Chapter Eleven
The sun spread out in sheets of bright orange over the flat open land of the state park. Flakes of red casted off a nearby lake on the north side five miles from the location of the mountain lion hidden by a blanket of white.
At least until the wind from the chopper blades tossed off the sheet revealing the carnage. The pilot landed the aircraft a safe distance away, and the park rangers on the ground chased down their death shroud. A chaotic swirl of fabric a lot like the conversation with Phillips.
She’d spent a better part of the plane ride on her phone, out sight. Reese had no idea what she’d found out, but her usual cold demeanor had gone arctic.
Even Harrington eyed her with a wary expression.
Reese wanted to know what she’d discovered, but the instinct for self-preservation kept his mouth shut.
The fact Harrington didn’t pry told Reese he’d made a wise decision.
Harrington slid open the door and dropped to the ground. He stayed there while Phillips and Reese climbed out.
A twinge pulled in Reese’s chest, but he couldn’t be sure if it were a byproduct of what he’d learned yesterday or his heart warning him he’d come close to losing the lottery on that particular beat.
“You feel okay?”
Reese startled from the concern in the man’s voice. “Yeah, I’m good.”
“You got your water?”
Reese held up the sports cup. Water and electrolytes.
“Good.” Harrington followed Phillips, who had somehow speed-walked in high heels across uneven ground right up to the remains of the mountain lion.
Although remains was a conservative description. Tuffs of fur, blood staining the ground, a few bone fragments.
Far from enough to identify the animal.
Reese stopped beside Phillips. She must have thought the same thing because she said, “How do you even know this was a mountain lion?”
“Radio collar,” said a ranger with blond hair. He held up a nylon strap fixed with a small black box.
A woman with a ponytail and matching dark eyes walked over. She extended her hand. “You must be Mrs. Phillips. The FBI told me you were coming. I’m Sergeant Amy Walker.” They shook, and the Sergeant flicked a quick glance over to Harrington. “And, yes, like Ranger Banks already said. The radio collar.”
“Is there a reason why you’re tracking mountain lions?” Harrington said.
Amy almost smiled, then her gaze slipped to the scene. “We introduced five cats to this area over the past two years in an attempt to help reestablish the population. This one was Stella, the oldest female. We keep track of them to make sure they aren’t causing problems with farmers. The locals have a tendency to blame the cats for any livestock deaths. With the collars, we can prove where they are and know whether they’re really responsible.”
“The collars have GPS.” Phillips made it a statement.
“Yes, and a chip in the collar ID’s the animal.”
“What I want to know is who the hell would do this and how?” Banks said.
Phillips didn’t look at the man when she spoke. “You can leave.”
Banks glanced at his colleague, then both of them looked at Amy. She cleared her throat. “We’ll be at the office if you need us.”
“We’re leaving?” That from the second ranger.
Both men glared.
“You can leave, or I can have you stripped of your job.” Phillips did look at the man then. He took a step back.
“Donner, Banks, let’s go so these people can do their job. If they need us, they’ll call.” Amy finally acknowledged Reese with a nod. She turned. The blond stayed where he was until Amy got in the four-wheeled SUV close to the road, then he left with a few choice words under his breath. Loud enough to be heard but mumbled, so the words were incoherent.