Black Hills (31 page)

AT THE REFUGE, Lil shook hands with Brad Dromburg, the owner of Safe and Secure. He was a beanpole of a man, obviously comfortable in his Levi’s and Rockports, with a close-cropped head of dark blond hair and green eyes. He had an easy smile, a firm hand, and a voice with just a hint of Brooklyn.

“I appreciate you coming all this way, and so quickly.”

“Coop tugged the line. Is he around?”

“No. I—”

“He said he’d try to make it by. Some place you’ve got here, Ms. Chance.” He stood, hands on his hips, studying the habitats, the compound. “Some place. How long have you been in operation?”

“Six years this May.”

He gestured over where some of her interns had set the poles for the new habitat. “Expanding?”

“We’re acquiring a melanistic jaguar.”

“Is that so? Coop said you’ve had a little trouble. Someone compromised one of the cages?”

“The tiger enclosure, yes.”

“That would be a little trouble, all right. Maybe you could walk me around, give me a feel for the place. And what you have in mind.”

He asked questions, made notes on a PDA, and showed no particular nerves when he walked up to the enclosures to study the doors, the locks.

“That’s a big boy there,” he said when Boris rolled over to stretch in front of his den.

“Yes. All four hundred and eighty-six pounds of him.”

“It took a lot of balls or stupidity to open that cage, middle of the night, gamble that big boy’s going to go after the bait and not the live meal.”

“It would, but the fresh kill would be more appealing. Boris was trapped, illegally from what I can dig up, when he was around a year old. He’s been in captivity ever since, and he’s used to the scent of human. He’s fed in the evening, to continue to stimulate the hunt by night instincts, but he’s used to being fed.”

“And he didn’t go far.”

“No, fortunately. He followed the blood trail to the bait and settled in for his unexpected predawn snack.”

“Takes some balls to come out here and shoot a mickey into him.”

“Necessity is often the mother of balls, so to speak.”

He smiled, stepped back. “I don’t mind saying I’m glad he’s in there and I’m out here. So that’s four gates, including the one for public access during operating hours. And a lot of open land.”

“I can’t fence off the entire property. Even if I could, it would be a logistical nightmare. There are trails running through the hills that cross this land, my father’s, others’. We’re posted private around the perimeter, and the gates tend to stop people. My priority is securing the compound, the habitats. I need to keep my animals safe, Mr. Dromburg, and keep everyone safe from my animals.”

“That’s Brad. I’ve got some ideas on that, and I’m going to work something up. One of the things I’m going to recommend are motion sensors set outside the enclosures. Far enough that the animals won’t set them off, but anyone approaching the enclosure would.”

She felt her budget wince in pain. “How many would I need?”

“I’ll figure that for you. You want more lights. Sensor goes off, alarm kicks on, lights flood this place. An intruder’s going to think twice about trying for a cage at that point. Then there’s the locks themselves, and that goes for your gates as well as your cages. Interesting situation,” he added. “Challenging.”

“And—sorry I have to be crass here—expensive.”

“I’m going to work out two or three systems I think would work for you, and I’ll give you an estimate on each. It’ll be a chunk of change, I won’t lie to you, but getting it at cost’s going to save you some serious moolah.”

“At cost? I’m confused.”

“It’s for Coop.”

“No, it’s for me.”

“Coop made the call. He wants this place wired up, we wire it up. At cost.”

“Brad, this place runs on donations, funding, charity, generosity. I’m not going to turn yours down, but why would you do all this and not make a profit?”

“I wouldn’t have a business if it wasn’t for Coop. He calls, it’s cost. And speak of the devil.” Brad’s face lit up as Coop started down the path toward them.

They didn’t shake hands. Instead they greeted each other with the one-armed, backslapping hug men favored. “I wanted to be here sooner, but I got hung up. How was the flight?”

“It’s a long one. Jesus, Coop, it’s good to see you.”

“And I have to give you a job before you come out. Have you been around?”

“Yeah, your lady gave me the tour.”

Lil opened her mouth, then shut it. No point in breaking up the reunion by pointing out she wasn’t Coop’s “lady.”

“You’ll have to excuse me. It’s feeding time.”

“Seriously?” Brad asked.

He looked like a kid, she thought, who’d just been shown the biggest cookie in the jar. “Why don’t I get you both a beer, and you can watch the show?”

Brad rocked on his heels as Lil walked away. “She’s sexier than her picture.”

“It was an old picture.”

“Seeing her in the flesh, I’d say the chances of you coming back to New York are slim to none.”

“They started out slim to none, and she wasn’t why I moved here.”

“Maybe not, but I haven’t seen many better reasons to stay.” Brad looked over the habitats, up to the hills. “Hell of a long way from New York.”

“How long can you stay?”

“I’ve got to fly back tonight, so we’ll have to keep it to the one beer. I had to shuffle some things to get out here today. But I’ll draw up a couple of options in the next day or two. I’ll get them to you, and I’ll make sure I’m back when we do the install. We’ll lock it down for you, Coop.”

“I’m counting on it.”

Lil stayed busy, and out of Coop’s way. Old friends, to her way of thinking, needed time to catch up.

She and Coop had been friends once. Maybe they could be again. Maybe this pang she felt was just missing him, just missing her friend.

If they couldn’t go back, they could move forward. It seemed he was making the effort, so how could she do less?

She finished up in her office just as Coop walked in. “Brad had to go. He said to tell you goodbye, and he’d have plans for you to look over within the next few days.”

“Well. For a day that started out as bad as this one, it’s ending well. I just got off the phone with Tansy. Cleo is as advertised. Gorgeous, healthy, and she’ll be ready to travel tomorrow. Cooper, Brad said he’d be doing the security system at cost.”

“Yeah, that’s the deal.”

“We should all have such generous friends.”

“He likes to think he owes me. I like to let him.”

“My IOUs are piling up in your hat.”

“No they’re not. I don’t want an accounting.” Irritation darkened his face as he took another step toward her desk. “You were the best friend I ever had. For a good part of my life you were one of the few people I could trust or count on. It made a difference to me. In me. Don’t,” he said when her eyes welled.

“I won’t.” But she rose and walked to the window to look out until she had control. “You made a difference, too. I’ve missed you, missed having you for a friend. And here you are. I’m in trouble and I don’t know why, and here you are.”

“I have a possible line on that. On the trouble.”

She turned. “What? What line?”

“An intern named Carolyn Roderick. Do you remember her?”

“Ah, wait.” Lil closed her eyes, tried to think. “Yes, yes, I think . . . Two years ago. I think nearly two years ago. A summer session—after she’d graduated? Maybe after, I’m not sure. She was bright and motivated. I’d have to pull the records for more detail, but I remember she was a hard worker, serious conservationist disciple. Pretty.”

“She’s missing,” he said flatly. “She’s been missing for about eight months.”

“Missing? What happened? Where? Do you know?”

“Alaska. Denali National Park. She was doing fieldwork with a group of grad students. One morning, she just wasn’t in camp. Initially they thought she’d just wandered off a little to take some pictures. But she didn’t come back. They looked for her. They called in the rangers and Search and Rescue. They never found a trace of her.”

“I did fieldwork in Denali my senior year. It’s extraordinary, and it’s immense. A lot of places to get lost if you’re careless.”

“A lot of places to be taken.”

“Taken?”

“When they started to worry, her teammates looked in her tent more carefully. Her camera was there, her notebooks, her tape recorder, her GPS. None of them believed she’d wander off that way, with nothing but her jacket and boots and the clothes on her back.”

“You think she was abducted.”

“She had a boyfriend, someone she met while she was here, in South Dakota. According to the friends I’ve managed to track down so far, nobody really knew him. He kept to himself. But they shared a passion for the wilderness, for hiking, for camping. It went sour and she broke things off a couple months before the Alaska trip. Ugly breakup, reportedly. She called the cops; he skipped. His name is Ethan Howe, and he volunteered here. He also did a little time for an assault. I’m checking on that.”

It crowded in her mind, beat there until she rubbed her temple to quiet it. “Why do you think this connects to what’s happening here, now?”

“He used to brag about how he’d lived on the land for months at a time. He liked to claim he was a direct descendant of a Sioux chief, one who lived in the Black Hills. Sacred ground to his people.”

“If half the people who claimed to be a direct descendant of a Sioux chief or ‘princess’ actually were . . .” Lil rubbed her forehead now. She knew this, something about this. “I remember him, vaguely. I think. I just can’t get a clear picture.”

“He talked about this place, how he’d helped out here when Carolyn was an intern. She’s missing, and I can’t find anything on him. Nobody’s seen him since the breakup.”

She dropped her hand, and in one moment of weakness wished she didn’t understand him. “You think she’s dead. You think he abducted her, and killed her. And he’s come back here, because of the refuge. Or me.”

He didn’t soften it. Soft wouldn’t help her. “I think she’s dead, and he’s responsible. I think he’s here, living off the land. Your land. It’s the only solid connection I’ve been able to make. We’ll run him down, get a line on him. Then we’ll know who we’re dealing with.”

16

Tansy took another sip of truly crappy wine while a debatably crappy band slammed out what she thought of as “Ye-haw Coun try” from behind a barrier of chicken wire.

The clientele—a mix of bikers and cowboys and the women who loved them—looked perfectly capable of throwing beer bottles and plastic dishes of indigestible nachos at the stage but so far hadn’t worked up the energy.

A number of people were dancing, which she supposed boded well for the band, and their laundry bill.

She’d lived in what she, affectionately, thought of as the Wild West for a full five years now, not counting her years in college. And there were moments, such as these, when she still felt like a tourist.

“You sure you don’t want a beer?”

She glanced over at Farley, and thought he looked perfectly at home here. In fact, she’d never seen him anywhere he didn’t look perfectly at home.

“I should’ve listened to you and opted for beer in the first place.” She took another tiny sip of wine. “But it’s too late now. Besides, I’m going to head back.”

“One dance.”

“You said one drink.”

“One drink, one dance,” he said as he took her hand, tugged her off the bar stool.

“One.” She agreed because they were already on the dance floor. In any case, they’d both put in a long day, so one drink, one dance seemed reasonable.

Until he put his arms around her. Until her body was locked tight to his, and his eyes smiled down at her. “I’ve been wanting to dance with you a long time.”

Keep it light, she warned herself, even as her insides went soft and jittery at the same time. Keep it nice and easy. “Well, you’re good at it.”

“Jenna taught me.”

“Really?”

“When I was about seventeen, I guess, she told me most girls like to dance, and a smart guy learned how to move on the dance floor. So she taught me.”

“She did a good job.” He could move all right, she thought. Smooth as butter. And he had her heart doing a little flip when he spun her out, and back again. He did a quick turn, slid her under his raised arm, leading her around until her back was to him, pressed close again.

She knew she fumbled some—he was a hell of a lot better than she was—but she let out a breathless laugh as he turned her again so they were face-to-face and she was shuffling backward.

Damn it, the guy had
moves.
“I guess I need Jenna lessons.”

“She’s a good teacher. I think we dance pretty well together, seeing it’s the first time out.”

“Maybe.”

“You come dancing with me back home, Tansy, and we’ll do better.”

Her answer was the slightest shake of her head, and when the music stopped, she deliberately stepped back to break the contact before the next song started. “I really need to get back, and make sure I’ve got everything in order. We’re getting an early start tomorrow.”

“Okay.” He took her hand as they returned to the table.

“You don’t have to go. You should stay, enjoy the music.” And I should go, she thought, and take a long, cold shower.

“Even if you weren’t the prettiest woman in the room, I’d be walking you back just like I walked you over.”

It was only a few minutes at a brisk walk from the bar to the motel they were using, but she knew him well enough not to argue. He had, Tansy knew, an unbendable code about certain things—undoubtedly Jenna-taught as well. A man walked a woman to her door, and that was that.

But she stuck her hands in her jacket pockets before one of them ended up caught in his.