“The leg?”
“Did you not hear?”
A sick feeling bubbled up. “No, I was out on the water most of the day. What happened?”
“Some divers found a human leg wedged in a crack in the rocks and called the fire department. They went and recovered it somewhere not too far north of the Kiawe, and they’re speculating that it belongs to Hank, the missing swimmer. I watch TV all day, so I just saw it on the news.”
Minnow sat there, unable to form any words. It was entirely possible the leg had been severed after he drowned, but that would require a medical examiner to determine. Until then, the hype would just keep building.
“Thank you for telling me. If it is his leg and he was bit before he died, that does not bode well for the hunt. It’ll just give them more fuel.”
“Which is why I want to do something. Please. It would make me feel useful and I love a good fight.”
A strange contradiction often occurred with shark bite survivors. Many of them could not wait to get back in the water, did not hold anything against the shark and even went on to become advocates for the animals. The exact opposite of the hysteria everyone else was experiencing.
“I think the best thing you can do is to call the press and tell them what you told me the other day, and just be honest with them. Remind them—”
“Will you come up here and join me on it? That would be more powerful. ‘Two girls who give a shit,’ we’ll call ourselves.”
Minnow fumbled for an answer, then came out with the truth. “I would love to, but I’m leaving tonight.”
“Why?” Angela sounded baffled and even a little hurt.
“My work here is done. The rest of the Hawai‘i shark team arrives today, back from a conference, and they can take over.”
“When is your flight?”
“Tonight.”
Some rustling of crisp bedsheets, then, “Stay at least until tomorrow. I’ll pay for your change fees and any extra expenses.”
She wished she could say yes. A braver person would. “I can’t.”
“What is this really about? You know your work here isn’t done. Far from it. This goes deeper, doesn’t it?”
Minnow looked out to sea as two frigate birds hovered high above the boat, their distinctive shapes dark against the already dark clouds.
Cliff burst in. “Ho?ailona,” he said, nodding toward the birds.
She held her hand over the phone. “What does that mean?”
“A sign.”
Then he blew out as fast as he came in, binoculars in hand and leaving a trail of smoke in his wake.
“Minnow?” Angie said.
“I’m here.”
“I know you hardly know me, but I feel like we can help each other. We both know the kind of devastation that can ruin a person, but you’ve been running from it your whole life. You can’t keep running, love. Stay at least until tomorrow. Please?”
Her words were tender but fierce, and they brought up a memory of the morning Minnow’s father died.
She is standing on the shore screaming and flailing as her mother triesto pull her away. The squeeze of Layla’s fingers burn as they dig into her bony arms. A waterfall of tears blocks her from seeing anything, but Minnow keeps breaking free and running toward the icy water. Layla keeps dragging her back until Minnow collapses into a tiny heap on the beach. There isn’t enough air to breathe and her mother shakes her hard, rocking her back and forth.
“What did you do?” she screams.
But it’s the look in Layla’s eyes that scares Minnow more than anything. A cold hard fear that is animal in its nature. Primal and raw and wild.
