“If there is, we’ll find it.”
“I’m surprised there’s been no sign of a whale carcass or something. No big runoff events?”
“Nope. But that doesn’t mean there isn’t a carcass of some kind out there. The ocean hides things, you know that.”
She knew it absolutely did. Swallower of boats and submarines and lost souls, keeper of secrets and all kinds of sublime aquatic life, most of which humans had never seen.
“How did you get into sharks?” she asked.
He sat quiet for a few beats. “When I was in high school—I went to Kahuku on the east side of O?ahu—all the spots we surfed were big-time sharky. We just kinda accepted it, you know? Then one day my friend lost his foot. Got nailed by a tiger. The next day, a group of guys went out and caught three big sharks, pulled them into the beach at Hukilau and laid them all out. One of them was huge—like fourteen feet, and pregnant. They were so proud, and all I could think was how beautiful this animal was. Seeing her lying there dead with her mouth open just seemed so senseless. It really haunted me.”
“I’m sorry,” she said, knowing firsthand the pain of seeing something like that. “About your friend. And the shark.”
He nodded. “I used to love to fish. I never did after that.”
She understood.
“Did you keep surfing?”
“It took a while before anyone went out to that break, except guys from the mainland. But eventually we did, and over time we forgot.”
“Tragedy happens, but the world keeps on spinning, doesn’t it?”
He nodded. “I still surf plenty, but I pay more attention to myna‘au. When I get that shark vibe or if it feels weird before I go out—murky water, guys fishing—I stay back.”
They shared a few moments of fin-filled silence before she decided to clear the air. “I’m here to help you, you know. Not to step on your toes or get in your way.”
He tensed. “I never said you were.”
“Just putting it out there.”
They moved out of one deluge toward another, passing a wide-mouthed bay with a black sand lagoon to one side. Beyond that, they paralleled a longer stretch of cliffy coastline with no trees or foliage and no sign of life. Then they hit an area with rambling, delicate-leafed trees Nalu calledkiawebut Minnow knew as mesquite, growing straight out of the crumbly lava.Inhospitablewas the word that came to mind.
Five minutes later, Nalu slowed the truck and they bounced off the pavement onto a narrow rocky shoulder. One spindly bougainvillea with a few pink leaves stood alone in the black, looking forlorn and out of place. Rain bucketed down and Nalu turned his wipers on high, swishing guppy-sized drops.
“I think this is it,” he said.
The barely perceptible road down to the house swung back the way they’d come and ended up at a thick, one-bar gate built into a mound of lava. He stopped and they looked at each other, neither making a move to get out.
“Is this kind of rain usual? I thought this was supposed to be a legitimate desert,” she said, as the windshield began fogging up.
“Afternoon convection. Not uncommon,” he said.
She reached for her door latch. “I’ll get the gate.”
He opened his door and jumped out, fast like a ninja. “I got it. What’s the combo?”
“Six-seven-six-six.”
When he climbed back in, he was dripping. The truck rattled through thea?alava, what Nalu said was the crumbly, slow-moving kind, and they crunched their way toward a hazy gray ocean. The truck rattled, squeaked and scraped over the lunar terrain, and Minnow was just waiting for a tire to go flat.
“It would be nice if I couldseesomething,” she said.
“You will in the morning.”
“Speaking of tomorrow, I’d like to get on the water early to see where the attacks happened and get a sense of the area, then go to the hospital later to check on Angela. What time is sunrise here?” she asked.
“Almost seven.”
