Page 8 of Wild Wolf
“Is the clouded leopard capable of an attack like this?“ I asked, knowing the answer.
Sherry swallowed hard. “It’s a predatory animal. Very powerful. Strong jaws. It has a preference for attacking its victims in the head or neck.” With hesitation, she admitted, “With retractable claws like razors, it could cause considerable damage. It’s a nocturnal animal and capable of silently stalking its prey. The victim probably never saw it coming.”
She spoke in a clinical, abstract tone, avoiding the use of Ophelia’s name. An attempt to minimize and distance the situation to make herself feel better.
“Ophelia may not have seen it coming, but she sure felt it,” I said.
“Yes. I’m sure. I feel terrible. I don’t want you to think I don’t. I’m a little overwhelmed at the moment.”
“We need to get this animal off the streets before it causes more harm.”
“I understand, and I’m doing everything I can. We would appreciate all the assistance we can get.” Sherry paused. “Keep in mind, I don’t want to instill panic among the citizens. I don’t think that would be good for anyone, especially at this time of year with the island so crowded.”
“Right now, the news is reporting the prime suspect as a werewolf.”
Sherry stifled a laugh. “A werewolf?”
I explained the situation to her.
“People can dismiss a werewolf as fantasy,” she said. “But an escaped leopard is a different situation entirely. That could cause alarm.”
“As it should. I’ll have the sheriff put a BOLO out on the animal. Please stay in touch and notify me of any developments.”
“I will,“ she said. “And once again, my deepest sympathy goes out to the family of that poor girl.”
Sherry was in damage control mode at the moment. I had no doubt she was managing the PR spin for the debacle. It wasn’t a good look for the zoo, and the family would likely file a wrongful death suit.
I hopped out of the car, found the sheriff, and gave him the scoop.
He groaned. “Good Lord. I want the people responsible for that animal’s release under the jail. Find them and that cat before it kills someone else.”
The eco-terrorists were looking at a host of charges—breaking and entering, criminal mischief, trespassing, and potentially murder. Releasing a wild predator into the community had consequences. It didn’t take a mental giant to see the chain of events that could lead to the eventual death of an innocent person.
JD and I left Echo Point and headed over to the zoo. The place was a madhouse, the staff frantically trying to corral the escaped animals—the ones that hadn’t jumped the fences or flown away.
We found the head of security and took a look at the surveillance footage. At least a dozen people stormed thezoo after someone had cut a padlock on a gate with bolt cutters. Dressed in all black, wearing latex animal masks, they sewed chaos. With bolt cutters and portable cutting torches, they opened cages and spray-painted graffiti throughout the grounds.Captivity is Cruelty, among other phrases.
They wore gloves and long-sleeve shirts. I scrubbed through the footage, looking for identifiable features.
No visible tattoos. No logos on shirts.
They moved with a purpose and knew exactly where they were going. I’m sure they had cased the joint multiple times and planned it out. It didn’t seem spur of the moment. With no way to identify these people, it would be hard to prosecute.
The head of security exported the footage, and I sent it to the sheriff.
By the time we got back to theAvventura, the party had wound down. That was fine by me. I didn’t have to kick out any stragglers.
I headed up to my stateroom, peeled out of my clothes, and fell into bed.
The morning came way too soon. Amber rays pierced cracks in the blinds.
My phone buzzed the nightstand.
I reached a sleepy hand for it, not wanting to answer. I swiped the screen and scratched out, “Hello?”
“Wake up, sleepy head,” Brenda said.
“It’s a little early, don’t you think?”
