“It’s normal. You’re still fairly new to our operations, so I can’t fault you for wondering,” he tells me in a tone that says he faults me very much. Big-time. “Animals come and go all the time. Period. If we can’t give them the best permanent home and care, we relocate them promptly with folks who can. That’s how the system works, and you just have to trust it.”
Trust us, is what he really means.
I never will again.
I’m about to bring up that weird blue sticker I saw on Churchill’s pen, when Priscilla blows into the room, wearing another designer dress and high heels. Her wardrobe looks more suitable for an evening out in Times Square rather than the backwoods of North Dakota.
If Niles Foss is a scummy kind of good cop in their nasty duet, then Priscilla is Office Satan to her core.
“You nosy, ridiculous little ingrate. I heard everything. I’ve also heard about you asking around, bothering the rest of the crew over this nonsense,” she snarls, crushing the distance between us, backing me against a corner.
Oh, God.
“Mrs. Foss, please, I was just asking—”
“No. You were snooping. I’m only going to say this once, and I want you to listen good. We don’t lose our animals, Miss Macklin. Exotic Plains is not amateur hour. We’ve been doing this for over a decade and, frankly, we’re awfully damn good at it. However, if you really feel so strongly that things are so disorganized here, if you think we’re such blundering idiots we’d lose a darling chimpanzee, you can clean out your locker and get the hell out this instant.”
“I...what?” Her ferocious defense makes me question my own sanity.
“You heard me. You’re welcome to leave anytime, and encouraged to, really, if you don’t trust how things work here. I have no doubt whatsoever you’ll have no trouble finding dozens of other sanctuaries who’ll welcome you with open arms. You’re Peter Macklin’s daughter, for God’s sake!”
Whoa.
She throws me on the spot. I never used my father’s name.
Not in my resume. Not in my interview. Not since the day I arrived at the rescue for work.
Sure, it would’ve come up in my background check or a quick search, but the way she’d used it...it was utterly full of scorn.
Weird, out of place, and scary.
She prattles on then about the job market for big cats.
A not-so-subtle threat.
I know exactly what she means. That I should hit the floor and kiss her feet for giving me this job.
Oh, I hadn’t wanted to lose it, but that day, I find a bigger reason to stay on at Exotic Plains for just a little while longer.
I make it my mission to unravel what the hell is going on and why.
Priscilla doesn’t stop—do psychos ever know when to quit?—of course she goes on about how it’s such a high and mighty privilege to work with rescued animals, and how sad it is that they can’t stay at the sanctuary forever, but sometimes they just have to move on to their “happy places.”
That’s what she calls them.
And knowing what I do now?
It’s a small miracle I don’t barf on Grady’s couch.
I push a clammy hand against my forehead, drop my phone in my lap, and will myself to stop thinking about them.
As the memory fades, I lean my head back against the sofa and close my eyes.
I hadn’t wanted to lose the job, and I left the office then like a coward, desperate for answers.
Definitely ashamed that I felt so powerless.
Priscilla’s parting shot still echoes in my head.
“You’ve got a whole heaping lot to learn, dear lady. Less time blabbing, more time hitting the books. That’s what’ll do you good.”
Oh, yes, I had a lot to learn.
I’m still receiving a brutally twisted education.
My eyes snap open.
A tiny, muffled grunt of surprise pulls me from a dream. For the first time in weeks, it’s not another nightmare about Exotic Plains, the Fosses, Bruce, or the many dark and scary things with sharp teeth in my life.
It was a good dream. The kind that makes you want to sink back into it, even though you can’t remember what was happening.
“Sorry!” Avery sputters, standing next to the sofa.
“Hey, you,” I say, smiling at the girl as I yawn. “Guess I fell asleep. Your couch is just too comfy. I didn’t even hear you girls come home.”
“Uncle Hank just dropped us off!”
“Yeah? Did you have fun?”
The way she clenches her little hands into fists and gives them a shake tells me heck, yes.
“It was so cool. Babe had puppies and Uncle Hank has a new baby horse!” She waves a hand at the door separating the lower-level stairs. “Dad’s in the basement. He said he wants to show you something.”
“Will do.” I stand up and quickly stretch. “Where’s Sawyer?”
“Upstairs. We mucked out the barn, so we kinda have to take a shower and change. Dad says we smell like horse poo,” she tells me with a giggle.
“You smell fine to me,” I tell her as we walk to the stairs.
Eyes shining, she smiles at me again. “Me, too. And don’t worry, we won’t wash our hair yet.”
“You can go right ahead,” I tell her. “It’s been over twenty-four hours.”
While she goes upstairs, I head into the basement.
It’s completely finished downstairs with a large playroom area, an exercise room, and past that, what I have to call a man cave, including a bar and old-timey bar lights.
That’s Grady’s lair and it’s where I find him, busy staring at several computer screens on a table in the far corner.
“Is this the bat cave?” I ask.
“We’ve already got a Bruce and I’m no Wayne.” He smirks and spins his chair around. “You’re finally up. Wondering what year it is?”
Heat flows into my cheeks as I shake my head.
I’m not sure if it’s because he caught me napping midday, or if the heat in my cheeks is a memory. That lovely dream Avery woke me from?
It was starring Grady McKnight.
No doubt about it now.
“Um, yeah, sorry about that. I crashed harder than I wanted to after we came back.”
“Sorry I had to send you a pint-sized wake-up call. Had to show you this while the girls are still occupied. Take a look.” He spins back around in his chair to face the dual computer screens on his desk.
“What is it?” I ask slowly, stepping forward for a better view over his shoulder.
“The cameras we installed are working. We’ve got nearly three hundred and sixty degrees of vision, and a couple of them even rotate.”
“Nice.” I’m amazed that something went right. “Those are pretty clear pictures.”
“They’re set to stream back steady feeds, but they’ll only record interesting movements. The cameras are smart enough to sense humans and animals. Faulk still hasn’t gotten much out of your laptop, no way he’s giving up till he does, though. You said the animals disappeared regularly?”
“Yes. They started to,” I say, choking back sadness.
“How often? Are we talking weekly? Nightly?”
He turns and we lock eyes.