Will Bailey’s truck. Gary Chen, a reporter for the county newspaper, was photographing the animal. In the twilight he was using a flash. Between flashes Jackson saw Iris and Dell, him towering over her, standing shoulder to shoulder in the front. Jackson drove on to the police station.
Ed’s Ford Crown Victoria now was parked next to a Dodge Charger. The cruisers were all black, with Buckhorn Police Department on the sides and the rear in light blue, but the cars remained a pack of mongrels. A second Dodge, out on patrol, had been confiscated from a drug bust. The Ford had been bought used from the Boise city police. The Jeep Grand Cherokee that Jackson drove had been donated by a car dealership that went broke. At home he had the same short-bed Ford F-350 he had owned before his divorce. Heseldom used it off the farm. He usually drove the Jeep. With such a small police force, he was never off duty.
Jackson checked in with Skip Tibbits, the duty officer, and then took a cup of coffee into his office and phoned around to locate the county prosecutor. When Jackson reached Bud Spiegel, he informed him of the latest events and the need to get onto the Cheney property.
“Could wind up a criminal prosecution,” Bud Spiegel responded. Jackson already knew that or he would have cut the padlock and gone in. “Get a search warrant first.”
“That’ll mean tomorrow or maybe even Monday,” Jackson said. He hated to wait that long to talk to the Cheneys.
“Try Judge Vetter. He’ll be playing poker tonight.”
“Need you to go to Saint Anthony,” Jackson told Skip a few moments later. Skip was working the 4 P.M. to 2 A.M. shift. Regular officers worked four ten-hour days a week.
“When?”
“Soon as I can type up the search warrant.”
“Who’ll take my shift?” Skip was the lone officer on duty apart from a reserve officer working six to midnight.
“Me. I’ll do it.”
While Jackson was typing up the search warrant, Skip appeared in the doorway of his office. “It’s Angie.” He waggled the cordless. “She’s in Idaho Falls right now. If you fax the warrant to the judge, she’ll pick it up in Saint Anthony. That way you can go on home.”
Angie often went to Idaho Falls on weekend nights when she was off duty. Jackson had never asked where she went.
Jackson parked in front of Benson’s Sporting Goods store. The streetlights were throwing off a bluish glow, while a single streak of red on the horizon sought to keep night at bay. He had gone first to Iris’s house but didn’t find Jesse. Now he knew why. She was gathered with the others around the back of Bailey’s flatbed truck.
“It don’t look scary to me,” said a man in the crowd.
“It might if it was chasing you,” Iris snapped.
“That’s not the same cat,” Jesse said. She looked at Shane. “It was twice as big and –”
“This is the only tiger out there,” Dell said.
Jackson heard the exchange as he walked up behind his daughter and said her name softly to avoid startling her.
“Daddy, this isn’t the cat that chased me.”
Jackson nodded. “Okay, Jesse. Then it’s not.”
“That’s crazy,” a woman shouted. “She don’t know.”
“I know,” a male voice yelled. Everybody looked around to see who had spoken, but Wade Placett was too short to be easy to pick out in the crowd. Then Wade pushed his way to the truck and lifted the head of the tiger. “This thing’s a pussy cat compared to the monster chasing Jesse.”
An hour later Jackson was on his cell phone arguing with his daughter. Upon learning that the large animal vet had taken Touie back to his clinic, Jesse wanted to spend the night with her horse. Even a Saturday night date with Shane came second to Touie. Jackson finally talked her out of a sleepover in the barn at the veterinarian clinic. He was headed to his car when Pamela Yow caught him.
“I have the research for you,” she said.
“That was fast.”
She shrugged and handed over a
Ed’s Ford Crown Victoria now was parked next to a Dodge Charger. The cruisers were all black, with Buckhorn Police Department on the sides and the rear in light blue, but the cars remained a pack of mongrels. A second Dodge, out on patrol, had been confiscated from a drug bust. The Ford had been bought used from the Boise city police. The Jeep Grand Cherokee that Jackson drove had been donated by a car dealership that went broke. At home he had the same short-bed Ford F-350 he had owned before his divorce. Heseldom used it off the farm. He usually drove the Jeep. With such a small police force, he was never off duty.
Jackson checked in with Skip Tibbits, the duty officer, and then took a cup of coffee into his office and phoned around to locate the county prosecutor. When Jackson reached Bud Spiegel, he informed him of the latest events and the need to get onto the Cheney property.
“Could wind up a criminal prosecution,” Bud Spiegel responded. Jackson already knew that or he would have cut the padlock and gone in. “Get a search warrant first.”
“That’ll mean tomorrow or maybe even Monday,” Jackson said. He hated to wait that long to talk to the Cheneys.
“Try Judge Vetter. He’ll be playing poker tonight.”
“Need you to go to Saint Anthony,” Jackson told Skip a few moments later. Skip was working the 4 P.M. to 2 A.M. shift. Regular officers worked four ten-hour days a week.
“When?”
“Soon as I can type up the search warrant.”
“Who’ll take my shift?” Skip was the lone officer on duty apart from a reserve officer working six to midnight.
“Me. I’ll do it.”
While Jackson was typing up the search warrant, Skip appeared in the doorway of his office. “It’s Angie.” He waggled the cordless. “She’s in Idaho Falls right now. If you fax the warrant to the judge, she’ll pick it up in Saint Anthony. That way you can go on home.”
Angie often went to Idaho Falls on weekend nights when she was off duty. Jackson had never asked where she went.
Jackson parked in front of Benson’s Sporting Goods store. The streetlights were throwing off a bluish glow, while a single streak of red on the horizon sought to keep night at bay. He had gone first to Iris’s house but didn’t find Jesse. Now he knew why. She was gathered with the others around the back of Bailey’s flatbed truck.
“It don’t look scary to me,” said a man in the crowd.
“It might if it was chasing you,” Iris snapped.
“That’s not the same cat,” Jesse said. She looked at Shane. “It was twice as big and –”
“This is the only tiger out there,” Dell said.
Jackson heard the exchange as he walked up behind his daughter and said her name softly to avoid startling her.
“Daddy, this isn’t the cat that chased me.”
Jackson nodded. “Okay, Jesse. Then it’s not.”
“That’s crazy,” a woman shouted. “She don’t know.”
“I know,” a male voice yelled. Everybody looked around to see who had spoken, but Wade Placett was too short to be easy to pick out in the crowd. Then Wade pushed his way to the truck and lifted the head of the tiger. “This thing’s a pussy cat compared to the monster chasing Jesse.”
An hour later Jackson was on his cell phone arguing with his daughter. Upon learning that the large animal vet had taken Touie back to his clinic, Jesse wanted to spend the night with her horse. Even a Saturday night date with Shane came second to Touie. Jackson finally talked her out of a sleepover in the barn at the veterinarian clinic. He was headed to his car when Pamela Yow caught him.
“I have the research for you,” she said.
“That was fast.”
She shrugged and handed over a
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