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“Can you tell us what’s happening out here today?” Kitty Katz asked, then held the microphone under Marlin’s chin.
He had never been enthusiastic about appearing on camera, but it helped to remember that KHIL had a much smaller viewership than the stations out of Austin and San Antonio.
He said, “Quite a few animals were able to get out of the zoo sometime early this morning and we were lucky to get them rounded up before we had any accidents. Thankfully, all of the motorists were patient and cooperative and we got the job done.”
“I understand video is already going viral of you leading a parade of animals back into the zoo like a modern-day Pied Piper,” Kitty said, smiling. “How did you make them follow you like that?”
“I just used some cattle feed and I guess they were hungry. It worked okay.”
They were standing on the east shoulder of the highway, well away from traffic.
“How were the animals able to escape? My understanding is that the zoo has two ten-feet fences encircling it, as well as several other safety measures.”
“We’re still looking into that,” Marlin said, “but both gates were open—I can tell you that much. We have not been able to contact the zoo owner or any employees yet, but the zoo is closed today, so it might be a while before we have any answers.”
Before the camera had rolled, Marlin had cautioned Kitty Katz that he would take no questions about the body found on the zoo premises. She would need to speak with Bobby Garza or Lauren Gilchrist about that later, if they were prepared to do an interview. He knew Kitty Katz was a trustworthy reporter and wouldn’t ambush him with any unexpected questions.
She said, “Are any animals still loose?”
“We just don’t know, but we’re hoping people will call the sheriff’s office if they see anything out of the ordinary.”
“Are any of the animals dangerous?”
“Most of them are tame, but any that are still loose might be hungry or agitated at this point—maybe a little disoriented from being in new surroundings—so if you see one, it would be best not to approach it. Just call it in.”
“What kinds of animals might still be loose?” Kitty asked.
“Well, this zoo includes a wide variety of deer and antelope from all over the world, plus camels and zebras and llamas and a lot more. I should point out that it is illegal to shoot any of these animals. That would be no different than shooting a cow that crossed onto your property.”
Kitty Katz said, “What is the penalty for—”
The loud crack of a rifle shot stopped Kitty in mid-question.
“Where’re you from, anyway?” Billy Don asked. “That accent of yours is just plain weird.”
“My accent?” Garrett said, laughing.
They were taking a short break for more coffee. Chiseling mortar wasn’t a particularly strenuous job, but Red figured sixty straight minutes of work deserved a reward.
“You gotta admit you talk funny,” Billy Don said.
“I sound normal where I come from.”
“Which is where?”
“Michigan. Born and raised.”
“When’d you leave?” Billy Don asked.
“A while back.”
“And where’d you go?”
Red couldn’t imagine why Billy Don had the slightest interest in any of this.
“California for a while, and then over to Colorado, and then I decided to visit the south.”
Red was seated on his tailgate, phone in hand. He sent Mandy a text.
We picked up a hitchhiker earlier.
She didn’t answer right away.
So he added: Guess where.
“You like it?” Billy Don asked.
“The south?” Garrett said. “The weather is great, except, Jesus, it gets hot in the summer.”
Red added: Not far from the exxotic zoo.
“How ’bout the people?” Billy Don asked.
“Uh,” Garrett said. “Well. Some of them are really nice.”
Red sent another text: He said he hoped some animals got out, what do you make of that?
“Just some?” Billy Don said. Then he laughed. “Yeah, I guess that’s true. We got some good people, and we got some real assholes.”
“That’s true just about anywhere,” Garrett said. “I ran into a real weirdo yesterday. You happen to know a guy named Trevor?”
“Don’t think so,” Billy Don said.
“He gave me a ride from Marble Falls to Johnson City.”
Sure makes you wonder don’t it, Red said in another text.
“Why’d you leave Michigan?” Billy Don asked.
“That’s a long story,” Garrett said.
“But a good one?” Billy Don asked.
“I don’t know. I guess.”
“Then go on and tell it.”
“Maybe later,” Garrett said.
Red stepped behind a cedar tree to take a leak, and when he came back, Billy Don had his phone in his hand. “Check this out, Red,” he said. “They found a dead guy at that zoo.”
“What are you talking about?” Red said, and he stole a glance at Garrett.
The hitchhiker had a look on his face like he’d accidentally drunk from a beer bottle filled with tobacco spit. Red could relate, because he’d done that a couple of times himself. Luckily, it had been his own spit, not somebody else’s.
Kitty Katz flinched and blurted out, “Oh, fuck!” and then covered her mouth in embarrassment.
Marlin laughed, which seemed to ease her nerves.
The shot was loud enough that anyone unfamiliar with high-powered rifles might think the shooter was very close by. But Marlin estimated the distance to be more like three or four hundred yards away, probably on the property just south of the zoo.
“I am so glad we aren’t live,” Kitty said. “What was that? I mean, I know what it was—a shot—but should we be worried about it?”
“I don’t think so, but I need to go check it out. You can call me later if you have any more questions.”
She thanked him, and as Marlin walked toward his truck, his phone began to ring. Bobby Garza calling.
Marlin answered by saying, “On my way over there now.”
The men had known each other for decades and had worked together for many years, so it wasn’t unusual for Marlin to be able to anticipate exactly why Garza was calling.
“You get a bead on it?”
“Think it was just south of the zoo.”
“You know that landowner?”
“Met him once when he bought the place, which was maybe three or four years ago. I left a voicemail for him fifteen minutes ago, but haven’t heard back.”
Marlin climbed into his truck and started it up. He was the only law-enforcement officer on the scene who could legally enter private property to investigate the shot. The other officers would not have probable cause. They all knew that the shot was likely unrelated to the body at the zoo, but it could mean someone had just killed one of the exotics. Or it was simply a hunter taking a legal kill—perhaps a white-tailed deer or feral pig. It was, after all, deer hunting season in Texas. Shots in this area were common. But Marlin had every right as a game warden to enter private property and make sure all hunting laws were being followed.
“Keep me posted,” Garza said.
“Will do,” Marlin said, pulling onto the highway. “How’s it going over there?”
“Got a John Doe and we don’t know how he died. Well, we know—it’s a deep puncture wound to his neck—but we don’t know what caused it yet. If it was a gunshot, there’s no exit.”
“So it’s not Albert Cortez?”
“Nope. Young guy. Dark hair. Average height and build. No wallet and no ID. He had a phone, but it’s an obvious throwaway.”
“That says a lot right there,” Marlin said as he pulled onto Highway 281.
“Yep. We’re still trying to find Albert. I sent Ernie to do a welfare check inside the cabin, but Albert wasn’t there.”
Marlin was wondering if the dead male was one of the zoo employees. Just because the zoo was closed today, that didn’t necessarily mean all of the employees were off. Marlin wasn’t knowledgeable about the day-to-day workings of a zoo, but obviously the animals would need to be fed, and there were likely some other tasks and chores to be done, such as cleaning pens.
“Any vehicles at the house?” Marlin asked.
“A truck, which comes back to Albert—his only registered vehicle. We’ll get search warrants for that and his house later if he doesn’t show up soon. Right now we’ve got a couple of employees heading to the station. We’ll see what they can tell us. Lauren is gonna take off now and go interview them.”
Lauren was a skilled investigator and interviewer. She also had a self-assured but laidback personality that made people open up. Marlin knew that not just from working with her, but because he and Lauren had dated decades earlier, when they were students at Southwest Texas State University in San Marcos.
When she’d first come to work at the sheriff’s office, Marlin had worried that their past relationship might create some awkward moments. Fortunately, after a moderately bumpy start—which included the revelation that Lauren had begun to date Marlin’s best friend, Phil Colby—everything had gone just fine.
“Okay, I’ll let you know what’s going on over here,” Marlin said, as he eased his truck onto the shoulder, not far from a modest ranch gate made from horizontal galvanized pipes.
They both hung up and Marlin stepped out of his truck.
The man who owned this property was named Darren Meyer. Marlin had interacted with him exactly one time—right after Meyer had bought the property. Marlin had stopped to say hello when he’d seen Meyer out on the highway, collecting his mail. Quiet guy. Neither friendly nor unfriendly. Said he wasn’t a hunter and wasn’t planning to let anyone hunt on his place. Gave Marlin his phone number, but Marlin had never had a reason to use it, until today.
Marlin stopped at the gate, saw that it was locked, and called out, “State game warden.”
He waited five seconds, then climbed over it, and began walking along the caliche driveway.
This ranch—five hundred acres—was thick with live oaks, cedar trees, and tall grass. No cattle or goats grazing on this place.
Marlin pulled out his phone and opened Google Maps. Went to satellite view. Saw that the house was roughly a mile off the highway. There were no other buildings between the gate and the house.
He kept walking slowly.
After three minutes, he’d covered at least two hundred yards. The person who had fired the shot could be long gone. Or back at the house. Or maybe the shot had come from farther away than Marlin had estimated. The next property to the west? Or to the south? Sound could really carry in these limestone hills. Hard to pinpoint, sometimes.
He kept walking, heading west. Came around a bend and saw a man in a green army jacket holding a scoped lever-action rifle, facing south.
“State game warden,” Marlin called out.
The man turned and saw Marlin coming. Forty yards separated them. Even at this distance, Marlin could tell it wasn’t Darren Meyer. This man was much younger. Had a scruffy beard. Was several inches taller.
“State game warden,” Marlin repeated as he took a few more steps.
The man raised the rifle and pointed it at Marlin.