Undercover in Conard County Read online

  * * *

  As she drove through town on her way back, she waved to people she recognized, and pulled over once to share a few words with Julie Archer, who kept wanting her to join “the gals” for lunch. Except Desi’s job didn’t often leave a lot of regular time for socializing. She liked the group of women, though, and kept telling herself she was going to make time for lunch with them some weekend. After hunting season.

  When she got back to the office, the closed sign still hung in the window. That didn’t surprise her. Five wardens worked out of this station, covering thousands of square miles. Most of them only checked in by phone except when there was a big meeting or they needed to coordinate on something.

  Being senior warden, she was based here.

  The two-story office was on the edge of town, just a small distance from a quiet neighborhood. They kept it up pretty well so it looked good, all stained wood with sturdy shutters for the windows. Her living quarters were upstairs, a leftover from days long gone. It also had a small dirt and gravel parking lot, and a blue truck with a shell was waiting there as she pulled in.

  Seeing the truck, she pulled up near it instead of driving around back to the shed with the evidence lockers.

  Curiosity punched her anger down a little bit, then when the guy immediately climbed out, her anger deserted her completely. An instant attraction hit her as if by magic.

  He wore a plain blue shirt under a blue quilted vest, tight jeans. Every inch of him bespoke a fit, well-muscled body. As he walked toward her on hiking boots, she felt another burst of attraction. He moved easily and his dress spoke woodsman, not cowboy. Ah, cut it out, she told herself. No time for this. She had a problem to deal with.

  She climbed out to face him and got another surprise when she realized how tall he was, and she wasn’t short herself. Smiling gray eyes set in a square face looked at her from beneath a camouflage ball cap.

  “Can I help you?” she asked.

  “You must be Warden Jenks.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  He offered his hand. “Kel Westin, WIU.”

  Wildlife Investigative Unit? Surprised, she shook his hand, feeling an electric jolt at the contact, and summoned a smile. “Come on inside.”

  “Thanks.”

  As he followed her inside, Desi wondered if something had gone wrong. What was he investigating? Her? One of her wardens? But no, they didn’t investigate that stuff, did they? Her heart rate picked up a little bit. Whatever this was about, it wasn’t casual.

  “Coffee?” she asked. She sure wanted some.

  “Thanks. It’s been a long day. And you look like you’ve had one, too.”

  “Poachers,” she said succinctly as she readied the pot to brew. “Worse, trophy hunters.”

  “Would you believe that’s exactly why I’m here?”

  She hit the start button on the coffeepot and faced him. He looked to be in his late thirties, eyes the color of a storm-heavy sky, his skin pleasantly weathered by the elements. A lean face. “ID?” she asked. If this was going any further, she had to be sure she wasn’t talking to her poacher.

  Without comment, he reached into his hip pocket and slipped out a leather case. Flipping it open, he showed his badge and photo ID.

  “Thanks,” she said.

  “No problem. Thing is, I’d like it if you’d keep that under your hat. Don’t even tell your other wardens.”

  Her attention sharpened even more. “Why?”

  “Because I’m here to investigate the poaching and I’m going to do it undercover by starting my own outfitting business. The less people know, the better.”

  “Hallelujah,” she said quietly, and finally pulled out her chair to sit at her desk. “I didn’t think anyone was listening.”

  “Oh, we’ve been listening. It’s just this isn’t the only place where this is happening and we’ve got limited manpower. Thing is, we just recently got intelligence that all this trophy hunting might be linked to a single very active ring. But we need evidence, so here I am.”

  She thought about what he’d just said and felt her heart quicken. A ring? It suggested huge problems. She came out of her thoughts about how big this could be with a start as she heard the coffee finish brewing.

  “Grab a chair,” she said, pivoting her own to reach for two mugs on the counter behind her and pour them full of coffee. She passed him one. “Let’s talk about today, then you tell me what you need.”

  He picked up the mug and drank deeply, then rose immediately to refill it. At least he didn’t ask her to. She was a little prickly about her gender because women were so rare in the service, and some of the men didn’t hold them in very high regard. But she supposed that wasn’t fair. Most of the trouble she got about her gender came from miscreants she was about to cite. Men who said things like, “They let women have guns, too?”

  Then Kel Westin sat across from her again. “So, about today?”

  * * *

  Kel waited patiently for her to speak. Her reputation had preceded her. She was young for a senior warden, which spoke highly of her skills and service. But he hadn’t expected blue eyes and curly dark hair like a tousled nimbus around her head, or the curves he could see when she pulled off her insulated vest and tossed it onto another chair. Her red shirt was beginning to show some wrinkles from a long day.

  “Today,” she repeated, standing to pull off her utility belt and place her gun in a locker. “A local rancher, who’s also the city police chief, found a bighorn sheep decapitated and skinned on his property. Looked to be around two days old, maybe a little less because the wolves hadn’t finished it. Anyway, his property is fenced and posted, so the poacher must have broken down part of his fence as well. The meat was wasted.”

  “Damn,” Kel said, watching her as she paced to the window and back, discovering that it was suddenly easier to think about how attractive she was. He shook his head and stared down into his coffee. “What do you think brought the sheep down from the mountains?”

  “They might have used dogs. Or maybe the animal was sick. I have samples to send to the lab and a carcass in my truck that I need to get into an evidence freezer, but in the meantime...” She put her camera on her desk and turned it around so he could see the screen. With a punch of the button, a slideshow started. “Have a look. Too bad it rained the last two nights.”

  “Maybe that’s all that kept the wolves from scenting it sooner.”

  She nodded, then settled onto her chair again. “I hate to think of that sheep being driven down the mountain like that. Terrified by bush beaters or dogs...it doesn’t matter. Out of his element, on the run, all so somebody could decorate his wall.” She slapped her palm on the desk. “We only issued twenty-two permits in this area for bighorns this year. We don’t have a big enough population to sustain this kind of hunting.”

  That was the struggle for which Wyoming Game and Fish had been created. Back in the 1880s, Wyoming’s streams had become sterile of edible fish. So fisheries were their first step. Then in 1921 Game and Fish had been created and in 1929 had been given the power to limit the harvesting of game and fish both. Since then healthy populations had rebounded, but it was a never-ending battle.

  Desi Jenks was right: they couldn’t afford this poaching. Not of bighorns. Some other populations were large enough to withstand some of it, like antelope, but the bighorn? There was a reason they’d permitted only twenty-two to be harvested this year in her area, and that was a larger number than in some areas that were being poached.

  “No clues, I suppose?” he finally asked as he scanned her photos of the scene.

  “I wish. I pulled another bullet but you know they’re useless without a gun to match them to. Standard round for a thirty-thirty hunting rifle, and you wouldn’t want too big a hole in your sheepskin rug.”

  “The s
kinning was expert,” he remarked. “The decap appears to have been done by some kind of butcher’s saw.” He sat back. “They didn’t want to damage the skin or head. To hell with the rest.”

  She nodded and picked up her own coffee, leaning back in her chair. “Experienced.”

  “Yeah.” He tried to ignore the loveliness of the woman who sat across from him, just a normal male response that should be ignored, focusing instead on what this piece added to the puzzle. Not much, he decided. It was more of the same.

  “What about you?” she asked.

  “I’m going into competition with them. See if I can draw them out by threatening their cash stream.”

  She frowned. “That could be dangerous.”

  “It could, but we’re getting nowhere otherwise. They pop up under different names every season. New phone number every week, then no phone number once they’ve got enough customers. All payments made by cash. Absolutely nothing we’ve been able to trace, including their internet postings. In fact, all that stuff has started diminishing and we suspect they’re getting most of their business by word-of-mouth now. And you know darn well that with only limited bighorn ram permits, they’re not in the market for a permit. They couldn’t promise anyone that they’d get one at the drawing. Same for other big game.”

  “And it’s all going out of state?”

  “Of course it is. First off, a resident permit isn’t that expensive, even if it’s hard to get one for big game through the drawing. Nonresident permits run in the thousands. Then you’ve got the problem of where you’re going to display that trophy. Desi, you know people around here. How many of them wouldn’t mention the sudden appearance of a trophy head to you?”

  She smiled faintly. “A few. There are a few everywhere. But someone, eventually, would run it by me. I have pretty good contacts around here, and despite what some people may think, most of the ranchers have a great respect for the land and the wildlife.”

  “Unless it’s wolves,” he said.

  She laughed. “Unless it’s wolves,” she agreed. “Unfortunately.”

  “I hear you got some here?”

  “A pack of maybe seven up on Thunder Mountain. So far there’s been a détente going on, but today...” She shook her head. “Fresh kill on Jake’s ranch. He’ll mend his fence as soon as he finds out where it was damaged, probably by the bighorn on the run...but then he’s got to keep an eye out. Right now his place may be looking like a wolf smorgasbord.”

  “I could go out and give him a hand.”

  She arched her brows at him. “What was that about undercover?”

  “I’ll go out as an outfitter trying to get the lay of the land. I’ll just say I thought I could lend a hand while I learn the area.”

  She shook her head, and he realized he wasn’t going to run this show singlehandedly. Oh, well. She knew the area and he had only one purpose: to gather intelligence on a ring of poachers. She spoke. “Jake’s the chief of police. I told you. He’s not stupid. That’ll smell and he won’t like it. One word of advice to you, Kel. Tell Jake what you’re really doing. He might be helpful and he sure knows how to keep a secret.” She paused. “He also knows Thunder Mountain as well as I do.”

  “I’ll think about it.”

  But then she questioned him again. “Isn’t it a little late to start your masquerade? The season’s already underway for a week now.”

  “I’m not doing this solo.” He saw her stiffen, and guessed she was wondering if she was going to be totally shoved to the side in this operation. He hastened to reassure her. “I’m solo out here,” he offered quickly. “But the unit has been making postings for me on the web and social media since late last spring. In the meantime, once the snow was gone, I’ve been hiking all over the terrain to familiarize myself. Anyway, word about me has been out there, just not where I was going to set myself up. A few shills have already indicated their interest in a hunt publicly, so once I surface, I’ll appear to have business already.”

  She nodded, leaning forward to rest her elbows on the desk. “What about others who call?”

  He half smiled. “Well, now that’s interesting. We sound them out, mentioning they have to have their own license because they can’t hunt under mine, and they usually bail pretty quickly. Then we try like hell to find out where they go next. We’re coordinating with other states, but so far none of these calls have been productive. Apparently, the mere question about licensing makes them too cautious to continue. Two birds, one stone.”

  She clearly appreciated that. “But some won’t care if it’s illegal.”

  He nodded. “Of course not. But if they’re calling me, they obviously don’t know about this ring yet. If we find that they’ve contacted someone else, we can probably persuade the hunter to deal with us rather than face charges. But the ring is getting hard to find unless you have some kind of contact. Plus, we need evidence for court. Hearsay ain’t gonna do it.”

  He stood. “Now, don’t you have a carcass to get out of your truck?” From the photos she’d showed him, he’d guess there were well over a hundred pounds left of a nearly three-hundred-pound sheep.

  “Yeah. Help appreciated. I’ll roll around back to the freezer building.”

  * * *

  Behind the front offices in a steel building about fifty yards away were a series of chest freezers, all of them with serious padlocks. In them they kept evidence until a case was completed, whether dressed meat or an entire carcass. Desi tagged the bighorn in its plastic wrapping, then Kel helped her lift it into the building and put it in an empty freezer. Desi slapped a note on top of it, making it clear this meat was unsafe to eat. From time to time during the year, the wardens donated any good meat they no longer needed as evidence to a soup kitchen, or a church or even to individuals living on the edge who could use it well.

  Not everything was wasted, Desi thought with satisfaction as she locked up the freezer shed. Not nearly.

  “I guess we shouldn’t hang much,” Desi remarked as they walked back to the station. For some reason that disappointed her. She wanted to be part of his operation, was thirsty for it, but she was also kind of thirsty for the man himself. No good. “You being undercover and all.”

  “Hey, wouldn’t I cozy up to the local wardens? Try to seem innocuous?”

  “Brown nose?” She looked at him and laughed. “I’m not very susceptible, Kel.”

  “Didn’t think you were,” he answered in good humor, “but that’s what people can think and I’ll hurry that notion along when I can.”

  She stepped inside and faced him. “Why?”

  He grew instantly serious. “Because I’m going to need your help, Warden. I can’t possibly do this alone. So I cozy up to you, make it look like I’m trying to get on your good side, maybe romance you a bit, and no one will even guess what I’m really here to do.”

  She felt an unexpected sense of displeasure that he could so casually offer to romance her as part of his cover. Shaking her head at herself, she quashed the feeling. “Just don’t take it too far,” she said. “I’m not known for dating around here.”

  He nodded, accepting the warning. Sometimes, things happened at exactly the wrong time. Well, this was wrong for more reasons than timing. She couldn’t let herself want this guy. That kind of stuff could only get in the way.

  But she felt a little slammed by her reaction. Not in years had she reacted so strongly to a guy just because of how he looked. Right now she didn’t know anything about Kel, so who needed this reaction? He might turn out to be a jackass.

  She could have laughed at herself if this situation weren’t in danger of affecting her peace of mind. But there was one good thing she could say about it: instant sexual attraction had taken her mind off that bighorn.

  But now she needed to come back to earth and set about reporting the kill. While
Kel got himself some coffee, she pulled her notebook out of the pocket in her vest and flipped it open. Her sample case was still in the truck, and she’d have to package that up in a cooler to send to forensics.

  In the meanwhile...paperwork. On the computer.

  As she called up the forms, Kel spoke again.

  “Desi? You take this all very personally, don’t you?”

  She looked at him, wondering if that was a compliment or an insult. It could be either. After all, he was a man.

  He sat across from her. “Good for you for taking it personally. Some get so used to it they forget. But the word warden has an honorable history. It means protector, caretaker, guardian.”

  She felt a crooked smile forming on her face. “I got the same training you did, Kel.”

  At that he laughed. “Of course you knew that. I’m just trying to say, I’m glad you take this stuff personally. I’ve met a few who don’t. Just another job to them. They don’t do it very well.”

  She guessed it must have been written all over her face how she was taking it when she pulled in. She didn’t remember having said much about it except the basic facts.

  Her phone rang and she reached for it. “Hey, Lex, what’s up?” She listened. “I’m on my way.”

  When she hung up, she rose. “I’m outta here, and I guess you should leave, too, to preserve your cover.”

  “What’s up?”

  “An antelope didn’t quite make it over a barbed wire fence. I guess this day’s going to end on a really sour note.”

  * * *

  Kel stood in the parking lot and watched her get into her truck. Cute bottom, he thought, then yanked his mind back into line. No messing with a colleague, he reminded himself.

  He had plenty to do anyway. He already knew the terrain around here, although he hadn’t introduced himself to Desi before. He’d spent all summer hiking around those mountains until he could talk about them like he knew them intimately. He’d studied the migratory maps, as well, and figured that if he ever needed to he could lead someone to a good hunting spot for big game.