Only Tank seemed to think I might be on to something. He looked at me, his eyes shining with simple faith, then he nodded. “All right, Miss Andi, I’m in. And I’m kinda excited to see what happens tomorrow.”
I blew out a breath, hoping I hadn’t brought them all down here for nothing. If I was wrong about seeing the golden ratio, or if I had misinterpreted what it meant, they’d never trust me again.
CHAPTER
7
The next morning, our agenda crystalized the moment Tank picked up a copy of the local newspaper. “Winter the Dolphin lives around here?” He grinned at me. “I saw both of those Dolphin Tale movies and loved ’em. Can we go see him?”
Brenda looked up, her eyes narrowed. “Who’s Winter?”
“That famous dolphin who lost his tail,” Tank said. “Now he wears a prosthetic.”
The aquarium . . . that gave me an idea. I looked at Daniel, who was finishing up a bowl of Lucky Charms. “Feel like a trip to Clearwater?”
Daniel’s eyes lit, and he looked to Brenda. I had a feeling that a local tourist attraction was the last thing on her priority list, but who could resist the look in Daniel’s eyes?
“Why not?” Brenda shrugged. “Nuthin’ else to do.”
I knew the professor wouldn’t want to go, but he’d finished the book on chaos theory and would be bored senseless sitting around the house. “All right,” he said, sighing heavily. “As long as we stop by a store so I can pick up a raincoat. I don’t want to get wet in one of those silly dolphin shows.”
“Take one of the umbrellas,” I suggested. “And don’t sit down front.”
The lines at the aquarium were longer than I expected, and the show every bit as wet as the professor feared. I’d been to the aquarium many times as a child, so I spent most of the hour looking around. Tank seemed entranced by the show, frequently grinning and applauding, while the professor appeared to be in danger of nodding off. Daniel watched the dolphin trainers intently while Brenda scribbled in her program.
It wasn’t until the show was over and we stood to file out of the bleacher seats that I caught a glimpse of what Brenda had been doing. She’d drawn a face—a young man, probably in his early thirties, with stringy hair, round eyes, and a scorpion tattoo on his neck.
I elbowed her as we slowly inched forward. “That a client of yours?”
She glanced at the drawing, then quickly rolled up her program. “No.”
“A friend?”
She shook her head.
“Someone you’d like to meet?”
She turned on me with the fury of a tigress. “It’s nobody, okay? It’s just a face. Don’t make a big deal about it.”
I put up both hands in surrender and made a mental note: Don’t ask Brenda about her doodles.
When we finally threaded our way out of the mob, we walked over to talk to an aquarium staff member. I pulled out my university ID card and suggested that the professor do the same.
“Hi, I’d like to introduce Dr. James McKinney, PhD,” I began. “I’m Andrea Goldstein, his assistant, and these are our friends. We’re researching mass animal deaths and wondered if we could talk to someone on your staff who might be familiar with the animal die-offs at Indian Rocks Beach.”
The girl who’d narrated the dolphin show glanced at my ID card, then jerked her head toward a nearby door. “Dr. Mathis, our marine biologist, has been following that story. Follow me, and I’ll introduce you.”
We walked through a doorway labeled Employees Only and found ourselves in a large room filled with aquariums and several in-ground pools. The aquariums housed turtles and stingrays, and in the pools I saw a small dolphin, a young shark, and a manatee. Several people in shorts and aquarium staff shirts sat on the concrete floor watching the manatee while a diver stood in the pool and stroked the animal.
“What is that thing?” Tank’s eyes were in danger of falling out of his head. “I’ve never seen anything like that critter.”
“It’s a manatee,” I told him as we walked over. “They’re pretty common in Florida because they’re freshwater mammals. According to legend, sailors used to see them and think they were mermaids.”
Tank guffawed. “Beggin’ your pardon, Miss Andi, but there’s no way in the world I’d think that was a mermaid. That animal is—well, it ain’t purty.”
“Depends on who you ask, Tank.”
An older man in a lab coat looked up as we approached, and when the girl introduced the professor, he stood and extended his hand. “Tom Mathis,” he said, smiling at us. “Glad to meet you. So how can I help?”
I liked that he didn’t add the word doctor in front of his name. “The fish and birds at Indian Rocks Beach,” I said before the professor could speak and complicate our mission. “Do you have any ideas about what killed them?”
The professor crossed his arms and grinned. “Yes,” he said, jerking his head toward me. “What she said.”
Mathis took a deep breath and thrust his hands into his pockets. “Wish I did. They brought me a couple of specimens, but I haven’t had time to examine them. We’re currently facing a crisis with our manatee population—we’ve lost ten mature adults, several dolphins, and a half-dozen pelicans from a hotspot in the Indian River Lagoon. We don’t know what’s killing them, either.”
“A hotspot?” Brenda crinkled her nose. “Is that anything like a hot spring?”
The marine biologist shook his head. “A hotspot is a dangerous location for wildlife. The entire lagoon used to be heavily polluted, but the river has mostly cleared. Except for that one spot—we still have animals dying in that area, and we’re clueless.”
“What about their eyes?” Brenda asked. “The animals from the hotspot—do they still have eyes?”
The scientist exhaled slowly. “Some of them have their eyes, yes. Others . . . well, we assume they’re missing their eyes because decomposition takes place more rapidly in water.”
I smiled at Brenda, grateful that she’d asked the question. She’d received a non-answer, but at least we knew that other animals were being affected in the same way as our birds and fish.
“I’m sure you see dead animals all the time,” the professor said. “From predators, boat accidents, poisons—”
“Of course we do,” Mathis answered. “But not all at once, and not overnight like some of these cases. You might find this interesting.”
He gestured to a table covered with plastic bags. Inside each bag I saw a sizable fishing hook. Some of the hooks still had fishing lines attached.
“We pulled all of these from the stomachs of manatees or dolphins,” he said, “but the hooks weren’t the cause of death. We’re still searching for that.”
“Global warming?” Tank offered, leaning on a table to take the weight off his injured foot.
Mathis shook his head. “Doubtful. The entire lagoon would be affected by climate conditions.” He looked at me and smiled. “I appreciate your interest, but I simply hadn’t had a chance to do necropsies on the Indian Rocks animals. I’m sorry I can’t be of more help.”
“Thank you for your time,” I said, pulling one of the professor’s cards from my purse. “And if you have a chance to examine those fish or birds, will you give us a call? That card has Dr. McKinney’s cell number.”
Mathis promised to do what he could and slipped the card into his pocket.
Despite the small confirmations, I led the way out of the building feeling as though I’d led the team on a wild-goose chase.
At least Tank and Daniel had enjoyed the dolphin show.
CHAPTER
8
So we sat through that dolphin show for nothing,” Brenda said, settling into one of my grandparents’ deck chairs. She held a sweating glass of lemonade, complete with a paper umbrella, which I’d added as a festive touch. Brenda probably thought I was silly and frivolous, but I was only trying to keep her happy. If we were going to learn anything, we needed to cooperate.
“The trip wasn�
�t a total washout,” I insisted.
“Yeah, I got to see Winter the Dolphin,” Tank said, grinning as he carefully lowered himself into one of the wooden deck chairs. “Man, he’s a real inspiration, you know? I know athletes who get hurt and think they’re gonna be benched forever, but if a big fish like that can lose his tail and find a way to stay in the game—”
“Your toe’s gonna heal, big guy,” Brenda interrupted as she fished a pack of cigarettes out of her purse. “Don’t worry, you’ll play football again.”
“And it’s a mammal, not a big fish,” the professor added. He tilted his head. “By the way, Tank, I seem to recall that you . . . did something to my leg when we first met. It was injured, but you touched it and then it wasn’t injured any more.”
Tank shrugged as a flush began to creep up from his collar. “Sometimes I can help.”
“So why”—the beginning of a smile quirked the professor’s mouth—“haven’t you been able to repair your broken toe?”
Tank’s flush deepened until the tip of his nose was glowing like Rudolph’s. “Um . . . sometimes it doesn’t work. So when I couldn’t fix it, the team doc taped my toes together and told me to make the best of it.”
“You’re a good sport.” The professor lifted his glass in a mock salute. “Here’s to hobbling with dignity.”
I looked at Daniel to see if he would smile or say something about the dolphin show, but he sat on the deck steps next to Abby. Both were staring out at the beach, their heads cocked at identical angles.
The sight sent the memory of my dream rushing through me, shivering my skin. But this was reality, and everything was okay. Abby wasn’t growling.
“I know,” Brenda said, exhaling cigarette smoke as she followed my gaze. “They look cute sitting together like that. I can’t figure out if Daniel is copyin’ the dog, or if the dog is copyin’ Daniel.”
I leaned forward to study the pair. When Daniel moved his head to the right, Abby did, too, almost as if they were connected by a string. “I don’t know, either,” I whispered. “But it is amazing, the way they mirror each other.”
“You have to admit, Andi,” the professor said, his tone flat and matter-of-fact, “Dr. Mathis was no help today.”
“I think he was quite helpful.” I straightened. “He gave us another piece of the puzzle, don’t you see? He’s dealing with bizarre animal die-offs, too, and he even gave us a term for an active location—a hotspot. For some reason, part of the Indian River Lagoon is affected when other areas aren’t, and maybe that’s the same reason this beach is affected when none of the other beaches are.”
The professor looked away and sipped his lemonade, a sure sign that he didn’t have an answer. When some people met unanswerable logic, they raised their voices. The professor raised a glass. Fortunately, for the last few months his glass had contained only nonalcoholic drinks.
I was about to mention the manatees, but I stopped when Abby growled. The hair at the back of her neck had risen, and she was no longer looking at the beach, but at the sky. Beside her, Daniel stared upward, too, and his hands had curled into fists.
Brenda was saying something about how ugly the manatees were, but I cut her off with a flick of my hand, then pointed to Daniel and Abby. Tank and the professor must have seen my gesture because silence fell over our group as we watched the watchers without any idea of what we were seeing.
In Port Avalon, we had seriously entertained the idea that Daniel’s invisible friend was real and the kid could see things the rest of us couldn’t. Whether he was seeing into another dimension or a spirit world I couldn’t say, but there he was, looking, watching something invisible to my eyes. . . .
A chill touched the base of my spine. Was Abby seeing . . . had she been seeing . . . the same thing?
“Abby?” I finally said, keeping my voice calm so as not to spook her. “Abby, it’s okay.”
The dog leapt to her feet, her hair bristling along her backbone as she stared up at the cloudless bowl of sky. Daniel stood beside her, his hands knotted so tightly that his arms trembled.
“Abby—”
In an instant, Daniel flinched and ducked and the dog leapt off the porch and soared over the steps. She landed on the sand and took off at a run, barking as though her life depended on being heard. As Abby ran, Daniel moved to the bottom step. For a moment I was afraid he’d take off after the dog, but Brenda took charge. “Daniel—stay with us, baby. It’s not safe out there.”
I don’t know how she knew that, but Daniel trusted her. He stayed on the step.
The professor stood and stared out at the beach. “Do you see anything? Anyone?”
“Not a thing,” I whispered, hoping Brenda was wrong about the beach not being safe. But my dream had warned me otherwise.
Tank shook his head. “Just water and waves. A couple of people walked by a few minutes ago, though.”
“We’re going to be all right,” Brenda said, speaking in the tone a mother might use to soothe a child. I knew she was trying to keep Daniel from running off. We didn’t know much about the boy, and though he’d been calm so far, I was pretty sure he could lose control if something flipped his switch. After all, there had to be a reason he was living in a hospital for the mentally ill. . . .
I moved to the lowest step so I could grab Daniel if he started to run. From there I saw that Abby had reached the beach, and through the path in the sea oats I could see her running back and forth, barking like crazy at something no one else could see. Then she fell silent and sat on the sand, as if waiting.
“Finally.” Relief filled Tank’s voice. “When our dog used to bark like crazy, my grandpa always said she was keeping the elephants out of the yard. I’d say, ‘But Grandpa, there aren’t any elephants,’ and he’d grin and say, ‘’Course not. She does a good job, don’t she?’”
Is that what Abby had been doing at the window? Keeping something evil away?
I whistled, knowing that the sound would bring her back. She’d come running, tail wagging, because she’d accomplished whatever she’d set out to do. Then I felt a trembling against my leg, and when I looked down, I saw that Daniel had gone pasty white. His arms were thumping at his side, beating against his thighs, and he looked for all the world like he wanted to turn and run back into the house, but loyalty or fear or something held him in place. I was about to take his hand and lead him up the steps, but Abby started barking again so I turned and saw her snarling and flashing her canines, then she ran into the water and started to swim toward the horizon. The sight was so unexpected and unusual that I forgot about Daniel and stared, watching Abby’s bobbing head until it disappeared amid the swells and I couldn’t see her anymore.
“Abby!” I screamed her name, my throat tightening. When she didn’t answer and I still couldn’t see her, I kicked off my shoes. “I’ve got to get her,” I told the others. “I love that dog!”
I took three long strides toward the beach, then a shrill cry shattered my focus.
“Nooooooo!”
Something grabbed my arm. I turned, wondering what in the world could possibly make a sound that bloodcurdling, and to my horror I saw Daniel standing right behind me, his fingers clutching my sleeve, his mouth open and his eyes wide. “Don’t go!” he yelled, his face reddening with effort.
Bewildered, I looked up at the others. They were all on their feet, staring at Daniel with confusion and bewilderment.
“Daniel?” Brenda flew down the stairs and fell to her knees in the sand. Her fingers fluttered over his head, his shoulders, his form as if she were afraid to touch him. “Are you okay?”
He closed his mouth and released my sleeve, then his eyes filled with tears. We waited, hoping he would speak again, but he simply lowered his head and trudged back up the steps and across the deck, then went into the house.
Tank, the professor, Brenda, and I stared at each other, not knowing what to say.
CHAPTER
9
We left Brenda at th
e house with Daniel, who had gone into Sabba’s den and curled up on the couch, burying his face in a pillow. Since he was either asleep or pretending to be, we figured it was best not to disturb him.
“I’ll sit out here and watch TV or something,” Brenda said, sitting in the living room. “If he needs me, I’ll be here.”
“Do you think he’ll talk again?” Tank looked from Brenda to the professor. “He doesn’t say much.”
“Unless he wants to,” I said.
“At times of great duress,” the professor added.
I pressed my lips together and led the way back outside. I didn’t understand what kind of duress Daniel and Abby had been under, but now that Daniel was safe, I had to find Abby. Most Labrador retrievers are good swimmers and love the water, but Abby had been acting crazy when she took off. Plus, dogs weren’t allowed on this beach, and I needed to find her before someone called Animal Control to pick her up.
The professor, Tank, and I spread out and walked south along the beach, stopping to ask people we met if they’d seen a chocolate Lab in or near the water. We got a lot of strange looks and head shakes, and one prim lady in a housecoat reminded me that dogs had their own beach in Pinellas County and weren’t supposed to share the sand with people. “Worms, you know,” she said, sniffing. “And all these people walking around in bare feet.”
I didn’t have the heart to tell her that barefoot people stood a greater chance of stepping on glass or being stung by a stingray than getting worms from a dog, so I thanked her with a smile and kept walking. After about thirty minutes of beachcombing, I whistled, caught the professor’s and Tank’s attention, and pointed north. “Let’s head back,” I called. “She wouldn’t have gone this far south.”
As we moved north, Tank drifted from his center position and hobbled a few feet away from me. “I wouldn’t worry about the dog,” he said, obviously trying to ease my anxiety. “Labs are great swimmers. And dogs can find their way home pretty easily.”
Invitation Page 15
