“Happy to help. Poachers are bad for business,” he said. “When people think they can just take whatever they like, they decimate the game for the legitimate outfits.”
“Poaching is big business. We believe the poachers are part of a sophisticated ring that is killing the bears for the Asian black market. A bear gallbladder can go for as much as fifteen thousand a piece. That’s big money.” Jeremiah leaned forward and stared hard at Rhett. “Pardon me for asking, but what does it take to run an outfit like this? I imagine the economy has managed to take a bite out of your profits. I’ve checked your permit applications and you’ve had a twenty percent reduction in applications last year, and this year it seems you’re taking a similar hit.”
“Ain’t it a bitch? Yeah, the economy has taken a bite, for sure.” Rhett smiled with a shrug. “But I’ve got a healthy reserve. I assure you I don’t need to start running black-market bear parts.”
Miranda didn’t realize she’d been holding her breath until Rhett had answered. Her cheeks flushed with anxiety, hating how Jeremiah had put Rhett on the spot with his line of questioning. “I’m sorry.... We had to ask,” Miranda said quietly, glancing at Jeremiah in the hopes that they were finished.
“Girl, don’t worry. It’s your job. I want you to catch those bastards. It’s hard enough to run a legitimate operation without people worrying that we’re just running around willy-nilly. If the animal activists caught wind of an operation like mine doing something like that on the side, they’d delight in skewering my ass to the wood. I’m not about to give those peckerwoods the power to mess with my livelihood. You ask any question you like. I’m an open book.”
“The first kill of the season was discovered last week right before that monster storm blew in. I was tracking them off Woodstock’s Trail and then we lost the trail when the snow started to come down in a blizzard.”
“Freak storm for so early in the season,” Rhett said. “Dangerous.”
Miranda nodded but didn’t elaborate. She didn’t come to chat about the weather and she definitely didn’t want to share how she and Jeremiah had holed up in the search-and-rescue cabin. “I don’t know how they’re getting in and out without being noticed, which makes us wonder if they’re operating under the guise of a legitimate business.”
“There’s a new outfit that just started operating, Vivid Adventures, owned by a gal named Vee Walker. I don’t know much about her aside from the fact that she’s running the prices so low that it’s cutting into business on all sides. My question is, how is she able to operate with such low pricing? I’m not saying she’s the one, but I’d poke my nose into her practices if I were you.”
“Thanks for the tip, Rhett,” Miranda said, looking to Jeremiah.
“We’ll pull a few of her permits and take a look at the volume she’s doing and where. The kills have been in a concentrated area each time. Thanks for your cooperation and the beer.”
They rose and said their goodbyes, but as Jeremiah went ahead of Miranda, Rhett gently held Miranda back to speak to her privately. “Listen, be careful out there. Whenever there’s big money at stake, lives tend to have less value...particularly that of a pair of nosy fish-and-game employees. You hear me?”
“I’ll be okay,” she assured her old friend. “Thanks for allowing Jeremiah to grill you.”
“He seems all right,” Rhett said, giving her the unofficial nod of approval. “Take it easy, kid.”
Miranda smiled and joined Jeremiah in the car.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
“FOWLER SEEMS LIKE a good guy. Honest.”
“He is. One of the best.”
“How well do you know him?”
Miranda drew a deep breath. “I’ve known him my entire life. He and my dad used to be close.”
“I sensed there was some history there. What happened?”
“When Simone died, my dad changed. He...stopped caring about the things that used to give him joy and started turning his attention to things that his friends didn’t approve of.”
She was phrasing her answer cautiously, which made Jeremiah wonder what she wasn’t saying. He didn’t want to pry but it seemed as if he was missing an important element.
“I shouldn’t tell you this,” she began sharing in a halting voice, “but I trust you.” When she saw that he was listening intently, she continued. “My dad used to carve wooden totems and other types of tourist carvings and he was really good at what he did. At one time his art was everywhere. His carvings were sought after all over Alaska. But then Simone died and it was as if something intrinsic to his art died with her. He started smoking a lot of pot but because he needed an income he started selling it, too. So now he fancies himself a farmer and he’s built an elaborate greenhouse system attached to his shop and that’s where he spends the majority of his time—either stoned out of his gourd or tending to his crop.”