was going to explain, lay out for me what I already knew—that the town of Harvest Grove had gotten too small to support its own veterinarian now. If the weirdos in the black uniforms were offering him more money… I passed him two of the mugs to be taken into the room, grabbing the other three myself.
Don’t do this. Do not do this.
“Of course,” I said. “I’d be happy to help.
Chapter 4
“So, tell me about what your practice has to offer,” Hollingsworth said, leaning back in his chair, fingers steepled.
“Uh, well…perhaps you might tell us a little more about the day to day business of the Capricorn Institute, and then we’d be able to discuss better how Harvest Grove could meet your needs,” Stuart replied. “We knew there was a bunch of work being done on the old prison, but not what for.”
The man sniffed at this, but he straightened and said, “The institute is focussed on ensuring that certain threatened species of animals will survive into the future. We’re creating gene banks and exploring ways to ensure captive animals keep perpetuating their number, possibly using some cloning techniques.”
“Cloning? That must be some set up you’ve got up there. So what do you want from a country vet?”
“Dr Wilson…” The black clad man looked at Stuart with an indulgent smile. “Let’s not be coy. Your reputation precedes you. We have our own science team, of course, but when I was headhunting someone to run the veterinary science side of things, imagine my surprise when I found a world-wide expert on big cats right down the road.”
Wait, what?
This whole scene was waaay too Bond villain for me. I was half tempted to dump Fluffy, Mrs Dixon’s incontinent and very crabby Persian cat, in Hollingsworth’s arms so he could stroke it absently. But as the two men did that manly, stare down thing only people with penises seem to be able to do, I got to my feet. Stuart had a past, we all knew that, but he refused to talk about it and I was respecting that by GTFO’ing of the room.
“Stay, Ms Bruce,” Hollingsworth said, without even looking my way.
Excuse me? I looked the man over, eyes narrowing. Does being an overbearing dickwad come automatically with power and authority? Stay cool, Shan. Just be professional and tell him you have a client.
“I apologise, but I have a four-thirty appointment to get to,” I said, realising I hadn’t given him my last name.
Get out, get away, hissed Nan’s voice.
“Yes, with Diablo,” he replied, letting go of the Doberman’s lead.
The dog had been fixated on me since we got in the room, his dark brown eyes taking in every move I made, but I wasn’t getting much from him from this far away. I wasn’t sure if that vigilance was because he wanted a pat or to eat me up. I took a deep breath, my muscles locking up as I sat back down in the chair, Stuart’s protests dying away as the animal came closer. Diablo walked up, sitting down neatly at my feet, and then continued to stare.
“What seems to be the problem?” I asked. “He presents like a well-trained dog. I usually deal with the more neurotic of our clients.”
“Diablo…suffered a setback recently. As you have noted, he shows no outside signs of being affected, yet we are having difficulties using him in his usual capacity.”
“Which is? What was the setback?”
The men behind him shuffled in their seats. Interesting. I looked down at the dog.
“Diablo is one of our guard dogs. While the Capricorn Institute has altruistic aims, there are those who do not agree with our methods. We had a recent incursion from a radical animal rights group, and ironically, it was Diablo who was the victim of their ham-fisted attempts to free non-native apex predators into the community. He has become skittish when out on patrol, and an unstable guard dog is a dead guard dog.”
Hollingsworth’s dark eyes seemed to spear straight through me. “But this is also a job interview of sorts. People in town talk about your miraculous ability with traumatised animals. Some of our specimens have been recovered from impoverished zoos, where the animals go mad from lack of enrichment or worse, starve. Others have been retrieved from ‘personal collections’ or circuses. Having someone on staff that can work with traumatised animals? Well, that would be priceless.”
Go, go, go, the voice in my head said. Grab your go bag, leave here, and never come