Page 86 of Wild Wolf

“Dead?”

“Beyond dead. Something took a chunk out of him, too, from what I’m told. Sharks probably got to him. Get down to the station, and we’ll go take a look.”

JD and I met the sheriff at the station, and we took his patrol boat out to the scene. Oren’s body had drifted quite a way from Whistler Cay. The predators of the sea had gotten tohim, taking chunks out of his arms and legs. His bulletproof vest kept his torso relatively intact.

I’m not sure if the sharks got to him before or after he drowned.

Two guys in a 45-foot sportfish had pulled him from the water. His tattered remains lay on the teak deck.

The boat pitched and rolled on the gentle swells. The sun sparkled the water. It was a beautiful day, except for the rancid smell emanating from the body. The sun beat down, cooking it on the deck.

Brenda examined the remains, and we took statements from the fishermen. After some digging, she found the ancient incantation in one of his pockets. It would be logged into evidence.

The sheriff got a call. He listened for a moment. It didn’t take long for his face to sour. A resigned sigh escaped his mouth. “I’ll be right there.” He looked at us. “Are you two nitwits ready to get back to work? We’ve got another situation.”