It had to be a thirty-foot drop to the seascape. It didn’t take long for him to get bored though and for him to lose interest in the scenery.
He had to remember the reason he’d made the trip here in the first place.
Jogging back to where the white fence marked the end of the property, he vaulted over the railing and took off through a clearing until he got to the cover of woods.
Robby walked the surrounding area, spying on the workers, hiding behind trees or stumps or whatever he could. Only when he made his way closer to the barn, did he catch sight of his target.
Bennett was shirtless. The scars on his chest visible, the scars he’d put there. A feeling of satisfaction moved through him knowing he’d tried to take the man down once before. He might’ve failed at it, but at least he’d tried. That had to count for something. He wouldn’t make the same mistakes he’d made that day in the church when he’d waited too late to turn the gun on Bennett.
He might not be able to get inside the rescue center without a big production, but he would lure Bennett out into his trap with something he seemed to care about now. The redhead told him what he’d already figured out about Cord’s loyalty to his beloved Cassie. The man obviously didn’t have a clue two years ago and still didn’t today.
Good thing he intended to fix that little nugget as well.
On the walk back to the Mustang, Robby heard one of those nasty beasts that crawled along the ground on flippers causing a ruckus on the beach below. He was sure of it. He followed the din, craned his neck over the side of the railing to see what was so noisy. Sure enough the thing sat on the rocks, barking for all it was worth. Even from this height, he could smell the stench.
He took out the .25 from his coat pocket, leaned over a bit farther, took aim and fired.
Amid the kale and the rows of lettuce, Sammy’s head lifted at the sound of two shots. “Was that gunfire?” he shouted to Silas who stood at the opposite end of the vegetable patch.
“Sounded like that to me,” Silas returned.
“We should go get Cord.”
But Cord had already heard and came out of the milking station on the run. “Did you hear that?”
“Yeah, it sounded like it came from out on the road,” Silas noted.
All three men hustled toward Cord’s truck. Cord took off down the driveway sending gravel flying every which way.
When they reached the end of the lane, Cord looked left then right. “This is nuts. We don’t even know where the shots originated.”
“Take a right,” Silas directed. “We should at least check out the immediate area.”
“Good call,” Cord agreed as he turned the pickup southward. One pass, then two, slowly along the highway and they found nothing. But then Cord snapped his fingers.
“We need to check out the scenic overlook. I’ve seen tourists stop there to take photos from the panoramic view.”
“And what? Today they bring a gun?” Sammy remarked.
“Maybe they were hunting something,” Silas pointed out.
“Nothing down on that section of rocks except the occasional seal,” Sammy revealed.
“What did you say?” Cord asked.
“Seals get stranded there after bad storms sometimes, like the kind we’ve been having.”
“Jesus. Why didn’t I think to check the cliffs first?” With that, Cord braked, shot a U, and headed for the overhang.
They pulled into the deserted lot and crawled out of the vehicle at the same time. But it was Cord who made his way to the railing first and leaned over to scan the rocks. “Shit,” he uttered. “Some son of a bitch shot a seal. Look, there. It’s a mess. I need to let Ethan know.”
“Yeah. And you should call Keegan. She’s helped out a time or two when other people have killed marine life around here,” Sammy suggested.
“Damn.” Cord dug out his cell phone, first to dial 911, and then punched in Keegan’s number at the center.
His instincts wanted to protect and shelter. But he knew Keegan would have none of that at least not until later when he could get her alone. He gutted it out as he relayed what they’d discovered on a pristine stretch of shoreline meant for beauty not carnage.
Somewhere out there a cowardly shooter was willing to take out a weapon in broad daylight and kill a seal for no good reason without batting an eye.
Twenty minutes later he spotted Keegan pull up behind his truck he’d left parked on the side of the road. It didn’t really surprise him that she’d manage to beat both Ethan and Steve Childs, the park ranger, to the scene.
Once out of her vehicle though, she raced to where Cord stood along the guardrail. “Are you sure he’s dead? Maybe I can—”
“He’s dead, Keegan. There’s too much blood and he hasn’t moved the entire time we’ve been standing here. I’m sorry, honey. I’ll go with you.”
They made their way down the same steep hillside, chucked full of scrub brush, eucalyptus, and scraggly wild sage they’d taken the night she’d climbed the rocks to get to Sam, the harbor seal pup.
This time though there would be no rescue.
When they finally reached the stretch of gravelly beach and the remains, Keegan stared at what she estimated was a two-hundred-pound gray seal, probably no more than a year old.
Blood matted the fur. The surrounding rocks dripped red.
“Oh, my God. What would make anyone do something like this?”
“I don’t know, baby. Some people are just plain mean.”
Tears filled her eyes as she reached out, ran her fingers through the seal’s soft, short coat. Keegan knew her job was to document, take photos of the grisly scene. That’s why she was here.
So she did her best to close off her emotions to the miserable sight and get to work. It was tough to take. Unfortunately this wasn’t her first animal shooting, but it always got to her just the same.
How anyone could become used to this, she didn’t know. She didn’t understand the kind of human nature that could mete out this kind of senseless cruelty on purpose to a defenseless animal.
Obviously the harbor seal had been used for target practice.
“He was just sitting on the rocks, minding his own business when someone took him down from that observation area up there,” Keegan reasoned, pointing to the two entry wounds, one in the head, one in the neck. “And the size of the holes tells me it wasn’t that big of a gun. But it got the job done whatever caliber it was.”
“That took some skill. He had to be a helluva shot.”
“Exactly.”
Squawky birds were circling overhead, waiting their turn at the carcass. The blow flies had already arrived.
Keegan looked skyward, sighed. “We need to get him out of here before the scavengers swoop down and that means I need to get started. The sooner I finish, the sooner we get to bag him.”
Cord watched her professional demeanor slip into place. But he could tell it cost her in sorrow and anguish because she’d gone pale at the gore of it all.
She unzipped her camera case, took out a professional Nikon, and started snapping photos in rapid succession.
Cord had never been one to understand the shooting of animals. Yes, he’d been to war. Yes, he’d killed in combat. Yes, he had been trained to kill by the military. But this—killing something just because you could, because it was there took—
Suddenly Cord got a sick feeling in his gut. Could Robby Mack Stevens be responsible for this? To what purpose?
But with Robby Mack, he knew damn well, the man did not need a reason to kill. And since Robby already had a taste at killing humans, killing an animal would be sport, a walk in the park.
Just because they hadn’t seen a sign of the bastard, didn’t mean they needed to drop their guard and get sloppy now. Not for the first time, Cord wished he had never been stupid. He wished he still had that little .22 for security reasons.
He rubbed his chin and sighed. It couldn’t be helped. Stupidity had to be dealt with
and paid for and then moved beyond to get to the other side.
He just hoped like hell, it didn’t cost him Keegan.
Cord heard voices coming from the ridge up above and knew Ethan Cody and Steve Childs had arrived.
As soon as she turned and spotted Ethan and Steve, Keegan squeaked out, “Right now I have all the pictures I need of the scene. But I’d like to get the seal to the center as soon as possible and be there when Bran does the necropsy, digs out the slugs.”
“Get them to me, Keegan, and I’ll enter them into the system just in case,” Ethan offered.
“Thanks. Then I guess let’s get this guy bagged and transported. Steve, are you ready?”
Steve nodded. “It sickens me every time I see something like this.”
“Yeah. It never ceases to amaze me how low man can go.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
That night, Keegan stood alongside Bran Sullivan as he performed the necropsy on the seal inside one of the exam rooms they routinely used to heal.
But there would be no making better tonight.
From five feet away, Cord observed the process with his hands stuffed inside his jeans pockets.
He watched Keegan use her tape measure to gauge the size and length and then jot down information in the file before shifting focus to assist Bran.
She began by handing off instruments, one by one, when needed.
But it was Bran who dug out the first bullet to the head, used the forceps to drop it into a stainless steel bowl.
“Well, I’m no marine or animal expert, but I do know a .25-caliber slug when I see it,” Cord revealed, leaning closer for the first time since entering the room.
Bran worked on getting the second one out of the neck. This one seemed to take longer to reach. But when he bounced the metal into the cup, he told Cord, “See if it matches the other.”
Cord examined, concluded, “Both are .25-caliber slugs.”
“You want me to open him up all the way, Keegan, finish up the exam?”
“It’s up to you, Bran. I could use the data, I guess, but at this point, we know how the poor thing died.”
“Yep, that’s a certainty. I could take blood and tissue samples, check for disease, might be able to use the info to enhance your study of the pollutants in the area. See why he was on those rocks to begin with.”
“Then let’s do it. You okay over there, Cord?”
“I’m holding my own.”
“This one thinks he’s tough, huh Keegan? One surgery under his belt, now his first necropsy and he’s ready to roll.” But Bran assessed the man, who up to this point had possessed a helluva lot more grit than any of the other knuckleheads Keegan had brought around. “Ever thought of pursuing this line of work, Cord?”
“You mean work around animals? You know I already do.”
“Tough all right, but a little slow on the uptake,” Bran retorted and winked.
Keegan eyed Cord and smiled before bobbing her head in his direction. “He’s resistant to that way of thinking, Bran. He’s hung up on age. It’s too late for him to think of changing careers.”
Cord snorted. “What are you guys talking about? The vet thing is a pipe dream, something Keegan mentioned in passing.”
Bran harrumphed and declared, “When someone has a knack and they disregard it why are people always surprised when that chance up and goes away?”
After that, Bran let the topic drop as he finished his dissection.
Keegan did the same as she began to concentrate on taking then bagging the slew of specimens she needed.
But an hour later, Bran was the first to shed his goggles and mask. He threw his scrubs in the discard pile and went to the sink to clean up. When he began to pack up, he admitted to Cord, “Well, whoever did this, it was a deliberate act. But you both knew that already. I’ll drop off the slugs to Ethan on my way home for all the good it will do.”
“You’ve seen this before, I take it? People shooting the marine life in the area?” Cord asked, wanting desperately to believe this had nothing to do with Robby Mack. But what were the chances?
“Sure, it happens. I’ve seen people take a gun to their own dog and not because it was ailing or sick but just because they got pissed off about something. It takes a mean son of a bitch in my book to shoot an animal just because they can.”
“We agree on that,” Cord muttered.
“You aren’t thinking it’s this same guy Ethan put the flyers up all over town, are you?”
“I don’t know. I do know the man’s capable of something like this and much worse.”
“Then I guess we all better be looking out for you and Keegan.” With that, Bran slapped Cord on the back, said his goodnights and was gone.
After jotting down all the data, after labeling the specimens, Keegan rechecked her notes, shut off the recorder and finally called it a night. She stretched her back, tossed her gloves in the trash, and walked to the sink to wash up.
“I could use one of your infamous massages right about now, Cord Bennett. What do you say to heading home and making the most of our evening? I could use a tension reliever.”
He went over and kneaded her shoulders, kissed her neck. “That’s my job. I take it very seriously. Know something else?”
“What?”
“After watching that necropsy, I’m fairly certain I may never be able to eat meat ever again.”
She chuckled. “Yeah. Right. You, give up pepperoni pizza? And bacon? I’ll believe that miracle when I see it.”
He tugged her out of the exam room and into the crisp, night air. They walked through the compound under a starry sky.
“I’m serious. The entire time I stood there, I’m thinking I know why you don’t eat meat of any kind, why your grandparents didn’t eat it either. It’s not a bad plan when you work around animals all the time.”
“Cord, you don’t have to become a vegetarian—for me.”
“Haven’t you heard? The nutcase is making all these changes in his life. What’s one more when it comes to diet?”
“But you love bacon.”
“Ah.” A glazed look formed in his eyes. “The perfect food that can be eaten anytime of the day or night, for breakfast, lunch, or dinner, a main dish or in a sandwich. Yeah, I concede bacon might be a major obstacle, but I’m willing to give it a try.”
“Hmm, that means I’ll have to give up something for you.”
“Why?”
“It seems only fair. Something I love. It can’t be chocolate though. Or ice cream.”
“Chocolate’s a food group, it’s definitely off the table. And ice cream is a necessary part of life.”
“How about bread?”
“Bread’s unrealistic. Look, Keegan, you haven’t touched a drop of alcohol since you met me.”
“But that’s just so you won’t be tempted. I’m not that big a drinker. I don’t even like beer all that much,” she lied.
“Uh huh, right. I’m giving up bacon, you’re giving up alcohol. This relationship is one for the books.”
“Give and take, that’s what Porter and Mary Fanning believed. Compromise ruled the day.”
“Compromise, huh? How about I negotiate you into bed?”
“I thought you’d never take the hint.”
On his third day in Pelican Pointe, Robby woke to the sound of another barking seal.
His back hurt. Something inside his head hammered trying to get out. If the thing didn’t shut up…he grabbed for his pistol only to realize the racket echoed from clear across the street.
How did anyone put up with that fucking noise all the time?
He rolled on his cardboard bed and decided to hell with this, no more sleeping on the floor, no more filthy living conditions. He was ready to get out of this stinking town, which only meant one thing.
Today had to be the day.
As thunder boomed overhead, signaling another spring storm forming offshore, Keegan spent her morning squirrelled away at home, in her
grandfather’s office, which doubled as a third spare bedroom. Guinness sprawled at her feet. She noticed the dog shudder at the sound. The canine did not like thunder.
“It’ll be okay,” she reassured him as she reached over, scratched his head and turned on the radio hoping to catch the weather forecast for the immediate area.
She shifted her focus back to her task and the email she had to write. Before long the reminder to donors took shape and she hoped it would be enough to keep FMRC at the forefront if they happen to get the urge to open their checkbooks.
Sometimes it sucked trying to solicit donations. But it wouldn’t hurt to keep in touch on a regular basis with the center’s core benefactors.
She silently wondered if her grandfather ever tired of the chore and tried to think whether or not she remembered him grumbling about it.
She decided it couldn’t be helped though. Contributions were vital.
The open house had been a huge success, more so than she’d ever dreamed. They’d raised enough to keep the center open through August. In fact, the whole street-fair experience had sold her on making the event an every year occurrence.
When thunder rumbled again in the distance, she glanced out the window to see a mean-looking marine layer forming on the horizon.
When her cell phone chimed, she pivoted to check out the display. And grinned when she saw it was Cord. She fought the funny feeling in her stomach and wondered if she’d ever get tired of that little extra thud of the heart. “Hi.”
“Hello gorgeous. How about I take you out to a late brunch, some place exotic, like the Diner, they serve breakfast all day. We’ll both order a stack of pancakes six inches high. How’s that sound?”
“Only if you order blueberry and I get pecan. That way—”
“We eat off each other’s plates. Got it.”
“You read my mind.”
Dancing Tides Page 25
