“Yo, Jared, come in.” Steve’s voice, alert and gruff, crackled through Jared’s walkie-talkie.
About eleven-thirty, they were northeast of the refuge. He and Peter were moving through a tract of woods beyond part of the ranch and behind Farmington Equestrian Estates. Bridle trails led through the pine hammock; the neighborhood horse enthusiasts had lobbied hard for their retreat in the middle of the Department of Transportation’s progress. Jared was enjoying it.
I could have brought a bike down here or borrowed a horse. Would have been a nice break.
He sighed and tried not to think about the last time he’d had a real break. India, probably. “Yeah, Steve, what have you got?”
“A 911 call. Guy says he spotted a tiger behind Citrus Grove subdivision. Dispatchers have units on the way.”
Jar
