The Stewards: A Fight to the Death of Animal Survival

By Robert Sherretta

In a small Western community, a series of unexplained deaths in the
wilderness begin to point to possible serial killers who work with method and
motivation. A local policeman gathering the evidence fi nds that the murders
may be connected to a national, even a global pattern. These killers fi ght for
a cause fueled by passion, but their resolve and sophistication suggest a new
era of organization supporting them. As the small town police cope with the
terrorism, they fi nd they are quickly overtaken by events, outside forces and
professionals who arrive with their own, broader agendas. Inevitably, as they
are each drawn into the confl ict, they fi nd they all face their own fi nal, fi ght
for animal survival.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Sep 17, 2010
• ISBN: 9781453560457

Robert Sherretta

Robert Sherretta has been writing for a long time, but mostly about business and fi nance - another form of fi ction. Confessing to a fi fteen year career on Wall Street as an analyst and an international research director for several of the world's largest banking and investment institutions, Robert lived in Europe and returned to the United States as a vice president for an econometric forecasting organization in Washington, D.C. Today Mr. Sherretta is a licensed private investigator and television producer. His work requires him to travel the world. He resides in Virginia with his wife and numerous pets. This is his fi rst novel. A portion of the proceeds from the sale of this book will be dedicated to animal abuse prevention agencies.

Book preview

NATIVE ENCOUNTERS

Sukdeep Brar swung her small SUV into a gas station and parked by the pump closest to the door. After carefully placing all of her valuables, including her GPS and her computer out of sight, she got out; made sure the doors were locked and slowly walked toward the rundown looking office area. With dark glasses and a hat hiding most of her face, she approached the attendant, a middle aged white woman, with teased hair and wrinkled skin. She was smoking.

I would like to pay for gas and may I use the restroom? Sukdeep said quietly.

Sure honey. Just pump and pay afterward. There is the key to the lady’s room, answered the attendant as she pointed to one of two large wooden sticks hanging by the door.

Sukdeep took the slimy piece of wood with its hanging key in her two extended fingers and headed in the direction around the station that the attendant pointed to. Her anticipated horror of a bathroom experience was not justified. The room was pleasantly lighted and relatively clean. Never the less, she hurried her business there and quickly exited, returning the key and moving to her car to pump the gas. She was intercepted by a motorcyclist who roared in and slid his Harley Davidson to a halt right in her path to her car. She was clearly startled by the burly, bearded man dressed in a sheepskin coat, helmet, and gloves, but she didn’t speak a word.

Kind of cold out here today, don’t you think darling? He smiled as he pulled off his gloves revealing two large hands covered with tattoos.

Sukdeep said nothing and quickly moved around the man’s motorcycle to get the rear of her car. She took the nozzle from the pump but she began to experience difficulty getting it started.

The biker threw his kickstand down, jumped off the bike and came behind her, reached over and took control of the nozzle, again startling her.

This is how you do it with these old pumps. You need to turn this gadget on the side. He did so, plunged the nozzle into the gas tank, and flicked on the little switch to start the gasoline pumping. Now that’s better isn’t it? he asked.

She nodded slowly as she took back control of the nozzle, without making eye contact, and answered with a very low, Thank you.

You’re not from here are you? I can tell by your plates that you’ve come a long way, he prodded.

Sukdeep nodded again, but now admonished herself for giving away the fact that she understood English. Often, in confrontations with strangers, she pretended not to speak the language in order to avoid unnecessary conversation. Sometimes it ended up costing her feelings when the strangers, believing she couldn’t understand them, would whisper rude things about her.

But now it was too late. She stood in the cold hoping to fill her tank as soon as possible and leave the encounter. She turned her back toward him as she pumped, but the older model pump seemed to take forever. It pulsed in her hands like a cow’s udder, squeezing its precious fluid in rhythmic squirts. As she kept her eyes fixed on the pump, she watched the meters slowly ticking the gallons and cents. Finally, it was finished and she placed the nozzle back into its slot in the pump and turned her gas cap and slapped the lid shut. She found that the motorcyclist was gone from view.

She quickly hurried inside to pay and asked the attendant for the price. As the attendant stared through the dirty window, to see the meter on the pump, she mumbled, It looks like, thirty, six, no eight . . .

Please hurry, begged Sukdeep, before that man comes back.

Oh that’s just Larry, he’s no bother—just a big teddy bear, and like some bears, he can be a nuisance when he smells food. She seemed to throw her voice over Sukdeep and say this louder than necessary for Sukdeep to hear. He may be the only fool around here to drive a motorcycle in the middle of winter. But he’s no danger dear, believe me. It looks to me like you owe us $38.27.

Sukdeep hurriedly looked though her wallet and realized that she had nothing smaller than a $100 dollar bill.

Oh honey, I can’t break that—you only owe $38.27 and I won’t get any more twenties until the night man comes in, exclaimed the attendant. Don’t you have anything smaller, or a Credit Card? This last part she spoke very slowly and loudly, as if assuming that Sukdeep may not fully understand.

Sukdeep was about to stutter, Keep the change, and run to her car but before the words could come out; she heard the deep voice of the motorcyclist again, this time directly behind her. I think that I could probably help out with that. With that he stepped forward and presented five, twenty dollar bills to Sukdeep. She stared at his outstretched hands, the tattoos and the money and couldn’t help but notice that his hands were clean and his nails trimmed. He was holding what looked like an extremely expensive Gucci wallet, bursting with credit cards.

For the first time she looked up and into his face. Thank you again, she heard herself saying.

My pleasure Ma’am, it’s nice to see fellow travelers come through our little town. I hope you enjoy the rest of your trip.

She was taken aback by the perfect articulation and pleasantness of his educated and resonant voice. She again said thank you as she nodded to him, and then to the attendant, and walked slowly to her car. As she unlocked it and prepared to leave she found herself looking back at the two of them in the window of the office. They weren’t staring back at her as she expected, but rather seemed to be busily engaged in some other conversation as he pointed to something on the opposite wall diverting both their attentions inward. Sukdeep put the car into drive and slowly exited the station.

Once she found her destination, she settled in, but before long she became mindful that she was completely alone. She sensed the need to communicate with her brother as soon as possible. Sukdeep pointed the satellite disk toward the Northwest, but the laptop still wouldn’t respond. She cursed the cold and the cell towers, or lack of them. She knew she probably had to reach the top of the next peak to get a line of site and pick up sufficient microwave to get on-line. Still, she loved it out here and was more than a little pleased to be outside with such views of the countryside. She was about to give up when she took a deep breadth and exhaled just as the screen’s internet signal flickered to life.

CORONER’S QUESTION

The coroner’s report came in late on Saturday and although it registered no big surprise, it raised a few doubts for Atere. The coroner made it clear the man died of blood loss, having lost almost four pints, before the remaining blood in his body crystallized from the cold. When the body eventually thawed, the coroner uncovered his wallet, which identified the man as a Duane Thompson, age 49, who lived about three counties away. Atere thought he recognized the name and decided to run a records’ check and also see if a Missing Person’s report had been filed.

As he waited for the results, he reviewed his office’s official policy for notifying the next of kin. In the past, the Sheriff had always handled those communications, and when Atere was around to overhear them, he was always amazed at how sensitive and sincere Anderson could be, or appear to be on the phone. But then, he reminded himself, the Sheriff in these parts, is an elected office and it does take a degree of humanity, charm and tact to win votes.

Atere balked at the notion of making the call, but swallowed and dialed. He nerved himself to deliver the news to the man’s wife, but by the second ring was struck with doubt, when he wondered what to say if a young person, son or daughter would answer. Instead, the rings ended with the sound of the man’s own voice on a voice mail. The man’s message was slow and polite. Atere blurted out something to the effect that they needed to contact the Sheriff’s office and he repeated the phone number. Clumsy Ass, he scolded himself, after he hung up.

There was no missing person’s report, but the criminal check listed four pings, all minor charges, misdemeanors resulting in small fines, two for hunting without a license, and two for trapping animals out of season.

Atere decided to call the coroner, even though it was near closing for his office.

Hello Doc, Jack Atere here. Thanks for thawing that guy out and getting that report over to us. Are you about ready to go home, or can I run down?—I’ll be right there.

The coroner’s office and morgue was just two floors down in the basement, and he was there before the coroner could tidy up the wet and messy cadaver room.

That was fast, came the coroner’s surprised greeting.

I just don’t want to keep you any later than necessary, Atere answered. Then as he held the report up, What else do you have for me?

Not a whole lot. The leg wound and loss of blood is the primary cause of death and as you can see, he pulled the sheet back to expose the body, he made a mess of it.

Now that the body had mostly defrosted, it was even more gruesome to see the flesh, muscle and torn tendons, hanging from the bone, dripping yellowish ooze to the table.

There is no other evidence of other trauma, except for definite signs of exposure and frostbite to his nose, toes and fingers. Even if he made it back on time, he would have lost several, if not all of them on his hands, and the one foot that’s exposed.

Atere pretended to look the body over carefully, but was quickly diverted to examining the man’s hands—the fingers were all blackened and the palms were rough and bloodied. Anything on his person that is unusual?

He was dressed appropriately for trekking around out there, but I guess he didn’t expect to step into something that deadly. He was a hunter or trapper all right. He had a long sheath, for a bowie style knife—no knife though.

I’ve got it upstairs, Atere interrupted.

The coroner nodded and continued, There was a small card frozen to his clothing, but it’s been ripped in half. Funny, though that it wasn’t in his pocket. He also had a small handgun—it’s under his clothes on the chair over there. It was strapped to his waist.

Atere looked over the card, ripped across its middle. The only letters left read: THE STE, and there it ended.

Are you going to run ballistics or anything? the Coroner asked.

No, I doubt it, Atere carefully located the belt holster and removed the gun, a small 9 millimeter, Kimber automatic, but surmised that the man’s gloves, the snow and thawing probably removed any prints. He slowly lifted it and pulled back the chamber to reveal a live shell. He jettisoned it into his hand it and removed the clip. Three unspent cartridges still remained in the nine shot clip. He gave the gun a strong sniff. The residue of gunpowder still was strong enough at close range.

Fired recently, declared Atere.

Probably a cry for help, theorized the coroner.

Maybe, but this gun doesn’t have enough of a report to carry very far.

Maybe not, came back the coroner as he hurriedly cleaned up the room, but if it’s louder than your own voice, you probably would give it a try before cutting into your own leg.

Yea, you’re probably right, agreed Atere, but then, why only five shots fired? And he had extra ammunition on his belt.

The coroner shrugged, and having cleaned up sufficiently, he motioned that he wanted to shove the body into one of his two coolers. Is there anything else, or can we take this up on Monday?

Monday, Atere agreed and left as he heard the cooler door slam behind him.

THE CENTER TABLE

After a few hours in the office, Atere decided to take a break and an early dinner in the local diner. He called the only other deputy on duty and told him that he was headed to The Center Table. He liked this town’s diner and always felt comfortable and at peace in it. With its large windows, it was a great place to relax, yet monitor the town’s activity and characters at the same time. Besides, Carol, whom he regarded as the most attractive single women in town worked there and he knew her work schedule by heart. He never had the nerve to ask her out but she always treated him well when he showed up. Actually, everyone who worked in the diner did, just as every small business in town did, as they were accustomed to treating law officers with favor. Atere just happened to notice it more when it came from Carol.

His blushing was payment enough for her, but Atere felt obliged to offer something special back to her, and it usually involved some aspect of police business or gossip to share. The coroner and others in the Courthouse spread tales quickly anyway, and Atere felt little reason not to sit down with Carol. There were few customers at this hour and he always knew he could confide in her. And he really wanted her to find him interesting. He quickly told her about what the young boy had stumbled upon and the man’s final condition. Then he leaped to the question now bothering him. Why only five shots fired?

Well, Jack I can’t speak for you, Carol raised her head, but if I was trapped in those woods, I would not want to be sitting there defenseless, in case something came along. Can you imagine if a wolf, a bear or something else started sniffing around—and you’re lying there helpless?

She made some sense. She always did and that was one of the reasons he liked her enormously. One time he worked up the nerve to ask her out to dinner at a real restaurant, and after practicing his little speech, he headed straight for the diner with that objective fixed on his mind. As he approached they saw each other through the window and she could tell by the look on his face that he had something on his mind to say to her.

But as he entered he found she was not alone. In between dishes that she rushed out of the kitchen she retreated to the last booth at the back of the diner, where she was babysitting her two young children, cute kids, a girl of 7 and a boy of 5. Atere was completely caught by surprise when she introduced them and he sat in the booth and talked with them for a long time. He found the kids charming but it took the nerve and all his words for Carol right out of him.

On this occasion, as most, Atere said little, took his time eating, catching glimpses of Carol, fumbled to pay his bill and took his leave after one final, longing look as she disappeared through the kitchen door.

But something else was gnawing at Atere as he got back into the jeep, and he consciously pushed his job to the forefront of his mind, to replace his feelings for Carol. He resolved to return the next morning to the site where the frozen man’s body had been found.

LAB RESULTS

Sukdeep snapped closed her laptop, rubbed her tired eyes and headed for the bedroom. She stopped just long enough to take her pill and throw off her jump suit. She climbed under the covers and closed her eyes preying that she could fall to sleep in this strange bed in this far away place. She wondered if this trip would be worth the