by Nora Roberts
“It’s a good one. Why don’t you just give me the run-down, Mr. Sullivan. You don’t need me telling you what I need to know, seeing as you were police.”
“Cooper, or Coop. Lil and I started out yesterday morning. Around eight, maybe just after eight. We unloaded some of the gear at the campsite, by the stream, and got up here before eleven. Close to eleven, I think.”
“Good time.”
“Good horses, and she knows the trail. She’s got that camera up there. Somebody broke the lock on its cover, switched it off. She said it went down a couple days ago. She reset it. We saw the tracks left by whoever did it. Looks like around a size eleven to me.”
Willy nodded, adjusted his Stetson. “We’ll be checking on that.”
“We set up the cage, and baited it, and we were back at camp before two. She worked, I read, we had a meal, turned in. Five-twenty this morning, I heard somebody moving around. I got my gun. He was already running when I got out of the tent. I heard him more than saw him, but I got a glimpse. I’d guess about six feet tall, male. Most likely male just from the way he moved, the basic shape. He had on a backpack, and a cap. Gimme cap style. Couldn’t tell you age, race, hair color. I just got the shape, the movement as he ran, then he was in the trees. He moved fast.”
“Black as ink that time of day.”
“Yeah. Maybe he had infrared goggles. I only saw him from behind, but he moved like a fucking gazelle. Fast, fluid. Between the two of us, Lil woke up. Not long after, she got the signal the trap had sprung. It took us a good thirty minutes, maybe closer to forty to pack up, for her to contact her base. And we spent some time looking at the cat on her computer. He had a good lead on us. Neither one of us considered he’d head up there, do that.”
“Why would you?”
They’d reached the horses, and Willy gave Coop’s mare a friendly rub.
“We had light by then, but we didn’t hurry. Then she spotted the tracks. We were about halfway between the camp and the cage, and she spotted them.”
“Got an eye for it, Lil does,” Willy commented in his mild way.
“He’d circled around, crossed back to the trail, and headed up. We heard the cat scream, the way they do.”
“Hell of a sound.”
“Third time it screamed, we heard the shot.” He detailed the rest, adding the times.
“There’s no exit wound,” Coop added. “It’s going to be small-caliber. Compact handgun, maybe a thirty-eight. The kind somebody could carry easily under his jacket. Wouldn’t weigh him down on a hike, wouldn’t show if he ran into anybody on the trail. Just another guy out loving nature.”
“We take something like this serious around here. You can count on that. I’m going to let you get on. If I need to talk to you again, I know where to find you. You keep an eye out on the way down, Coop.”
“You can count on that.” Coop mounted, took the reins of Lil’s horse from Willy.
The trip back alone gave him time to think.
It was no coincidence that the camera had been tampered with, an intruder had chosen their campsite, the cougar Lil had trapped had been shot.
Common denominator? Lillian Chance.
She needed to have that spelled out for her, and she needed to take whatever precautions she could.
She assumed it was easier for a man to kill a caged animal than a human.
Coop didn’t agree.
He didn’t know William Johannsen well, and prior to now hadn’t had any professional dealings with him. But his impression had been one of competence and a cool head. He expected the man would do all that could and should be done in the investigation.
And Coop figured unless Willy was really lucky, he’d get nowhere.
Whoever had killed Lil’s cougar knew exactly what he was doing and exactly how to do it. The question was why.
Someone with a grudge against Lil personally, or with a vendetta against the refuge? Maybe both, as Lil was the refuge in most people’s minds. An extremist on either side of the environmental/conservation issue was a possibility.
Someone who knew the area, knew how to live in the wild for stretches, go unnoticed. A local maybe, Coop mused, or someone with local ties.
Maybe he’d tug on a few old connections and see if there’d been any similar incidents in the last few years. Or, he admitted, he could just ask Lil. No doubt she’d know or could find out faster than he could.
Of course that blew to hell the idea of keeping his distance. He’d already blown that, he admitted, when he’d jumped on going with her on this trip. So who was he kidding?
He wasn’t going to stay away from her. He’d known that, however much he’d tried to deny it, the minute she’d opened the door to that cabin. The instant he’d seen her again.
Maybe it was just unfinished business. He wasn’t one for leaving things unresolved. Lil was . . . a loose end, he decided. If he couldn’t cut it off, he had to tie it off. Screw the guy she wasn’t exactly engaged to.
There was still something there. He’d felt it from her. He’d seen it in her eyes. However long it had been since he’d seen her, been with her, he knew her eyes.
He dreamed of them.
He knew what he’d seen in them that morning in her tent, while on the computer screen the young cougar hissed in the cage. If he’d touched her then, he’d have taken her then. As simple as that.
They weren’t going to get through this new phase of their lives, whatever the hell it was, until they’d gotten past the old feelings, the old connection, the old needs. Maybe once they had, they could be friends again. Maybe they couldn’t. But standing in place wasn’t going to cut it.
And she was in trouble. She might not believe it, or admit it, but somebody meant to hurt her. Whatever they were to each other, whatever they weren’t, he wasn’t going to let that happen.
As the camp came into view, Coop slowed. He flicked back his coat and rested a hand on the butt of his gun.
Long precise slashes ran down the length of both tents. Bedrolls lay sodden in the icy stream, along with the cookstove he’d used that morning to fry bacon, make coffee. The shirt Lil had worn the day before lay spread out on the snow. Coop would’ve made book that the blood that smeared it had come from the cougar.
He dismounted, tethered the horses, then opened Lil’s saddlebag to find the camera he’d seen her put in that morning.
He documented the scene from various angles, took close-ups of the shirt, the tents, the items in the stream, the boot prints that weren’t his, weren’t Lil’s.
Best he could do, he thought before digging out a plastic bag that would stand for an evidence bag. With his gloves on, he bagged Lil’s shirt, sealed the bag, and wished only for a pen or marker to note down the time, date, and his initials.
He heard the approach of a horse, thought of Joe. Coop stowed the shirt in his own saddlebag, laid a hand back on his weapon. He let it drop when the horse and rider came into view.
“She’s fine.” Coop called it out first. “She’s with the county sheriff. She’s fine, Joe.”
“Okay.” Still mounted, Joe surveyed the campsite. “You two didn’t have a drunken party and do this.”
“He had to come back, double around again while we were up above. It’s quick work. Down and dirty. Probably took him ten minutes tops.”
“Why?”
“Well, that’s a question.”
“It’s one I’m asking you, Cooper.” Joe slid off the saddle, held the reins in a hand Coop imagined was white at the knuckles under his riding gloves. “I’m not an idealist. I know people do fuck-all. But I don’t understand this. You’d have a better idea on it. You’d have thought about it.”
Lies often served a purpose, Coop knew. But he wouldn’t lie to Joe. “Somebody’s got it in for Lil, but I don’t have the answers. You’d have a better idea, or she would. I haven’t been part of her life for a long time. I don’t know what’s going on with her, not under the surface.”
“But you
’ll find out.”
“The police are on this, Joe. Willy strikes me as somebody who gets things done. I took pictures of all this, and I’ll turn them over.” He thought of the bloodstained shirt, but kept that to himself. A father, already scared, already sick with worry, didn’t need more.
“Willy will do his job, and he’ll do his best. But he’s not going to be thinking about this, and about Lil, every minute of the day. I’m asking you, Coop. I’m asking you to help me. To help Lil. To look out for her.”
“I’ll talk to her. I’ll do what I can.”
Satisfied, Joe nodded. “I guess we’d better clean this up.”
“No. We’ll call it in, and leave it. He probably didn’t leave anything behind, but we’ll leave it for the cops to go through.”
“You’d know best.” On a shaky breath, Joe pulled off his hat, ran a gloved hand through his hair once, twice. “Jesus, Cooper. Jesus. I’m worried about my girl.”
So am I, Coop thought. So am I.
10
Lil shut down her emotions to assist Matt in the autopsy. One of the deputies stood by, going clammy green during the procedure. Under other circumstances, the poor man’s reaction would have amused her a little.
But the blood on her hands was partially her fault. No one would ever be able to convince her otherwise.
Still, the scientist in her collected blood and hair samples from the dead as she’d planned to from the living. She’d analyze, and have the data for her files, for her papers, for the program.
When the vet removed the bullet, she held out the stainless-steel dish. It rang, almost cheerfully, when Matt dropped it in. The deputy bagged it, sealed it, logged it in their presence.
“Looks like a thirty-two,” he said, and swallowed. “I’m going to see that this gets to Sheriff Johannsen. Ah, you verify this as cause of death, right, Dr. Wainwright?”
“A bullet in the brain usually is. No other injuries or insults. I’m going to open her up, complete the exam. But you’re holding what killed this animal.”
“Yes, sir.”
“We’ll send a full report to the sheriff’s office,” Lil told him. “All the documentation.”
“I’ll go on, then.” He bolted.
Matt exchanged forceps for scalpel. “Given her weight, height, her teeth, I’d put the age of this female between twelve and fifteen months.” He looked to Lil for confirmation.
“Yes. She’s not pregnant—though you’ll verify—nor does she show signs of having given birth recently. It’s unlikely she mated this fall, being too young at that time to come into season. All visual indications are she was in good health.”
“Lil, you don’t have to do this, you don’t have to be in here for this.”
“Yes I do.” She made herself cold, and watched Matt make the first precise line of the Y cut.
When it was done, all the data recorded, all the conclusions made, her eyes were gritty, her throat raw. Stress and grief made an uneasy marriage in her stomach. She washed her hands thoroughly, repeatedly, before going into the office.
The minute he saw her, Lucius’s eyes filled.
“I’m sorry. I can’t seem to pull it together.”
“It’s all right. It’s a hard day.”
“I didn’t know if you’d want me to put anything up on the site. Any sort of statement or . . .”
“I don’t know.” She rubbed her hands over her face. Her mind simply hadn’t gone there. “Maybe we should. Yes, maybe we should. She was murdered. People should know about her, what happened to her.”
“I can write something up for you to look over.”
“Yeah, do that, Lucius.”
Mary Blunt, sturdy of body, sensible of mind, rose from her desk to pour hot water into a mug. “It’s tea. Drink it,” she ordered, and she pushed it into Lil’s hand. “Then go home for a while. There’s nothing you have to do. It’s nearly closing time. Why don’t I come over, fix you something to eat?”
“Couldn’t right now, Mary, but thanks. Matt’s doing the paperwork, putting the file together. Can you take it to Willy on your way home?”
“Sure I can.” Mary, hazel eyes full of concern over the silver rims of her cheaters, gave Lil a brief one-armed hug. “They’ll find that motherless coward, Lil. Don’t you worry.”
“I’m counting on it.” She drank the tea because it was there, and because Mary was watching to see that she did.
“We’ve got that Boy Scout field trip coming in next week. I can reschedule if you want more time.”
“No, let’s try to keep it business as usual.”
“All right, then. I did some grant research, and put some possibilities together. You can look them over, see if you want me to take any of them further.”
“All right.”
“Tomorrow,” Mary said firmly, and took the empty mug. “Now, go home. We’ll close up.”
“I’m going to check on everybody first.”
“Tansy and the interns, some volunteers saw to the feedings.”
“I’ll just . . . check. Go on home.” She glanced over at Lucius to include him. “As soon as Matt’s finished, close up and go home.”
When she stepped outside, she saw Farley coming from the direction of the stables. He raised a hand in salute. “I brought your new horse, and your gear. Gave her a good rubdown, some extra grain.”
“Farley, you’re a godsend.”
“You’d do the same.” He stopped in front of her, gave her arm a little pat and rub. “Hell of a thing, Lil.”
“Yes, it is.”
“Anything need doing?” He squinted into the gathering twilight. “Your dad said I should stay as long as you need. He thought maybe I should bunk down here for the night.”
“You don’t need to do that, Farley.”
“Well, I’d say it was more he said I’d be bunking down here for the night rather than I should.” Farley gave her his appealingly goofy grin. “I’ll use the cot back in the stables.”
“There’s a better one in the offices. Use that. I’ll talk to your boss, but we’ll let this ride tonight.”
“He’ll sleep better.”
“That’s why we’re letting it ride. The fact is, I’ll probably sleep better, too, knowing you’re close by. I’ll make you some supper.”
“No need. Your ma packed me plenty. Wouldn’t hurt to give them a call.” He shifted in his worn-at-the-heels boots. “Just saying.”
“I will.”
“Ah, is Tansy inside?”
“No. She must be out here somewhere.” The little light in his eye made her want to sigh again. It was so damn sweet. “Maybe you could take a look around for her, tell her we’re going to close a little early. If the animals have been checked, she can go on home.”
“I’ll do that. You take it easy, now, Lil. If you need anything tonight, you just give me a holler.”
“I will.”
She turned toward the small-cat area. She stopped by each habitat to help remind herself why she was doing this, what she hoped to do. Most of the animals they sheltered, they studied, would be dead otherwise. Euthanized or disposed of by owners, killed in the wild they were too old or handicapped to survive. They had a life here, protection, and as much freedom as could be allowed. They served to educate, to fascinate, to draw funds to help maintain the whole.
It mattered. Intellectually she knew it mattered. But her heart was so sore it wasn’t the intellect that needed reinforcement.
Baby waited for her, the engine purr in his throat. She crouched, leaning her head against the cage so he could bump his to it in greeting.
She looked beyond him to where the two other cougars they’d taken in tore into their evening meal. Only Baby would leave his favorite chicken dinner for her.
And in his brilliant eyes, she took comfort.
IT TOOK FARLEY a while to find her, but his heart gave a few extra beats when he did. Tansy sat on one of the benches—and for once she was alone, watching the big old tig
er (imagine a tiger living right in the valley!) wash his face.
Just like a house cat would, Farley thought, licking at his paws, rubbing them on his face.
He wanted to think of something clever to say, something smart and funny. He didn’t think he was clever when it came to words mostwise anyhow. And he got his tongue tangled and stuck when he was within speaking distance of Tansy Spurge.
She was about the prettiest thing he’d ever seen, and he wanted her for his own so bad it hurt in the belly.
He knew all that dark, curly hair of hers was soft, and kinda springy to the touch. He’d managed to get his hands on it once. He knew the skin of her hands was smooth and soft, but he wondered if her face would be the same. That pretty, golden brown face. He hadn’t had the nerve to try to touch that yet.
But he was working up to it.
She was smarter than he was, no question. He’d finished high school because Joe and Jenna laid that down as law. But Tansy had all kinds of education on him and those fancy college degrees. He liked that about her, too, how the smart of her showed in her eyes. The goodness in them right there with it.
He’d seen how she was with animals. Gentle. Farley didn’t hold with causing an animal harm.
And with all that, she was so damn sexy his blood started humming in his head—and other places—whenever he got within ten feet of her.
Like right now.
He squared his shoulders, wished he wasn’t so damned skinny.
“He sure keeps himself clean and tidy, doesn’t he?” While he was building up the gumption to sit beside her, Farley stopped by the cage to watch the old boy wash.
He’d touched Boris once, too, when Tansy’d had him under to help Matt clean what was left of his teeth. It sure was a big experience, letting your hands walk right over a jungle cat.
“He’s feeling good today. Had a good appetite. I worried if he’d last the winter, sweet old thing, when he had that kidney infection. But he just keeps going.”
The words were easy, casual-like, but he knew—had made a study on—her tones. He heard the tears before he saw them.
“Ah, now.”
“Sorry.” She waved a hand. “We’re all having a rough day. I was mad, just mad, for most of it. Then I sat down here, and . . .” She shrugged, waved again.
