Deadly Hunter

by Rachel Lee

“Will do.”

  Well, that solved one problem, but considering the rapidity with which she seemed to be accumulating new ones, she wasn’t sure that was such a great thing.

  When she got to her classroom the first words she heard was a young man saying, “Global warming is a crock. Look at how cold it is right now!”

  Oh, boy, she thought. Here we go. She dumped her laptop case and backpack on the table beside the podium and simply waited as the students settled. Quiet came quickly enough.

  “Who’s heard of the Little Ice Age?” she asked casually.

  A couple of hands rose tentatively, but nearly forty other students remained still.

  “All right, let me do this quickly. It’s more interesting than Avogadro’s constant.”

  Laughs. They were attentive now.

  “The Little Ice Age started in the Middle Ages and didn’t fully end until late in the nineteenth century, just a little over a hundred years ago. I’m sure you’ve seen paintings of people from that era. Didn’t you ever wonder why Henry VIII was always painted wearing so many clothes? Or how people could wear the kinds of heavy clothing they did back then?”

  Now she really had their attention. “Well, it was because it was cold. It was so cold that summers were short. People couldn’t grow the kinds of crops they once had. They were starving. It helped set them up for things like the Black Plague because the rats came into town for food.”

  “Wow,” a couple of voices said.

  “But we need to get to Avogadro, a very brilliant man, so I’ll just keep this short. During the early stages of the Little Ice Age, when the climate was starting to change, the weather went through wild swings for about two hundred years. They’d get a couple of really cold years, a couple of warm years, back and forth like a pendulum. Give that some thought. But only after you think about Avogadro.”

  It seemed almost cruel to get on with her lecture, because she’d excited their interest and they wanted more. She kept a lid on it until after class. When students clustered around wanting to know more, she suggested they hit the computers and look it up.

  “Do your own research,” she said, smiling. “Don’t take my word for it.”

  It was kind of amusing, though, to realize she’d sparked the interest of quite a few of them, and of course it had not one darn thing to do with chemistry.

  * * *

  Jerrod was surprised at the knock on his door. He’d been here two weeks and not one person had knocked. Well, he might have missed some friendly overtures because he’d been so busy spending his days out in the countryside.

  He went to answer it and saw a tall man with steel-gray hair and a weathered face. The man smiled and held out his hand. “Nate Tate. Allison called me this morning and suggested I stop by and introduce myself.”

  “Jerrod Marquette. You must be the former sheriff?”

  “That’s me.”

  “I didn’t expect to meet you so soon.” He stepped back and waved the man inside. Tate looked around and Jerrod knew exactly what he saw: minimal signs of habitation, not even a chair to sit on.

  “I’ve got coffee,” he offered.

  “I never pass on a cup,” Tate answered.

  The kitchen wasn’t any better. If anyone lived here, the only sign was the hot pot of coffee on the stove.

  “Roughing it?” Tate asked.

  “Still haven’t decided what I want to do.”

  “That can be a big decision sometimes. I was lucky. I made the decision before I went to ’Nam, and she was still waiting for me when I got back.”

  “That makes you a lucky man.”

  “I guess you weren’t so lucky.”

  “Lucky enough, just not that way.”

  With no place to sit, Tate leaned back against the counter with his coffee. “Thick enough to stand a spoon in,” he remarked after he took a sip. “So what brought you to these parts?”

  “Your son, I believe. Seth Hardin. I met him a few times and he always had great things to say about this place.”

  “I should’ve figured my boy would be part of it.” Nate Tate smiled. “He’s liked it here since the first time he set foot in the county.”

  Which opened the door to some questions, but Jerrod didn’t ask. He’d just met the guy. “I was out with Allison yesterday while she collected samples from the Madison ranch. It sounds bad.”

  Tate’s face darkened. “Damn bad. I still don’t get why the Department of Agriculture is allowing the stuff to be used again in some states. I get that it’s in livestock collars. I get that coyotes can be a problem. I also get that this stuff is so dangerous it shouldn’t be permitted. Those collars get punctured. They get lost. And yeah, the poison deteriorates eventually, but how far will it spread before it does? Boggles my mind to think that killing one coyote might result in some bear dying, or some wolf, or poisoned water....” He shook his head.

  “Why do they put so much poison in the collars? Allison said it’s enough to kill six grown men. Coyotes aren’t that big.”

  “Sure kill,” Tate said. “One nip, a little on a canine tooth, and the coyote will bite the dust. From that perspective, and only that perspective, does it make sense.”

  Jerrod nodded, taking a gulp of coffee. Hot and bitter, it slid down his welcoming throat. “Nobody’s worried it might kill their animals?”

  “Some aren’t, apparently. Most of the time a grazing animal wouldn’t be affected, and since the coyote runs away he’s not likely to poison anything else until he gets sick and dies. Then you get a case like Madison’s.” Tate shook his head again.

  “Would anybody do that deliberately to Madison? Have a grudge that big?”

  Tate’s eyes narrowed, even as his lips stretched in a humorless smile. “Anything’s possible. Thing is, though, around here you might have a grudge, but you don’t mess with a man’s stock. That’s a killing offense in these parts.”

  “Really?” Apparently some of the Wild West still survived out here.

  “You get caught at it, somebody might take the law into their own hands. We have some rustling problems from time to time, and no jury around here would convict a rancher who shot a rustler. Or someone caught poisoning a rancher’s land or stock. No, you got a problem with someone, you’d best take it up with them directly.”

  “So it was probably some kind of accident.”

  “Probably. A bad one, though. If we ever found out where it came from, somebody would be paying for two Angus cows and maybe a little more, besides. I sure wish we could find out where it started.”

  “Allison doesn’t think that’s likely.”

  Tate sighed. “Mebbe not. Likely not. What little I know about that toxin gives me a real bad feeling, and the way it spreads makes it almost impossible to trace.” He cocked a brow at Jerrod. “So you went out with her on Saturday? You keeping an eye on her?”

  “I thought she shouldn’t be out there alone. In case.”

  “There’re a lot of in cases out there. Especially when the snow covers things. From prairie-dog holes on up. I don’t think cell phones work any too good out at the Madison place.”

  “I didn’t think so. Which brings me around to something else.”

  Tate nodded. “She ought to have a radio. I’ll stop by the office and talk to Gage Dalton. He’s the new sheriff.” Tate suddenly laughed. “Been a while since I retired, but he’s probably always going to be the new sheriff. Anyway, I’ll have a word with him. Chances are Allison won’t get around to it.”

  He turned and dumped the dregs of his coffee into the sink. “I’ll think on what you said about a grudge. Don’t want to dismiss any possibility. In the meantime, you keep an eye on that young woman. I reckon you’re good at that.”

  “It’s not exactly something I’ve done before, but I get the basics.�
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  Tate’s gaze measured him. “Reckon you do,” he said finally. “Who were you with?”

  “Can’t say.”

  “Like that, is it?” The former sheriff let it drop. “You need anything, give me a shout. And if you get to feeling sociable, I got a wife who loves nothing better than a guest for dinner.”

  When Tate walked out, Jerrod was left holding his card. He stared at it, figuring he had just found an ally who could help with intel.

  So Tate didn’t think it was likely someone had a score to settle with Madison. That was good to know, but it opened up some questions, like who and why? Just an accident?

  It had been a long time since Jerrod had given much credence to accidents. Just like he wasn’t ready to give credence to the idea that they’d never be able to find the person who was responsible for the poison. It might be difficult, but not necessarily impossible. And what if the person responsible for the release had something to hide? Say, some illicit stock of the poison that wasn’t in collars at all. That would fit better with the idea of those cows ingesting some. In which case, somebody could have a whole lot of reasons for stopping Allison.

  Remembering the way he’d felt watched out there, then later here on the street, he couldn’t dismiss the possibility out of hand.

  Of course, it was always possible that he was trying to act on training that had no place here in his new life. Maybe he wanted to believe this because it gave him a purpose again.

  If so, he might be worse off than he thought.

  Grabbing his jacket, he decided to head over to the college and see if he could find Allison. Just a friendly gesture, an offer to take her out for lunch. It seemed the least he could do after that wonderful lasagna the other night.

  Or maybe it was because his whole body was humming like a homing beacon, dragging him toward her.

  He snorted, but didn’t fight it. She was interested in him, too, and she was a grown woman who could make her own decisions.

  Whether he’d be good for her didn’t even enter into it. That was her decision.

  Besides, he’d all but promised to keep an eye on her.

  * * *

  Allison stood looking at the back of her sporty SUV with dismay. Somebody had tried to smash the tailgate window. Trying to get at the samples? But why?

  They hadn’t broken in, though. The car was still locked, the window was crazed with cracks and dented in at one place, but nobody had gotten in. So why?

  It would be easy enough to take a swing at her car in the faculty lot. Even now, as lunch hour approached, there wasn’t another soul around. There rarely was except in the early morning or late afternoon. Unlike the student parking lot, this one was seldom busy.

  Well, if they’d wanted the samples, it wouldn’t have taken much more work to get at them. Why would anyone want them, anyway? They might be dangerous, and it wasn’t as if she couldn’t just go out to collect some more.

  Swearing softly, she pulled out her phone to call campus security. Dan Digby was going to be here shortly, and he’d be thrilled to find out that his trip had been lengthened by this. She probably wouldn’t even be allowed to open her car until someone had gone over it.

  Not that the campus had much of a security force. There’d likely be another delay as they called the sheriff. She sighed this time. Just lovely.

  She shivered a little in the cold. She really hadn’t dressed for standing out here long, but she didn’t feel she could step inside a building. What if someone saw this as an opportunity to get into her car and look for money or something? They might get exposed to that toxin.

  Security didn’t keep her waiting long. Well, of course not. They generally had little to do on this small campus. Ben Herbert climbed out of the car, took one look at her and the window and said, “Climb in my passenger seat before you freeze. I called the sheriff.”

  “I thought you would. Has there been a rash of this?” she asked hopefully. It would be so nice to feel this wasn’t directed at her.

  “No,” he answered bluntly. “Probably some stupid kid who did it on a dare, though. You wouldn’t believe how much craziness happens on a dare. Maybe even fraternity hazing of some kind.”

  She liked that idea. She slid into his car, which was still running and blasting welcome heat. Even though she was wearing lined gloves, she held them out to the heater vent. Too much cold, too much snow. If this was the harbinger of the kind of winter it was going to be, everyone was going to wind up wishing they lived in igloos. At least the heating costs would go down.

  A sheriff’s car pulled up just minutes later. It was followed by a police car, this one piloted by the chief, Jake Madison. The deputy turned out to be Sarah Ironheart. Allison was almost amused by the fact that her broken window had drawn so much attention. That a broken car window could be such a big deal gave her some idea how little happened around here. Although on the same day they found the dead cows, they’d had that killer from Minneapolis show up and try to take out Jake’s fiancée, Nora.

  Crap, maybe things weren’t as quiet around here as everyone liked to pretend, now that she thought about it.

  She opened the door and leaned out of the car. “Don’t touch anything inside the back of my car. I’ve got soil samples, water samples and a bag full of possibly contaminated gear in there.”

  Jake looked at her. “From Saturday?”

  “Yeah. Dan Digby, from the state, should be here any minute to pick it up.”

  “He might have to wait a few,” Sarah said. Holding a camera, she started taking pictures.

  “I’m sure it’s just a prank,” Ben Herbert said. “We get all kinds of pranks here.”

  “Pretty expensive prank,” Jake remarked. He looked at Sarah. “You want to dust or you want me to?”

  She shrugged. “I’m voting baseball bat and not one fingerprint.”

  “You’re probably right.”

  Which meant, Allison thought, they’d never figure out who did it. Oh, well.

  Just then they were joined by Jerrod Marquette. Allison heard his step and turned to see who it was. She felt startled that he’d followed her here, but was glad to see him, more so because she hadn’t even caught a glimpse of him yesterday. Of course, she had told him she would be grading papers on Sunday, so apparently he was respectful of her time. Nice.

  “Hi,” he said. He clearly had already taken in the scene. “I came to buy you lunch. Looks like that’ll have to wait. What happened?”

  “Baseball bat? Nobody knows. They didn’t try to get into the car, though.”

  “Lucky for them if that stuff in there is toxic.”

  “I just warned everyone.”

  He squatted down beside her. “I’m sorry this happened.”

  “Me, too. But at least they didn’t break the windshield completely. I can probably tape it and wait until the auto repair shop gets a new one in.”

  “Probably.”

  She glanced at him and realized his gaze was fixed on her. Immediately, her insides sparked in response. Boy, she was getting it bad. Not good.

  “Why don’t you scoot in and close the door so you can keep warm,” he suggested quietly.

  “I’m waiting for Dan Digby from the state.”

  “Do you know him?” He barely waited for her nod. “Then you’ll recognize him as soon as he gets out of his car.”

  He had a point. “But what about you?”

  “I’m fine. I ran over here. It warmed me up nicely. If I get cold, I’ll run around the parking lot.”

  So she pulled her legs in and let him close the door for her. Then he went over and shook hands with Jake Madison, and was clearly introduced to Sarah and Ben. She wondered briefly if they’d be suspicious of him because he was a newcomer, but body language belied that. Finally impatient because she coul
dn’t hear what was going on, she climbed back out into the cold.

  They were beginning to collect a small crowd of gawking students as Jake dutifully covered the back end of her car with black fingerprint dust. She figured the students wouldn’t be here long. The wind seemed to be growing more bitter by the second.

  “Well?” she asked as she approached the knot of cops.

  Jake looked at her with amusement. “You want a complete forensic analysis in ten minutes?”

  “No, but a short one would do.”

  “Blunt object. And Ben’s probably right about it being a bad prank, or some kind of hazing. Unless you gave someone a failing grade recently?”

  He was serious, she realized. “Not recently. Whether they like the subject or not, no one is taking chemistry who doesn’t need it for a reason. Almost everyone works hard. It’s been a couple of semesters since I last failed someone.”

  Jake nodded and looked at Sarah. “It doesn’t look angry.”

  She agreed. “Angry would have involved more than one heavy swing. I’d expect your entire tailgate and maybe other parts of the car to be involved.”

  “Unless,” said Jerrod, “they got scared away by something.”

  Allison looked at him. “What’s that mean?”

  “Probably nothing at all.”

  But Jake and Sarah didn’t take it that way. “That’s a possibility. It happened since you got here this morning, right?”

  “Some time in the past three hours.”

  Just then a car pulled into the lot. It bore the state emblem on the side and parked close before Dan Digby climbed out. A balding, slightly portly man of about fifty, he quickly pulled on a fur hat and looked around. “What the hell?”

  “Vandalism,” Ben Herbert said, stepping forward. He’d been quick enough to call the police, but apparently he wasn’t going to relinquish all authority here. Allison felt a flutter of amusement run through her, despite her anger about her rear window. Watching men could sometimes be downright amusing.

  Dan ignored Ben and came hurrying over. “Are you all right, Allison?”

  “Of course. I wasn’t here when it happened. And it really does look like somebody’s bad idea of a prank.”