by Tom Lowe
“Doesn’t it have something to do with the dolphin’s cerebral cortex?”
“Yes, indeed. The more folded the cortex, the more room within the brain to house neurons. And it’s the gangly neurons that give the dolphin a range of emotions … similar to human emotions, if you will.” Ward walked over to the enormous aquarium, standing next to the walled glass. Within seconds two dolphins appeared on the other side of the glass. He pointed to the larger of the two. “That’s Lancelot. He’s been with us about four years. He has proven to be quite the Don Juan of the community.” Ward licked his lower lip, smiling, salvia over his lower teeth. “You’ve heard of a horse whisperer … maybe a dog whisperer? I’m the dolphin whisperer. They follow my commands. Let’s go topside for a look. There’s something I want to show you. Something I want you to experience.”
• • •
Detective Grant recognized Savannah Nelson’s car. He’d initially seen it in the lot of the seaside county park after he’d first spoken with her. Grant pulled his unmarked cruiser into a spot next to Savannah’s Subaru. He parked and picked up his phone, calling Detective Ron Hamilton. Grant said, “I’m at the Canaveral Marine Lab. It’s an oceanographic facility near Titusville. The marine consultant on Atlantis, Doctor Howard Ward, runs the place. Even without bringing out the CSI techs to test for diatoms in the aquariums, I think Ward might be our guy.”
“Why?” Hamilton asked, looking up from a case file on his desk.
“Because I recognize the car parked here. It’s registered to Savannah Nelson, the girl who found the body of first vic, Michelle Mitchell. The marine institute looks closed. There’s only one other vehicle in the lot. It’s a Range Rover. I’ll give you the license plate number to run a check. I’m betting it’ll come back that the vehicle is owned by Ward.” After Grant gave him the number, he added. “I’m going inside. If Ward’s our perp, he wastes no time, and the girl’s life is in immediate danger. It’d be nice to get the drop on him.”
“You’ll need backup.”
“What I need is the element of surprise. I’ll call my partner for back-up so I can make sure there’s no sirens. I don’t want to risk this guy going off half-cocked, killing Nelson, assuming he hasn’t already done it. Call you in a few minutes.” Grant disconnected looking at his phone screen. A missed call and a message. He played the message, wincing as he listened to the words. He returned the call. “Sean, got your message. How far out are you?”
“Half-hour, maybe a little more—I”
“I can’t risk the girl’s life by waiting that long. I’m at the marine lab’s Coral Reef building. Savannah’s car is here. I’m going inside.”
“Wait for me. You don’t know what’s in there.”
“I do know this perp kills these girls quickly. I’m hoping she’s still alive.”
“Dan, you need to—”
“Do me a favor. Call my partner and let him know what’s going on. Tell him to bring back up with no sirens. It has to be quiet. Gotta go.”
Grant silenced his phone, got out, walking fast to the rear entrance of the building. He tried the door. Locked. Grant sprinted back to his car, opened the trunk and found his tire iron. He jogged back to the door and used the tool to leverage through a small crevice in the doorjamb, pushing hard to pry open the door. He waited a second for the sound of an alarm. Nothing but the sounds of his own labored breathing. Grant walked inside, his right hand pulling his 9mm Beretta from the holster.
SEVENTY-SEVEN
Howard Ward led Savannah up a flight of stairs to a long metal grate, a lattice catwalk with handrails that looped around the topside ledges of all the aquariums. It was here where staff fed the fish. And, when research divers entered the water, it was from dive platforms that extended a few feet out and above the surface of each tank. Ward stood near the marine aquarium filled with dolphins and asked, “Have you ever had a dolphin encounter?”
Savannah smiled. “What do you mean by encounter?”
“A swim with the dolphins.”
“Not in a place like this. But I surf a lot and dolphins sometimes just show up. Anytime I see them, I’m not worried about sharks.”
“Indeed. The real wolfpacks of the seas aren’t sharks, they’re pods of dolphins looking to encircle schools of fish and have a meal. They’re savvy hunters, and like the orca—the killer whales, they often hunt in packs.”
“When I’m on my surfboard, they always seemed friendly to me.”
“That’s because they, at least the males, have ulterior motives. I mentioned the gangly neutrons in the dolphin brain. The neutrons are responsible for emotion and desire. The dolphins become extremely amorous. Not only with each other, but with human females. There have been more than enough documented cases of dolphins attempting to have sex with a woman swimming near them.”
Savannah shook her head. “That’s disgusting. I’ve never heard that, and I’ve swam with dolphins.”
“That is how real mermaids are born.” He chuckled. “Oh, don’t be so prudish, Savannah.” Ward looked at her with a predator’s smile, the aquarium lights moving across his face like the light from a full moon appearing with the sudden departure of a cloud.
For the first time, Savannah felt afraid. She said nothing, watching the dolphins swim and play tag in the enormous aquarium. She looked at Ward as he stepped out and onto a metal walkway that went eight feet over the aquarium, eighteen inches above the surface of the water. He raised two hands like a football referee signaling a touchdown. One of the dolphins swam up and stuck its head out of the water, making a staccato dolphin sound, like a laugh, the noise was hollow and created a slight echo across the indoor steel and concrete of the facility.
Ward looked back at Savannah. “Would you like to join me for an encounter—a swim with the dolphins? I have masks and snorkels in a locker over there against the wall. It won’t be like the standard dolphin encounter you see offered to the droves of pale-skinned tourists at theme parks and marine attractions around the state. This will be much more rewarding, at least from the perspective of an oceanographer … something you wish to become, correct, Savannah?”
“Yes. I’m sure it would be a rewarding and once in a lifetime opportunity, Doctor Ward. But I didn’t bring a swimsuit. I think I’ll pass. Maybe next time, okay?”
He grinned. “No need to bring your own. We do have women who work here as researchers. They have swimsuits in the lockers. If I recall, there are a couple of wetsuit dive tops in the lockers as well. As a surfer, I’m sure you’ve worn wetsuits.”
“I don’t know. I wasn’t expecting to—”
“To what? Walk around the institute and only observe. No, I invited you here to participate. Sort of like a rite of passage for all future marine scientists. People like Jacque Cousteau didn’t reach heights of accomplishment by standing on the sidelines and observing. No, they became great by participating, players in the game of saving Earth’s seas. Are you going to be a dreamer or a doer?”
Savannah wanted to buy time, to come up with an escape plan. “Are you going to swim with me?”
“Of course. I am your mentor. We’ll begin in the dolphin tank and then finish in the freshwater aquarium. Let’s get the gear and find underwater attire for you.”
Savannah managed a nervous smile. She followed Ward down the catwalk to a bank of lockers against one wall, benches for sitting and putting on full SCUBA gear. He worked a combination lock on locker number seven. He opened the lock and took it off, reaching inside. He removed a mermaid tail, aqua blue, iridescent and shimmering in the soft light bouncing off the wall from the aquarium.
Savannah felt her heart in her throat.
Ward smiled. “This will fit you well, Savannah. You are now my little mermaid.” He stepped closer. “Take off your clothes.”
Savannah froze, like an animal caught in headlights. Her heart pounding. She slammed her fists against his chest, turning and running down the catwalk. Ward laughed, his laughter sinister and evil,
echoing off the concrete walls. “Run, my little mermaid! You have no place to run to. It’s all locked. There’s no way out. Tonight, you shall become half woman and half fish. It is your destiny.”
“Not tonight!” shouted Detective Grant from the shadows of a catwalk thirty feet away. “Put your hands up. Now!” Grant pointed his 9mm at Ward’s chest.
Ward grinned. “Absolutely.” He quickly lifted his arms high in the air. One of the large male dolphins leapt through the surface of the water, screeching, making a high jump into the air, creating an enormous splash. Ward turned, reaching back into the locker. He lifted a Colt .45, firing once. The round hit Grant in the chest above his right lung. The impact knocked him off the catwalk to the floor below, next to one of the glass walls of the aquarium.
Ward turned back toward Savannah, his eyes burning, colorless lips wet. “The time has come for you to take off your clothes and become who you were meant to be … a real mermaid.”
SEVENTY-EIGHT
I pulled my Jeep into the Canaveral Marine Lab and Aquarium lot, parking next to what I thought was Dan Grant’s unmarked cruiser. I remembered the license plate. I recognized Savannah’s Subaru Outback, a Ron Jon Surf Shop decal on a back bumper. I shut off my Jeep’s motor, quietly closing the door, running to the back entrance, looking around the property for security cameras. I saw none. But I did see a sign of trouble.
The back door had been pried open.
I glanced down at a tire iron, knowing it probably came from the trunk of Dan’s car. There was a pair of fisherman’s orange rubber boots next to a coiled garden hose. A number of questions raced through my mind. I did know that Savannah Nelson was most likely inside and somewhere in there with Doctor Howard Ward. I didn’t know if Dan had made an arrest.
I pulled out my Glock 43, opening the door. It took a few seconds for my eyes to adjust to the dim lights. I stood for a moment, listening. The sounds were almost muted, the faint hum from water pumps, compressors, and cool air blowing through vents.
I walked quickly through a series of three offices, all interconnected with open doors. I moved through a lab, a half-dozen expensive microscopes on tables, computer screens off and dark. I ran down a long hallway. Lots of white. No pictures. A sterile, almost medicinal feel with the slight odor of bleach from freshly scrubbed floor tiles. At the end of the corridor, I came to double doors. I quietly opened one and walked inside. The air was cool and smelled of marine life, salt and algae. I stopped just inside the facility, looking at five massive aquariums. I glanced up to a sophisticated series of catwalks, all circling around the elevated edges of the aquariums like small gauge train tracks.
A sound.
A moan.
I lifted my Glock and moved silently around the base of the huge tanks, lights on top of the water coming through depths of at least twenty-five feet, refracting through the glass windows and onto the concrete floor. It was on the floor where I saw the crumpled body of Dan Grant. I glanced at the catwalk directly above him. I could see nothing in the shadows and subdued light.
I knelt beside him, my hand on his shoulder. His eyes were open, one leg broken, a blood stain on his shirt. “Sean …” he coughed.
“Save your strength, Dan. I’ll call for an ambulance.”
“No … he’s got Savannah. Ward … he wants to make her his fourth victim. Don’t let him.”
“Where are they?”
“Somewhere up there.” He looked up at the catwalks, I could hear muffled sounds in the distance. “You gotta stop him. Go … he’ll kill her. Take no prisoners with this guy. I’ll be okay. Save the girl.”
I stood, my hands bloody and shaking. Anger rising. I slipped off my shoes, running silently to steps leading up to the lattice work around the aquariums. I glanced over at the walls of glass on one tank, a large hammerhead shark gliding by the window, dozens of other sharks in the background of the clear, blue tinged water.
Halfway up the steps I stopped. Listening. I could hear a woman’s voice. A mournful plea. Then a blood-curdling scream. I took two steps at a time. At the top, I stopped, listening again. Nothing except the soft sounds of water circulating and aerating bubbles breaking from the surface of a tank that appeared to hold hundreds of freshwater fish. I moved to the right, down a catwalk toward a wall, half of it lined with lockers. There was a door to the left at one end.
I could see light coming from under the door. I touched the handle, turning. I yanked open the door, stepped inside, my Glock extended in both hands. No one. It appeared to be a storage room filled with diving equipment, SCUBA tanks scattered around the walls. Masks, snorkels, and breathing regulators on two tables. All neatly organized. I spotted a speargun leaning against the wall close to the door.
“That’s far enough! I’ve got the girl. Slowly turn around and put the gun down,” said a man I knew was Howard Ward.
I raised my hands, turning to see Ward holding Savannah in front of him. He held the gun barrel to the side of her head. Her shirt was ripped open, breasts showing, a bleeding cut on her left shoulder. Her eyes were wide, frightened, pleading. “Sean, he’s—”
“Quiet!” Ward ordered. He looked at me. “Slowly, set the gun down and kick it away from you.”
I watched him for a few seconds. Looking into the cold, flat eyes of a psychopathic killer. I nodded. “Okay … looks like you’re in charge.” I eased my gun to the floor, never taking my eyes off of his stare. I stood, used my right foot to kick the Glock to my left.
He made an animated, demonic smile, removing the gun from Savannah’s temple and aiming it directly at me. I said, “There are a lot of people who know I’m here. People who know Detective Dan Grant is here. So, if you stop the killing now, there is no doubt that your defense can plead insanity. You’ll go to an institute rather than a prison, and there will be no death penalty on the table.”
He chuckled. “If the detective’s colleagues knew he was here, they’d be present by now. You think I’m stupid … you think I’m insane? You simpleton. You have no comprehension of who I am and what I can do—my powers are unmatched. I’ve trained intelligent sea life. I’ve taught dolphins how to think analytically, how to survive in a world where survival is everything. My work in shark research still sets the bar.”
As he spoke—as he boasted about his marine conquests, I watched his eyes, knowing I had only a few seconds before he pulled the trigger. Before I made my move, I had to anticipate it down to the millisecond.
His eyes grew wider. “I don’t know who you are. But they’ll never find your body.”
I looked at his finger curled around the trigger and said, “Mistakes are costly. Sometimes, when you swim with sharks, you get bit. You lose a little bit of yourself in their mouths. And you lose a little bit of your confidence to go back in the water.”
“Shut up!”
I saw the white knuckle on his trigger finger. The slight, almost imperceptible, move of muscle and bone. I dove to the floor as he pushed Savannah aside and fired. The round scraped the top of my left shoulder. I reached back and grabbed the speargun. In less than two seconds, I fired. The spear went through the left side of his chest, the impact and shock knocking the gun from his right hand. Half of the spear was sticking out his back. The other half lodged in his chest.
He stumbled backwards, fell and got up, blood soaking his shirt. I retrieved my Glock, following him. Savannah clutched her torn shirt and stood in the shadows, her face terrified. Ward grabbed the end of the spear with his left hand. I could see the missing finger as he tried to dislodge the spear. He coughed blood. His eyes disbelieving. Face white. Going into shock. He tried to turn and move down the catwalk.
I approached him. He took his bloodied, left hand off the spear. He held it up, like a crossing guard trying to stop me. I glanced below the footbridge, could see sharks circling just below the surface. I saw Dan Grant sitting, looking up, pressing his hands to the wound in his chest, back against the bottom of an aquarium wall. I could hear Savannah
crying.
Ward coughed, blood tricking from the corner of his mouth. He started to run, tripping, tumbling backwards. He fell over the handrail, splashing into the center of the aquarium. It didn’t take long to attract the sharks. The blood pouring from his body, flailing arm, trying to swim with a spear sticking from his chest and back. The first shark that hit him was the bull shark. Savagely attacking. Ward’s body like a ragdoll in its jaws. And then it was a feeding frenzy, the water turning red with blood, body parts falling like confetti to the floor of the aquarium.
I pulled out my cell phone and called for an ambulance, letting the dispatcher know a police officer was down and severely injured. Then I walked back to Savannah, noticing a mermaid costume on one of the benches. I reached for her and held her in my arms. She cried, long and hard sobs, her body shaking. “Thank you … he was going to … I saw him shoot Detective Grant, and he killed those girls.”
“He can’t hurt you or anyone ever again. It’s over, Savannah. Come on, Detective Grant needs our help.” I took her hand, running along the catwalk until we got to the long flight of steps, Savannah following behind me. We ran down the metal staircase and sprinted across the floor to Dan. He looked up at us, his breathing labored and raspy, somehow managing a small smile. “You got him, Sean.”
“We got him. He’s gone. Hang tight, Dan. Medics are on the way. We’ll get you patched up.”
Savannah knelt beside him. “As a lifeguard, I’ve gone through advanced CPR. Let me help you until the paramedics arrive.” She gently unbuttoned his shirt, using her hands to take over applying pressure to the wound, her eyes wet. “Just try to breathe evenly. I think you have a collapsed lung.”
