A Tiger's Tale (A Call of the Wilde Mystery) Read online

  I looked up at Hugh. “Dr. Murray—”

  “Yes, Dr. Wilde?” I narrowed my eyes at the title. Though I kept my license current, I no longer practiced as a veterinarian and it sounded weird to be addressed as doctor.

  I pointed my finger at him in warning. “Not a sound.”

  “You’re the boss.”

  Strictly speaking, Hugh had no idea how I did what I did. He just knew it worked. I have a good reason for hiding my telepathic ability: People would think I was nuts. I couldn’t do my job if people thought I was nuts. You have to have a certain amount of street cred to do what I do.

  Before I could solidify my plan, or rather, wing it and pretend I had a plan, I needed to understand how the tiger’s compound was configured.

  I walked back along the fence to the attached building and stepped through the door. Buzzing, fluorescent lights clearly illuminated the space. The layout was pretty standard. A hallway ran the length of the structure along the back wall. A trio of tiger-sized runs lined the corridor. Each had two doors—an access gate that opened into the hall and a guillotine door that led to the exterior enclosure.

  I noticed several offerings had been tossed through the chain-link to entice Boris to come into his run so he could easily be secured.

  I clasped the lock on the gate that separated the hallway from the run and gave it two swift tugs.

  Better safe than dinner.

  I checked to make sure my phone was on vibrate—which was about the only thing I knew how to do with the new iPhone—and noticed it was nearing six thirty.

  I was going to be so late.

  Pushing the thought away, I stuffed the beaded clutch under my arm and walked out to where I could see Boris, pulled in a slow, calming breath, and began speaking in a low monotone.

  “Hey there, Boris. Hey, gorgeous boy.”

  I continued my litany of praises and slowly, gingerly opened my mind to the tiger’s.

  The neurotic pulse of his thoughts matched his pacing. But there was an undercurrent of worry or fear that kept flashing to the surface.

  Ozeal’s instincts had been spot on; something was wrong with the big cat.

  Boris. I gave the tiger’s mind a little nudge and his head swiveled toward me. Like many animals, Boris had never encountered a human like me. Curiosity short-circuited the pacing for a moment and he slowed.

  Gotta love cats.

  Now that I have your attention . . .

  “Come here, big guy.” I urged the cat to come to where I stood, halfway between the outside corner of the fence and the guillotine door leading into his indoor enclosure.

  Boris came toward me and I edged sideways toward the door. All the while, mentally urging him to follow. I lost sight of him for a moment as I rounded the corner into the hall but by then he already knew where I wanted him to go and it didn’t take much to coax him through the door into the interior pen.

  As quickly as I could, I released the latch, slid the guillotine door closed behind him, and let out a relieved sigh.

  The tiger pressed his head against the chain-link that separated us.

  Pet.

  I smiled and obliged by rubbing my fingertips on his forehead. For a moment, I could understand why Hugh would have trusted the cat. Boris seemed docile and calm, but I could sense something very different. The undercurrent of emotion I’d felt earlier remained.

  My ability worked better with physical contact so I placed my other hand through the fence and rested it on the smooth fur between the tiger’s ears.

  I focused and tried to understand the origin of the tiger’s unease. The emotions were jumbled. A mix of fear, anger, and a touch of . . . sadness?

  It was almost as if he missed someone.

  Separation anxiety?

  I’d experienced this mix of emotions plenty of times in my work but there seemed to be more to it for Boris.

  But what?

  I can’t look through an animal’s mind the way you flip through a magazine. I can only read their thoughts and feelings as they experience them.

  “Talk to me, handsome. What’s going on?”

  I tried to focus on the mysterious feeling, but trying to lock on to an abstract, underlying emotion was like trying to grab an eel. Finally, I managed to catch just a wisp of it, and pull it to the front of both our minds.

  Boris let out a low, mournful growl, and I instantly moved to soothe him.

  “It’s okay.”

  Gone.

  Who’s gone?

  Taken.

  The murky image of a dark-haired girl fluttered through my mind. The girl laughed. She smelled like peppermint. But she was too out of focus to distinguish her features. I tried to latch on to the image and projected back to the tiger with a question.

  What happened?

  I got a flash—the merest blink of an image.

  The girl was standing outside a fence, her face in profile as if she was turning to look at something behind her.

  A sharp stab of alarm pulsed from the cat, followed by a surge of anger so strong I felt my lips curl back in an answering snarl.

  “Whoa.” I blinked and struggled to get a hold on my own emotions.

  Boris let out a growl—it seemed to rumble endlessly against the bare, block walls.

  “It’s all right,” I said. Though my heart was still pounding, I tried to smother the burning helplessness radiating from the cat with calming thoughts.

  Easy.

  The echoing growl subsided.

  “I see he’s back to being Dr. Jekyll,” Hugh said quietly from the doorway. Obviously, he’d made it out of the tree and through the enclosure’s exterior gate.

  I eased up on the connection with the tiger and turned my attention to Hugh, motioning for him to head outside.

  Thanks to the tiger’s eruption of emotion, I was feeling jumpy and on edge. Suddenly, I was irritated with Hugh.

  “The cat has an issue and you go in the enclosure with it to do an evaluation? What were you thinking?”

  He shrugged. “I wasn’t.”

  “You could have been killed.”

  “I had my tranq gun.” He motioned to the pistol holstered at his side.

  I arched my brows. A tranquilizer gun would have knocked Boris out about ten minutes too late, and we both knew it.

  “Okay,” he conceded. “I only wear it to look cool.” Hugh offered me a charming half smile that could probably be weaponized to disarm a legion of Amazon warriors.

  I wasn’t in the mood. “Next time you decide to be dinner for someone, don’t call me to clean up the mess.”

  “All right.” His smile faded a notch and he eyed me with curiosity.

  I understood why. Usually, I’m as calm as a glacial lake when I deal with animals. I have to be.

  Shielding against the onslaught of an animal’s thoughts and emotions was the only way I could help them—and keep my sanity. I had rushed it tonight and was paying the price—and so was Hugh.

  I took a deep breath. I still wanted to berate him for being careless, but I’d known Hugh a long time. If he’d gone into the enclosure, he’d had his reasons.

  “Sorry—let’s just focus on what’s making Boris suddenly want to eat people he supposedly likes.”

  “No, you’re right, Grace, it was reckless of me to go in there. But to be fair, Boris isn’t like any other tiger I’ve known. He bonds with people quickly. And he’s never so much as sneezed at a human. His previous owner rescued him from a breeder as a cub—she was training him to work in movies—so he’s been socialized with people and other animals.”

  “Then what’s he doing here?”

  “The woman was injured in a car accident and had to give him up.”

  Ozeal approached, stuck her head through the door to check on Boris, and turned to beam at me.

  “Well, I have to say, I am truly impressed.”

  I acknowledged the compliment with a nod. “We’re trying to understand the root of what’s upsetting Boris. It’
s almost as if he has separation anxiety. Has someone he was attached to left recently?”

  Ozeal’s brow furrowed.

  “Brooke.”

  “Who’s Brooke?”

  “One of my volunteers.”

  “When did she leave?” Hugh asked.

  “Wednesday. Which is when Boris started acting strange.” She shook her head. “I should have made the connection. Boris loves Brooke. He took a shine to her right off.”

  “Is Brooke coming back?” I asked.

  Ozeal pressed her lips together. “I don’t know,” she said with a sigh. “We had a disagreement and when I went to ask her to help with one of the tours, she was gone.”

  “She didn’t say anything?”

  “I didn’t even see her leave.”

  “What about her car?”

  “Brooke just turned sixteen. She doesn’t have a car.”

  I felt a knot of apprehension tighten in my stomach. Sixteen.

  Taken.

  I stepped away from Ozeal and Hugh, who had started talking about the best treatment for Boris’s separation anxiety. I opened the little beaded clutch, pulled out my phone, and called Kai.

  “Have you made it to the restaurant yet?”

  “I’m pulling up to the valet now.”

  “Do you have your crime scene stuff with you?”

  “My field kit? Yes. Why? Your friend didn’t get eaten, did he?”

  I hesitated a bit too long.

  “Grace?” There was an edge to his voice.

  “No. Hugh’s fine.” I explained the situation as quickly as I could.

  “So you think this girl, Brooke, is missing?”

  “Not just missing. Taken.” Boris’s description echoed through my mind. “Kai, I think she was kidnapped.”

  CHAPTER 2

  I hesitated before turning back to where Ozeal and Hugh stood. Over the years, I’d gotten pretty good at tiptoeing around the truth when it came to my telepathic ability. Kai, being one of the few people who knew the truth, had kept his questions brief when I’d asked him to come to the rescue facility, before hanging up with, “I’m on my way.”

  Explaining to Ozeal why I wanted a crime scene investigator to come snoop around her place would be more complicated.

  I couldn’t tell her the truth—that Boris had told me Brooke had been taken. Maybe it was a cop-out, but I was guessing claims of psychic abilities would come under the category of nonsense in her book.

  So, I decided to rely on a tried and true method—when in doubt, make something up.

  With the phone still pressed to my ear, I walked back to Ozeal and Hugh.

  “Ozeal, does Brooke have dark hair?”

  “Yes, why?”

  “Can you describe her physically?”

  “Average height, I guess. Pretty. She wears her hair long.”

  Acting as if I was still talking to Kai, I grimly relayed this news into the phone and then said, “Okay, we’ll be here.” I turned my attention to Ozeal as I slipped my phone into my bag. “That was my date. He works for the sheriff’s office. They’ve been investigating a series of missing persons cases involving girls who match Brooke’s description. He wanted to come by and ask a few questions. Is that okay?”

  “You think Brooke was kidnapped?”

  The idea clearly troubled her and I felt a pang of guilt. I hated being deceitful but sometimes it was the only way to express what would otherwise take a lot of explaining on my part as I tried to prove I really could talk to tigers.

  “I think it’s possible,” I said.

  “Weren’t there tour groups here that day?” Hugh asked Ozeal.

  She nodded. “We had a school field trip and a few other groups.”

  “That’s a lot of people. What are the chances of someone snatching a sixteen-year-old girl in broad daylight with a tour group snapping pictures in every direction?”

  “We’ll ask Kai when he gets here.”

  “When will that be?” Ozeal asked.

  “Wait, your boyfriend’s name is Kai? Isn’t that a type of tea?” Hugh said with a lopsided grin.

  I ignored him. “He’s coming from Jax Beach so, thirty, maybe forty-five minutes.”

  Ozeal nodded. “We’re running behind schedule tonight. Hugh, why don’t you make yourself useful and help me get the rest of the big guys put up before the next bout of storms moves in. Grace, could you take another look at Boris? I want your opinion on the best treatment for his anxiety.”

  And just like that, I was recruited into the ranks—sparkly purse, mud boots, and all.

  We’d just finished getting everything secured for the night and made it to the main building when lightning splintered across the sky. Rain swept over the grounds in a rush.

  The temperature dropped on a gust of wind, causing goose bumps to cascade over my skin, but I lingered on the porch as Ozeal and Hugh filed inside. I liked to watch storms, and smiled when the monotonous roar of the downpour was punctuated with sporadic bursts of thunder and the echoing caterwaul of a bobcat.

  Caitlyn, the girl who had fetched me on the four-wheeler when I’d arrived, had gone home, and Hugh had been volunteered for gate duty. He stepped out of the front door and lifted a bright yellow raincoat from a peg on the wall.

  “Ozeal’s putting on some coffee,” he told me as he shrugged into the jacket. “I’ll wait here till your boyfriend pulls up and let him in.”

  I started to correct Hugh’s designation of Kai. Technically, he wasn’t my boyfriend but I decided to let it go. I nodded my thanks and went inside to find the kitchen. It was easy to spot. Judging by the avocado green stove and matching Frigidaire, in the seventies the building had been a ranch-style family home. Now it functioned as reception, gift shop, and offices.

  Ozeal handed me a mug displaying the Happy Asses logo: a rear view of a donkey and a tiger side by side, their tails entwined like friends holding hands.

  “Donkeys and big cats? Seems like an unlikely combination.”

  Ozeal let out a short laugh. “Well, you have the asses to blame for the cats.”

  She lowered herself into a chair at the kitchen table and I did the same. I took a sip of coffee, breathing in the rich aroma, and waited for her to continue.

  “I bought this house after my husband died. Thought I could have a nice, quiet life out in the country. My son and I showed up with our U-Haul and found three donkeys in the pasture. The previous owners had left them to fend for themselves.”

  She shook her head as if she found the idea of someone abandoning an animal baffling.

  I shared the feeling.

  “So you decided to keep them?”

  “What else could I do? We got them fixed up and fed. One of them, Jack-Jack, is a mini. Only three feet tall at the withers, but he has the biggest personality. Smart as a whip, loves to play, and he’s an escape artist. He used to get out of his pen and wander all over the place. One day, he came home with another donkey. A little jenny—she was in poor shape, too.”

  I raised my eyebrows at that. “Jack-Jack rescued another donkey and brought it home?”

  She nodded.

  “A few weeks after that, he showed up with a stray dog.”

  “A dog?” That surprised me even more. “Donkeys usually don’t like canines.”

  “Not as a rule, no. But Jack-Jack is not one to go by rules.” Her lips quirked into a smile. “Guess what else he brought me.”

  “I have no idea—a fawn?”

  “A bobcat kitten.”

  “You’ve got to be kidding.” I was going to have to meet Jack-Jack.

  “Believe me, I was as shocked as you are. I called the wildlife rescue, but they had a full house and asked if I could keep the kitten for a few days. I agreed, and they sent a veterinarian out to do an exam. He explained that the wildlife sanctuary was full because they’d gotten a whole litter of bobcat kittens some breeder had abandoned, along with their mother. They planned to reintroduce the kittens to the wild but the mother
had never been out of a cage. She needed to be placed in a rescue facility, or she’d be euthanized.”

  “Terrible.” I’d muttered the word to myself, but Ozeal nodded.

  “It was. But that young veterinarian was fresh out of school and full of energy and ideas. The more he talked about the need for a place these cats could go, the more I agreed.”

  “So you took the mother.”

  “Once the kittens were weaned. You can figure out the rest of the story.”

  I looked at her and knew I’d been right to judge a woman by her signage. “The world needs more people like you, Ozeal.”

  She shook her head. “The world needs fewer idiots who think lion cubs make good Christmas presents.”

  A flash of headlights cut through the kitchen window.

  A sudden thought occurred to me. “What happened to the young vet who talked you into all this?”

  Hugh tromped into the room as I finished the question.

  “Oh, he comes around from time to time to drip on my floor.” Ozeal’s tone was dry but her eyes shone with affection.

  Hugh’s raincoat was so slick from his dash to open the gate for Kai, he looked like a melting lemon gummy bear.

  “Sorry,” Hugh said, glancing at the puddle at his feet. “I’ll hang my jacket outside.”

  He turned to go but stopped as Kai entered the room. Kai was wearing his tuxedo shirt under a dark rain jacket. Hugh paused to give him the once-over, then held out his hand.

  “Hugh Murray. You must be the guy who got Grace in a dress.”

  “Kai Duncan. You must be the guy she had to come rescue.”

  The men shook hands but seemed to study each other a beat too long. I’d never been terribly astute when it came to men, but even I could tell there was some posturing going on.

  Ozeal said, “Hugh, you’re still dripping. Mr. Duncan, would you like some coffee?”

  The men moved apart. Hugh continued outside and Kai turned to smile at Ozeal. “Coffee would be great, thanks.”

  He fixed his attention on me and I tried to ignore my body’s instant reaction. Kai’s Polynesian and Scotch heritage had gifted him with features I found very appealing. Dark hair and complexion. Green, almond-shaped eyes. Lazy surfer-boy smile.