Page 84 of Wild Wolf
Grant denied any involvement, and the state’s attorney didn’t file charges at this time.
I noticed an animal in distress on the way home. A black cat had gotten its head stuck in a chain-link fence. It had probably chased a smaller animal through it. In a panic, it screeched and clawed at the fence, flopping around, trying to free itself. Its bone structure and ears kept it from backing its head out of the narrow space.
I pulled over, hopped out, and jogged to the fence. The poor thing continued to struggle, screeching and clawing, flipping and flopping.
"Easy there. It's going to be okay," I said in a calm voice as I approached.
The cat was anything but calm.
I knelt down at the fence and tried to pry the diamond-shaped wire open wide enough for the cat to remove its head. But the old galvanized steel wouldn't budge. Worse, it was cutting into the poor thing with every panicked movement. I didn't have anything handy to cut the fence with.
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It was about that time when a passerby took note of the situation. The woman pulled over, and hopped out of her maroon sedan. "Is everything okay?"
I recognized her right away. "Not really. You wouldn’t happen to have wire cutters in your car, would you?”
"No, but I've got bolt cutters,” Marley said. “That ought to do the trick.”
The vet from the zoo hurried to the trunk, popped it open, and grabbed a pair of 42-inch bolt cutters with long red handles and black grips. She hurried to the fence and carefully snipped the wire as I kept the cat out of harm’s way. Without hesitation, the terrified feline bolted away once free.
I couldn't help but notice the yellow and black warning stickers near the head of the bolt cutters. One of them had been partially torn off, just like the bolt cutters that were used to cut the padlock at the zoo.
Seemed like an odd coincidence.
The owner of the house stepped onto his porch with a shotgun. "What the fuck are you doing to my fence?”
"I'm a deputy with Coconut County. We just rescued a cat that was stuck in your fence.”
"I don't give a good goddamn what you’re doing. Get off my property. And somebody's gotta pay for that fence!”
This guy was a complete ass.
With a shotgun aimed at my face, I moved with caution. "How about you put that gun down?”
Marley looked terrified.
"That shit ain't cheap. I want to be compensated.”
With a slow and deliberate movement, I pulled my badge from my pocket and displayed it.
“Like I said, I don't give two shits who you are. You can't just come onto my property and start destroying it.”
"Just trying to help out your cat.”
"It ain't my cat. I hate those damn things. I see it in my yard again—I'll shoot it.”
"Do that, and I'll take you to jail for animal cruelty.”
Mr. Shotgun’s face tightened. He didn't lower the weapon.
"If you want anaggravated assault with a deadly weaponcharge, by all means, keep pointing that shotgun at me. Otherwise, I suggest you lower it and take the $100 cash I'm going to give you to fix the fence.”
He considered it for a moment. "Let's see the cash.”
I dug into my pocket, peeled off a crisp hundred, and handed it across the fence to him.
He lowered the weapon, took the cash, and looked it over. Then he stuffed it into his pocket. "Pleasure doing business with you."
