A lot of them lasted about five years in the job before they burnt out.
He’d been doing this for almost eleven years. Couldn’t see doing anything else. Today he and other officers, along with a few deputies, spent the morning chasing down an escaped emu. The owner was tired of dealing with the bird. He’d bought it to raise for meat
but found the big bird from Australia more trouble than it was worth. Grayson shook his head. The guy told them to go ahead and shoot it. He didn’t want to be bothered.
People needed to do their homework before they decided to get an animal. Understand its needs and requirements. Like parents who thought it was cute to give their kids a baby chick or bunny for Easter and then once the novelty wore off, didn’t want it any longer. Didn’t know how to care for the animal.
Instead of shooting the emu, a woman from a sanctuary met them, and was able to catch the big bird. Some kind of emu whisperer. The owner surrendered the bird. It would now live out its days in the sanctuary.
After lunch, he responded to a hoarding call. The levels of ammonia were so high that he couldn’t go inside the house. Hazmat had to come in. The woman had one hundred and twenty-five cats. When he stepped over the threshold, he sank into four inches of feces, the excrement going over his shoes, squishing in his socks. He should have put on boots first, but had no idea it would be so bad. Immediately his throat started to burn, his eyes watering. The furniture was shredded, the walls destroyed all the way around about two feet up, where the cats had scratched.
It was a heartbreaking story. The woman lost her husband a year ago to a massive heart attack. Six months later, her son committed suicide, hanged himself. Things slowly spiraled out of control as she took in one animal after another for companionship. The cats had kittens. She didn’t have money to have them spayed or neutered. And before she knew it, she was overwhelmed. Not having the heart to let any of them go. The love she had for her husband and son transferred to the cats.
She had a habit of jerking her head to the side as she talked. He wanted to get a doctor involved to help her. He’d seen it before; people hoarding animals tended to suffer from mental illness. They needed help, not punishment.
There Was a Little Girl Page 13
