The Ridge(71)

“No,” he said in a detached voice. “He went as fast as he could.”





29


THE SHERIFF WAS WAITING for Kimble outside. He’d taken the Stetson off and was rubbing his eyes. When Kimble came down the steps, he put the hat back on. Kimble could see that his hand was wet with tears.

“Pete Wolverton,” Troy said, “was one of the best we had.”

“None better.”

“Long time with us, too. Lot of good years. Lot of good work.”

Kimble nodded.

“Nobody’s called Julie,” Troy said. Julie was Wolverton’s wife. They had two children, both teenagers, and Pete was one of those dads who liked to show you pictures of the kids.

“I’ll go see her,” Kimble said.

“No. That’s my job.” Troy took a deep breath, spat, and shook his head. “I was hard on that woman in there, and maybe I ought not to have been. I’m standing out here looking at these cats and thinking that she’s all alone with them.”

“She is now,” Kimble said. “Lost her husband a few months back. Lost her friend, who was the man who kept this place going, yesterday. She’s hanging in there and taking punches the likes of which we never have. Or I never have, at least. Be a worthy thing to remember.”

Troy nodded. “I know it. I came out here, I was just feeling sick, you know? Empty sick, the useless kind. And I got worked up telling myself that I wouldn’t be useless. I’d answer for him somehow. The only idea I had was to clear them out of here, every last one of them, and thought that would be worth something. I still think that it is.”

“I don’t,” Kimble said.

Troy looked at him with surprise.

“They’ve had this preserve going for a long time,” Kimble said. “Never an incident. Not until they came here.”

“Been a lot of incidents since.”

“There have been. I intend to find a way to handle it, Troy. I do. But let’s not allow ourselves to blame the wrong party. I was with her most of the morning. That’s a brave woman.”

“I don’t blame her, Kimble. It might have sounded as such, but I don’t blame her. I blame that damned cat. And while I don’t like any of them here, the one that’s free is the one we’re going to need to deal with first. Going to need to find that cat and kill it. That’s the only thing. I’m thinking poison bait traps. Spread ’em out all along the river down there.”

“And what if somebody’s dog gets into them, or, hell, a kid?”

“A kid’s going to eat a bloody piece of raw meat? Any kid that does that is one I’d put on the scorecard as points in our favor. Won’t have to arrest him for some fucked-up shit ten years from now.”

Kimble couldn’t help but smile at that.

“We’ll figure out a way to get him,” he said. “But even if the cat did kill Pete, you’ve got to remember that it was recently a wild animal and still has a hunter’s blood. Not much Audrey Clark, or anyone else, can do about that.”

Troy tilted his head and stared at Kimble. “Did I hear you say if?”

Kimble glanced to his left, where the crime-scene lights glared in the woods, and said, “Troy, I’ve seen the body. I’d wager my last dime that when the medical examiner is done, he’ll say Pete’s throat was cut.”

Neither of them spoke for a long time. When Troy finally broke the silence, he said, “She saw the cat with him, Kimble. She saw it.”

“After Pete was dead. She did not see it bring him down.”

“You’re telling me you think someone came out here and cut his throat tonight. You’re serious.”

“I am. We’ll see what the autopsy says. The tiger that was shot out here yesterday? That was not a case of the property manager trying to put down a wild cat. Someone else took that shot.”

“I know that, Kimble. I read your report, and Mrs. Clark was in there carrying on about it just a minute ago. I understand it’s a crime. But there’s a damned big difference between someone taking a pot shot at a tiger and someone cutting a policeman’s throat.”

Kimble took a breath, looked Troy in the eye, and said, “I’m going to ask you for some leeway on this.”

“What do you mean, Kimble?”

“Give me twenty-four hours on my own with it. No reports, nobody riding with me, no meetings. Just give me a day of space to work.”

“If you’ve got notions on who did this,” Troy said, “I need to hear them.”

“Twenty-four hours,” Kimble repeated. “You give me that, sir, and I’ll give you every notion I’ve got. If you don’t like them, and you probably won’t… well, we’ll deal with that then. But let me run with it, sir.”