Fins

by Randy Wayne White

  “Loyalty is a great quality,” Hannah said. “But how do you know she didn’t imagine it all? Sabina’s a, uh … creative girl. Sort of theatrical, I’d say.”

  The boy couldn’t explain how or why he knew, but he knew. It had something to do with how his brain worked since being struck by lightning. Or had he really changed? That’s why he’d come to the lab. He wanted to discuss the subject with Doc, a man who could be trusted not to send him back to a hospital for more tests, more brain scans. But now the biologist was gone.

  “You’ll see,” Luke said. “When the police find the van, I’ll recognize the guy’s pit bull, and his dog will recognize me. I guarantee it. That’ll prove Sabina has been telling the truth all along.”

  Hannah, smiling, seemed to accept that. “Then I believe in Sabina, too. But there’s something else to consider. If police find the van, and Sabina’s right, have you thought about what will happen next?”

  No, but it seemed obvious to the boy. “They’ll arrest the guy, I suppose, and the rest of his gang. If there is a gang. The only thing that worries me is, what’ll happen to his dog?”

  “That’s not all,” Hannah said. “You haven’t heard the news?”

  Uh-oh, Luke thought. “Maribel and I haven’t talked to any reporters. What news?”

  “Yesterday afternoon, the Ocean Environmental Association offered a reward for help in arresting the shark poachers. It was on local TV.” Hannah let that sink in before adding, “Fifty thousand dollars, Luke.”

  The boy gulped.

  “If Sabina’s right, and they arrest the man she saw, it won’t just be local news,” Hannah said. “It’ll be all over the internet. Reporters will come looking for the kids who busted what police think is the largest poaching ring in Florida. You’ll be famous for a while. Sharks Incorporated will make headlines.”

  After waiting in silence for a response, the woman confided, “I know what happened today. You were swarmed by a busload of teenage fans—one girl in particular. How did it feel to be a celebrity?”

  “Sabina loves that stuff,” the boy replied. “Maribel, not so much. And me—” He grimaced, meaning he hated the attention.

  “You don’t like being pursued by a girl who wants to get to know you better? I not only saw her, I talked to her for a while. I thought she was very nice. There’s nothing wrong with meeting new people. But new friends aren’t nearly as important as old friends you can share your secrets with.”

  He wondered if his aunt was referring to Maribel and Sabina.

  “What did the girl say?” he asked.

  “The one in the parking lot? She wanted to get to know you better. And something about just hanging for a while. But you took off, which sort of reminds me of how Marion would’ve handled the situation.”

  Luke took that as a compliment until he noticed the odd, bittersweet smile on his aunt’s face. “What do you mean?”

  Hannah, joking but serious, too, said, “Doc runs away if someone tries to get too close. A lot of people do. If that girl decides to try again, I think you ought to ask yourself, what are you really running from?”

  Thankfully, the laboratory phone rang. Hannah answered, saying, “Sanibel Biological Supply.”

  It was the name of Dr. Ford’s business.

  Luke was trying to slip out the door unnoticed when Hannah stopped him.

  “The police found the black van,” she said. “Detective Miller is on his way. He wants to talk to all three of you.”

  “I guess we won’t be fishing for sharks today,” the boy responded.

  The woman nodded in a way that was unusually serious. “Probably not,” she said, not smiling.

  SIXTEEN

  THE WRONG MAN

  Today, Detective Miller wasn’t dressed to slog through mangrove swamps. He carried a briefcase and wore slacks and a gray shirt, the collar unbuttoned. It was a hot afternoon in June. He sat on one side of a picnic table. Maribel, Sabina, and Luke sat on the other side, facing him, while Captain Hannah stood. It was the only shady spot around, thanks to coconut palms that circled the area.

  “I can’t question you officially without a parent or guardian present,” he said. “So it’s up to you. I spoke to your mother, Sabina. She said it’s okay if we have a private talk. Just between us. How does that sound, Maribel?”

  “Fine,” the older sister said, yet she was unsettled by the man’s grave manner.

  Hannah decided it was time to leave the kids on their own. “Holler if you need me,” she said. Before walking toward the dock where her boat was tied, she gave the detective a private, knowing look.

  Luke thought, They’re both trying to protect us from something.

  The detective attempted to put them at ease by mentioning yesterday’s newspaper article. He didn’t sound upset.

  “I liked the picture of you, Sabina. You too, Luke. The reporter wanted to interview me, but by the time I returned her call, it was too late. Thing is,” he said, “I don’t think the story would’ve run if the reporter had known the truth—we didn’t find the shark fins or any poachers. No evidence at all. Would you have been disappointed if your pictures weren’t in the paper?”

  He looked at Sabina when he asked the question.

  “Of course,” the girl said. “Who wouldn’t want to see their picture on the front page?”

  This answer was not unexpected.

  “I bet you’d like to be on TV, too, huh?” the man suggested. “Have reporters waiting in line. Or appear on talk shows in a nice studio in front of cameras? If you helped put a gang of shark poachers in jail, your picture would be all over the internet. We’re talking worldwide, not just Florida. You might even get the reward the Ocean Environmental Association has offered.”

  “Reward?” Sabina’s eyes widened. Neither Luke nor Hannah had mentioned the reward. “How much?” she asked. “Is a television crew on their way? Then I should change my clothes if—”

  The weight of Maribel’s hand on her arm silenced the girl.

  The detective’s voice grew softer. “No, no reporters are coming this time. And there will be no reward. I guess every kid daydreams about being rich and famous. There’s nothing wrong with that. Problem is, Sabina, it is wrong to accuse a person of something without proof. In fact, it’s a crime. I’m talking about the black van we stopped an hour ago.”

  Sabina knew that police had found the van. She had expected good news, not this. “A … a crime?” The girl felt a prickly sensation down her spine. “But I didn’t do anything wrong.”

  Detective Miller said, “Let’s make sure you don’t. You could get into a lot of trouble if you accuse the gentleman who owns the van of ordering his dog to attack you. There’d be paperwork. If he’s willing to cooperate, we’d arrange for you get a good look at him without him seeing you. But if he refused, we’d have to get a court order—all based on the story you told us.”

  The detective opened his briefcase while he continued talking. “The gentleman and his daughter might not like that. Of course, it wouldn’t matter if he really is the one who tried to hurt you. But if you’re wrong, Sabina, they might press charges. I’m not saying they would, but it’s possible. That’s why I wanted to speak with you kids privately. I want you to see something.”

  He removed a laptop and positioned it front of the girl. Luke and Maribel got up so they could look over Sabina’s shoulder.

  “My car’s equipped with a dashcam,” the detective said. “This is video of what happened when we stopped the gentleman’s van. I can freeze it or replay a section anytime you want. Don’t be shy. Then you have to decide whether to press charges or not.”

  “What does this mean, ‘press charges’?” the girl wanted to know.

  Maribel had never felt so nervous. “It’s your chance to see if it’s the same man,” she explained to her sister in Spanish. “But you have to be one hundred percent certain. Understand? Please—no more stories just to get your photograph in newspapers.”

 
Sabina responded with three sharp words in Spanish.

  Luke had heard these words before, so he wasn’t surprised when Maribel scolded, “Stop your swearing and pay attention! This is serious.”

  The younger sister, teeth clenched, folded her arms. She sat like a statue while the detective touched the laptop. The police dashcam video came to life on the screen.

  It was the same black van with black tinted windows. Luke recognized the license plate. Watching was like sitting in the front seat with Detective Miller. The van, spewing exhaust, slowed and pulled over in a grassy area. It wasn’t a busy road. Another police car arrived, blue lights flashing. Moments later, a third police car swerved in as if to block the van’s escape.

  Luke felt his stomach tense. He began to realize how much work the police had done to investigate Sabina’s claims.

  The detective appeared on the screen with his back to the camera. He walked to the van and spoke to whoever was driving. The angle wasn’t good, and there was no sound. Their conversation went on for a while.

  The detective stepped away and opened the van’s side door. Automatically, a metal ramp folded out. Two officers in uniform joined him. Together, they helped someone in a wheelchair down the ramp and onto the grass beside the road.

  The officers were big men. Their bodies screened the wheelchair from view.

  The van’s driver-side door opened. When a woman got out, the detective reached across the picnic table and stopped the video.

  “Is that the woman who asked for your autograph?” he asked Sabina.

  The girl was no longer a statue. She sat slumped, with her hands in her lap, and answered meekly. “Yes. I thought she was nice until I saw the man behind her. Why does she look so scared? And she’s … is she crying?”

  “Can you blame her?” Detective Miller responded. “According to her, all she wanted was your autograph and maybe a picture. She said you ran away for no reason. That you were upset, and she got out and offered to help. Is that true?”

  “I don’t know … I thought she might try to grab me, so I—” The girl stopped and got control of herself. “I’m telling the truth!” she insisted. “Where’s the man, and the dog that growled at me? Why are we talking about the nice woman instead of the man who told the pit bull to attack me?”

  The detective hit Play and said, “Keep watching.”

  The police officers finally moved enough so that the person in the wheelchair was visible. It was a man. He looked withered and old. He had a beard, but the beard was snowy white.

  A dog tottered down the ramp and sat beside the wheelchair. It was a spaniel of some type, not a pit bull. The spaniel leaned its head against the man’s knee. They resembled two old friends sitting in a park.

  Maribel whispered, “Oh, Sabina, how could you?”

  Luke cleared his throat and looked away.

  Sabina got to her feet and demanded, “Who else was in the van? That’s not the man I saw. Did you look inside?”

  The detective stopped the video. He closed the laptop, saying, “Those were the only passengers, Sabina. We opened every door and compartment. The gentleman asked his daughter to take him for a ride around Sanibel Island today before going back to the hospital.”

  “Hospital?” the girl asked softly.

  “That’s right. He’s very ill. His daughter told me privately they don’t expect him to live much longer. She thought this might be their last day together away from the hospital.”

  Maribel’s eyes began to tear up when the detective explained, “They’d seen your picture, Sabina, and read the article. In his younger days he was a commercial fisherman. The gentleman was impressed. His daughter thought it might be fun for her dad to actually meet you. So they took a chance, and there you were, walking on the bike path.”

  Detective Miller put his computer away. “Now do you understand why I wanted to speak privately? Sabina, you made a mistake. It’s up to you to admit it. The gentleman and his daughter will be satisfied with that. If you don’t, there could be trouble.”

  The girl, with her stubborn jaw, thought about it for a long second. Finally she muttered, “Okay. I made a stupid mistake. There—I said it.”

  The detective appeared puzzled, then apparently decided he didn’t like her attitude. “One more thing—and please listen closely. No more calls about this shark fins nonsense. Making up stories is the wrong way to get your picture in the paper, young lady. Understand?”

  “I understand,” the girl said, staring straight ahead.

  The detective was clearly frustrated. “You know what the worst thing is? There really is a gang of poachers out there. They don’t fish during the day—our boats would have spotted them. They don’t seem to fish at night, either—we have helicopters with night-vision electronics. So the mystery is, what time of day or night can poachers net sharks without being seen? Maybe that fifty-thousand-dollar reward will help produce a legitimate tip.”

  He sighed and looked at his watch. “We had a conference call meeting scheduled for this morning—crime experts from all over the country to help us solve that mystery. But guess what? Instead, we wasted our time looking for your black van, Sabina—and an old man in a wheelchair.”

  Detective Miller stood up. “Goodbye,” he said to the trio. “I don’t expect to see you three kids again. Understood?”

  When the man was gone, Maribel glared at her sister. Her eyes were red from crying. The two girls squabbled back in forth in Spanish until Luke intervened. “Instead of arguing, I’d rather get out on the water. Think about it. This might be the last time we’re allowed to use the boat. So we might as well fish while we can.”

  “It’s too late in the afternoon,” Maribel said while her sister scowled and toyed with her necklace. “Besides, Hannah didn’t say we could fish.”

  “She didn’t say we couldn’t,” Luke countered.

  The boy’s brazen attitude surprised both of the Estéban sisters. Sabina was impressed. “I agree with the farm boy. I vote we go shark tagging.” She raised her hand and stared until Luke raised his.

  Maribel, still angry, was reluctant but slowly raised her hand. “Okay. It’s unanimous, I guess. I’ll go get the boat ready. But we have to go soon because we have to be back before sunset. So be ready to leave in ten minutes.”

  When she was gone, Sabina said to Luke, “She’s still mad. Why aren’t you mad at me?”

  “Waste of time,” the boy grumbled. “I’ve got to grab some frozen chum.”

  “Wait—I wasn’t lying,” she said. “The old man in the video wasn’t the man I saw in the back of that van. I don’t care what anyone says—it was the drunkard who ordered his dog to attack me. The dog, too. I recognized its growl. It’s that woman who’s lying. The man I saw must have gotten out, and she kept driving.”

  Once again, the girl was surprised when Luke replied, “I know. The guy in the wheelchair must be part of their gang, too.”

  “What? You actually believe me?”

  “Of course I do,” Luke said. “There were two men in the back of the van when the woman asked you to sign the newspaper. What’s so hard to believe about that? One got out before the police stopped her. The pit bull probably went with him.”

  Sabina, who didn’t like hugging anyone, suddenly wanted to hug this strange boy, despite the stupid gloves on his hands. “That makes me feel better, so I take back all the mean things I’ve said about you. Everybody else in the world thinks I’m a crazy liar.”

  “Maybe,” the boy responded, “but you’re not a liar.” He said this with a rare half smile.

  The girl was still thinking about that while she packed their lunch for fishing. Had he made a joke at her expense? Why else the sly smile?

  They were in the boat, Maribel at the controls, and heading for Fools Cut when Sabina finally figured out his sly joke.

  “Hey, farm boy,” she snapped. “I’m not crazy, either!”

  * * *

  It was midafternoon when they anchored in
Fools Cut. Soon they would catch the largest and strangest-looking fish they had ever seen. But it would take a while.

  First they had to get set up. There was a lot to do before they could actually start fishing. Luke lowered the chum bag over the side. He helped Sabina rig two rods, and she casted the baits out. They secured the rods in their holders and did what all anglers do—sat and waited.

  It became obvious to Luke that the sisters weren’t speaking to each other.

  Good, he thought at first. Sometimes they made his ears tired the way they chattered back and forth. But he knew they couldn’t go on this way as a team.

  What could he do to smooth things over?

  Luke had spent his life avoiding conversations. He’d rarely been in a situation that required him to actually start one.

  So he waited for his chance to get the girls talking.

  It was hot. The afternoon breeze wilted into stillness beneath the Florida sun. Occasionally a gust stirred a musky odor from the mangroves. It was a sulfur smell, like boiled eggs. Trees crowded in on both sides of the boat.

  Fools Cut was narrow.

  Mosquitoes spun silver clouds in the shade. Some insects ventured out into the sunlight. The boy swatted a big one, full of blood, on his arm.

  This provided a reason to say to Sabina, “Would you mind asking your sister for the bug spray?”

  “Ask her yourself,” the girl replied.

  He tried again by addressing both girls. “Are mosquitoes this bad in Cuba? Someone told me that only female mosquitoes bite. Is that true?”

  Sabina grumbled, “Probably because the males are too lazy to find food.”

  Maribel wanted to make peace, so she risked saying, “Only the females bite because they have to drink blood before laying their eggs. We studied that in science in fifth grade. The blood can be from a deer or a rabbit or a person. Any mammal. They need it for energy.”

  Luke sensed an opening. “You’re going into fifth grade, aren’t you, Sabina?”