“I find big cats fascinating, but I’m actually here because of a case we’re working on.”
“So it’s about work.”
Was that disappointment she heard in his voice? She couldn’t read his face, because he’d turned toward the enclosure, his elbows propped on the guardrail, his gaze back on the cougar. She considered what it might be like to have lunch with Alan Rhodes. Interesting conversation with a man who was clearly passionate about his work. She saw intelligence in his eyes, and although he wasn’t particularly tall, his work outdoors kept him tanned and fit. This was the solid, reliable sort of man she should have fallen in love with, but the spark wasn’t there. Chasing that damn spark had brought her nothing but sorrow; why did it never ignite with a man who could make her happy?
“How does cougar behavior relate to an ME’s case?” he asked.
“I want to know more about their hunting patterns. How they kill.”
He frowned at her. “Has there been a cougar attack in the state? That would certainly support the rumors I’ve been hearing.”
“What rumors?”
“About cougars in Massachusetts. There are reported sightings throughout New England, but right now they’re the equivalent of ghosts, sighted but never confirmed. Except for the one killed in Connecticut a few years ago.”
“Connecticut? Was he an escaped pet?”
“No, that animal was definitely wild. It was hit by an SUV on a highway in Milford. According to DNA analysis, he migrated here from a wild cougar group in South Dakota. So these cats have definitely made it to the East Coast. They’re probably right here, in Massachusetts.”
“I find that scary. But you sound almost thrilled by the prospect.”
He gave a sheepish laugh. “Shark experts love sharks. Dinosaur guys are nuts about tyrannosaurs. It doesn’t mean they want to run into one, but we all share that sense of wonder about big predators. You know, cougars used to own this continent, coast to coast, before we chased them out. I think it’s pretty exciting that they’re coming back.”
The family with the child had left the exhibit and moved on down the zoo path. Once again the cougar’s gaze turned to Maura. “If they’re here in the state,” she said, “there goes any thought of a peaceful walk in the woods.”
“I wouldn’t get freaked out about it. Look how many cougars there are in California. Night-motion cameras have caught them wandering around in LA’s Griffith Park. It’s rare that you hear about an incident, although they have attacked joggers and bicyclists. They’re primed to chase fleeing prey, so movement catches their eye.”
“Then we should stand and face them? Fight back?”
“To be honest, you’d never see one coming. By the time you’re aware he’s there, he’s already sinking his jaws in your neck.”
“Like Debbie Lopez.”
Rhodes paused. Said quietly: “Yes. Like poor Debbie.” He looked at her. “So has there been a cougar attack here?”
“It’s a case from Nevada. The Sierras.”
“These cats are definitely there. What were the circumstances?”
“The victim was a female backpacker. Her body had been scavenged by birdlife by the time she was found, but several details made the ME consider cougar attack. First, the victim was disemboweled.”
“A not-infrequent finding in a large-cat kill.”
“The other thing that puzzled the ME was where the body was found. It was up in a tree.”
He stared at her. “A tree?”
“She was draped over a branch about ten feet above the ground. The question is, how did she get up there? Could a cougar have dragged her?”
He thought about this for a moment. “It’s not classic cougar behavior.”
“After the leopard killed Debbie Lopez, he dragged her up onto the ledge. You said he did it out of instinct, to protect his kill.”
“Yes, that behavior’s typical of an African leopard. In the bush, they face competition from other large carnivores—lions, hyenas, crocodiles. Hauling a large kill up a tree is how they keep it away from scavengers. Once the kill is safely cached in the branches, the leopard can feed at its leisure. In Africa, when you see a dead impala up in a tree, there’s only one animal who could have put it there.”
“What about cougars? Do they use trees?”
“The North American cougar doesn’t face the same scavenger competition that carnivores do in Africa. A cougar might haul prey into heavy brush or into a cave before feeding. But drag it up a tree?” He shook his head. “It would be unusual. That’s more like African leopard behavior.”
She turned toward the enclosure again. The cat’s eyes were still riveted on her, as if only she could satisfy his hunger. “Tell me more about leopards,” she said softly.
“I highly doubt there’s a leopard running around in Nevada, unless it escaped from some zoo.”
“Still, I’d like to know more about them. Their habits. Their hunting patterns.”
“Well, I’m most familiar with Panthera pardus, the African leopard. There are also a number of subspecies—Panthera orientalis, Panthera fusca, Panthera pardus japonensis—but they’re not so well studied. Before we hunted them nearly to extinction, you could find leopards across Asia, Africa, even as far west as England. It’s sad to see how few of them are left in the world. Especially since we owe them a debt for boosting us up the evolutionary ladder.”
“How did they do that?”
“There’s this theory that early hominids in Africa fed themselves not by hunting, but by stealing meat that leopards had stored in trees. It would have been the equivalent of a fast-food outlet. No need to chase down an impala yourself. Just wait for the leopard to make the kill and drag it up a tree. He’ll eat his fill and leave for a few hours. That’s when you snatch the rest of the carcass. That ready supply of protein might have boosted the brainpower of our ancestors.”
“The leopard wouldn’t stop you?”
“Radio collar monitoring confirms that leopards don’t stay with their kills during the day. They’ll gorge, leave for a while, then return hours later to feed again. Since the carcasses are often disemboweled, the meat stays good for a few days. It gave us hominids a chance to sneak in and steal dinner. But you’re right, it wouldn’t have been a risk-free proposition. You find plenty of prehistoric hominid bones in ancient leopard caves. While we were stealing their dinner, they sometimes made us theirs.”
She thought of the cat in her own home, and how it watched her as intently as this cougar was doing now. The connection between felines and humans was more complex than between mere predator and prey. A house cat might sit in your lap and eat from your hand, but it still had the instincts of a hunter.
As do we.
“They’re solitary animals?” she asked.
“Yes, like most felids. Lions are the exception. Leopards in particular are solitary. Females leave their cubs alone for periods up to a week, because they prefer to hunt and forage by themselves. By a year and a half, those cubs have left Mom and they’re off to establish their own home range. Except when they breed, they keep to themselves. Very secretive, very hard to spot. They’re nocturnal hunters with a reputation for stealth, so you can see why they held such a powerful place in mythology. It would have made the darkness terrifying for ancient man, knowing that, on any given night, you might find a leopard’s jaws clamped around your throat.”
She thought of Debra Lopez, for whom that terror would have been the last thing she registered. She glanced toward the leopard enclosure just a few yards away. Since the zookeeper’s death, a temporary screen had been erected to hide the cage, but two zoo visitors stood there now, snapping cell phone photos. Death was a rock star who always drew an audience.
“You said big cats disembowel their kills,” she said.
“It’s just a consequence of how they feed. Leopards will rip open the body cavity from the rear. That releases the entrails, which they’ll consume within the first twenty-four hours. It
keeps the meat from decaying too quickly, so the cat can take its time feeding.” He paused as his cell phone rang. With an apologetic look, he answered the call. “Hello? Oh God, Marcy, I completely forgot about it. I’ll be right there.” He hung up with a sigh. “Sorry, but they’re expecting me at a board meeting. It’s the eternal hunt for funds.”
“Thank you for seeing me. You’ve been a big help.”
“Anytime.” He started down the path, then turned and called: “If you ever want a private after-hours tour, let me know!”
She watched him hurry away around the bend, and suddenly she was alone, shivering in the wind.
No, not entirely alone. Through the bars of the empty leopard’s cage, she glimpsed blond hair, tawny as a lion’s mane, and broad shoulders clad in a brown fleece jacket. It was the zoo’s veterinarian, Dr. Oberlin. For a moment they eyed each other like two wary creatures who have unexpectedly come face-to-face in the bush. Then he gave a brusque nod, a wave, and vanished back into the camouflaging shrubbery.
As invisible as a cougar, she thought. I never even knew he was there.
TWENTY-THREE
“IF INDEED THESE VARIOUS ATTACKS IN DIFFERENT STATES ARE LINKED, then we’re dealing with a set of highly complex ritual behaviors,” said Dr. Lawrence Zucker. A criminal psychologist who served as consultant to Boston PD, Zucker’s pale, hulking figure was a familiar sight in the homicide unit. From his seat at the head of the table, he eyed Maura and the four detectives who’d gathered in the conference room that morning. There was something disturbingly reptilian about Zucker, and as his gaze swept past Maura, it felt like the cold flick of a lizard’s tongue on her face.
“Before we get ahead of ourselves,” said Detective Crowe, “we haven’t yet established that these attacks are linked. Dr. Isles came up with that theory, not us.”
“And we’re still digging into it,” said Jane. “Frost and I drove up to Maine yesterday to look into the case that happened five years ago. A victim named Brandon Tyrone, who was found gutted and hanging from a tree.”
“And what do you think?” asked Zucker.
“I can’t say the picture’s any clearer. Maine State Police are focused on only one suspect, a man named Nick Thibodeau. He and the victim knew each other. They may have had a falling-out, which triggered the killing.”
Crowe said, “I called Montana and Nevada, spoke to detectives about their cases. They believe cougar attacks could explain both incidents. I don’t see how the out-of-state cases connect to ours, or to the homicide in Maine.”
“It’s the symbolism that connects them all,” said Maura, unable to hold her silence. Neither a cop nor a psychologist, she was once again the intruder at this meeting, and had come at the invitation of Dr. Zucker. As they all turned to look at her, she felt the wall of skepticism looming in her way. A wall she’d have to batter down. Crowe had all force fields up. Both Frost and Jane were trying to look open-minded, but she’d heard the lack of enthusiasm in Jane’s voice. As for Johnny Tam, he remained as opaque as ever, keeping his opinions to himself.
“After I spoke to Dr. Rhodes about leopard biology, I realized that was the common thread. The way a leopard hunts, the way it feeds, the way it elevates its kill. We see it in all these victims.”
“So who are we looking for?” Crowe sniggered. “Leopard Man?”
“You make light of it, Detective Crowe,” said Zucker. “But don’t dismiss Dr. Isles’s theory out of hand. When she called me about this yesterday, I was doubtful, too. Then I reviewed those out-of-state homicides.”
“Nevada and Montana weren’t necessarily homicides,” Crowe pointed out. “Again, the ME’s say those could have been cougar attacks.”
“Dr. Rhodes said cougars don’t normally drag their kills into trees,” said Maura. “And what happened to the other members of both parties? There were four backpackers in the Nevada group. Only one was found. There were three hunters in Montana, and the remains of only two were found. Cougars couldn’t have wiped them all out.”
“Maybe a family of cougars.”
“It wasn’t a cougar at all,” said Maura.
“You know, Dr. Isles, I’m having a little trouble keeping up with all your changing theories.” Crowe looked around the table. “First, we hear this killer hates hunters and that’s why he hangs and guts them. Now it’s, what? Some crazy guy who thinks he’s a leopard?”
“He’s not necessarily insane.”
“Hey, if I went around pretending I was a leopard,” said Crowe, “you’d call the guys in white coats to have me shut away.”
Jane muttered: “Please, could we arrange that now?”
Dr. Zucker said, “You need to hear what Dr. Isles has to say.” He looked at Maura. “Why don’t you describe for us, once again, the condition of Mr. Gott’s body.”
“We’ve all read the autopsy report,” said Crowe.
“Nevertheless, let her describe his wounds again.”
Maura nodded. “There was a depressed fracture of the right parietal bone, compatible with a blow from a blunt object. There were also multiple parallel lacerations of the thorax, probably inflicted postmortem. There were crush injuries of the thyroid cartilage, which most likely resulted in asphyxiation. A single incision extended from the sternum’s xiphoid process all the way to the pubis, and viscera of both the thoracic and abdominal cavities were removed.” She paused. “Would you like me to continue?”
“No, I’d say that paints a sufficient picture. Now let me read you all a doctor’s description. It’s from another crime scene.” Zucker slipped on his glasses. “ ‘The victim is a woman, about eighteen years of age, found dead in her hut at daybreak. Her throat was crushed and her face and neck were torn open by what seem to be multiple claw marks, the flesh so horribly mutilated that it appears partially devoured. The intestines and liver are missing, but here I note the peculiar detail of how cleanly one end of the intestine was incised. Upon further examination, I note that the abdomen has been sliced open with a peculiarly straight and clean incision—a wound that no wild creature I am familiar with could inflict. Thus, despite my initial impression that this poor soul was a victim of leopard or lion attack, I must conclude that the perpetrator, without a doubt, was human.’ ” He set down the page he’d been reading. “Surely you all agree the report bears an uncanny resemblance to what Dr. Isles just described?”
“Which case was that?” asked Frost.
“It was written by a German missionary doctor working in Sierra Leone.” Zucker paused. “In the year 1948.”
The room went dead silent. Maura looked around the table and saw astonishment in Frost’s and Tam’s faces, skepticism in Crowe’s. And what’s Jane thinking? That I’ve finally gone over the edge and I’m chasing phantoms?
“Let me get this straight,” said Crowe. “You think we’re dealing with a killer who was doing this in 1948? Which would make him, what? About eighty-five years old?”
“That’s not at all what we’re suggesting,” said Maura.
“Then what is your new theory, Dr. Isles?”
“The point is, there’s historical precedent to these ritual murders. What’s happening today—the parallel slash marks, the evisceration—it’s an echo of what’s been happening for centuries.”
“Are we talking about a cult? Ghosts? Or are we back to Leopard Man?”
“For God’s sake, let her talk, Crowe,” Jane looked at Maura. “I just hope you’ve got more than supernatural woo-woo.”
Maura said, “This is very real. But first it requires a little history lesson, going back almost a century.” She turned to Zucker. “Do you want to give them the background?”
“I’m happy to. Because the history is fascinating,” said Zucker. “Around the time of World War One, in West Africa, there were numerous reports of mysterious deaths. The victims were men, women, and children. They were found with what appeared to be claw marks on their bodies, their throats slashed, their bellies eviscerated. Some of them h
ad been partially consumed. These were all hallmarks of big-cat attacks, and one witness saw what he thought was a leopard fleeing into the bush. Some monstrous cat was thought to be on the prowl, invading villages, attacking people as they slept.
“But local authorities soon realized a real leopard wasn’t behind the attacks. The killers were human, members of an ancient cult that goes back centuries. A secret society that identifies so strongly with leopards, its members believe they actually transform into the animal if they drink the victim’s blood or eat the victim’s flesh. They kill to make themselves powerful, to take on the strength of their totemic animal. To perform these ritual killings, the believer dons a leopard skin and uses steel claws to slash his victim.”
“A leopard skin?” said Jane.
Zucker nodded. “The theft of that snow leopard pelt takes on new significance, doesn’t it?”
“Does this leopard cult still exist in Africa?” asked Tam.
“There are rumors,” said Zucker. “During the 1940s, there were dozens of murders in Nigeria attributed to leopard men, a few even committed in broad daylight. Authorities cracked down by bringing in hundreds of additional police officers, who ultimately arrested and executed a number of suspects. The attacks ceased, but was the cult actually wiped out? Or did it simply go underground—and spread?”
“To Boston?” said Crowe.
“Hey, we’ve had cases involving voodoo and satanists here,” said Tam. “Why not leopard men?”
“Those killings by the leopard cult, in Africa,” said Frost. “What was the motive?”
“Some of it may have been political. The elimination of rivals,” Zucker said. “But that doesn’t explain the apparently random killing of women and children. No, there was something else behind it, the same thing that’s inspired ritual murder cults around the world. Vast numbers of people have been sacrificed for a variety of beliefs. Whether you kill to terrify your enemies or to appease gods like Zeus or Kali, it all gets down to one thing: power.” Zucker looked around the table, and once again Maura felt that cold reptilian kiss. “Add up the peculiarities of these murders and you start to see the common thread: hunting as power. This killer may look perfectly ordinary and work at an ordinary job. These things don’t give him the thrill or the sense of power that killing does. So he travels in search of prey, and he has the means and freedom to do so. How many more deaths have been misclassified as wilderness accidents? How many hikers or campers who’ve gone missing were actually his victims?”
The Rizzoli & Isles Series 11-Book Bundle Page 331
