“You’re right. I don’t.”
“That shark killed my daughter, and it needs to be stopped before it kills someone else.”
“We will do everything we can to ensure the safety of residents and visitors to the island.”
Mr. Williams scoffed. “You haven’t done a good job so far.”
“If it’s any consolation, great whites don’t typically stay in the area long. This is an anomaly, not the norm.”
“None of that brings my daughter back,” Mr. Williams said, red in the face, veins bulging. He shook his head. “I should have never let her hang out with that loser.”
“Lance?”
“All he does is smoke weed, surf, and try to get into her pants.”
“Hank!” Mrs. William chastised.
His face wrinkled. “Well, it’s true. God knows what they do in the back of his SUV. She didn’t even surf before she met him.”
I gave them a card and offered condolences once again.
Hank escorted us to the door, and the horde of media closed in as we stepped onto the porch.
Cameras focused, and reporters shouted questions. "Is the shark still a threat to the public?"
"What is the county doing to mitigate the danger?"
"Will the shark be captured?”
I declined to comment.
Hank took the opportunity to vent his frustrations. "I want that shark on the hook. I'll pay $10,000 to anyone who can catch it and kill it."
I jumped back in frame. "It is against federal and state law to capture or kill protected species. There is no reward for catching that shark. Mr. Williams is going to retract that offer before he runs afoul of the law."
Hank frowned at me. With a tight face, he finally walked back his offer on camera. But the message had already gotten out there loud and clear. He wanted the shark dead. It wasn't hard to see the pain in his eyes, and there would be some sympathetic people out there more than willing to avenge Whisper’s death. The last thing we needed was a bunch of reckless bounty hunters out there going hog wild.
I reiterated on camera that we weren't absolutely sure what type of shark was responsible for the attack.
Off-camera, I pulled Hank aside and said, "I know you’re in a lot of pain. I know you want justice. But incitement to commit a crime is a punishable offense. You can't make statements like that on air.”
He took a deep breath and tried to control his rage. "Mark my words. If you fail to do anything about this overgrown fish, you're going to be telling the parents of some other kid that their child is dead. It won't be long either."
"I hope you're wrong about that.”
"I thought your job was to protect the people who lived on this island. Seems like that goddamn fish has got more rights than my daughter."
JD and I made our way through the horde of reporters back to the Porsche and climbed in. He fired up the engine, and we pulled away from the curb and drove back to Diver Down. Classic rock pumped through the speakers. With the sunroof open and the windows down, the wind swirled around. The sound of the exhaust purred.
We cruised back to the marina, then grabbed dinner at Diver Down. We sat at the bar, shot the breeze with Teagan, and caught her up to speed on the attack. She had seen the reports and had questions. We didn't have many answers.
"Talk about bad luck," she said. "They said on the news that there have only been three great white shark attacks in Florida in the last century."
It was a rare occurrence indeed.
We chowed down on burgers and fries, and washed it all down with a few adult beverages. Afterward, we returned to the superyacht, and I took Buddy out for a walk. The little Jack Russell was eager to stretch his legs.
Despite everything, it was a pretty low-key evening.
