Black Hills, Page 25

  “I’ll let you get back to work.”

  “Lil. We have more to talk about.”

  “I guess we do. Sooner or later.”

  SHE WAS UP to see Tansy and Farley off in the cold dark. Farley’s easy cheer started her day with a smile, despite the occasional dirty look from Tansy.

  “Try to avoid speeding tickets, especially coming back.”

  “Don’t worry.”

  “And call me when you get there, or if you run into any problems, or—”

  “Maybe you should remind me not to leave the keys in the rig and to chew my food thoroughly before swallowing.”

  She poked a finger in his belly. “Don’t speed—too much—and stay in contact. That’s all I have to say.”

  “Then let’s roll. You all set, Tansy?”

  “Yes.” She sent him a brisk, businesslike nod.

  And he sent Lil a grin and a wink.

  Knowing both of them, Lil would’ve laid odds the wink would cut through the businesslike before the first sixty miles.

  Waving, she stood and listened to the diminishing sound of the truck as it curved toward the main road.

  It occurred to her that for the first time since she and Coop had camped she was fully alone in the compound. For another two hours—give or take—she had it all to herself.

  “Just you and me, guys,” she murmured.

  She listened to the carol of her old lion, who often called out to the night before dawn struck. In those acres of sanctuary, the wild was awake and alive.

  And hers, she thought, as much as they could be.

  She looked up, happy to see the night sky brilliant with stars. The air was apple-crisp, the stars like jewels, and Boris’s roar joined Sheba’s.

  In that moment, Lil, realized, she couldn’t have been more content.

  A sane woman would go back to bed for an hour—or at least go inside in the warmth and have another cup of coffee, maybe a leisurely breakfast. But she didn’t want bed, or indoors. No, she wanted the night, the stars, her animals, and this small slice of solitude.

  She went in to fill a go-cup with coffee, grabbed a flashlight, shoved her cell phone in her pocket out of habit.

  She’d walk her land, she decided, her place. Wander the habitat trails before the sun rose, before it wasn’t all hers again.

  As she stepped outside, a sudden, high beep-beep-beep stopped her in her tracks. Cage door alarm, she thought, as her pulse jumped. The coffee splattered when she dropped it to streak down the steps, to race to the other cabin.

  “Which one, which one?” She booted up Lucius’s computer on the run, grabbed a drug gun and darts from Medical. Afraid of what she might find—or not find—she stuffed extra tranquilizers into her pocket.

  She hit the switch for the path lights, the emergency lights, then rushed to the computer to call up a camera scan.

  “Could be a blip, could be nothing. Could be . . . Oh, God.”

  The tiger’s cage stood wide open. In the yellow glare of the emergency lights she saw a blood trail across the path and into the brush. And there the shadow of the cat, the glint of his eyes against the dark.

  Go now, go fast, she ordered herself. If she waited she might lose him. Even at his age, he could travel fast, travel far. Across the valley, into the hills, into the forest, where there were people, hikers, farmers, campers.

  Go now.

  She sucked in her breath like a diver about to take the plunge, then stepped outside.

  The alone, so appealing only moments before, now pulsed with fear. The air beat with it, matching the pounding of her heart, and stabbed at her throat like tiny, vicious needles with each breath. The steady beep of the cage alarm stirred the other animals, so roars, howls, screams broke across the compound and echoed toward the sky. That would help, she told herself, help mask the sound of her approach.

  The cat knew her, but that made no difference. He was a wild and dangerous thing, more so out of containment and on a blood trail. More, the blood trail meant the cat wasn’t the only predator who could spring. She knew she might be stalked even as she stalked the cat.

  She had to shut down the fear and ordered herself to ignore the rush of blood in her ears, the knock of her own heart, the snake of sweat slithering down her back. Her job—her responsibility—was to immobilize the cat. Quickly, cleanly.

  She called on every instinct, every hour of training and experience. She knew the ground—better, in fact, than her quarry did. She forced herself to move slowly, to use caution, to listen.

  She shifted direction. The route would take longer but would bring her upwind. If, as she believed, her tiger was busy with the bait that had drawn him from his cage, the route, the noise would be to her advantage.

  She moved through the backwash of the lights, into shadows and back again. Gauging her ground, the distance, shutting her mind to everything but reaching the cat, immobilizing him.

  She heard, under the calls from the habitats, a sound she knew well. Fang and claw rending flesh, the crunch of bone, and the low rumble of the cat as it tore through the meat.

  Sweat slid down her temples, wormed down her sides as she angled again. The cat lay low, feasting. For a clear shot, one that injected the dart into large muscle, she’d have to step out into the open, stand in his line of sight.

  Lil gripped the drug gun, moved sideways, and came out of the trees a bare six feet from him.

  The cat lifted its head, and he growled. Blood from the nearly decimated elk calf smeared his snout, dripped from fangs. Eyes glinted at her, gold and feral.

  She fired, struck him behind the shoulder, and prepared to fire again as he roared in rage. He twitched and shook, trying to dislodge the dart. She took a step back, and another, testing the placement of each foot before giving it her weight.

  And he watched her, dipping his head back to the bloody meat while she counted off the time in her mind, while she listened to the thunder rumbling in his throat.

  Though her fear screamed Run!, she knew running would spark his instinct to chase, to attack. So slowly, her muscles quivering, she continued the careful retreat. Get in his enclosure, she thought still ticking off the seconds in her mind, close the door. Inside, too far to make the shot, but close enough, maybe, to reach safety until the drug took him under.

  Or to take a second shot if he went for her.

  He should be under, going under. Goddamn it, go down. Don’t make me give you another dose. She heard the ragged whoosh of her own breath as he snarled again at her inching retreat, and readied to squeeze her trembling finger on the trigger as he bunched to spring.

  Terror was bright. Bright and cold. She’d never make the cage.

  But even as he gathered himself, his front legs buckled. Lil eased back a step, then another, maintaining distance, seeing the enclosure in her mind, as the tiger staggered. It sprawled, the feral glint fading from its eyes. She kept the drug gun aimed as she changed her angle and moved back into the shadows, the cover of trees.

  She wouldn’t retreat to the enclosure now. The tiger was no longer the threat.

  Nothing moved. The night birds had gone quiet, and the morning calls had yet to begin. She scented animal, and blood and her own clammy sweat.

  If another hunted, she prayed he’d gone to ground. Though she crouched, made herself small, she knew if he was there, if he was armed, she was vulnerable.

  But she wouldn’t, couldn’t leave her defenseless tiger alone. With her free hand she dug in her pocket for her cell phone.

  Following instinct again, she called Coop.

  “Yeah?”

  “There’s been a break-in here. I need you to come, quick as you can. Don’t call my parents.”

  “Are you hurt?”

  “No. It’s under control, but I need you to come.”

  “Fifteen minutes,” he said, and hung up.

  She made a second call to the sheriff, then went to check the big cat. Satisfied his respiration was normal, she went into the li
ght again, and down to the path. She checked the cage door, studied the damaged lock, the baited trail.

  She pivoted at a sound, searched the path, the brush, the trees for movement before she realized the sound came from her. Her breath was whooshing in and out, short, hard gasps, and the hand that held the drug gun shook violently.

  “Okay, okay, good thing I waited until it was done to fall apart. Okay.”

  She bent from the waist, braced her hands on her knees to try to get her breath back. Even her legs were quivering, she realized, and tipping her wrist, she saw with some shock that only sixteen minutes had passed since the alarm sounded.

  Minutes, not hours, not days. A handful of minutes only.

  She made herself straighten. Whoever had broken the lock, baited the tiger out of containment would be gone now. Logic demanded it. If he’d stayed to watch, he’d have seen her immobilize the cat, make the calls. If he was smart, and he was, he’d know she’d called for help, called the police. He’d want to be well away before that help arrived.

  Back to his hole, back to his lair.

  “Stay away from what’s mine,” she called out, more in fury than in any hopes he would hear. “I’ll find you. I swear to God I’ll find you.”

  She paced the path, checking the near cages, and counted off the minutes. When another ten had passed, she risked leaving the unconscious cat. She made the dash back to the compound, into the equipment shed to load the harness and sling into one of the carts. Even as she backed the cart out of the shed, she heard the truck roaring on the road. Lil leaped out of the cart, waved her arms to signal Coop when his headlights slashed over her.

  “I want to move fast. I’ll explain. Just get in the cart.”

  He didn’t waste time, didn’t ask questions until they were both back in the cart and she was speeding toward the habitats. “What happened?”

  “Somebody got inside, compromised the lock on the tiger’s cage, baited a trail to lure him out. He’s okay. I tranquilized him.”

  “He’s okay?”

  “Yes. My priority right now is to get him back inside, to get him contained and the door secured. I called Willy, but let’s not get into all the whys and hows. I want the cat back inside before the interns get here, if possible. I don’t want a bunch of college kids freaking on me.”

  She stopped the cart, jumped out. “I can’t move him by myself. He weighs close to five hundred pounds. I’m going to rig up this harness, and we’ll back the cart up as close to him as we can. The two of us should be able to lift him on.”

  “How long will he be out?”

  “About four hours. I gave him a strong dose. Coop, it’ll be easier to tell the interns if he’s secured than if they start coming in and see this.”

  He looked as she did at what remained of the young elk, at the blood smearing the tiger’s muzzle.

  “Let’s get it done. Then, Lil, I’ve got a lot to say to you.”

  They worked to rig the harness on the unconscious tiger. “I bet this is something you’d never thought you’d be doing.”

  “There are a lot of things I never thought I’d do. I’ll get the cart.”

  He backed it over the plantings that lined the far end of the path, over the river rock, into brush. “We could rig these cables to drag him across.”

  “I’m not dragging him.” She checked his respiration, his pupils. “He’s old and it’s rough ground. He didn’t do anything wrong, and I’m not having him hurt. We’ve used this method before, for transferring them from the habitat to Medical, but it takes two people.”

  Three or four, she thought, would’ve been a hell of a lot easier and faster.

  “A tiger is the biggest of the four big cats,” she said as she hooked the cables to the harness. “He’s Siberian, he’s protected. He’s twelve, and did time in a circus, in a second-rate zoo. He was sick when we got him, four years ago. Okay, okay, you’re sure the brake’s locked.”

  “I’m not an idiot.”

  “Sorry. You need to run that winch while I run this one. Try to keep him level, Coop. When he’s up, I can maneuver him on the cart. Ready?”

  When he nodded, they both began to crank. As the harness lifted, she watched, eagle-eyed—to be sure the cat was secure, the harness holding. “A little more, just a little more. I’m going to lock my side down, move him in. I may need you to give me more play. There you go, there you go,” she muttered as she guided the harness over the cart. “Ease your side down, Coop, ease it down a few inches.”

  It took time, and some finesse, but they transferred the cat to the cart, drove it into the enclosure. The first streaks of dawn bloomed as they lowered the tiger to the mouth of his den.

  “His respiration’s good, and his pupils are reactive,” she stated as she crouched to do another quick exam. “I want Matt to run a full diagnostic on him. The bait might have been doctored.”

  “You need a new lock, Lil.”

  “I got one out of the equipment shed. I’ve got one in my pocket. It’ll do for now.”

  “Let’s go.”

  “Yeah. Yeah.” She stroked a hand over the cat’s head, down its flank, then rose. Outside, she snapped a new lock on the chain securing the cage door. “The interns and staff are going to be coming along soon. So will the police. I need, really need, coffee. Coffee and a minute to breathe.”

  He said nothing while she drove the cart back to the shed. As he started toward the cabin with her, he lifted his chin toward the headlights far down her road. “You’re not going to get that chance to breathe.”

  “I still want the coffee, which is smarter than the three fingers of whiskey I really want. Did you relock the gate?”

  “No, it wasn’t at the top of my to-do list this morning.”

  “I guess not. I think it’s the law.” She nearly managed a smile with it. “One more favor? Will you wait for him while I get that coffee? I’ll get you one, too.”

  “Make it quick.”

  Funny, she thought, as she paused inside her own kitchen, her hands were shaking again. She took a moment to splash cold water on her face in the kitchen sink before filling two insulated mugs with black coffee.

  When she went back out Coop was standing with Willy and two deputies.

  “You doing all right, Lil?” Willy asked her.

  “Better now. But Jesus, Willy, this son of a bitch has to be crazy. If that cat had gotten away from here, away from me . . . God knows.”

  “I need to take a look at things. What time did the alarm go off?”

  “About a quarter after five. I’d just glanced at the clock before I left my cabin, and I’d only gotten as far as the porch when it sounded.” She walked with them, leading the way. “Tansy and Farley left pretty much on the dot of five, maybe a minute or two after. Tansy was anxious to get started.”

  “You’re sure on that? It was about five-thirty when you called me, and that was after you’d put the tiger down.”

  “I’m sure. I knew where to find him. I’d switched on the computer, the cameras when I went in for the drug gun. I saw the cage open, I saw the cat, so I knew where to go. It didn’t take long, only seemed like a year or two.”

  “Did you maybe give a passing thought to calling me first?” Willy demanded.

  “I had to move fast. I couldn’t wait, risk losing the cat. If he’d left the compound . . . They can move damn fast when they want, and by the time you’d have gotten here . . . He needed to be contained as quickly as possible.”

  “All the same, Lil, any more trouble, I want you to call me before you do anything else. And I’d think you’d know better than to go walking all over a crime scene, Coop.”

  “You’re right.”

  Willy puffed out his cheeks. “It’d be more satisfying if you’d argue a little.” Willy paused before they hit the blood trail. “Get some pictures,” he told one of the deputies. “Of the broken lock