Читать книгу Undercover Protector - Elizabeth Goddard - Страница 13

THREE

Gemma exited the shower, glad to finally be free of the grime and mud. But she wished she could shake the disquiet the crash had left her with. The sun had finally set and she’d hurried home—a cabin across from the main facilities—to clean up. Tom had texted that he and Gray had been able to get her CJ to Carl’s body shop.

With the Jeep taken care of for now, she had the freedom to focus her energies elsewhere—such as on her wish list, which was more like a needs list for the sanctuary. Two-way radios for everyone went on the top of the list. If Gray hadn’t showed up, radios would have come in handy. They didn’t require a cell signal and would provide essential communication with the habitats so spread out. She wrote that down.

She had so many hopes and dreams for making Tiger Mountain great to build a legacy and fulfill the dreams her parents had for a big cat sanctuary. Dreams that had been dashed when they’d died in a plane crash, and ultimately, with her uncle’s death after that.

And this time, Gemma would not allow rumors of abuse to spoil their reputation. Her parents had not exploited the animals and endangered their sanctuary status by putting the cats on display or allowing pictures to be taken with the animals. Or people to pet the cubs because they had no cubs. They were not breeding the animals! Nor had they abused the animals by underfeeding them.

Still those rumors had destroyed their donor base and her parents were returning from a trip to meet with an investor who could revive their private foundation that supported Tiger Hills when their plane had crashed.

She’d never understood why someone had started the rumors.

Or who.

But after their death, her uncle had worked tirelessly to hold things together under great pressure. After the car accident in which he died, and with Gemma in the hospital undergoing multiple surgeries, there had been no one left to manage Tiger Hills or answer the untrue rumors of abuse that continued. The rumors meant donors fell away and without funding to keep the animals fed, the rumors would become true.

There had been no funding left to even pay for staff, and she didn’t want the possibility that a full-scale investigation would further humiliate her family so she didn’t stand in the way when the powers-that-be removed the animals and transferred them to other sanctuaries while she remained in the hospital.

Gemma spent several debilitated months going through two surgeries for her leg. She’d been devastated, broken both physically and emotionally over her losses. But once she was free to think about her future, she went to Oregon State University, got her conservation biology degree and masters in nonprofit management with the help of a financial grant and student loans, and planned for the day when she could start all over. Building something new and untainted as a way of restoring all that was lost to her family.

Her father had started Tiger Hill one tiger at a time when she was only five. Ten years later, he’d died in a plane crash. At twenty-eight, building a new sanctuary was the only way Gemma could think to get back the only life she’d ever known.

The process of creating a nonprofit foundation to support the new sanctuary, all the paperwork and certifications, building new enclosures and creating protocols, hiring staff and finding volunteers had taken several years. Once they’d met the licensing requirements, they starting acquiring the animals. Now with all their animals in place, they were ready for the USDA inspection—she was that close to realizing her dream.

She had seven people to help, including Gray. With fifteen tigers to care for, she wanted three more people to even out the workload. With a high turnover rate lately, was that even possible?

Clyde, her father and uncle’s longtime friend, seemed to think so. She’d understood him to be a silent partner in the old sanctuary, but he’d been out of the country involved with his conservation organization during the time of their deaths. She hadn’t seen him since she was very young, but he’d come to her rescue and invested a lot of money into her project of opening a new sanctuary. He was all she had left now—well, that and Tiger Mountain.

From her cabin across from the Tiger Mountain facilities, Gemma could hear one of the tigers roar. Their roars could be heard up to two miles away. She didn’t understand why Emil Atkins, the rancher whose property ran next to the sanctuary, found the tiger sounds disconcerting. Maybe it was more that his horses and cattle were disturbed, spurring him to lobby against the sanctuary, stirring up the other rural neighbors and ranchers.

Personally, Gemma found the sounds useful, since they let her know when something was upsetting one of the tigers. Maybe someone tampered with the cages, disturbing her tigers.

Or maybe it was more vandalism.

Irritation prickled the back of her neck.

Maybe it was Emil. Gemma needed to check. Grabbing a jacket, she paused to stare out the window into the pitch black of night. She couldn’t see a thing. The sense that someone watched her crawled over her. Reaching for the drapes to pull them shut, she paused when lightning flashed in the distance and thunder followed, rumbling through Gemma’s core.

Before she could close the drapes, someone knocked on the door, startling her.

She calmed her pounding heart and rushed to the door. A quick glance through the peephole into the darkness revealed nothing. Gemma flipped on the porch light.

Gray Wilson.

She frowned. What did he want?

Gemma opened the door. He’d cleaned himself up and wore jeans and a light black jacket over a blue polo shirt. His shaggy hair was neat and combed. She held back her smile. A gust of wind blew in and carried the scent of soap. He smelled nice too. “Gray, what brings you here?”

His expression grew somber. “Mind if I come in for a minute?”

“Actually, I was on my way out to check on the tigers. Heard one of them roaring.”

“Another storm’s approaching. Can’t it wait?”

“What? Afraid of getting wet again?” She teased him, but the concern in his eyes increased her sense of uneasiness.

“We need to talk.” He grabbed her arm and guided her inside. Oddly enough, his action didn’t scare or offend her but confirmed the seriousness of the situation.

Suddenly, the room seemed too dark.

Gemma flicked on a lamp. “What is it, Gray?”

“While the Jeep was propped up on the wrecker, I took a look underneath. You mentioned the brakes and the steering went out at the same time. That’s unusual enough that I wanted to tinker. Look a little harder.”

Goosebumps rose on her arms. “And?”

“I think someone tampered with your brakes.”

Gemma stiffened. She’d been on suspicion overload and hadn’t wanted to think about that possibility. But she held on to the hope that he was wrong. “What makes you the expert? If the mechanic didn’t see it?”

“I helped my dad restore an old hot rod and a few other vehicles. I know my way around cars.”

“That still doesn’t explain why you would find it and the mechanic wouldn’t.” She wanted to remain in denial. Find a reason he could be mistaken.

“Carl’s a nice guy, but he gave it a passing glance. I didn’t, that’s all. Nor did I point it out to him.”

Interesting. “Because...?”

“Because someone worked hard to make this look like an accident. And they might lash out or get desperate if word spreads that you know it wasn’t. But I think you should call the sheriff about this—discreetly. Someone tampered with your brakes. Knew that they would be completely out by the time you were swerving around the dangerous bends in the mountain road. I would have called him myself, but I left that up to you. It’s your business.”

“And the steering? Anybody tamper with that? With no brakes and no real way to steer, I should have gone right over the edge.” Then she allowed the truth she’d wanted to ignore to sink in. Gemma was sitting on the sofa before she even realized it. Somebody tried to kill me?

“No.” Gray huffed a laugh. “The steering was just shot. That was just unfortunate.” Gray frowned.

A chill crawled up her spine and around her throat. Gemma pressed her hand to her neck. When Gray took a step toward her, she instinctively stood from the couch and stepped around it, putting the furniture between her and Gray Wilson. It had been sheer chance that her steering had failed—and then sheer chance that she’d survived. That she’d been able to keep the Jeep from going over the road. That she’d screamed for help and someone had come. Chance...or was it? He had appeared out of nowhere today.

She studied him even as he watched her. Had he been the one to tamper with her brakes? He would have had to follow her up the mountain. Done his work while she’d left the Jeep alone. He’d definitely had the opportunity. But what about motive? Why do that only to save her?

“You were conveniently on the mountain today.” What was she doing? She shouldn’t accuse him right here and now, but she had to know. And in her heart of hearts, she didn’t believe he would do such a thing. But if not Gray, then who?

“What? You think...” Gray threw up his hands. “You think I did that? I don’t even know you. And if I wanted you to crash, why would I try to save you or tell you someone tampered with the vehicle and that you should call the sheriff to start an investigation?”

“Why indeed.” To gain her confidence? Gemma scraped her hands through her hair. “I’m sorry. I know it sounds absurd, but I had to bring it up. You know the sheriff will.”

Gray tensed. “Yeah, he’ll ask if you bring it up.”

“I won’t have to. He’ll want to know about anyone new who is working on the sanctuary.” Gemma looked again out the window.

“Just anyone new? Why’s that?”

“He’s already looked into anyone who has been here longer than two months. Checking on the neighbors too.”

“Why? What aren’t you telling me?”

“I didn’t want to scare you off so soon. There have been a few happenings.”

“Happenings?”

“Up to now, it’s just been vandalism and a little petty theft.” She hadn’t wanted to get into this with Gray before he even had a chance to meet the tigers and fall in love with them. “There are a few people around who don’t want the sanctuary to succeed. So, once in a while, we have trouble. Vandalism that amounts to sabotage.” Please don’t ask me more...

“But do you think they would go so far as to try to kill you?”

“No. I can’t believe that. Or, at least, I couldn’t until just now. I don’t...I don’t know anymore. And I don’t know why you would care so much.”

Gray closed the drapes for her. “I’m just a volunteer who happened to show up on the day someone tried to kill you, Gemma. I want to help you—keep you from getting hurt. And that’s why I’m telling you that you need to call the sheriff. And be on your guard. Keep your blinds and curtains drawn. And keep your head about you. Be careful around strangers.”

Gray Wilson was a stranger to her, so it seemed odd he would say that, though it was good advice. He arched a brow.

“And be even more vigilant around people you know.”

* * *

Gray watched Gemma’s reaction to his warning.

Wariness lurked behind her gaze. Lightning flashed again and thunder sounded as though it was on top of them.

“I didn’t mean to scare you by telling you about the brakes. But you needed to know.”

“I’m not sure whether to thank you or not.” She gave a nervous laugh and then released a long sigh.

Through a cracked window, he heard the tiger roar. Gemma glanced over, apparently still worried about the big cats—maybe even more than she worried about herself. That could be dangerous, but he admired her dedication.

“Why don’t you wait to go out there until the worst of the storm passes? I’ll go see the tigers with you. After all, that’s what I volunteered for.” He grinned, hoping to lighten the mood.

She smiled in return, appearing to relax. The only trouble was Gray didn’t want her to relax too much. She needed to take the brake tampering seriously. Gray hoped the sheriff encouraged her in that. He’d met Sheriff Kruse but didn’t know him as well as Cooper did. He hoped that the sheriff was a man who could be trusted. Gray didn’t think anyone in local law enforcement was involved, but there was no way to know for sure—that was why it was so important that his cover remain intact, so he’d have to be conveniently absent when the sheriff showed up. And while working undercover, he could do a little investigating into the saboteurs she’d mentioned and anyone else who might want the sanctuary to fail. More importantly, he needed to learn why someone would want Gemma dead.

Were the vandalism and the attempt on her life connected? The two acts seemed different enough that they could be from two different people. Gray had a friend—a forensic investigator—who might be able to offer advice on the profiles of who might be behind these two very different crimes.

But first, he’d need to ask her what sort of things the saboteurs had done. Why the sheriff hadn’t stopped them. But then he’d come across as an investigator. Besides, the way she shivered and hugged herself, he wanted to dial down the fear and tension. He needed to gain her confidence before he moved too fast.

He had taken a step out of his role as a nobody volunteer in coming to her cabin. In making the disclosure about her brakes. Maybe it would have suited his purposes better to keep the information to himself to see what developed, but he had a moral and ethical obligation to let her know what kind of danger she was potentially in.

“We can head over to the resource building while we wait. Get the keys for one of the utility vehicles. It’s quicker to get in and out,” she said.

“I guess now would be a good time for you to give me that tour I never got today.”

“Maybe. Except it’s dark out. You can’t see everything. But, yeah, I can show you some things.”

Gray followed Gemma, who was ably walking with her cane, noting she hadn’t locked her door. “Aren’t you going to lock up?”

She paused, turned to face him. “What? No... I—”

“You don’t usually lock up?”

She shook her head. “Never had a reason to.”

“Until now. You are taking me seriously, aren’t you?”

Frowning, she headed into the house and returned with keys and locked the door. “There. Satisfied?”

“Yes.”

She headed toward the main building. Gray caught up to her in two long strides. “I know it’s kind of awkward and all. First I pull you from the wreckage and carry you across a mudslide to safety only to learn that you’re the woman I’m supposed to interview with. And now I show up at your cabin and tell you someone tampered with your brakes. Believe me, it’s weird for me too.”

“I’ll admit it’s a lot to happen in one day.” Gemma paused beneath the security light on the porch of the main office and tried the door. It didn’t open, and she jingled the keys. “Good thing I went back for them. Someone locked up.”

“I hope that’s the usual practice.”

“It is—I’d just lost track of the time, or I would have remembered to grab the keys in the first place. Wouldn’t do to have computers or paperwork stolen.”

“Especially with the saboteurs running around.”

“Exactly.”

“But you’re not worried about your cabin.”

“No, I wasn’t. Not until you showed up tonight. I didn’t think they would go that far. I don’t keep anything of real value in the cabin.”

Once inside, Gemma grabbed a set of keys out of a key box and then led him out the side door to a commercial carport, where two utility vehicles—old Gators—were parked along with some other equipment. Gemma had a thing for old equipment, it seemed. Either that or limited funding.

“You could use a fence around this to make sure nobody steals this equipment.”

“It’s on my wish list. I’m making a list to give to the man who helped me establish the private foundation and funded most of it to get Tiger Mountain up and running—Clyde Morris. He’s been out of town. Out of the country, rather, but he’ll be here tomorrow and I need to be ready with the list. At some point, I won’t have to depend on him so much. We’re working on building our donor base but it takes time.”

His pulse hiked up.

Clyde Morris.

Gray was definitely listening. Could this be the guy he was after? A single primary funder was unusual for an expensive operation like this one. The man had to have some reason for investing so heavily in the tiger sanctuary. Was it so he could use the animals for his smuggling? Gray knew better than to jump to conclusions—but it was still a lead worth following. “Why don’t you tell me what’s happened? You keep mentioning someone is trying to sabotage the sanctuary.”

Ignoring him, Gemma grabbed a couple of flashlights and climbed into the utility vehicle. “You coming or what?”

“I thought we were going to wait for the storm.”

“I think it’s a lot of noise and threats. It might not even rain, and I don’t have all night. I need to check on that tiger.”

After Gray got in, he held on when she took off. She might struggle to walk and need a cane, but she had no trouble driving or shifting gears. That made him smile. “Well, tell me more about the issues. As a volunteer, I should know. You’re not really afraid you’re going to scare me off, are you?”

Waiting for her answer, he studied her profile. At least a few security lights had been installed at strategic points.

She glanced over at him. “You got me.”

“Really? I was only joking.”

“I’ve already lost an intern and two volunteers over this stuff.”

Wow. “Look, Gemma. I’m a big boy. I can handle anything you have to say. Anything you think is going to happen. In fact, I’ll go so far as to say maybe I’m supposed to be here to protect you. Keep you safe.”

The Gator slammed to a stop, almost sending Gray flying. He jerked his head to Gemma. Had she done that on purpose? Gemma hopped from the vehicle, holding a flashlight. He followed her down the paved trail and she let them in through a gated fence—the first enclosure to surround the sanctuary, nesting two more fenced areas, he noticed. She unlocked and opened the gate to yet another fenced area.

“We have twenty main habitats the animals have access to. Each habitat has a lot of space with trees and grass, rocks and a pool. All the habitats connect to indoor buildings with stalls—four habitats to each of the indoor buildings. We call the indoor buildings Habitats A, B, C, D and E. Five buildings total. We have fifteen cats right now, but eventually, I hope to add more.”

She led him down the path that wove through well-kept grounds with large secured areas. He saw now why her vehicles were old. She put all her money into the habitats and care of the animals. “During the day, the tigers are locked outside in their habitats while we clean the holding areas. I need your help with all of it. The cleaning, the feeding. We have an older cat, Caesar, who requires special care and takes extra time. I know it doesn’t seem like much, but with so many cats and so few people it can be exhausting. And dealing with the daily maintenance has put me behind on administrative tasks. I have to work on proposals and grants and educating the public and most importantly getting ready for the upcoming USDA inspection. We have to always be prepared for surprise inspections, as well, but it’s all I can do to take care of the big cats.”

She looked at him, waiting for his reaction, he supposed. He shrugged. “I’m good with anything you throw at me. Lead on.”

Gemma walked in front of him, and he couldn’t help but notice that, with her cane, she had a gentle, rolling gait, almost like a tiger.

“At night, they have full access to their habitats, both inside and out.”

Gray stopped to watch as a tiger he could barely see in the dark disappeared inside. “Do all the habitats have these multilevel platforms and pools?”

“Yep. We don’t want the cats getting bored. We also rotate them so they are able to explore new habitats every few days. Wouldn’t want them to get bored or start pacing like you see in zoos.”

“You’re encouraging them toward naturalistic behaviors.”

She smiled. “You sound like a press kit. How are you at public speaking?”

He shrugged. “Okay, I guess. Why do you ask?”

“I could use help educating the public about what we’re doing here. I want them to know why the cats need this place. I want to teach everyone about the endangerments the big cats face in the wild and in captivity. And about poaching and trafficking.”

“Now that I can do.” He wondered if he sounded a little too eager, too knowledgeable about the topic that was the basis of his career. But Gemma had no reason to suspect he was a special agent investigating Tiger Mountain, unless, of course, she was guilty.

Gemma led him deeper into the sanctuary, the moon finally filtering through the storm clouds and casting odd, dappled shadows through the refuge. Would it rain or not? Gemma still used her flashlight to chase away the shadows, and, by the way she continually shined the light into the dark corners, he knew she was taking his warnings seriously. Or her wariness could have to do with the vandalism, whatever trouble the saboteurs had been causing for her.

Finally they came upon a habitat with a pacing tiger and when the growl came, Gray knew this tiger was the one causing the ruckus. Pausing at the cage, Gemma sighed. “This is Kayla. She came from El Paso where she was chained in a too-small concrete cage for a roadside attraction at a truck stop. Someone bred tigers there too and sold the cubs to people who stopped in to get gas. She’s usually very calm. Something’s disturbed her.”

He heard the frustration in her voice and more—she expected to find something wrong, such as more vandalism. Gemma walked the perimeter of the enclosure, shining her flashlight around.

Gray kept up with her, leaning in close to whisper. “I’m thinking now would be a good time to tell me what you’re expecting to find. What has someone been doing to scare you like this?”

She gasped and jumped into him, dropping the flashlight. “That. That’s what I’m looking for.” Gemma pointed at something inside the habitat.

“Stay back.” Gray grabbed the flashlight and pushed her behind him, not having a clue what she’d seen.

Then he found it. What was it, exactly? His mind was slow to wrap around it.

“It’s a doll. Supposed to be me, slashed up and covered with blood.”

Frowning, Gray shook his head, wishing he could have removed the doll before Gemma had seen it. But, considering her certainty after just one look, he realized she’d seen this kind of thing before. What he didn’t know was if the person or persons responsible also had murder on their mind.

His first impression of her—that she was about to make trouble for him—had been all wrong. No. Gemma Rollins wasn’t making trouble.

She was in trouble. In deep.