Page 103 of Tiger Queen
She reached inside her vehicle, down beside the seat. Suddenly a gun was in her hand. She took cover behind her open door and aimed the gun at Carl.
“US FISH AND WILDLIFE SERVICE!” she shouted into the night. “DROP YOUR WEAPON!”
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Rachel
Five sets of jaws dropped at the same time. Mary Beth, the ditsy zoo guide with the bubbly personality of a cheerleader, was aiming a gun like a professional.
“I SAID DROP THE WEAPON!” she repeated with shocking authority. “DO IT NOW!”
“What the fuck…” Jake said.
Carl lowered his gun, and then he did the last thing I expected. He started laughing. Long, belly-aching laughs like someone who had just been admitted to the insane asylum. His merriment echoed off the surrounding trees and into the dark sky.
“I told you,” he said to no one in particular. “I told you the feds was watching me. Sneaking around, bugging my phone, inserting themselves into my organization. I told you I wasn’t crazy. There’s your proof right there! Ah hah hah!”
“THIS IS YOUR LAST WARNING,” Mary Beth boomed. “IT DOESN’T HAVE TO GO LIKE THIS, CARL HAINES. DROP THE GUN.”
“Now that’s the craziest thing I’ve ever heard,” Carl said.
And he raised the gun.
The gunshot was a violent sound, sudden and painful in my ears. I gasped and whipped my head toward Mary Beth, expecting to see her collapsed on the road with blood oozing from a wound. But she remained in the same place as before, her arms outstretched in the A-frame position.
Carl cried out and clutched his hand, which was covered with dark blood in the light of the truck headlights. The gun was on the ground now.
“My hand!” Carl cried. “You shot my hand.”
Mary Beth sprinted forward, kicked the gun away, and then kicked out the back of Carl’s knee. He crumpled, but before he hit the ground she was on top of him, pinning him to the pavement and using a zip tie to bind his wrists together.
“What kind of a bitch shoots someone’s hand off!” Carl wailed.
Mary Beth let out a chuckle. “Quit your whining. It’s only your pinky! That’s the most useless finger. You’ll be fine.”
The police arrived a few minutes later with their sirens blaring. They took stock of everything, loaded Carl into a cruiser, and drove him away. Cleanup crews arrived and began pushing the meat to the side of the road with brooms and shovels. A US Fish and Wildlife vehicle appeared with two of Mary Beth’s coworkers. One of them handed her an official USFWS jacket.
Bobby John came walking back up the road after that. “Hey y’all!” he said with a friendly wave. “I wasn’t scared back there. No sir. I just had to pee. Got a weak bladder.”
“You were the driver of this box truck?” Mary Beth asked.
Bobby John grinned from ear to ear. “Hi there, miss. I’m Robert Jonathan Cartwell, but you can call me Bobby John.”
“We’ve met,” she said. “I was an employee at the zoo.”
“Right, right, but that was before I knew you was a cop.” He leaned a hand on her car. “Ya know, I like a woman who has authority. Some men are intimidated by it. Not me.”
She rolled her eyes. “Are you seriously hitting on me? Your truck is on its side and thousands of pounds of meat are strewn all over the road.”
“Can’t do nothin’ about that now,” Bobby John said smoothly. “Say. You got any handcuffs?”
She sighed and turned to me. “We need to take you in for questioning. Get your statements on everything. I promise the questioning will be gentle. Unlike the interrogation you gave me in the trailer.” She smiled to let me know it was a joke.
“Can I come?” Bobby John asked. “I got lots to say!”
I rode with Mary Beth while the three Haines sons took one of the other cruisers. Bobby John was left behind to give his statement to the local police.
After a few miles of silence, I said, “You’re Fish and Wildlife, huh?”