Fins Page 10

  Sabina wasn’t going to let herself be surprised like those animals. She darted toward the closest tree, but her foot snagged on a vine. She stumbled … kept her balance for a few strides … then sprawled face-first onto the ground.

  The dog’s low, thunderous rumble told her to freeze and cover her head. She turned to look anyway, and there the animal was, growling, fangs bared, bounding toward her through weeds.

  The girl hurled the whelk and found her necklace of blue and yellow beads. “Make it disappear!” she cried.

  The dog snarled and charged … then suddenly stopped a few feet away. Its jaws were so close to Sabina’s ankles that she felt a gush of hot breath.

  At the same instant, a familiar voice startled her from the mangroves. “Don’t move,” the voice warned. “Act like you’re dead.”

  Luke stepped out and didn’t speak another word. Slowly he walked toward the dog. He extended one bare hand like a stop sign—his right hand. The dog barked and lunged, but in a nervous way, as if unsure what to do.

  They boy stared into the animal’s eyes. He made a downward motion with his hand.

  The dog growled and slunk low, intimidated. For an instant, its tail thumped the ground in a friendly way—but the dog bared its teeth when the boy was almost close enough to bite.

  Sabina sensed the animal was about the attack. She clutched her beads and yelled, “Make him go away!”

  In the far, far distance someone whistled again—a shrill two-finger command.

  The dog’s ears perked with sudden relief. Its head swiveled to the boy, and a stubby tail once again invited friendship. After Luke made a sweeping motion with his arm, the animal spun around and galloped off.

  “My beads saved us,” Sabina informed Luke. They were threading their way back to the boat at the time.

  Confused, the farm boy rubbed the palm of his right hand. “Your what saved us? That’s not the way I remember it happening.”

  The girl wasn’t going to repeat details of a story she was eager to share with her sister. So she waited until they were on the boat to say, “I found the shark poacher’s camp. He’s a disgusting criminal, and his dog’s just as bad.”

  “We’ve got to tell the police,” Maribel said when she had heard the whole story, which included Luke’s recollection of events.

  “Yes, and have that drunkard arrested,” Sabina agreed. “We’ll all be heroes. Even though I’m the one who found the shark poacher—and saved Luke’s life.”

  The boy listened to this in silence. But he did share a rare private look with Maribel, who knew the truth.

  Jockeying the boat out of Fools Cut toward the marina was no easier than getting in. It gave Maribel time to realize something: If they notified the police, they would have to tell Hannah and Doc the truth about what Sabina had done. The girl had broken a major rule by leaving the boat without permission. It was possible she would be removed from their shark-tagging team.

  “If Doc fires her,” Luke said, “he’ll have to fire me, too. You told me not to get out of the boat, but I went anyway.”

  The English word fire meant something very different in Spanish. Maribel required a few seconds to understand the boy’s meaning. “I’m the one who should be blamed. I’m captain. I’m responsible. So they’ll have to fire us all.” she said. “What bothers me most is that our mother will be upset when she hears what happened. And she’s got enough to worry about.”

  “They’re not going to burn us,” Sabina scoffed. “We could make up a story—tell them I saw that drunken criminal while we were fishing.” The girl was comfortable with the idea until she realized something: “I don’t know, though. I’m the one who should get credit when the police arrest him.”

  Luke shook his head. He was a terrible liar—always got details mixed up the few times he had tried. “We’ve got to tell the truth,” he said. “Who cares, as long as it stops that guy from netting sharks?”

  “The truth,” Maribel agreed. “If we don’t, Dr. Ford and Hannah will never trust us again.”

  Sabina was relieved. After daydreaming on the boat trip home, she confirmed the decision by announcing, “I bet we’ll become famous. That’s what I think. Probably rich, too. They might even interview me on TV.”

  THIRTEEN

  FAME AND SHAME

  Later that afternoon the children told their story to Hannah and the biologist. Aside from a stern look or two, there had been no mention of firing anyone or disbanding Sharks Incorporated. In Sabina’s opinion, the adults were impressed by how they had handled a dangerous encounter, and eager to have the shark poacher arrested.

  “Journalists monitor police radios,” Dr. Ford warned after he’d made several phone calls. “Expect reporters to show up about the same time as police. My advice is, ignore them. Wait for a detective friend of mine to get here. His name’s J.D. Miller. He wants to talk to you kids alone. That’s fine with Hannah, but”—the biologist addressed the sisters—“I’ll need to call your mother to get her permission. Is she at home or at work?”

  Marta Estéban was at the restaurant, a few miles down the road.

  “Don’t worry,” he added gently. “You kids are heroes. She won’t be mad.”

  Heroes. Sabina loved the sound of that. She sat on a bench with a view of the parking lot. A police car arrived. Next, a plain black car driven by Dr. Ford’s detective friend. J.D. Miller was a nice man, big, and wore a sport coat. The man listened patiently to Luke, Maribel, and Sabina describe what had happened. Then he dismissed Sabina, saying, “You can go play now, but don’t wander off. It’s better, I think, if one of our Spanish-speaking officers takes your statement.”

  The girl was offended. She was also disappointed. Where were the news reporters the biologist had warned them about?

  Half an hour later, it happened. A big fancy van pulled into the parking lot, close to where Sabina was sitting in the shade. From the roof of the van sprouted a huge antenna. The doors opened to reveal a woman dressed for a TV studio, not a warm afternoon at the marina.

  The woman was pretty, Sabina decided, especially her glossy crimson high heels and pale pink lipstick. Pinned to the woman’s jacket was a tiny microphone. The bag she carried contained what looked like cosmetics and a can of hair spray.

  “So you’re the one who busted the shark-fin poachers,” the woman said to the girl.

  “How did you know?” the girl asked.

  “Oh, I have my sources,” the woman replied. “A police officer friend said that you’re a hero. That you, a ten-year-old girl, was responsible for busting some very bad men.”

  They had retreated to the picnic table near the barbecue grill. Maribel was busy cleaning the rental boat. After speaking to the police detective, Luke had vanished with the dog.

  Typical.

  Sabina was confused by the word busting.

  “You mean I broke something? No, señorita, when the dog chased me, I fell. I skinned my knee. That’s all. Maybe the police will bust that bad man’s nose when they find him. I hope so. See them out there?” She pointed toward Fools Cut, where a police boat with flashing blue lights was anchored.

  “They’re looking for the man now,” the girl continued. “I heard that a helicopter might come. If you bring a camera, I bet they’d take us for a ride. Have you ever flown in a helicopter? I haven’t, but I’d like to.”

  The woman had serious eyes but a nice, friendly smile. She leaned across the table to shake hands. “Call me Kathy. I can tell that you are one very brave young lady.”

  “Yes,” Sabina replied. “I know.”

  The girl’s attention strayed to the van. It was white with colorful peacock feathers on the side. “Where’s your camera? The detective told me to wait before talking to reporters. Maybe I should. But I’d like to change clothes first and brush my hair.”

  “You look wonderful,” the woman named Kathy said. “This isn’t an interview—we’re just talking. Why does the detective want you to wait?”

 
; Sabina was reluctant to say but finally admitted, “He wants a police officer who speaks Spanish to talk to me first. He said we—my sister and a boy from a farm named Ohio—he said we shouldn’t say anything until the police have collected…” The girl paused to think. “I forget the word.”

  “Evidence?” Kathy asked. “I think you speak English beautifully.”

  “I think so, too,” Sabina agreed. “I’ve even written a few poems in English, but Spanish is better. It’s more musical. English, to me, sounds like coughing. Not singing.”

  The TV reporter had a notebook open. “Not only brave … Sabina Estéban is a young bilingual poet who tags sharks,” she murmured, scribbling with a pen. Her smile broadened as she explained, “I’m not interviewing you, understand. Just writing down a few details so I don’t forget. Thousands of viewers will want to know everything about you.”

  Sabina straightened her collar. So far, being famous was fun.

  The TV reporter looked up from her notebook. “Is it possible the detective didn’t believe your story? I’ve understood everything you’ve said so far. Why make you repeat it in Spanish?”

  For nearly an hour, the girl had fumed over the same injustice. “It’s the way it is in Florida. There are a lot of people who speak English, yet they don’t seem to understand English—especially schoolteachers and adults.”

  “Opinionated, too.” The woman chuckled as if she approved. “I think the police are being foolish. That’s no reason to doubt an intelligent young lady like yourself. Could there be another reason?”

  “The detective didn’t like it when I told him I was the only one who saw the shark fins,” Sabina admitted. “There should’ve been another, other uh…”

  “Witnesses?” the woman suggested. “What about your sister and the boy you mentioned?”

  “They stayed in the boat. I didn’t mind being lost in the jungle. I’m used to being lost.”

  “Did you take pictures?” Kathy asked. “Certainly you had your phone with you.” The woman held up her iPhone as an example.

  “Maybe one day when I’m rich,” the girl said, “I’ll get a white one just like yours. I wish I’d brought a camera. It was awful—hundreds of shark fins, and so many flies they buzzed like bees. He had a dog, a mean dog—the drunkard I’m talking about. That’s the dog that chased me. It might have killed me if I hadn’t—”

  “Wait,” the woman interrupted. “You walked into a mangrove swamp all by yourself—a girl your age? No phone, no way to communicate. Just you, all alone?”

  The girl nodded.

  “Did you suspect that’s where the poachers were hiding?”

  Sabina had to give this some thought. “Maybe I did. Yes … I think so.”

  “Then why didn’t you turn around and get help?”

  “I couldn’t,” the girl said.

  The woman asked, “Because…?” and let the question hang there.

  Sabina was embarrassed. She didn’t want to discuss the bucket she had refused to use, or her desperate need to go to the bathroom. Not on TV.

  “Because I … I’m a member of Sharks Incorporated,” she said finally. “Our job is to protect sharks, not hurt them.”

  The reporter named Kathy seemed to accept this. She wanted to know more about their shark-tagging team, then got back to the subject. “When you saw all those shark fins, instead of running away, you went to investigate. Most people, even adults, wouldn’t have had the nerve. Are you sure you did this all by yourself?”

  “I guess I should have been scared,” the girl said, “but I wasn’t—until the drunkard ordered his dog to attack me.”

  “How did you know he was drunk? Did you recognize the man?”

  “I will when they arrest him,” Sabina replied.

  Kathy’s pale pink lipstick parted to form a smile. “You sound very sure of yourself.”

  “I am. The man had a black beard, and there were beer cans everywhere. Don’t you hate people who leave trash behind? I would’ve called the police even if I hadn’t seen that table and all those flies buzzing. There must have been a thousand shark fins. Did you know he cuts the fins off while the sharks are still alive?”

  The woman, no longer smiling, closed her notebook. “A thousand fins? A moment ago you said hundreds.”

  “Too many to count,” the girl confirmed.

  “What makes you think the sharks were still alive when he cut the fins off? Did you speak to the man?”

  “Speak to a drunkard?” Sabina replied, meaning that speaking to a drunk was a silly thing to do.

  “Then how do you know?” the woman insisted. “You just said you would’ve called the police anyway because of all the trash he’d dumped. Are you sure you actually saw those shark fins? Some might think you were angry about the mess he’d made. That now you’re looking for an excuse to have the man arrested.”

  Without waiting for a response, Kathy leaned closer. “Sabina, let me ask you something. Well, let’s put it this way—sometimes when I was a little girl, I made up stories—fun stories. There’s nothing wrong with that. But I’m a reporter for a TV station. I also write for the largest newspaper in the area. Do you know what that means?”

  Sabina felt her face warming. “Yes, señorita, I think so.”

  “Then tell me, dear. You don’t have to make up stories. Just talk to me honestly.”

  “It means you’re rich enough to buy nice shoes and a phone, even though you told lies as a little girl.” Sabina said this with an innocence meant to irritate. Then added, “If I was a better liar, maybe I can be rich and famous like you one day.”

  At first the woman was offended. Then her expression softened. “You’ve got a big temper for such a little girl.”

  “I’m not a little girl,” Sabina informed her.

  “I’m beginning to understand that. You’re telling the truth, aren’t you?” Kathy’s large brown eyes studied the girl intently. “Yes … yes, I really think you are. I was foolish to doubt. Don’t be mad. Please? I want to be your friend. Would you like to be interviewed for our news show? I need to speak to your parent or guardian first.”

  “Mamá’s working, but you can call her on the phone,” the girl said eagerly.

  The reporter asked for the number, then got up, saying, “Excuse me for a second.” She walked away from the table with her phone to her ear.

  Sabina knew it was rude to eavesdrop. That is why she was good at pretending she wasn’t eavesdropping.

  The woman had a short, friendly conversation with Mrs. Estéban, then made another call. The reporter seemed to be talking with her boss. She was worried about the time. It was late afternoon. Her story had to be filed in a hurry to make the six o’clock news. For some reason—Sabina didn’t understand why—the morning edition of a newspaper might be a better choice.

  The police were a concern to Kathy and whomever she was speaking with on the phone. The words proof and evidence were used several times.

  Soon Kathy, motioning to the parking lot, made a third call. A moment later, a man got out of the van. He wore a vest with lots of pockets and lugged a heavy camera toward the picnic table.

  “Friends?” the woman asked Sabina, extending her hand again. Her smile had returned.

  “Kathy is a such a pretty name,” Sabina replied, “and I love your shoes.”

  After a glance at the woman’s bag, which held hair spray and cosmetics, the young girl inquired, “Will you help me put on makeup? Or should I do it myself?”

  * * *

  Luke sensed trouble. He and the dog had found a quiet spot in a shed near the marina parking lot. Through a dusty window was a view of the docks and the picnic table where Sabina was being interviewed.

  They had been warned not to talk to reporters. But there was the girl, talking into a microphone, then posing while a female reporter snapped photos with an iPhone.

  Earlier, the same woman had focused her phone camera on him and the dog. That is why Luke had taken refuge in a shed pil
ed high with junk and spare engine parts. Now he was tired of hiding.

  Pete … heel! he thought, and slapped his thigh.

  The retriever followed him out the door, across the parking lot. When the reporter called, “Excuse me, Luke … can I get a few more pictures?” he kept walking as if he hadn’t heard.

  His ears were so good, he also heard Sabina say, “Don’t bother. He’s shy from living with animals. But he is brave—for a farm boy. Did I mentioned he tried to save me from the drunkard’s dog?”

  For once, the girl was telling the truth about what had happened in the mangroves.

  The boy continued walking. He was pleased by Sabina’s compliment, yet convinced she was inviting more trouble. He had no idea what kind of trouble. It was a feeling, a small gray cloud in his head.

  Later, close to sunset, when the police boat returned to the marina, Luke knew he was right.

  The detective he’d spoken with, J.D. Miller, was one of five officers who stepped from the boat onto the dock. All the officers wore black ball caps and heavy vests, their guns holstered. The sour look of frustration on their faces told the boy why he was right about more trouble.

  The reporter and the van were long gone by then.

  Luke felt the weight of the detective’s eyes as the man walked toward him. The boy turned to the retriever, motioned with his hand, and thought, Pete … swim!

  Pete charged toward the dock and went airborne. Birds scattered. The dog crashed into the water and then surfaced, spouting water from his nose.

  Detective Miller approached in a friendly way but appeared tired. “Quite a storm building out there,” he said to Luke with a glance to the east. “We were ready to come back anyway—I just wish we’d found something worthwhile.”

  Every day, over the mainland, heat ricocheted off the ground. It stoked towering clouds of rain and lightning.

  “Son,” the man added, “I’m afraid I have to ask you a few more questions.”

  Without thinking, Luke touched the scar on his shoulder and replied, “Yes, sir. I know.”