“What is it you want?”

“Don’t worry. I’ll let you know. I’m not shy.”

30

AT BREAKFAST in the morning an island cop with a stiff back and a British accent sat in the chair with the view. A small breeze pushed feathers of light brown hair from his forehead, revealing a bronzed landscape of leathery crevices. He introduced himself as Major Appleton from the nearby island of Grand Turk, and Casey didn’t know if the title referred to his current position or something from his past. He looked like a man who’d seen more than he cared to tell. Graham’s levity had disappeared and they talked seriously about getting saliva from Nelson Rivers without him knowing.

Casey finally excused herself and changed before meeting them on the beach. Graham pointed out to sea and Casey followed the trail of black diesel smoke as an old wooden fishing trawler chugged toward the beach. Faded and leprous, the dilapidated boat wore an old coat of baby blue paint with a single grease-smeared white stripe. The boat pulled to a stop just outside the waves and a dinghy dropped down off the stern, rowed to shore by a thin black boy who looked to be no older than twelve.

“You come boat,” the boy said in clipped English, wagging his head and steadying the dinghy at the edge of the surf.

The three of them looked at one another and climbed aboard. As the stern came into view, Casey read the boat’s name.

“Come Crazy?” she said. “What the hell kind of name is that for a boat?”

Graham’s face colored and he shook his head in disgust.

When they embarked on Rivers’s boat, the captain sat hunched over the wooden-spoke wheel, paying them no mind at all. The fat hung from his sides and back in slabs that stretched the rayon material of a double X Tampa Bay Buccaneers golf shirt. Faded blond locks spilled from a moldy Greek fisherman’s cap. Uneven gray and blond stubble covered much of his face and he kept his eyes hidden behind a pair of Panama Jack sunglasses. His hands, though, moved with expert dexterity, working the throttle levers to spin the boat around and ease them out beyond the reef.

The boat’s tanks stood in a cobbled-together bin constructed from two-by-fours and chicken wire. They sat along a wooden bench beneath the gunwale and the kid offered them scratched bottles of orange Fanta from a battered cooler. For Rivers, the kid delivered a frosty can of Bud Light that the captain upended and finished in a series of quick doglike gulps before wiping his mustache and setting the can daintily into a cup holder. He then removed a tin of tobacco from the back pocket of his khakis and added a pinch to his lower lip.

“Does he speak?” Casey said under her breath, leaning toward Graham.

“I couldn’t shut him up on the phone,” Graham said.

It took less than a half hour before Rivers eased back on the throttles and the boat rocked forward close enough for the kid to hook a buoy with his gaff and tie them off. Rivers raised his beer can, not to sip at the dregs but to expel into it a stream of brown juice as he studied the water over the side.

“Fifty-sixty feet of visibility,” he said, almost as if speaking to himself. “You’ll be fine. Probably see a reef shark or two.”

“You’re going down with us, right?” Graham asked.

Rivers scowled and pulled up the cuffed leg of his pants, exposing an ankle so red and bloated that the spur of the bone could hardly be made out.

“Gout,” Rivers said. “Have fun.”

The kid brought gear up from the cabin below and assisted them until they dropped over the side. Beneath the surface, they shrugged at each other and Graham signaled for them to follow him down the anchor line, indicating they might as well play it through and see what they could see since they were there.

At forty feet, they found gullies of white sand beneath coral ridges thin with fish compared to what they’d seen the day before. Graham directed them to a cave beneath a ledge where a troop of king crabs stood frozen like giant spiders from a monster movie. Casey felt a chill that was instantly replaced by hot fear when she looked up and saw a shark moving swiftly above them like a gray and white missile. From the empty blue space in front of them, another ghostly shape appeared, its black eyes as lifeless as lumps of coal.

When she saw the fourth and fifth, her heart began to thump. Graham shouted something through his regulator, pointing, and Casey looked up. Above them, not far from the boat, a scarlet cloud filled the water, shedding purple chunks that floated to the ocean floor like a grotesque rain. Through the cloud the sharks swam, twisting and snapping at the chunks and then each other.

Graham tapped her shoulder and pointed to another shark, his own eyes wide with shock.

Casey spun. Heading right at them was something she’d only seen on Discovery Channel, a snarling black bull shark more than two times the size of the others, its mouth pulled down in a wicked frown, teeth bared like a hundred blades.

The shark plowed right through the three of them, racing for the pack and the cloud of chum. Casey kicked for the surface, fueled by panic and aware that the bull shark had torn into a wounded reef shark, thrashing and darkening the water to a purple gore. Casey broke the surface, ripped off her mask, and screamed for the boat. Graham surfaced beside her, yelling as well but grabbing hold of her shoulders.

“Stay still!” he said, grabbing her vest and filling the BCD with air from her tank so she floated high in the water.

The major surfaced but floated like a dead man, facedown.

“Stop it!” Graham said. “The movement attracts them. Stay still. We’ll be fine.”

He turned and shouted at the boat. “Rivers! Get over here, you stupid fuck!”

The captain had already fired up his engines, dirtying the sky with a plume of black diesel and turning the sluggish boat their way, chugging right through the roiling, bloodstained water where dorsal fins and tails slapped the surface. Rivers waved from behind the wheel and Casey could see his enormous grin. When he pulled up alongside them, Graham handed her up to the boy, who hoisted her aboard the stern platform.

Graham came next, followed by the major. Graham tore at his equipment, letting it drop to the deck as he surged forward. Rivers shared a laugh with his boy, and the sight of Graham made whatever it was even funnier for them until Graham grabbed the big man by the lapels and yanked him out of his swivel chair. The shirt’s material ripped and Rivers swatted at Graham’s hands.

“What the fuck were you doing?” Graham shouted.

“Hey, easy, easy,” Rivers said, pushing Graham away without success.

“Are you trying to kill us?” Graham shouted, spit flying from his mouth as he shook the captain.

Major Appleton shucked his gear and stepped forward, putting a firm hand on each man’s shoulder. “Robert.”

“Yeah, calm down,” Rivers said, sulking. “People love to see the sharks. They won’t hurt you.”

“Reef sharks won’t,” Graham said. “But there’s a bull shark down there, you stupid son of a bitch.”

“Bull shark?” Rivers said, leaning for the gunwale as if to confirm. “A big one?”

“Big enough.”

“Well, I never had that happen before. Sometimes they come in to feed on a whale, but…”

“You pull this kind of shit all the time?”

“I told you, people like it. They love it.”

“Take us back,” Graham said, then he stalked over to Casey and put a towel around her shoulders.

She didn’t stop shivering until they hit the beach.

“Christ,” Graham said as they sat down at the terrace table overlooking the ocean. “I’m sorry.”

“How can he do something that crazy and get away with it?” Casey asked.

Major Appleton said, “Who you gonna call?”

“You’re with the island police,” she said.