“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