1
The surfboard had been split in two. Its shredded remains lay scattered on the beach. Teal waves crashed against the white sand, and the foamy surf lapped at the shore.
A crowd of curious beachgoers had gathered around the body. Crimson mixed with salt water, making a pink swirl as the frothy water ebbed and flowed.
The victim’s surf buddy had managed to pull her out of the swells to the shore. By that time, she'd been drained of her life force. Her long blonde hair was matted and twisted. Once a young beauty, she was now a pale fragment of her former self. Missing an arm and a sizable chunk out of her torso, it didn't take a brain surgeon to deduce some apex predator had feasted on the surfer.
Shark attacks were rare around Coconut Key, but not unheard of. Maybe once or twice a year, if that. Splashing around at the surface, it was easy to look like a dying fish or seal. A tasty morsel. Still, the odds of getting bitten by a shark in Florida were roughly 1 in 11 million.
EMTs and paramedics had arrived, but there was nothing that could be done at this point. Dietrich snapped photos, and Brenda examined the remains.
Paris Delaney and her news crew had arrived. Her cameraman soaked up the gory footage.
The victim’s friend, dressed in orange board shorts, sobbed over the remains. I figured him for her boyfriend.
Deputies kept the crowd at bay.
JD and I joined the sheriff.
"Do we have an ID on the victim?" I asked.
The sheriff told me the mangled blonde was Whisper Williams. "Her boyfriend, Lance, said they were out surfing when the attack occurred. I wasn’t able to get much out of him. He's pretty upset." The sheriff had a grim look on his face. "Judging by the size of that bite, we're dealing with a great white. With spring break around the corner, this isn’t good.”
I cringed. The island was about to get inundated with a ton of people looking for fun in the sun. Drunk college kids throwing caution to the wind. Coconut Key always gets hectic this time of year.
It was unusual for a great white to enter these waters. But sometimes the Gulfstream pushes cold water south, and they extend their hunting range. Still, it was a little odd for one to come so close to shore and attack a surfer.
This wasn’t a homicide, but the sheriff wanted us to sort it out—find the shark, and come up with a game plan for keeping it from snacking on college coeds as they frolic in the water this season.
Maybe this was a fluke. One and done, and the shark was off to prowl other waters.
JD and I stepped toward Lance.
I flashed my badge and made introductions. "I'm sorry about your friend.”
He nodded, sniffled, and wiped his eyes with his hands. "It’s just not fair.”
"I know. It sucks.” I offered a sympathetic frown. “Can you tell me what happened?”
"Isn't it obvious?” he snapped.
"We just need to get a little more information about the shark.”
"Sorry. I'm just a little messed up right now.”
"Understandable.”
Lance took a deep breath. He was in his mid-20s with shaggy dark hair that fell into his blue eyes. He had the ripped body of a surfer and the tan to go with it. "We were just out there, waiting for the next set to come in. All of a sudden, I saw this dorsal fin surface. It made a beeline for Whisper. I shouted to warn her. There was nothing she could do. It just came out of the water and chomped on her.” His eyes filled, and the tears spilled over. With a tight throat, he said, "It was fucking huge, man. I've never seen anything like it." His chest heaved with sobs. "It just chewed and thrashed. Blood filled the water. It was like a horror movie. There was nothing I could do.” He slumped and hung his head. "I'm such a coward. I swam away.” Sadness tugged his face.
“You couldn’t have stopped the attack,” I said, trying to console him.
"When the shark left, I swam back, got her body, and pulled her to shore, but…” His throat swelled. "There was hardly anything left of her.”
The tears flowed.
“Do you know what kind of shark?”
“A big one.”
