“I read about it somewhere.”
Minnow knew that turtles were a regular part of a tiger shark’s diet but less so a white shark’s. It was all in the teeth. While a tiger had curved and highly serrated teeth, good for sawing through shell, a white shark’s teeth were designed to grab on and slice into dense marine mammal skin.
“Is it nesting season?” she asked, surprised she hadn’t thought of this before.
If there were plenty of turtles on the beach here, it would certainly be a draw for large sharks.
“Beats me,” he said.
Behind her, Minnow heard voices approaching. Women laughing. One of them called out. “Hey, Captain Greenwood, how about a midnight boat ride?”
Minnow turned. There were three of them, arm in arm. White teeth, bare shoulders. Young.
“It’s not even eight o’clock yet, stupid,” another said.
Minnow looked up at Luke, who seemed to be assessing his options. “Damn,” he said, and she couldn’t be sure if he meantdamnbecause the women were gorgeous or because they were obviously drunk and beelining toward him. Or maybe both. He was still standing in place when they swarmed him, oblivious to Minnow.
One held up bottles of champagne in each hand. “Look what we got! Bubbles for days.”
Luke stepped back a couple feet. “Not tonight, ladies, sorry. And I’m pretty sure we said sunset cruise, not midnight cruise.”
The one with the champagne had thick hair down to her waist and wore a low-cut gauzy dress that showcased her small, firm breasts. Together the women smelled like a flower garden.
Minnow stood up. “I’d better get back, but my advice to you all is that if you go out there at night, stay in the boat.”
They seemed to just notice her.
“Oh no! We interrupted something,” one said.
“It’s fine. I was just leaving,” Minnow assured them. “Enjoy.”
She looked at Luke before she turned away, and for the first time caught a better glimpse of the tattoo on his forearm. Was that a shark? Her eyes moved up and met his, and he folded his arms on his chest.
“We aren’t going out on the boat tonight,” he said to Minnow, as though he had to explain himself.
“Makes no difference to me. But I have to walk back on the lava in the dark, so, bye,” she said.
As she moved off, she heard one of the girls saying, “What about skinny-dipping? I heard there’s that glowy stuff in the water here.”
“Bioluminescence,” Luke said.
Minnow couldn’t wait to see him again and get a better look at his tattoo. He seemed different than your average fisherman. And there was still that itch in the back of her mind that told her he was hiding something.
Journal Entry
From the journal of Minnow Gray
April 22, 1991
There is so much truth to this, it stopped me in my tracks:
We are not afraid of predators, we’re transfixed by them, prone to weave stories and fables and chatter endlessly about them, because fascination creates preparedness, and preparedness, survival. In a deeply tribal way, we love our monsters.
—E. O. Wilson, Harvard sociobiologist
Chapter 10
The Patient
