The Ridge(38)

“Seemed pretty comfortable to me.”

“More comfortable than most, of course. She’s great with them so long as there’s a fence between her and the cats. But she won’t go into the cages.”

“Doesn’t seem like a mistake to me.”

“If you run this place,” Wesley said, “there are times when you’re going to have to go into the cages. It happens.”

“You’re saying she can’t handle it without her husband?”

“She can handle it,” Wesley said. “She’s got me. If she didn’t? Well, then she’d either need to find some faith with the cats or… or find somebody else who does, I guess. But don’t worry about how she’ll hold up to this. Audrey, she’s got steel in her that you can’t see right off. She doesn’t even see it sometimes. But it’s there.”

“All right. Well, my understanding is that you trapped this cougar once. Can you get him again?”

Wes didn’t tell him that idea was false. Ira had chosen to join them. He had gone into the trap, yes, but he’d never engaged it. Just sat there and waited for Wesley to do it by hand, daring him, challenging his courage as if it were a test that must be passed before he’d allow himself to be confined.

Only you were never really confined, Ira, were you?

“I know what I don’t want,” Kimble continued, “and that’s a bunch of people out here in the dark with guns. My people, or, God forbid, civilians. The potential for a good result in that scenario isn’t high, and the potential for a bad one?”

Wesley nodded. The potential for disaster was high indeed if you put jumpy, armed men into these woods in the dark and told them to keep a sharp eye out for a black cat of astonishing speed.

“So I’ll give you the night to try to let him settle down and slip back in,” Kimble said. “See if you can bait him, see if you can trap him, or get him with that tranquilizer rifle. Whatever. But I’m only giving you until tomorrow. If he’s not back by morning, we’re going to have to bring other people out here. The state wildlife agency might be able to help.”

Sure, Wesley thought, that cat was out here for years and they just laughed at anyone who claimed to have seen him. I bet they’ll be a swell help.

They left the river as night fell and climbed back to the road and met Audrey and the other deputy, Shipley. Then Kimble explained his decision to them.

“One night, take your best approach, and see what happens,” he said. “I’ll come out here at eight tomorrow. If the cat is still missing, we’re going to have to make an announcement and bring some people in.”

“The more activity, the more—”

“He’s right, Audrey,” Wesley said, interrupting her and earning a scathing look. “You don’t want problems developing. We may need to get some help.”

Behind them, one of the tigers struck at the fencing, a metallic ripple pulsing out from the impact point, and they all turned and stared. It was Kino, and when he saw that he had their attention, he leaned his head back and roared, fierce and furious.

“This is what I’m worried about,” Audrey said. “If strangers are making them act like this, then—”

“It isn’t the strangers,” Wesley said. “You know that. You’ve seen them around people for years now.”

“What is it, then?” the young deputy said.

“They don’t like this spot at night,” he said. “And if you stick around long enough, you might see it get a whole lot worse.”

Audrey threw up her hands in disgust. “Stop,” she said.

“I’d like to hear what he thinks,” the young deputy began, and Audrey shook her head, and then they were all interrupted by a sudden glow of white light. All four of them looked upward instinctively, but Wyatt French’s lighthouse remained dark, and then there was the crunch of gravel and they realized a car was coming down the lane. They watched it approach, a Honda SUV, and when it got all the way up to them, the driver put down the window.

“Hi, Mrs. Clark. Hi, Kimble.” He was a lean older guy with short gray hair and sharp eyes, and though he was speaking to the people gathered by his car, he was watching the cats, who were making hostile circles around their enclosures, swinging their big heads from side to side. He looked familiar, but Wesley couldn’t place him.

“Why are you back, Darmus?” Kimble said, and then Wesley remembered. This was the reporter. He’d written about the preserve a few times—including the day Wesley got Ira.

Darmus said, “I just wanted to see the place in the dark.”