Minnow knew from past experience to say as little as possible to the press and to keep her personal life out of it. “I grew up in California.”
A small laugh, exposing his famous dimples. “So did millions of other people. It just strikes me as a very specialized field of study, and not for the faint of heart. You must be tough as nails under that cute exterior.”
Was he flirting with her? Josh fucking Brown.
“I’m good with a dive knife,” she said.
“I’d like to see that.”
“Not likely,” she said, unable to help herself.
He smiled. “Look, I have to run, Dr. Gray, but are you staying here at the Kiawe? I’d love to continue this conversation, maybe even do a piece on you. I sense there’s a lot more to your story.”
“I’m staying elsewhere, but I’ll be here later for the meeting. I’m sure Mr. Sawyer mentioned it.”
“Affirmative. I look forward to being a fly on the wall.”
The added media scrutiny felt like a screw in her chest being tightened inch by inch. “If nothing else, it should be interesting,” Minnow said, grabbing her now lukewarm coffee and muffin and walking off toward the beach, feeling the burn of his eyes on her back. Why did men have to be so predictable?
Luke’s boat was still there, and she paddled past it, then decided to loop around and do a little recon. Surprising that he wasn’t already out on the water since she hadn’t seen him in the hotel. In all honesty, she had been hoping to run into him at the Saltwater Bar, but she cutoff that line of thinking. Spending more time with Luke would lead to nothing good.
Unfortunately, she was below gunwale level, so she would have to actually lean on the boat and stand up if she wanted to see anything. Which she did. She glanced around. The only people in sight were lying on beach chairs under umbrellas, reading books or magazines. She went to the far side and pulled herself up.
Nothing looked any different from the other day, but the tangy smell of blood clung to the surfaces of the boat and caused her to wobble. She almost fell backward into the water. She ran her finger along the edge of the gunwale and it came away fish scented.He’s a fisherman, Minnow; don’t jump to conclusions, she told herself. With a gravelly feeling in the pit of her stomach, she sat back down and paddled off.
The water glowed turquoise, magnifying coral heads and fish below. It was looking to be a stunning day, and yet she felt the weight of everything pressing down on her shoulders. She wanted so badly to solve this thing that, in many ways, was unsolvable. Because even if she did figure out what caused the shark to keep coming around, the truth of the matter was, you couldn’t bring back the dead. Talking to Stuart Callahan’s dad was not something she was looking forward to, but she had to hear his story. It was part of the job.
The Global Shark Attack File was maintained by the Shark Research Institute, and all of her data would be sent there once she could get back on her computer. The goal was to understand the factors that led to every shark encounter around the world—including boat and airplane disasters—with the hopes of minimizing future incidents, thus helping humans and sharks. Surfers made up the highest percentage of victims, though the percentage of surfers bit by a shark was minuscule.
With so much to do today, Minnow paddled a straight line back to the house rather than hug the shoreline and go in and out of coves. She was out beyond the drop-off, and she peered down but could no longer see the bottom, only rays of sun. She passed through severalcurrent lines, went off on a daydream about relocating to Hawai?i and was making good time when an electric sensation swept across her skin. That feeling she had when she knew she wasn’t alone.
Moments later, behind her there was awhooshand the familiar sound of water displacement. Trying to calm her heart, she slowly, so as not to rock the tiny kayak, turned. Thirty yards back or so, a tall fin sliced through the water, directly in her wake.
Oh fuck.
She altered her course, veering in toward land, and immediately began talking to herself—and talking to the shark. Time turned to molasses.
Curiosity, that’s all it is. If she wanted you, you would have been hit already.
Deep breaths.
Hey, beautiful shark, I promise I’m not what you want.
Because of the angle, she couldn’t tell whether it was a white shark or a tiger, but whatever it was, it was big. When she listened, she could almost hear its tail swishing from side to side, lazily, methodically. Nonaggressive but interested. If she picked up the pace, it would sense her fear, so she kept her strokes even. In her mind she willed it to turn and head back in the other direction. It didn’t.
Minnow half turned again and saw that the shark was closer now, the fin even higher out of the water. It was hunting her, she could feel it. Her senses were on high alert now, and the smell of deep sea floated around her, brought forward by a light side shore wind. In light of recent events, paddling this far out in a tiny kayak by herself had probably been careless, but in the balmy blue seas it was easy to get lulled into complacency.
Now her arms burned and a voice inside mused that it would only be fitting to go out this way, the same way as her father. To be taken by something you love so much. The irony stung. In this line of work, the chance had always been there, looming. Now death was swimming after her with a tall fin and rows of sharp teeth.
Get ahold of yourself, Minnow!
These thoughts were so out of sync with how she usually felt when swimming with sharks, she wondered where they were coming from. Most likely it was all the hype and the collective fear out there in the world, beating down her defenses. She turned again and saw the fin get lower and lower in the water until it was gone, leaving a swirling boil in its place. At the same time, a cloud passed over the sun and the water turned from vibrant blue to gray.
If the shark was going to do something, it would be soon. Two frigate birds flew by overhead, hovering on the wind. Big, dark shadows in the sky. They flew on and left her alone but then circled around once more. It was eerie, as though they knew what might be coming, majestic scavengers that they were.
“What are you guys waiting for?” she said quietly.
Floating atop the surface of the ocean, she was now the sitting duck. The sitting woman who should know better. She thought for a long while about that and then felt a bump against the kayak, hard enough to send lightning through her but light enough to know this was not an outright assault. A long shady thing sailed past her, just beneath the surface. The shark’s stripes were unmistakable, a signature of nature to camouflage the tiger against ripples of sunlight underwater.Galeocerdo.Thirteen million years in the making.
