Chapter Nine

Blake had woken up first the next morning, feeling sore and stiff. He had been briefly unsure why one side of his bed was too warm until he remembered what had happened the night before. The muscle relaxers always made him groggy the next day, but it was a small price to pay to be able to sleep uninterrupted. He got out of bed and grabbed his cane, then went to use the bathroom and came back to find Jensen up and pulling on his underwear.

Jensen grinned at him when he looked up. “Sleep well?”

“Very. You?”

“Like the dead. Jeanie texted me and told me we’re all meeting at your office and I’m going to drive to the bird people’s place from there. She asked if we could use your truck and swap the plates on it.”

“Yeah, I told her that was fine earlier. Pretty sure she’s not supposed to be swapping plates on vehicles, even if she is a cop.” He grabbed some clean underwear and a shirt from his closet. “Did you bring a change of clothes?”

“Yeah, a couple options. I wasn’t sure what I would need. But I live in town so I can grab something else if what I have isn’t right.”

“I have no clue what kind of attire is appropriate for infiltrating a bird mill, sorry. Probably isn’t black tie, at least.”

“No, cocktail attire at best, I would think,” Jensen snorted.

They finished getting dressed, and Blake quickly fixed breakfast for Ginger before putting her in the carrier and taking her with them. She didn’t like being home alone, and Blake was fairly certain that one way or another, he was going to need to find another cockatoo. They drove into town in Blake’s old truck, discussing everything but what they were about to do.

***

“I still don’t like this plan at all. Are you sure there’s nobody else?” Blake had crossed his arms tightly across his chest and was glaring at Jeanie and Sheriff Winston. They were all standing in the break room of Blake’s veterinary practice, discussing the plan for how to get footage from inside the bird barn. Somehow, Jensen was still the best and only pick to go in alone and pose as a buyer, and the idea of Jensen in any kind of danger made Blake feel ill. He was sitting at the table with a cup of coffee, but he couldn’t stomach much of it. He hadn’t even picked at the scone next to the coffee.

“Prudence and Michael Lee are going to recognize people from our department, and they’d recognize you, too, if they ever brought their animals up here. Jens is relatively new in town, and even if they do recognize him, there’s no reason they’d be suspicious about his story.”

“Buying a bird to drive to Fargo is absurd on sixteen different levels, and I cannot believe they bought it. Nobody sane is going to drive a pair of semi-feral cockatoos to Fargo in the middle of winter,” Blake grumbled. “Who the fuck drives to Fargo, period? Why does anyone live in Fargo? Why would anyone breed cockatoos in Fargo?”

“Plenty of people. The flights are fucking expensive. And the Dakotas have lax animal welfare laws so it isn’t out of the realm of possibility that someone would decide to breed birds there. Especially if they think there’s a demand.” Jeanie took a sip of her own coffee. “We’ll call this off if Jensen is uncomfortable with it, but he seems okay. You’re the one getting panicky.”

Jens moved to stand closer to Blake and put a hand on the other man’s shoulder. Blake reached up and put his own hand over the top of it. “I’m fine with the plan. I know you’ll all be close, and nobody has ever indicated that the Lees were the violent type. They’re weird and abusive toward animals, but they’ve never been violent toward other humans.”

“We don’t know that…” Blake murmured, looking up at him. “They’ve only lived here about five years. We have no idea where they were or what they were doing before this.”

“No, we don’t, but it’s the best plan we have. If we get anyone from outside our group involved, the mole might hear about it and tip them off again. They’ll hide the birds, and we’ll be back to square one,” Sheriff Winston spoke up. “We just don’t have many options.”

“I’ll have a panic button in case anything happens, Blake.”

Blake sighed. “I know. Just… makes me nervous, that’s all.”

Jensen squeezed his shoulder.

It wasn’t that Blake didn’t have faith in Jensen’s ability to take care of himself, it was just that Mike Lee was a huge bear of a man, and Prudence wasn’t much smaller. They had guns on their property like everyone who lived on the Front Range outside of Denver, but they didn’t need firearms to harm Jens, they just had to physically overpower him, which would not be all that difficult. Jensen was in good shape, and he was resourceful, but he was physically not a large man.

“We sent the email, we set up the meeting, and it’s as settled as it can be. Let’s just get it over and done with,” Jeanie sighed. “I don’t like it either, and it’s against every policy in the book to be involving a civilian, but there just aren’t that many options in places like this.”

“Is the guy who dumped her outside involved with this at all? Or was he really just a hapless idiot?” Blake asked.

“He was just a dumbass and panicked because he wanted her gone. Likely won’t do jail time, but he’ll pay a decent fine for being an idiot. Swore he’d never keep a parrot or any other pet again. I saw photos of the cage he kept her in, and it was about a third of the size it should have been. But that idiot was just a symptom of the problem, and if we can get these other bastards thrown in jail? It’ll make a much bigger dent.”

Blake swallowed hard and nodded. He picked up his coffee cup to take a swig of the now-cold liquid, feeling nauseous and worried at the thought of Jensen in there alone.

***

Two hours and a costume change later found Jensen driving Blake’s beater truck (with swapped plates) up to the old farmhouse near Longmont. He could already hear the cockatoos and macaws inside the barn screeching, even before he got out of the cab. It was bitterly cold, but it wasn’t snowing, and the sun was coming through the clouds a little. He was dressed in his oldest pair of jeans, and an old flannel shirt of Blake’s with the sleeves rolled up. The baggy shirt hid the camera wires and battery, and the camera lens was disguised as a button on his shirt that just so happened not to match, which wouldn’t be suspicious on a shirt this old. An old baseball cap with oil stains from Sheriff Winston’s truck and an old pair of work boots from Jeanie capped the look. He would have fit in at any working bar in the northern Colorado counties. Just another oil worker or farm hand who happened to have a brother who wanted some cockatoos.

He got out of the truck and headed up to the front door. There was no doorbell to be seen, so he knocked as hard as he could while still wearing gloves. The porch was a cement slab with iron railings around it, and it had old plastic chairs, faded children’s toys, and an old couch scattered around, all covered in a thin coating of snow and ice, all looking like they had seen better days.

A few long moments later, an older woman with scraggly gray hair and a pronounced jaw opened the front door, leaving the rusted storm door closed. “You the one looking for a couple M-2s?” she asked, a bulge of chew in her left cheek.

“Uh yeah, I’m Matt.” Blake had coached him that Moluccan cockatoos were referred to as “M-2s,” and other cockatoo species were often referred to in similar ways. Umbrella cockatoos were “U-2s,” for instance.

“Prompt, ain’t you? All right let me pull some boots on, and I’ll show you the pairs we got. You brought some cash?”

“Yeah, I did.”

She nodded approvingly. “I’m gonna lock the front door and meet you at the back. I don’t want your boots fucking up my floors. You bring earplugs?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Jens replied. She shut the door and locked it, and he wandered around to the back of the house. Prudence reappeared at the back door and pulled on a pair of thick rubber boots, then shut the door and led the way toward a barn that looked newish compared to the rest of the buildings on the property. It was just hilly enough that he couldn’t see too far beyond the barn, which meant that the trailers that had been used to house the birds during previous inspections would be easy to hide.

“We have it insulated with heaters because they’d all freeze to death otherwise. Don’t leave the stupid birds in your car for long in this weather, hear?” She unlocked a padlock on the side door of the barn and led the way inside, into a cacophony of loud, miserable birds. “Put your earplugs in if you want to be able to hear anything tomorrow.”

He did as she directed, then followed her inside. Jensen looked around at the inside of the barn and felt ill. There were hundreds of miserable-looking birds in small cages screaming for freedom. Many of the cages were stacked one on top of the other, so the birds on the bottom were catching poop and food from the birds on the top, and all of them looked dirty. It wasn’t just cockatoos, but birds of all colors and sizes.

“If you’re looking for Moluccans, those are back here,” the woman said, gruffly, leading the way through the maze of cages. “I only have four now, so you either gotta wait for them to give me some eggs, trade me with something else, or pay out the ass.”

They stopped at the back and right corner of the barn, where two long, wire cages held two sets of scruffy-looking cockatoos. One of the birds was plucked as bad as Ginger, and the other three showed varying levels of plucking and feather destruction. Little plywood huts sat on the end of the cages.

“I can pay, that’s not a problem.”

The woman shrugged. “Whatever, I can get more sent from Florida. They ain’t breeding well right now anyway.”

One pair of birds were huddled together in their corner of the cage. The other cage had one bird hiding in its hut, and the other bird drinking from a disgusting-looking water bowl.

“Top pair is established and has been giving me good clutches. The bottom pair hasn’t done anything yet since the male’s old mate died and he hasn’t bonded to the new one yet. Haven’t had the female long, but she’s young and from a good line.”

Jensen’s heart was pounding as he looked at the birds. This is where Ginger had been kept. This is what the poor bird had been subjected to. It was horrific. He forced himself to stay calm and collected. He couldn’t panic, not now. “How much for the bottom pair, then? My brother can take a gamble. He’s had real good luck before.”

The woman rubbed her chin. “$7000.”

“$5000.” Jensen just wanted to give her the money and run, but he knew that he had to play out the part. She would expect some haggling, and so he would give it to her.

“$6500.”

“$6000.”

“Deal.” She stuck her hand out, and, stomach knotting, Jensen shook it.

“I can give you cash right now, it’s just in my truck.”

She grinned, and her teeth were stained yellow. “I’ll wrestle the birds into a box for you while you go get it.”

Jensen desperately wanted to tell her not to hurt the birds, but he knew it wouldn’t make any difference and could blow his cover if he said too much, so he kept quiet and made his way to Blake’s truck and retrieved the cash from under the front seat where he’d stashed it. He counted out the six thousand dollars and stowed the rest, then made his way back to the barn, heart pounding. He did not want to go back into the den of misery he’d seen, but he had no choice.

As he opened the side door to enter again, the woman approached him holding two milk crates taped together, with a bird in each crate. The top crate was sealed with a piece of plywood, and the birds barely fit.

“Here you go. Best put them in the truck bed, they’ll shit all over the cab.” She set the crates down and held out a hand for the cash, which he handed over. She pulled a fraud detection marker out of her coat, tested some bills, and then, satisfied, stuffed them in her pocket. “Good doing business with you.”

“Yep, same to you.” He picked up the crates and made his way out to the truck slowly, trying to look as though he didn’t care that he had two abused, unhappy animals trapped in unsuitable containers in freezing conditions. He carefully placed the birds on a towel in the back seat of the truck and buckled the mess in, praying it held until he made it back to Blake’s.

The drive was nerve-wracking on the snow and ice, but he made it just as the sun was almost set. The birds had been quiet in their makeshift cages, only making nervous-sounding clicking or cooing noises a few times when he went over bumps. As soon as he pulled to a stop, Blake, Sheriff Winston, and Jeanie came out of the house, both looking anxious.

“Did it work?” Blake asked when he opened the door.

“See for yourself. Careful, they aren’t really packed very effectively.”

“Oh, holy shit, are those milk crates?!” Jeanie looked appalled as Blake carefully extracted the crates from the truck and hurried inside with them.

“Yep. Assuming your camera worked, we have plenty of good footage of the inside of the barn now,” Jensen replied grimly. “It was horrific.”

“I was afraid of that.” They followed Blake inside and shut the door to keep the blowing cold out.

Ginger was in her enormous wrought iron cage dancing back and forth. “Rosso! Rosso! Pretty bird!”

“Ginger!” The bottom milk crate replied in a bird’s voice that was somewhat scratchier and harder to understand than Ginger’s. “Ginger!”

The third bird was screaming in response, apparently just to scream.

Blake looked between Jensen, Jeanie, Sheriff Winston, Ginger, and the milk crate. “I guess that answers that question.”

“Rosso!”

“Should we let Ginger out?” Jeanie asked.

“No, I need to check these two over, and they’ll really need to be quarantined for a while, hard as that’s going to be. From what Jens described, I’m concerned they could have some communicable diseases.”

“I’d be shocked if they didn’t have something from being in that place. They had cages stacked up, so birds were pooping on each other…who the fuck does that?” Jensen was trying to keep it together, but now that he was far away from Longmont and the horror of the barn, he was cracking. Blake noticed and hugged him tightly.

“We’re going to make their lives hell, don’t worry,” Sheriff Winston stated grimly. “They’ll be really sorry they set up shop in Colorado.”

Jensen nodded and carefully removed the camera and equipment from his body to hand to Jeanie. She took it, mouth set in a firm line.

Blake returned to his task with the birds, carefully removing one and then the other from the crate. They had clipped wings, but their wing feathers were so destroyed it was unlikely they could have flown anyway. Both birds stayed on the towel on the exam table, huddled together and obviously terrified.

Jeanie set about getting photos of the birds and the milk crates. Blake placed one bird in a large cat carrier so he could examine the bird with the more severe plucking problem. Jeanie took video as he did his exam.

“I’m thinking we need to have Mich look at both of them. I texted him earlier, and he said he’d head up as soon as he’s done at work. I’m still not an exotic vet, and he’s a better judge of this stuff. He can also help me get samples for the lab. I’m not gonna ask anyone else here to chance getting bit.” He looked at Jensen. “Do you know if this was the male or the female?”

Jensen pulled some grimy carbon copy paper out of his coat pocket and unfolded it. “Says the blue band is the male and the green band is the female.”

“This is the female then. We should scan both of them for a microchip, in case they’re stolen or something.”

Jeanie raised her eyebrows. “Is that common?”

“We were told in vet school that it happens, but how often, I couldn’t tell you.”

He finished with the first bird and examined the second. He was in somewhat better shape, and was a little less panicked and stressed.

“Hi Rosso,” Blake chanced as he looked at the bird’s eyes with a penlight.

“Hi Rosso,” the bird replied, voice a little less clear than Ginger’s.

“Good bird…good.”

Jeanie snorted. “Well, you have the matched set now. What about the other female?”

“I’m not going to worry about any of that until we are sure these birds are healthy. I’m really concerned about how wet their breathing sounds.”

The rest of the afternoon and evening passed in a flurry of activity. Jensen changed clothes and then went to keep Ginger company in the living room as a succession of people came in and out of the house. He was feeling overwhelmed and anxious about the situation, and desperately wanted to talk to Blake, or his therapist, or just go back to bed.

He must have dozed off on the couch because he woke up hours later in a dark living room with Ginger sleeping on his head. He could hear Mich and Blake talking quietly in the kitchen, and he could smell something that might have been beef cooking. He carefully dislodged Ginger and set her on her perch, then went to investigate. He heard crunching, which meant Ginger immediately went to her food bowl.

Both men looked up, and Blake smiled when he came in.

“I was wondering if I should wake you up before we eat or not.”

“Yeah, no, sorry. I didn’t mean to fall asleep.” Jensen murmured, rubbing at his eyes. “I think everything just caught up to me, that’s all.”

“You didn’t miss much. Mich looked the birds over, and he’s going to take them down to Ft. Collins with him. I’m sorry we can’t put Rosso with Ginger, but it seems like a bad idea to risk getting her sick again. He’s getting a group ready to help with the raids.”

“The school already volunteered their resources. It’s good practice for the students.” Mich took a swig of his beer.

Jensen nodded and moved to stand close to Blake’s side, and Blake put an arm around his waist and pulled him closer. “That’s good that there will be a lot of vets available, at least. Are you going?” Jensen looked up at Blake.

“Only if they call me and ask. I’m really not qualified. There are a few alpacas and horses on the property too, but by all accounts, they’re all healthy. If there’s anything wrong with any large animals, I can head out there.”

“What are we going to do with Rosso and the other bird…? Do we even know her name?”

Mich looked at Blake and smirked, and Blake rubbed the back of his neck nervously.

“Well, I was thinking of keeping at least Rosso…maybe both of them. We looked at the paperwork you brought and checked both birds for microchips, but no luck on her name. Birds are usually happier with other birds anyway…”

“What he’s saying is that he’s a sucker and you’re now dating him and three cockatoos,” Mich laughed. “If he doesn’t decide to keep the other female, I might keep her. She’s a little more skittish than Rosso and Ginger, but she’s also a lot younger. With some work, she will probably settle down.”

Jensen nodded. “Okay, that’s fair. And hey, I’m kinda finding I like parrots.”

“I’m glad because more than one relationship has ended because one person loves birds and the other doesn’t.” Mich finished his beer. “They’re a bit of an acquired taste.”

The oven beeped and Blake spun around to pull a lasagna out. He set it on the stove to cool for a few minutes, then turned back around. “I’ve always been confused by people that get rid of a pet they’ve had their entire lives instead of ending a relationship. If a person doesn’t like your animals…are they really that compatible?”

Jensen shrugged. “My mother only ever had miniature Pomeranians, and they weren’t too friendly, so I honestly have no idea what kind of pets I like. But Ginger and I get along well, so that’s something.”

“Yeah, Poms can be kind of neurotic. Any animal can, really. I like exotics because you see a lot of different things. Blake just sticks his arm up horse butts a lot.”

“Horse butts, cow butts, you name it. Lots of butts.” Blake held up a wine glass and Jensen nodded, so Blake poured him a glass of red wine. “But I like my work. Just wish it weren’t so damn hard on my leg.”

“Yeah, I imagine getting kicked by ungulates every couple of weeks isn’t too good for that.”

Blake just shrugged. “I’ve been lucky so far.” He pulled Jensen close again.