Page 52 of One in a Million
“Why don’t you come with us, Sam?” Lila took her place in the front passenger seat, leaving the back seat empty. “We can always use another pair of eyes.”
“I was hoping I wouldn’t have to ask.” Sam climbed into the back. With Smokey driving, they flew across the pastures. The engine roared as they jounced over the bumps and hollows.
The mesquite thicket was the size of a city lot, a dense tangle of low-growing trees with thorny branches. One of the few patches that hadn’t been chained that spring, it grew near the ranch’s far border that separated the Culhane pasture from the game ranch. Sam was the first to notice the distant ravens and vultures flocking above the green mass. He touched Lila’s shoulder and pointed to the birds.
“Slow down,” she told Smokey as she chambered a shell in the gun. “If the beast that killed the calf is in that thicket, I don’t want it scared off before I get a shot.”
Sam drew his service pistol as a backup, but as he had expected, when they came up on the mesquite, there was no sign of a predator, only the birds flocking on the carcass, which had been ripped open at the throat and down through the belly. The head was almost severed by a bite to the neck. The kill was fresh. It had probably been done after the early-morning repairs to the fence.
The ground showed signs that the yearling calf had been dragged—the carcass probably weighing close to five hundred pounds. Sam muttered a curse. What kind of monster would have that kind of strength and that kind of bite? A lion or tiger, maybe, or even a bear. But those animals would have left distinctive paw prints.
Looking down from the vehicle, he could see the predator’s tracks in the dirt—the same doglike prints he’d seen earlier. But no dog, or even a pack of dogs, could have done this kind of damage.
“What do you think?” Lila asked.
“I think somebody needs to talk to Charlie,” Sam said. “The animal that did this probably escaped from his menagerie. I don’t know what kind of beast it is, but if you’ve got a better guess, I’d like to hear it.”
“No, I agree with you. Darrin is in charge of the cattle operation. He should be the one to handle this. There’s no cell service out here, but I’ll call him when I get home. Meanwhile, we’ll need to protect the cattle and horses. Smokey, tell the boys they can expect guard duty, with extra pay for extra hours. They’ll be issued guns if they don’t have their own.”
“I’ll tell them. Have you seen enough?” Smokey was clearly nervous. “That animal could be anywhere.”
“It’s probably hiding in the mesquite,” Lila said. “With its belly full of meat, we can only hope it’ll stay put. Take us back to the bunkhouse, Smokey. I’ll leave you there to spread the word that the cattle are to be kept away from this pasture, and that Darrin will be coming to take over. I’ll drive home and call him from there.”
“I could have a talk with Charlie,” Sam said. “If the beast is his, at least he should be able to tell us what it is. Maybe he’ll even have a trap or a tranquilizer gun we can use.”
“That would be helpful,” Lila said. “But don’t bother with the tranquilizer gun. I just want that thing dead.”
Had she wanted Frank dead, too?The thought crossed Sam’s mind as Lila let Smokey off at the bunkhouse and moved into the driver’s seat. Today he had seen a new side of Lila—calm and cool, even cold. The confident way she’d handled the big game rifle showed that she knew how to use a deadly weapon. And she hadn’t been the least rattled by the sight of the slaughtered calf or the scavenger birds with their bloodied heads.
Was Lila capable of killing her husband? Sam couldn’t rule it out. Had she actually done it? That was a question he had yet to answer. The fact that a woman was strong and capable could hardly be held against her.
Lila parked the four-wheeler behind the house and disappeared inside to call her stepson. After a short break, Sam took the Jeep and set out for Charlie’s place.
He’d looked for Jasmine but failed to see her. Maybe she was avoiding him. She could be having second thoughts about their night together, just as he was. But she had a way of showing up when he least expected it. Maybe he would come home and find her on his front porch. Against his better judgment, he would welcome her.
For now, all he could do was wait.
* * *
Last night, with his mind on saving Jasmine, Sam had been barely aware of the damage to Charlie’s property. Only as he parked the Jeep and walked in through the open gate, did he begin to see what the demonstrators had done.
A good-sized hill of debris had been raked up in the front yard. There were broken signs and tiki torches, pieces of fence and shattered glass. The fire had left ugly patches of blackened grass. The compound gates were closed, but Sam knew that the ERFA group had broken in and released many of the captive animals. By now, most of them appeared to have been herded back into their pens. The graceful head and neck of a giraffe rose above one high log fence. From behind another fence came a chorus of bleating goats.
As Sam walked up to the house, Charlie came out onto the veranda. Red-eyed, dirty, and exhausted, he’d probably had a rotten day. And what Sam was about to tell him wouldn’t make it any better.
“What the hell do you want?” the man snarled. “Haven’t I had enough harassment without the friggin’ FBI showing up on my doorstep?”
Sam stood at the bottom of the steps. “I know it might not be the best time, but this can’t wait. One of your animals is still loose on Culhane property. It killed a calf, out by that big mesquite thicket.”
Charlie’s scowl deepened. “That can’t be. None of my carnivores are missing. What did it look like? Did you see it?”
“Only its tracks. It wasn’t a cat. But it was strong enough to rip that yearling calf open and drag the carcass under the mesquite. If the animal is yours, the Culhanes will expect you to pay for that calf.”
“Like I say, whatever that beast is, it isn’t mine, and I’m not paying a cent for that damned calf.” Charlie’s fury was mounting like an old-fashioned pressure cooker about to explode. “Why don’t you go after those vandals that trashed my property? They’re the ones that should pay—at least one of them ought to, and I know who she is!”
He reached into his pocket, withdrew a shiny, silver object, and held it out, close enough for Sam to see but not to take from him. “Recognize this, FBI man? It belongs to your girlfriend. It’s even got her name inside. I found it in the yard with the rest of the trash. She was here, with the others. And after I take this to the police, your little honey’s going to be wearing an orange jumpsuit!”
Sam had recognized Jasmine’s bracelet at once. She’d been wearing it at the memorial. But it had been missing when he’d cuffed her wrists to get her past the police.