The Tiger Whisperer by Belea T. Keeney

Author:Belea T. Keeney [Keeney, Belea T.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: JMS Books LLC
Published: 2014-05-29T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 22

Peter had been working the phones in Jared’s office for two hours straight and by one-thirty, his voice was hoarse. He managed to procure another three hundred dollars’ worth of lumber from a local lumber company over in St. Petersburg. Not much, but enough to rebuild two lynx cages. He buzzed Little Steve on his walkie-talkie.

“Hey, can we spare someone to do a pick up over in St. Pete?” He twirled in the over-sized desk chair, squashed soft in places by Jared’s frame, feeling like a kid playing in dad’s office. Katherine was on her way with lunch, a nice break to look forward to.

“Sure, I’ll send Josh Teener. He needs something to do that ain’t hammering.” A good-natured chuckle from Steve. Josh, sweet but clumsy, was notorious for creating industrial accidents whenever he tried to help build anything. Yesterday, he’d somehow managed to step on a shovel and split open his lower lip.

“Send him in, I’ll give him directions.” Peter sighed and tugged at his beard. A stack of pink phone messages fluttered beneath a baseball-shaped paperweight. Since the storm, Peter and Jared hadn’t been able to use the fried answering machine and Jared hadn’t gotten a new one. Volunteers scrawled info as best they could; Peter flipped through, hoping to find something tangible about Sultan. Several messages from television stations, one from Jared’s mother, someone named Blanchfield had called three times. He recognized the area code as Atlanta. Peter set the messages aside.

Katherine appeared in the doorway, wearing a handsome red suit and heels. Silver earrings glittered near her face revealed by her upswept hair. Peter hadn’t seen her dressed up in a few months and it gave him a quick rush of heat in his groin. She carried a box lid filled with Chinese food containers. Steam wafted over. The smell of moo goo gai pan and fried rice filled the room. Peter’s stomach growled.

“How about that lunch break?”

“That smells great, babe, thanks.” He rose and pecked her on the cheek.

She pulled away, efficient with her delivery, eyes down. Katherine put the box in the middle of the desk, covering the papers strewn all over. “I got enough for four. Where’s Jared?”

“He’s exhausted, out all night looking for Sultan. He’s asleep.”

“He can warm up the leftovers later. Just the two of us. Fine with me.” She moved the food boxes around, snapping open the lids, working quickly.

“Let me get this out of the way. Hold on.” Peter shuffled and stacked the papers, then slipped them into worn manila folders.

Katherine looked around, her face set. “This place looks like a war zone.”

The office had mutated from cheerful untidiness to the grim look of a battlefield. Jared had tacked up an oversized map of the area to track Sultan sightings on it with orange dots. Claw marks and scat sightings were marked with green dots. An assignment list was scrawled on the wipe board: feeding shifts, watering runs, cage clean-outs, all in Peter’s tidy printing.

Dr. Stint had delivered

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