The Ridge by Michael Koryta Page B

going at all? It was a question she didn’t like to ponder, because she felt the answer was all too obvious.
    She looked at him now and nodded, recalling again the intensity of David’s excitement upon finding Ira. He had knelt in front of the cage, staring in at the black cat with a wide smile, and said, “They’re real. Every wildlife biologist in the country would tell you that if they ever existed, they don’t anymore. But you’re looking at one. And you know what else? This cat’s roots don’t go back to Africa or the Amazon. They go back to these mountains. I can
feel
it, can’t you? Look at him: he belongs to this place.”
    Now, months removed, Audrey watched the cat swish his long black tail and nodded. “Let’s get him out there.”
    There were no problems. In fact, no sooner did they have the transport cage placed in front of the enclosure gate and opened than Ira unfolded to his full length and stalked over to it, eyes onWes and not the cage. It was as if he knew exactly what was desired and saw no reason to fight it.
    The drive, too, was problem-free, Wes going slow and sticking to the back roads. They’d just gotten onto the rutted gravel of Blade Ridge Road when they saw an unfamiliar truck parked ahead. A moment later, as they continued to approach, the door opened and a police officer stepped out.
    “It’s him,” Audrey said. “The guy from the accident.”
    Wes slowed at the gates, and Audrey put down her window. The deputy regarded them with a nod and a slight smile.
    “Hi there.”
    “Hi,” Audrey said. “How are you?”
    “Just fine. Shouldn’t be, by the look of my wheels, but I’m fine.”
    “You’re one lucky SOB, I’ll promise you that,” Wes said.
    The deputy nodded, giving a cursory glance toward the dark lighthouse above, and then said, “Well, thanks for your help yesterday. And I’m glad I went into those trees and not into the fences. Could have let some tigers out.”
    Audrey had never considered the possibility. If he’d exited the road left instead of right… She shook her head against the thought.
    “All that matters is that you’re okay,” she said. “What brings you out?”
    “Wanted to look around. Trying to get a handle on just how it happened. You’re certain that nobody from your staff was in the road?”
    “Not a soul,” she said. “Dustin heard the sound of the wreck and came out. You were alone.”
    “Is he here? I’d like to ask him about it.”
    “He’s done for the day.”
    The deputy nodded, but he seemed distressed. “All right.” He waved a hand at the preserve. “Those cats are pretty amazing.I’ve been watching them. Never seen anything like it, so many together.”
    “You want a look around?”
    “I’d love it.”
    She got out of the truck and told Wes they would meet him at Ira’s new enclosure. Then, on foot, she began to lead the deputy around the preserve.
    “You aren’t scared around them?” he said.
    “Not a bit. Now, there are some who I wouldn’t want to be alone with in a cage, but that doesn’t mean they’re marauding threats. It just means they haven’t been socialized with humans as well as the others. They still can be sweet cats, and they still need a home, but you have to be a little more careful. Most of them, though? Sweet.”
    She went over to the leopard cage and made a chirping noise with her tongue. Jafar, a huge spotted leopard, one of the most beautiful cats in the preserve, was in his cat house. Audrey had made the mistake of referring to it as a doghouse once—it seemed the universal name for such a structure—and David corrected her indignantly.
    They’re cat houses,
he’d said, and she’d remarked that it sounded like a whorehouse, and he’d laughed. There’d been a lot of laughs in those early days, as they acquired cats and built enclosures and dreams.
    Jafar’s house was a long and low L-shaped structure, open at both ends, built out of plywood and filled with straw. He was one