Suspicious by Heather Graham
It was far too early for the gates to have opened to tourists, and she couldn’t imagine what had happened. Her heart was thundering as she saw that most of the employees had gathered around the deep trench pond where Old Elijah was kept.
The biggest, meanest alligator in the place.
At first she stood on the periphery of the crowd, trying to ascertain what had happened, listening to the shouts that rose around her.
“How in hell did he fall in?” one of the waitresses asked, incredulous.
“Roger has been a guard here from the beginning…what would make him lean far enough over to fall in?” asked one of the ticket-takers.
“Jesse’s in there now. He’ll get him out,” a feminine voice said.
Lorena swung around to see that Sally Dickerson was there, threading her fingers through her long red hair. She turned to stare at Lorena. Where everyone else seemed to have eyes filled with concern, Sally’s had a gleam. She was enjoying the excitement.
“What?” Lorena said.
“Jesse’s gone in. He’ll get Roger out.”
Lorena wasn’t sure who she pushed out of the way then, but she rushed to the concrete rim of the great dipped pond and natural habitat that held Old Elijah.
There was a man on the ground, next to the concrete wall. Jack Pine and Hugh Humphrey were there at the side of the wall, maneuvering some kind of rope-rigged gurney down to the fallen guard, who was apparently unconscious.
There was Jesse.
And there was Old Elijah.
The way the habitat was set up, there was the concrete wall and rim, a pond area, and then a re-creation of a wetland hummock.
The great alligator had so far remained on the other side of the water. He watched with ancient black eyes as Jesse Crane moved with care to manipulate the body of the fallen guard with the greatest care possible onto the gurney.
Jesse was no fool. He kept his eye on the alligator the whole time.
“Where the hell is Harry with that tranq gun?” Jack demanded hoarsely.
“Got him!” Jesse shouted. “Haul him up, haul him up!”
Tense, giving directions to one another as they brought up the gurney, the men were careful to raise it without unbalancing the unconscious figure held in place by buckled straps. Jesse helped guide the gurney until it was over his head.
And all the time, Old Elijah watched.
Motionless, still as death, only the eyes alive.
Others jumped in to help as the gurney rose. Jesse reached for the rope ladder that he’d come down and started up.
And then Old Elijah moved.
He was like a bullet, a streak of lightning. Someone screamed.
The massive jaws opened.
They snapped shut.
They caught the tail end of the rope ladder, and the great head of the beast began to thrash back and forth.
Jesse, nearing the top, teetered dangerously. A collective cry rose; then he caught the rim of the concrete barrier and hauled himself over.
At the same time, they heard the whistle of a shot.
Harry had arrived, holding a huge tranquilizer gun on his shoulder.
The dart struck Old Elijah on the shoulder.
At first, it was as if a fly had landed on his back, nothing more.
The gator backed away, drawing the remnants of the rope ladder with him. Then, as if he were some type of blow-up toy with the air seeping from him, Old Elijah fell. The eyes that had blazed with such an ancient predatory fervor went blank.
The crowd was cheering Jesse; med techs were racing up, and more officers had arrived to control the space and let the emergency techs work.
Jack slammed a hand on Jesse’s shoulder. Hugh shook his head and fell back against the barrier, relieved.
Jesse looked down into the enclosure, shaking his head as he stared at Old Elijah. Then his gaze rose, almost instinctively, and met Lorena’s.
She stared back, oddly frightened to see the way his eyes narrowed as he regarded her, filled with suspicion. His mouth was hard. She flushed; he didn’t look away.
Someone caught his attention, and he turned.
“Damn, Harry, it took you long enough to get that gun,” Jack called, shaking his head.
“Jack Pine, you’re the damned handler, so get a handle on what happened here,” Harry shouted back.
“Calm down. We’re going to have an inquiry,” Jesse said.
“Inquiry?” Harry snorted. “Roger was out here by himself. What the fool was doing leaning over the concrete, I don’t know. We’ll just have to wait until he’s regained consciousness to find out.”
“Yeah, if he regains consciousness,” Jack snorted. He was tense, and his features were hard as he stared at Harry.
“Hell of a thing—” Harry began, and then realized that he had an audience, more than a dozen employees hanging around. He stopped speaking and shook his head again. “This show’s over, folks. Back to work, everybody back to work.” Then he turned to Jesse. “Hell, Jesse, what kind of questions could anybody have?”
“That will come later. I’m getting in the ambulance copter with Roger,” Jesse said, brushing past Harry.
He stared at Lorena again then. His features remained taut and grim, and his eyes now held…
A warning?
He hesitated, speaking to a couple of officers who had arrived along with the med techs, then hurried after the stretcher.
A man in one of the Miccosukee force uniforms spoke up, his voice calm and reassuring, yet filled with authority. “Go ahead, folks, get going. We’ll be speaking with you all one by one.”
The crowd slowly began to disperse. Harry was complaining to the officer. “I don’t get it. What could your questions be? For some fool reason, Roger got stupid and leaned too far over the barrier. No one else was out here. Security was his job.”
“Harry, we have to ask questions,” the officer said. “Hey, if there were an outsider in here, giving Roger or anyone a problem, you’d want to know, right?”
“Well, yeah,” Harry said, as if the idea had just occurred to him. “You boys go right ahead. Question everyone. Damned right, I’d want to know.”
He turned to walk away, then saw that several of his employees hadn’t left.
“Get going, folks. It’s a workday, and this isn’t a charity. So get to work. And everyone, give these officers your fullest cooperation.” Then he walked away himself, followed by one of the officers.
Lorena nearly jumped a mile when she felt a hand on her shoulder. She swung around. Michael was there, looking sleepy, concerned but foggy, also clad in a robe.
“What the hell happened?”
She explained.
He shook his head. “Well, that’s about as weird as it gets. Roger has been here forever. He should have known better.”
“Would that alligator…Old Elijah…would he have eaten the man, do you think?” Lorena queried softly.
“He’s really well fed, so…who knows,” Michael said. “Eaten him? Maybe. More likely he just would have gotten angry, taken a bite, tossed him around, drowned him. Who knows. I don’t question Old Elijah. There’s only one thing I can say with certainty about alligators.”
“And that is?”
Michael’s eyes met hers directly. “That you’ll never really know anything about them,” he said flatly. “You’ll never know what goes on behind the evil in those eyes.”
Jesse sat in the back of the emergency helicopter, doing his best to keep out of the way of the men desperately working to save Roger’s life. He didn’t need to ask questions, not that they would be heard above the roar of the blades, not from where he sat. A glance at the med tech who had taken the man’s vitals and affixed his IV line told him that Roger had not regained consciousness.
As soon as they reached the hospital, Jesse paced the emergency room waiting lounge. Hell of a place. He knew the hospital was good; one of the best in the nation for trauma. But it was also the place where those without insura
He wasn’t the only law enforcement officer there. As he waited, two drug overdoses and a man with a knife in his back were rushed in, escorted by cops. Strange place, he thought. Stranger here, in the heart of the city, than out in the Glades. The wealth to be found in the area was astounding; movie stars, rock stars and celebrities of all kinds had multimillion dollar mansions out on the islands, in the Gables and scattered throughout the county. At the same time, refugees from Central and South America abounded, many who slept under bridges, or lived in the crack houses that could be found not so far from the million-dollar mansions.
At length, one of the doctors came out. “Well, we’ve got him stabilized. But he’s in a coma. He’s not going to be talking.”
“Will he come out of it?” Jesse asked.
“I don’t know,” the doctor told him honestly.
Jesse nodded, and handed the doctor his business card.
“I’ll call you first thing, and I mean first thing, if there’s any change at all,” the doctor promised.
Jesse thanked him. There was a Florida Highway Patrol officer in the waiting room who had just finished with an accident victim. He offered to drive Jesse back. It was a long way, and Jesse thanked him for the offer.
“Heard you’ve been having some bad business around here,” the officer, Tom Hennesy, said as they drove. “Anything new on those shootings?”
“No. Metro-Dade Homicide is handling that case, though.”
Hennesy nodded. “You had a fatal gator attack, too.”
Jesse nodded.
“Strange, huh?” Hennesy said. “Usually that kind of thing only happens when someone wanders into the wrong place.” He shrugged. “Of course, the ‘wrong’ place is getting harder to avoid these days, what with developers eating up the Everglades. Still, it’s usually only the big gators that will attack an adult. It’s usually toddlers. Or pets.” He cast a sideways glance at Jesse and flushed slightly. “I was reading up after the attack the other day. Since 1948, there have been fewer than 350 attacks on humans in this state, and the number of fatal attacks is only in the teens.” He laughed. “I remember when the creatures were endangered, and when the first alligator farm opened in 1985. My uncle used to come out to the Glades, sit in a cabin and drink beer, and go out and hunt gators—till they made the endangered list. And now…My wife wanted to move close to the water. Now, after the latest incident, she wants to move out of state and up into the mountains somewhere.”
Jesse smiled at the man, offering what he hoped was polite empathy.
“Hell, you’re down here all the time,” Hennesy said. “Think about it. How many attacks have you seen?”
Jesse looked at him. “Well, my uncle Pete lost a thumb, but he was one of the best wrestlers the village down there ever had. He was proud of it, actually. I don’t think you can call that an attack, though.”
When they at last reached the alligator farm, Jesse was disturbed to realize that more than half the day was gone.
The place was full of tourists, as if nothing had happened. A discreet inquiry assured him that Lorena was busy, helping out with Michael Preston’s hatchling speeches.
He took a glance into the lab and saw that there were at least twenty people on the current tour. Lorena didn’t see him. He watched her, watched the way she smiled, seemingly at ease. But in reality she was moving around the lab looking for something, he realized. She was subtle, leaning against a cabinet, a desk, casually assessing the contents, but she was definitely searching for something.
He was tempted to shout at her. Stupid!
Was she stupid, or dangerously reckless? Why? What was driving her?
A little while later, when he drove away from the farm, he realized that he’d been afraid to leave, afraid to head home for a shower. He was tired as hell, but the shower was necessary. Sleep would have to wait.
Lorena heard that Jesse had returned to Harry’s. That he had spoken with a number of people.
Just not her.
The next morning she met Thorne Thiessen, the veterinarian. He had come to take a look at Old Elijah.
He was a distinguished-looking man, weather-worn, with a pleasant disposition, very tall, very fit. He had his assistant with him, a huge guy named John Smith. They both looked like extremely powerful men, in exceptional shape.
Maybe that was a requirement for survival in the swamp. Or else something in the genetics of the men in the area.
Watching Thiessen examine Old Elijah had been a real education. They had pulled out a lot of equipment—Elijah was one big beast—and they had snared him, something that had taken Jack Pine, Hugh, John Smith and two part-time wranglers to manage. The gator had thrashed, even when caught, and sent several of the handlers flying. Between them, however, they got the creature still, with Jack making the leap to the animal’s back, shutting the great jaw and taping it closed.
Only then did Thiessen go into the pit. He took blood samples, checked the crocodilian’s eyes, did some kind of a temperature reading and checked out his hide.
Despite the time she’d spent in school, Lorena really didn’t know how the vet was determining if the ancient creature was in good health or not. Personally, she thought that the way he had been able to toss grown men around as if they were weightless seemed to prove that he was doing okay.
Jesse showed up right when Thiessen was leaving. Lorena, who had been watching from the pit area, did her best to eavesdrop. The men greeted each other cordially enough, but then Jesse pressed the vet, who in turn became defensive.
“I’m working on it, Jesse. But come on, Homicide doesn’t see any connection between the alligator limb and the murders. Something ate the rest of the thing, that’s all. Poachers don’t kill people with high-powered rifles.”
Jesse shrugged. “I can see where this may not be at the top of your priority list, but it is high on mine. If you don’t want to deal with the responsibility, I can just take it to the FBI lab.”
Thorne frowned, even more indignant. “No one knows reptiles the way that I do!”
“That’s why I brought the specimen to you. Another day or so, Thorne, then I’m going to have to go for second best.”
As he finished speaking, Lorena realized that he’d noticed she was there. She had forgotten to eavesdrop discreetly.
But there were others around, too. Jack and Hugh were speaking together, just a few feet away. Sally was standing politely to the rear, obviously waiting for a chance to have a word with Jesse.
Even Harry was still by the pit, calling out orders to the two wary part-time handlers, who had been left to free Old Elijah from the tape on his snout.
Michael Preston was there, too, sipping coffee with a thoughtful frown as he watched all the activity.
Jesse, however, was gazing thoughtfully at her.
“Ms. Fortier,” he murmured. “I need to see you later,” he said.
He turned to leave. Sally tapped him on the arm, asking a question that Lorena couldn’t hear. As Jesse walked away, Sally was still at his side.
“Hey!” Harry called. “Doors are opening.”
Lorena realized that although she was always distracted when she brought visitors through Michael’s lab, she actually enjoyed his talks. He had a nice flair for the dramatic. That morning, though, she felt the frustration of not being able to find anything out of the ordinary. Except for the eggs with the cracked shells. That was where changes—or enhancements—might take place. But they were out in the open. Part of the show.
In the afternoon, she watched as Jack and Hugh both put on their own demonstrations. Jack wrestled a six foot gator to the amusement of the crowd. Hugh brought out gators in various stages of growth, thrilling the children, who were allowed to touch the animals. After the last show, Hugh approached her.
“How about an airboat ride? See some of the scenery up close and personal?” he suggested, his gri
She agreed, and soon, they were out in the Glades. She had been afraid, at first, when it had looked as if they were trying to take off over solid ground. But it wasn’t ground at all.
The river of grass. That was what it was and exactly the way it looked. As they traveled, Hugh educated her about their environs, shouting to be heard over the motor. The Everglades really wasn’t a swamp but a constantly moving river; it was simply that the rate at which the water moved was so slow that it wasn’t discernible to the naked eye.
Hugh obviously loved the area. Before they started out, he had explained that he was an Aussie, would always be an Aussie at heart, but that he had come to love this place as home.
Trees on hummocks seemed to rush by with tremendous speed. Ahead of them, brilliantly colored birds, large and small, burst out of the water and into the sky. At last Hugh cut the motor, and the airboat came to rest in the middle of what seemed like a strange and forgotten expanse of endless water, space and humid heat.
“So how do you like the airboat?” Hugh asked. He had a cooler in the rear of the boat and edged around carefully to open it. He produced two bottles of beer.
She accepted one.
“The feel of the wind is great,” she told him.
He took a seat again, grinning as he looked at her. “You like it out here?”
“It’s strange. A bit to get used to. But yes. I don’t think I’ve ever seen more magnificent birds. Not even in a zoo.”
“Around the early 1900s, some of them were hunted into extinction. Their feathers were needed for every stylish hat,” Hugh said, leaning back. “But they are fabulous, aren’t they?”
She nodded. “So, Hugh, were you a croc hunter back home in the Outback?”
He laughed. “Actually, I was born and raised in Sydney, but I always wanted to find out about the wilds. We’ve got some beautiful country at home, but there’s just something here…the loneliness, the trees, the birds, the…I don’t know. Some people simply fall in love with the land. Despite the SST-size mosquitoes, the venomous snakes and the alligators.”
“Have you been a handler ever since you got here?” she asked. “I mean, did you ever help with the research side of things?”