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Authors: Monica McCabe
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veterinarian, I have greater access to the database than a janitor. Which, by the way, you need to work on a little stronger. I didn’t buy your act. Most janitors I know don’t pick locks. Nor do they have razor sharp eyes with a calculating gleam. You might try toning that down a bit.”
Did she actually just insult him? “I’ll have you know several people have thanked me for the quality of my janitorial work!”
“Really? That’s more gratitude than I got at the airport when I saved your life.”
“Saved my life? Are you serious? I’ve faced bigger guns than that little firecracker he carried. I could’ve handled the situation without your help.”
“Well I saved you the trouble and never heard one thank you.” Roz squirmed in her arms, and she adjusted her hold.
He just stared in disbelief. “Interfering is a habit of yours, isn’t it?”
She looked like she wanted to throw something at him. “Of all the ungrateful—”
“We don’t have time to argue.” He headed for the next room and she followed.
“Admit it,” she persisted, “I can help you. Especially if you tell me exactly what you’re looking for.”
Man, she was stubborn. Whether he agreed or not, she’d get involved. It would no doubt be smarter to keep her occupied and under his watchful eye. Problem was, she’d be in real danger if discovered. And he didn’t know her. Trust was much too risky.
Still, he needed to come up with something. “You must promise not to do anything rash,” he said. “If you blow this investigation by snooping, there’ll be hell to pay.”
“I know how to be discreet.”
Things had now become way more complicated than he liked. But maybe, just maybe, she could stumble across something useful. “All right, then.” A sinking feeling told him he’d regret this. “I’d like a look at animal shipments. Names, dates, and origins would be helpful.”
“That I can do. How far back?”
“A year would be good, six months will suffice. And whatever you do, keep a sharp eye out. Don’t do anything stupid or attract suspicion. Got it?”
“Aye, aye, Captain.”
He scowled at her, seriously worried about the wisdom of what he’d just agreed to. But there was no arguing the point now. Good or bad, the deed was done.
“Come on,” he said gruffly. “Let’s get out of here.”
Chapter 8
Miranda thought she could sneak into the animal nutrition area, commonly known as The Tank due to metallic walls and a deep square shape, but should’ve known better.
“Where’ve you been?” Jason asked the second her foot crossed the threshold. “It’s not like you to be late.”
She opted for a convincing lie. “Got trapped in a conversation about the States.”
“Been there, done that.” Jason scooped up a glob of liver-colored vitamin paste and smeared it on chunks of raw meat for the big cats food supply.
She’d missed lunch, but the vile smell of that paste effectively killed her hunger. Miranda tied on a wrap-around apron and washed her hands before joining Jason and Mikal, Katanga’s nutritionist, at the wide stainless steel table. Letta pushed her way through the double doors just then, carrying another tray of meat cut in smaller chunks for the servals and young cheetahs.
“There you are!” Letta said, sliding the tray onto the table and shoving it in place with the others. “We feared you were lost.”
“I’ve learned my way around,” Miranda replied. “It’s names I struggle with.” She pulled on latex gloves and dug into the smelly paste. “It can be embarrassing.”
“Too many for you to remember.” Mikal waved off her worry. “For us this is easy, only you and Jason.”
“You’ll learn them all,” Letta said, “right about the time you’re ready to leave.”
“Please, I don’t want to think about leaving yet.” Miranda wrinkled her nose as she smeared the heady mix onto a hindquarter of wildebeest. Zoological care wasn’t for the squeamish.
Did she actually just insult him? “I’ll have you know several people have thanked me for the quality of my janitorial work!”
“Really? That’s more gratitude than I got at the airport when I saved your life.”
“Saved my life? Are you serious? I’ve faced bigger guns than that little firecracker he carried. I could’ve handled the situation without your help.”
“Well I saved you the trouble and never heard one thank you.” Roz squirmed in her arms, and she adjusted her hold.
He just stared in disbelief. “Interfering is a habit of yours, isn’t it?”
She looked like she wanted to throw something at him. “Of all the ungrateful—”
“We don’t have time to argue.” He headed for the next room and she followed.
“Admit it,” she persisted, “I can help you. Especially if you tell me exactly what you’re looking for.”
Man, she was stubborn. Whether he agreed or not, she’d get involved. It would no doubt be smarter to keep her occupied and under his watchful eye. Problem was, she’d be in real danger if discovered. And he didn’t know her. Trust was much too risky.
Still, he needed to come up with something. “You must promise not to do anything rash,” he said. “If you blow this investigation by snooping, there’ll be hell to pay.”
“I know how to be discreet.”
Things had now become way more complicated than he liked. But maybe, just maybe, she could stumble across something useful. “All right, then.” A sinking feeling told him he’d regret this. “I’d like a look at animal shipments. Names, dates, and origins would be helpful.”
“That I can do. How far back?”
“A year would be good, six months will suffice. And whatever you do, keep a sharp eye out. Don’t do anything stupid or attract suspicion. Got it?”
“Aye, aye, Captain.”
He scowled at her, seriously worried about the wisdom of what he’d just agreed to. But there was no arguing the point now. Good or bad, the deed was done.
“Come on,” he said gruffly. “Let’s get out of here.”
Chapter 8
Miranda thought she could sneak into the animal nutrition area, commonly known as The Tank due to metallic walls and a deep square shape, but should’ve known better.
“Where’ve you been?” Jason asked the second her foot crossed the threshold. “It’s not like you to be late.”
She opted for a convincing lie. “Got trapped in a conversation about the States.”
“Been there, done that.” Jason scooped up a glob of liver-colored vitamin paste and smeared it on chunks of raw meat for the big cats food supply.
She’d missed lunch, but the vile smell of that paste effectively killed her hunger. Miranda tied on a wrap-around apron and washed her hands before joining Jason and Mikal, Katanga’s nutritionist, at the wide stainless steel table. Letta pushed her way through the double doors just then, carrying another tray of meat cut in smaller chunks for the servals and young cheetahs.
“There you are!” Letta said, sliding the tray onto the table and shoving it in place with the others. “We feared you were lost.”
“I’ve learned my way around,” Miranda replied. “It’s names I struggle with.” She pulled on latex gloves and dug into the smelly paste. “It can be embarrassing.”
“Too many for you to remember.” Mikal waved off her worry. “For us this is easy, only you and Jason.”
“You’ll learn them all,” Letta said, “right about the time you’re ready to leave.”
“Please, I don’t want to think about leaving yet.” Miranda wrinkled her nose as she smeared the heady mix onto a hindquarter of wildebeest. Zoological care wasn’t for the squeamish.
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