The Ridge(60)

Kimble took the paper.

Roy went back to his car, and for the first time in his life felt relieved that his parents had died in their accident at Blade Ridge.

What if they’d survived?

It was an idea he’d considered so often, with such hopefulness, wondering how things might have been different if he’d had a family beyond the age of fourteen. Now it entered his mind again and he suppressed a shiver.

What if they’d survived?





24


AUDREY WAS MAKING THE ROUNDS, flashlight in one hand, pole syringe in the other, when the deputy stepped out of the woods and made her scream.

“What are you doing?” she said. She’d spun the syringe around, ready to lunge. “I almost put you into a coma. And you almost put me into a coffin.”

He was wearing a jacket with the hood up, shielding his face in shadow, his breath leaving wisps of vapor. He looked from her to the syringe and smiled.

“That’s for the cougar?”

“In case,” she said, feeling suddenly defensive. She realized how awkward her motion with the long pole had been, how ineffective she would have been if she’d needed to use it. Against an animal like Ira, all sleek speed and fast-twitch power? No—if he sprang on her from the darkness, she wouldn’t have a chance.

“What are you doing out here?” she said again, stepping back from Shipley.

“Kimble told you. I’m the night watch.”

“I thought you were supposed to be here in case anything happened, not creeping around the woods.”

“Sorry.”

He had turned from her and was facing one of the enclosures. Home to five lions, it was one of the largest spaces in the preserve. It was rare that you could get so many to socialize well; often there was an attitude problem that led to fights. These lions, though, got along just fine. They were all on their perches now—six, eight, twelve feet in the air, their strange eyes fractured reflections in the beam of her flashlight.

“I don’t know how you do it,” Shipley said.

“What?”

“Live out here with them. At night.”

“They’re harmless,” she said, though the truth was she hadn’t lived out here with them at night. She’d spent many evenings at the old preserve, but she always went home to sleep. This was new, and yes, a little frightening. She’d been lost in thoughts of Wes when she bumped into the deputy, thinking of how it had been for him in those last moments, wondering what had gone through his mind when he realized that his favorite cat had brought an end to his life. She hoped it had been so swift that no thoughts had come at all, but that was hard to believe. He’d bled out in the cage. That took time.

“They don’t seem to like me,” Shipley said. “Growl when I walk by.”

“Lions are the least people-friendly of the big cats. There are exceptions, of course, but as a rule they aren’t like the tigers. Many of the tigers actually want attention. The lions are more wary, and you’re a stranger.”

“You ever go in the cages with them?”

It was an innocent enough question, but she folded her arms across her chest and looked away, as if he’d said something lewd.

“No,” she finally said. “I don’t, personally. But they’re fine with people. Wes used to go in with them. And my husband.”

“You just don’t trust them the same way?”

She turned back to him, thinking that he’d isolated the exact reason she was doomed to lose these cats. To care for them properly, you had to trust them. She’d always had people to do that for her. David and Wesley. Their faith had been so big that she didn’t need to test her own. Now they were gone. The fences between her and the cats remained, but there was no one left to cross over them for her.

“I trust them,” she said softly. She could isolate them in different portions of the enclosures for cleanings and feedings, but now that Wes was gone, there would come a time when they would need her. Something would go wrong, and they would need someone to enter the cages with them.

“You really think this is the right spot for them?”

“There aren’t any zoos that will take them, if that’s what you mean. And yes, in every single circumstance, we are providing a better life for these animals than they had before.”

“That’s not what I mean. I’m talking about this spot. Don’t you feel it?”

“Feel what?” She was taken aback.

He spread his hands, the black-gloved fingers casting shadows. “There’s something different out here, Mrs. Clark. You’re telling me you can’t feel it?”

What she was feeling was an intense desire to be back inside the trailer, with the door locked. She moved the pole syringe so that it was pointed at him, then was embarrassed when he looked down at it, well aware of the motion.