Unlike on his private tour with Peter on Monday morning, Jared wasn’t narrating. The buzz of a table saw came from the front of the refuge, irritating and out of place. David noticed several empty cages as they moved on the pine needle pathways.
He lost a lot of cats, not just Sultan.
It bothered him, but he couldn’t get caught up too closely in the story; he had to maintain a professional distance.
Some cages were still a mess. Chain link was twisted on the ground; fence posts were flattened into the dirt. A half dozen pine trees lay splintered on the east side of the refuge bleeding sap and chunks of bark.
They moved to the back of the refuge and faced Tasha’s empty cage. The door to her lockout area was wide open. Jared’s fingers traced her name on the sign at the cage front. Jared’s voice was naturally deep, but now it was thick with emotion. “Remember that video I showed you?”
“Yeah, ugly stuff.”
“She’s dead now.”