“Okay, man! Just relax a’ight.”
Eric picked him up by his collar and led him into his cell, slamming the door shut behind him. The other inmates were in a frenzy, yelling to let them out. His vision cleared but the skin on his face still burned and he could feel a sticky coat of chemicals on it. He walked past the shouting inmates and looked out the small window in the door leading to the offices of the precinct. It didn’t look like anybody else was around. Eric went back to his cell and looked the guard up and down; they were about the same height. “Take off your uniform and shoes,” Eric said. “What?” “Take off your uniform.”
The guard took off his uniform and threw everything on the ground at Eric’s feet. Eric shut the cell door and locked it before changing. It was a little tight, but passable.
He walked past the other inmates again who were now spitting and throwing things as they realized he wasn’t going to help them.
Eric walked out into the precinct. It had beige carpet and a few gray cubicles set up around the center with offices down narrow hallways. There were voices coming from a room nearby, a female’s laughter. He headed for the double-doors of the front entrance. An office door opened when he was ten feet away and Detective Pregman stepped out, looking over some papers.
Eric turned away quickly and saw he was facing some copy machines. He grabbed some paper and shoved it into a machine and pressed the copy button. The hum of the machine began as the green light flowed from the cracks in the top. Eric could hear Pregman’s voice as he walked across a hallway and into an office.
“Cindy I need copies of these four and then a copy of the tox report for the Millens case please.”
“Sure,” a female voice said.
Eric heard the sound of high-heels approaching from behind. His heart was beating so fast he couldn’t breathe. The secretary stepped to a machine next to him and glanced over. She did a double take and Eric could feel her stare. “That machine’s broken,” he said. “Oh, really?” “Yeah, try the one next to it.” “Thanks,” she said, uncertain.
“Um hm,” Eric said as he walked away and toward the front entrance. He glanced back once to see Pregman, with his head in some papers and turned away, look up, the detective catching a glimpse of the back of his head as he walked through the doors, and onto the rain soaked streets.
CHAPTER
18
The day was boiling and all the plastic and metal in Namdi’s jeep reached near-scalding temperatures. He gripped the bottom of the steering wheel with the edge of his shirt and tried not to let his arm inadvertently touch the metal gear shift.
Berksted hadn’t said anything since they began driving. He stared out into the grass, watching the occasional animal with a cold detachment. Namdi had seen this before. When a person is murdered, the family can blame the murderer. But how do you blame an animal for following its own nature? The family has no outlet for their anger and hatred and it turns inward into depression. Many often turn to drugs and alcohol and even attempt suicide in the weeks and months that follow.
“It was my idea to come here,” Berksted finally said. “I brought them here cause I thought it’d be fun to go on safari and see the animals but without all the bullshit of Africa. My wife wanted to go to Australia, but I brought them here.” “It is not your fault, Mr. Berksted.” “Isn’t it?” he said, turning toward him. “How the fuck would you know?” Namdi didn’t say anything. Berksted turned back to the landscape. “Sorry,” he said. “You do not need to apologize.” “So you’re a doctor?” “Yes, surgeon by specialty. But out here there are no specialties.” “You live here?” “Sometimes. I have a house in Johannesburg in South Africa as well.” “What the hell you doin’ here?”
“I spend half the year working for the government and then half the year in Johannesburg working at a free clinic. I would work for free the entire year if I could, but one must earn money somehow.”
Berksted took a deep breath and closed his eyes, sadness washing over him and weighing him down as surely as any weight. “The cop said it was a tiger attack.” “Maybe. But I don’t think so.” “What do you think it was?” “Hyenas.” “Why do you think that?” “There’s some evidence for it.” “What evidence?” “Markings on the body. Hyenas are very different from other animals, Mr. Berksted.” “I didn’t know there were hyenas out here.” “Oh yes, they are found everywhere except North and South America. There is a lot of legends of them here and in Nepal.” Berksted was silent a moment and then said, “By the way, that’s my wife, not some body. I’d appreciate you respecting that.”
“I apologize. In my work, it helps if I don’t think of them in that way.” Namdi took a sip of bottled water and continued. “It is not difficult to detect one. But I’ve never seen markings like this. They are far larger than normal hyenas. That is why I said perhaps it could be a tiger, or there are even Asiatic lions. Perhaps a lion with teeth deformity or some trauma to the teeth that caused it to have such specific bite patterns.”
Berksted looked away. There was a large tree just off to their right and a panther sat on one of the branches, cautiously eyeing the passerby. “I used to fuck around on her all the time. Blonds, brunettes, Asians… didn’t matter. She didn’t know, at least, I don’t think she knew. She deserved better than what she got.”
“We all do.”
They drove in silence for the rest of the morning. They circled an area of a dozen miles, going off-road through the grass a number of times and stopping midday to refuel. Namdi got out and took a plastic jug of gasoline, inserting a funnel into the gas tank and pouring the fuel in. Berksted sat in the jeep, staring off into space. He was still drunk and every once in awhile would doze off.
“We can rest if you like,” Namdi said.
“No, I want to keep looking.”
They drove for over an hour until they reached the base of a large hill far north of the house. Vultures had gathered in a circle around a kill and were fighting and nipping at each other for position.
“Wait here,” Namdi said.
He stepped out of the jeep and took a rifle from the backseat. Aiming in the air, he shot off a round and the vultures scattered as he approached. One remained, picking at whatever they had found. Namdi fired another shot and it took flight, landing on a tree a dozen yards away and watching his movements.
Namdi walked close. He lowered the rifle and put on his glasses. In front of him was a mass of rancid meat on white bones. Blood had dried into the earth and there were horns. It was the carcass of a juvenile black buck. He breathed a sigh of relief and was about to return to the jeep when he heard a growl coming from a field of grass to his right.
He turned his head and saw the gold and black fur of a tiger ducked low in the tall vegetation. Tigers had very distinctive growls, bassed and heavy. But they hunted by stealth. If she had growled, it meant she wanted him to know she was there. He could not see her head but had no doubt she was watching him carefully.
Sweat rolled down his forehead into his eyes. Slowly, he began walking back to the jeep, keeping a firm grip on the rifle. The jeep was more than a dozen yards away and Berksted looked half asleep.
The tiger moved. It was so subtle Namdi wouldn’t have noticed if he hadn’t been looking directly at her. It was just a slight adjustment in her position; going from a crouch to a tense crouch position. She was getting ready to sprint.
Namdi darted for the jeep, hearing only a roar as the animal leaped out of the grass and chased him. He kept an eye on his feet to make sure he wouldn’t trip but could hear the heavy breathing of the great cat just behind him.
He turned to look. She wasn’t more than a few feet away. Her legs flexed and she pounced. As she became airborne her front claws dug into Namdi’s back. It was searing pain that caused him to scream as he toppled over. Berksted heard the scream and was out of the jeep and trying to steady his hand as he fired.
Namdi kept his arms over his face as the animal bit down, piercing the flesh of his forearm and scraping bone. She tugged at him, tossing him to the side as if he were a rag. The predator circled her prey, mouth oozing drool as she prepared for the killing bite to the neck, suffocating Namdi to death before beginning to feast.
Shots crackled through the air, kicking up dirt wherever they landed. The tiger yelped as she was struck in
