Undercover Protector

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She was in trouble. In deep.

FOUR (#u10314a42-35db-5031-bdb3-4598c854435d)

“Is this the sort of thing that has your staff and volunteers leaving?”

“Yes and no. The attacks aren’t always so...creative.” This had her skin crawling, even though it wasn’t the first of its kind. She used the clicker she kept in her pocket, signaling Kayla to go inside and remain there. Though the sanctuary’s purpose was to offer a natural environment, some training was required for the tigers to live in captivity.

She took the flashlight from him and shined it around. “Looks like Kayla has gone inside. Now would be a good time to shut her in so we can get the doll out for evidence.”

“Wait. Shouldn’t we leave it like it is so the sheriff can see it?” Gray asked.

“You mean cordon it off as a crime scene and all that?” Gemma laughed. “That’s exactly what they want so they can mess with my tigers. And by they I mean the neighboring ranchers. I’d have to shuffle the tigers around, disrupt the routine and I’d be short a habitat until Sheriff Kruse and his deputies could get to it. I’m almost of a mind not to call it in at all. Let them try to scare me. I’m not so easily scared.”

A noise startled her. Gemma gasped. Right. She’s not so easily scared. Sounded like a large object, maybe a garbage can, being knocked over. “Do you think whoever left this is still here?”

She started off toward the noise, but Gray grabbed her arm. “No. It’s too dangerous. I would suggest waiting in the vehicle, but the Gator isn’t going to provide any protection.” He looked as if he wanted to run toward the sound himself but was visibly hesitating. “No way am I leaving you here alone.”

While she was glad he didn’t plan on leaving her, she hadn’t exactly asked for his protection.

He hurried in the direction of the sound, leaving Gemma to keep up with him the best she could with a cane. Who was this guy anyway? Taking over like he owned the place. Gemma should be indignant, but Gray’s actions kind of warmed her heart. Still, it didn’t wash away her fury at the vandalism. Didn’t these people realize the animals had already been abused in one way or another? They didn’t need to be tormented anymore. Gemma followed Gray around a corner, watching as he flashed the beam of light with his own flashlight, searching the shadows while she hoped for a signal to call the sheriff’s office on her cell. Finally, she got one and stood in place to keep it. She wondered what it meant that the number was saved on her phone.

She left a message with Laura, the dispatcher, about a new incident. Seeing an effigy of herself had only happened once before. Usually the trouble involved more mundane things like dismantling half the fence for a tiger’s habitat or spray-painting vulgar words on the buildings. All of it was meant to wear her down. Didn’t these people realize the extent of her commitment?

They found an overturned garbage can near a small utility building. Gray put his hand up. “Don’t take another step.” He flashed the light around the ground. “Maybe someone was here and left some tracks. The sheriff can use that.”

“Whatever you say.” She waited a beat. “See any yet?”

“It’s too dark out. With all the rain of late and mud, though, we’re bound to find a few.”

“Right, but you’re going to see tracks belonging to volunteers and staff as well.”

“Has anyone been out here since the rain stopped this afternoon?”

“Of course. Tigers still need to be cared for. Things don’t stop because it rains.” She thought back to this afternoon. Well, maybe things do stop a little when you have an accident. That had thrown off her afternoon—and Tom’s too, when he went to haul the Jeep into town. “Look, Gray, I appreciate you trying to turn all detective and everything, but I think finding a distinctive shoe print in this mud is a lost cause. Besides, Sheriff Kruse is already investigating. He could have his own list of suspects, but I think it’s the rancher neighbors. None of them are happy that we’re here. The most vocal has been Emil Atkins. He hasn’t been shy about letting me know what he thinks about the sanctuary. He doesn’t like it so close to his ranch. He’s threatened me a few times, but they were idle threats. So now he’s escalated to foolhardy attempts to scare me off.”

The way Gray looked at her told Gemma he was thinking about her brakes.

“Once Sheriff Kruse hears about this, he’ll send one of his deputies out here to get the doll for evidence. Then one of them will visit the ranchers and ask questions and throw a few warnings out. It’s a game we’ve been playing for a long time.”

She waited and watched his reaction with only the dim light of the distant security lamp illuminating his face. But his frown was easy to see. He looked up at the sky as though expecting to watch the stars but instead found disappointing darkness in the clouds that hadn’t yet dumped their burden. How strange. Even stranger, Gemma could totally relate to that.

Finally, Gray dropped his gaze to her. “I’m sorry you’re going through this, Gemma. I know we’ve only just met, and you don’t know me, but I’m here to help if I can.”

And Gemma believed him. That was the problem—she usually believed people, whether she should or not. Gemma had been such a poor judge of character, and she shouldn’t rely on that inner sense that told her Gray was trustworthy.

“Let’s go and get the effigy out of the habitat and then head back to the Gator so we can leave here.” This made her sick, absolutely sick.

Once they were in the Gator and Kayla’s habitat was effigy-free so the big cat could roam at will, Gray glanced at Gemma. “I’d really like to hear about the other incidents.”

“I know, Gray, but I really don’t want to talk about them right now, if that’s all right. Besides, I didn’t hire you to investigate or even protect me. I hired you to shovel manure, clean out habitats while the cats are outside and maybe, if you’re a good speaker, help me educate the public and convince the neighbors that we are no danger to them.”

Her tone was hard, she knew that, but he seemed to take it in stride, understanding her mood. She was somewhat surprised at his determination to stay after everything he’d seen. And yet, Gray Wilson was still here, eager to help.

But Gemma had a big question burning in her mind. A question she wasn’t willing to voice and barely willing to think about. After losing her parents and her uncle, was Gemma willing to stay—to build Tiger Mountain and keep it thriving—in the face of warnings and threats on her life? Her greatest fear was that she wasn’t strong enough to see it through, to build a new sanctuary to match or even surpass what her father had built years ago. But if she was strong enough to stay, she hoped to restore her family’s reputation destroyed by vicious rumors.

Who had started them?

Gemma steered the Gator into the covered garage and parked, hating how her mood had soured.

“I’ll walk you to your cabin.”

“No need, really,” she protested weakly. Gemma was too tired to fight him, if he persisted.

“Well, my truck is parked that way anyway.” He grinned.

Gemma could easily grow to like that grin. But she didn’t like it yet. No. Not yet.

He strolled next to her. “Listen, the big cats are important to you. I get that. But who’s going to take care of the tigers if you don’t care of yourself?”

At her porch, she turned to him. “What are you trying to say?”

“When the sheriff or a deputy comes tomorrow to get the effigy and dismiss it as just another childish prank, tell them about your brakes. Promise me?”

“I don’t have to promise you, Gray.” Why was he making this so personal? “But I’ll tell him. I appreciate you thinking of the tigers.”

And of me...

She nodded her goodbye and went inside her cabin. Shutting the door behind her, she leaned against it.

“Who’s going to take care of the tigers if you don’t take care of yourself, indeed?” She mumbled the question.

Why would someone try to kill her? It made no sense.

Her parents’ tragic deaths had been followed by her uncle’s just three short years later. Ten years later, Gemma was still haunted by the accident that killed Uncle Dave. Had his death been cold-blooded murder engineered to look like an accident?

* * *

At his temporary living quarters—the rental house on the beach—Gray tossed his keys on the table.

The accommodations were sparsely furnished but served his purpose. At least it wasn’t too close to Gideon, Oregon, where his siblings, Cooper and Alice, worked at Wilderness, Inc., providing excursions and survival training. If he was any closer, he feared he would run into someone who could give his true identity away. He had to keep his distance from Sheriff Kruse, as it was.

Still, he hadn’t worked in southwest Oregon when he’d been a game warden, so he shouldn’t run into too many people he knew, other than the sheriff’s department. When he’d been offered the job with the federal government as a special agent with the USFWS, then he’d worked out of the Portland, Oregon, regional office and traveled throughout Pacific Northwest.

Now, Gray was a senior special agent hoping for a management position as a Resident Agent in Charge. That could mean a move to another regional office or even to headquarters in Falls Church, Virginia. The selection process was competitive and if Gray was promoted...well, maybe then Dad would be proud of him.

His stomach soured at the thought of his father. He thought he’d extricated that need for approval from his life. Gray had always believed he was the black sheep of the family until Jeremy committed suicide. Nothing compared to that. Still, Cooper was the son their dad was proud of. Not Gray.

He sighed and grabbed a soda from the fridge, noticing his cell buzzed.

Ten minutes later he finished a call with his superior, Mark Jenkins. Gray filled him in on the new developments. He hadn’t come into this expecting to discover that someone was trying to kill Gemma.

Why had the mechanic been so quick to overlook the sabotaged brakes? Was he involved somehow? What about the sheriff’s department? Why weren’t they taking the earlier threats against Gemma seriously?

From what Gray knew of Sheriff Kruse, he believed the sheriff was a good man. But he had too much square acreage to cover with a few deputies and even less funding. So Gray could give him some grace, but he didn’t like what sounded like a well-developed routine of letting Gemma’s neighbors get away with harassment with nothing more than a slap on the wrist and the hope that it would stop on its own.

Fury boiled up in Gray’s gut. He crushed the soda can in his hand. When the time was right, Gray would talk to the sheriff but not yet. Not until he had the information he needed. Gemma didn’t know just how fortuitous Gray’s arrival was.

Will you listen to yourself?

He hadn’t come here to help her. He’d come to Tiger Mountain as a way to slip into the trafficking organization and work with them while garnering the information he’d required for arrests. He should be looking into the man Gemma had mentioned today—the investor, Clyde Morris, in addition to the other staff and volunteers.

After grabbing another can of soda, Gray sat at his laptop to work. It was going to be a long night. First, he sent off an email to Kit Howard, the forensic investigator, and detailed what he’d learned so far. He wanted to hear what Kit made of it. Could the vandalism Gemma equated to sabotage—that the sheriff’s department didn’t take seriously—be related to attempted murder via tampered brakes?

Then he started in on his research on Clyde Morris who headed up an organization called Conservation International. However, the sanctuary had been funded through another company, Investments Conglomerate. What a vague name. A shell company owned by Clyde Morris, perhaps? That’s why Gray hadn’t known about him. And that would make it easy to launder and traffic any kind of contraband. Wildlife trafficking and anonymous companies went hand in hand.

Mark was using his channels to pull additional information on Clyde and send it to Gray. He had his work cut out for him tonight. The man himself would show up tomorrow, and Gray needed to know everything he could. He wanted to either draw attention to himself in the right way or stay invisible and observe.

He started with the Tiger Mountain website. Immediately images of Gemma’s tigers popped up. A few pictures of Gemma were in the photo gallery but always with the sunglasses, and that got Gray thinking about her eyes.

Those gorgeous eyes...

She was an amazing woman. But he wouldn’t let that distract him. He had to keep his head clear to get justice for Bill. And if closing this case put him in a good position for the promotion that might finally earn his father’s approval, then that would just be the proverbial buttercream icing on the red velvet cake.

* * *

The next day Gray found himself partnering with Wes—the intern working at the sanctuary for college credit this semester—to learn about the daily rigors of cleaning the habitats and feeding the tigers, just like Gemma had told him he would last night. She’d said it as though he might be surprised or unwilling to do the mundane and lowly work of shoveling muck, but he’d done enough volunteer work around animals to know the drill. He hadn’t seen her today, but that was probably for the best. He had to stay focused.

He should get to know all the volunteers and staff. Cara and Tom were full-time. Jill, Mavis and Ernie were volunteers like Gray and worked varied shifts. Gemma detailed the daily schedules and chores on a whiteboard in the kitchen slash conference room of the resource building where everyone gathered for their morning meetings, supplies throughout the day, and for weekly and monthly meetings. Every single thing they did for the tigers was written in task-specific binders. Meticulous, grueling work, as far as Gray could tell. But everyone he’d met seemed committed to the cause and loved the tigers. He could almost doubt the tip he’d received.

Then there was Clyde, whom Gray had yet to meet but according to Gemma would arrive today. Someone from the sheriff’s office was also coming this morning to investigate the effigy doll and the tampered brakes. At least, he hoped Gemma would tell them about the brakes. He’d call in the information himself, but he didn’t want to risk being recognized by Sheriff Kruse. But with his head down as he walked the habitat, tidying and picking up old bones, he was sure no one would notice him. This was perfect. He could watch the others like one of the cats stalking its prey. Gray’s prey was suspicious activity.

Wes snuck up behind him in the grass. “I finished with Caesar’s habitat. Once you’re done here, we can finish the other two and then let the cats back out and clean their stalls. Then feed them. After this, we move on to the next habitat building. Need help here or you want to finish this one on your own?”