“Joe Taft,” she said. Joe owned an enormous rescue center in Indiana, the model for her own facility. Joe was as good with cats as anyone other than Wesley Harrington.
“How soon can he get here?”
“I don’t know.”
“Well, find out. And in the meantime, who can you have here that you trust? Really trust.”
“I won’t disagree,” Kimble said, and then looked up at the older deputy and said, “Rick, can we have a minute?”
The deputy nodded and left and then it was just the two of them. Kimble waited until the door was closed, then said, “I’d like to hear about the blue light.”
She stared at him. When she’d told the story the first time, all she’d seen was loathing and pity from the listeners. Why tell it again, to another person who wouldn’t believe her?
“I thought I saw one,” she muttered, and was ready to leave it at that until he spoke.
“Was it a torch? A flame?”
She set the tea down. “Yes. It was a flame. Not just a light, but a
He didn’t answer that, just asked another question.
“You thought it led you to the body, is that correct?”
“Not exactly. I saw it and was walking toward it. I wanted to see who it was. I hadn’t made it far before I heard Ira.”
Kimble nodded. “You didn’t see the cat attack him, though. Or hear anything that sounded like that?”
“No. I was asleep. I woke up because the cats got agitated. I came outside and they were all standing up against the fences. Watching something. Watching that light.”
“When you saw the cougar, Pete was already dead.”
“I think so. There was so much blood. And he didn’t move. Yes, he was dead.”
“Was the cat showing interest in the body?”
“Interest?”
He nodded.
“Ira was just… standing over it. On it. The way they do when they’re protecting a kill.”
“All right.” Kimble reached out and touched her leg gently. “I’m sorry for your loss, too. It’s easy for us to forget about that, tonight. Please understand.”
“I do.”
He stood up. “I’ll be handling the investigation.
“Yes.”
“I think it’s very important that you get someone out here,” he said. “Right now there are police all over. But when they leave, you’re alone?”
“I’m fine.”
“When they leave, you’re alone?” he repeated. He looked extremely concerned at the idea.
“Yes,” she said.
“And you can’t leave, yourself,” he said, almost as if he were thinking aloud. “You can’t leave the cats.”
“Someone has to be with them. At this point, I’m it.”
He nodded sadly. “All right. Who can you call to be with you? Someone you trust. A friend, family. I’m asking you, please, not to be here alone.”
His voice was so grave that it frightened her. She said, “I’ll call Dustin in the morning. He can be here with me.”
“Please do.”
He went to the door, then stopped with his hand on the knob and stared out the window. He was looking, she realized, up at the hill across the road, where the lighthouse stood in darkness.
“You had some altercations with Wyatt French, didn’t you?”
“Altercations?”
“Disputes. I know he was arrested for disrupting a meeting about this place.”
“That’s right.”
“Did he ever make it clear why he didn’t want you here?”
She frowned. Why in the world were they talking about Wyatt French?
“He couldn’t make anything clear. When he wasn’t drunk, he was crazy.”
“Sure. But what did he offer? What reasoning?”
“He said it was a dangerous spot,” she said. “That was about it. When we complained about the light, he wasn’t very happy. Then David died, and he wrote me a letter proving his point.”
Kimble turned. “A letter?”
“It was a Hallmark sympathy card, came in with all the others. Just not so sympathetic. He said how sorry he was, but then said that we’d brought it on ourselves. How very kind, don’t you think?”
Kimble looked thoughtful. He said, “When you complained about the light, he had to change it, didn’t he? Reduce the brightness.”
“Yes. It was terrible before that. These blinding flashes.”
“When your husband died… where in the process was that?”
“What do you mean, process? Why are we even talking about this?”
“I’m just trying to understand which light was up then. The old or the new.”
“Neither of them.”
He looked at her in an odd way. “Neither?”
She shook her head. “That was when he was changing to the dimmer lamp. I guess it required wiring changes, because he wanted us to pay for that. We declined. For a few days there, it was dark. He didn’t waste much time, though.”
“No,” he said in a detached voice. “He went as fast as he could.”
29
THE SHERIFF WAS WAITING for Kimble outside. He’d taken the Stetson off and was rubbing his eyes. When Kimble came down the steps, he put the hat back on. Kimble could see that his hand was wet with tears.
“Pete Wolverton,” Troy said, “was one of the best we had.”
“None better.”
“Long time with us, too. Lot of good years. Lot of good work.”
Kimble nodded.
“Nobody’s called Julie,” Troy said. Julie was Wolverton’s wife. They had two children, both teenagers, and Pete was one of those dads who liked to show you pictures of the kids.
“I’ll go see her,” Kimble said.
“No. That’s my job.” Troy took a deep breath, spat, and shook his head. “I was hard on that woman in there, and maybe I ought not to have been. I’m standing out here looking at these cats and thinking that she’s all alone with them.”
“She is now,” Kimble said. “Lost her husband a few months back. Lost her friend, who was the man who kept this place going, yesterday. She’s hanging in there and taking punches the likes of which we never have. Or I never have, at least. Be a worthy thing to remember.”
Troy nodded. “I know it. I came out here, I was just feeling sick, you know? Empty sick, the useless kind. And I got worked up telling myself that I wouldn’t be useless. I’d answer for him somehow. The only idea I had was to clear them out of here, every last one of them, and thought that would be worth something. I still think that it is.”
