Lie To Her (Bree Taggert #6)(13)

Bree motioned for them to come inside. The lead keeper introduced herself. She wore cargo pants and heavy boots.
“I’m Sheriff Taggert,” Bree said. “This is Investigator Flynn.”
Matt nodded. “There are some decomposing animals down there.”
Bree handed Matt an N95 respirator mask at the top of the steps. No one wanted to inhale decomp if they didn’t have to. He adjusted the straps around his head. The zookeepers had brought their own. They filed into the basement.
“The homeowner kept breeding records,” Matt said. “We’ll send copies.”
“Thanks.” A keeper gestured around the room. “We’ve got this,” he said, as if he wanted them to go away and let him work.
“We’ll leave you to it, and thank you.” Bree inclined her head toward the stairs.
Matt followed. “Are we running away?”
“You betcha.” Bree hurried upstairs and through the house to the front door. “I’ll assign a deputy to inventory everything the keepers take with them.”
Matt’s beard prevented a good seal with his mask, and the smell of rotting snakes had found its way inside. Outside, he ripped off the N95. The night air hit his grateful lungs. “I’m glad to be out of that stink.”
Bree peeled off her mask and sniffed her jacket. “I’m going to need to bribe my dry cleaner. She hates me.”
“Can’t blame her.” Matt followed her to her vehicle to wait. “We stink.”
Thirty minutes later, the zoo people emerged.
The lead keeper approached. “Sheriff, we cataloged seventy-seven snakes, eleven different species, including pythons, rattlesnakes, and several endangered Asian vipers.” The keeper paused. “And six alligators.”
Matt lifted his brows. “What?”
“Baby alligators. About this big.” The keeper spread her hands in the air to indicate the gators were about a foot long. “Some of the animals appear to be in rough shape. It’s common in these situations. Illegal breeders buy, sell, and trade constantly. All it takes is one diseased snake to infect a whole collection.”
“Will they recover?” Bree sounded concerned.
The keeper lifted a shoulder. “I don’t know. The last time we had a haul this big, half the snakes were infected with a virus. Most of them died.” She exhaled, anger vibrating in her breath. “Mites are also very common. Alligators are hardier, which is why they are living dinosaurs. The care of exotic species is complicated.”
“And Jasper wasn’t up to the task.” Bree’s brows drew into a flat line.
Anger heated Matt’s chest. Some of the snakes might be potentially deadly, but neglecting any animals in one’s care was inexcusable. “Considering that he left dead animals to rot in their tanks, I’d say he didn’t try very hard.”
The keeper nodded but looked sad. “We’ll do our best to save as many as possible.”
“Thank you,” Bree said. “It’s illegal to possess either constrictors or venomous snakes in New York without a special permit, which Jasper does not have. I’ll bring up every charge I can think of. Snakes are living creatures that deserve to be treated with the same level of compassion and care as any other animal.”
Matt’s work with his sister’s dog rescue told him Jasper would not be adequately punished for his callousness. It was hard enough to charge people with cruelty toward cute and furry animals. Jasper would probably walk away with a fine. But he also knew Bree would do her best to nail his ass on the weapons charges.
“Thank you, Sheriff.” The keeper inclined her head. “We’ll get these snakes out of here tonight, and I’ll send you a full report after they’ve been evaluated by our veterinarian. We’ll need to run tests. It’ll take time to process this many samples.”
The two other keepers had retrieved additional plastic containers.
Matt pointed to a hook. “What is that for?”
“Moving the snakes into transport containers without touching them,” the keeper said.
“You’re opening the tanks?” Bree asked, one brow raised.
“Yes.” The keeper laughed. “You don’t want the glass to break on a rattler’s enclosure while you’re driving down the interstate.”
“I guess not.” Matt swallowed, thinking of a loose rattler slithering under the car seats. Snakes in a van?
“Don’t worry,” said the keeper. “This is what we do.”
The three keepers returned to the house.
“Why does anyone want venomous snakes or alligators as pets?” Bree asked.
“People are weird.” Matt froze, a light bulb exploding in his mind. He turned to Bree. “We have possible missing reptiles at Spencer’s house. His brother keeps snakes.”
The wind kicked up. A few hairs escaped Bree’s ponytail and whipped across her face. “Maybe they bought snakes from the same person. Maybe Spencer bought snakes from Jasper.”
Matt zipped his jacket. “Maybe Jasper stole Spencer’s snakes.”
“Only one way to find out. Let’s go talk to Jasper.” Bree issued instructions to the remaining deputy, then slid behind the wheel of her SUV.
In the passenger seat, Matt rubbed his hands together. The bullet scar on his palm ached from the cold. He flexed his fingers to ease the stiffness.
Bree drove to the sheriff’s station and parked in the fenced lot behind the building. They entered through the rear door, and she headed to her office. Starving, Matt beelined for the break room. He considered another cup of coffee, but it looked—and smelled—like tar, and his stomach was already brimming with acid. Instead, he crossed to the vending machine and chose a snack-size bag of almonds. He went to Bree’s office and peered inside. Elbows on the desk, she was rubbing her temple with one hand, her phone pressed to the opposite ear. He waited for her to finish her call.