He’d taken dozens of shots, and Regina had kept shooting when he was down on the whale. He flicked through the first tranche. There was nothing conclusive on them other than some damned interesting size-difference pictures of him on the huge floating cetacean. The hydrological film was in a separate library and he opened that next. Once again, good pictures of the wound that’d he’d get checked out, and he was about to shut them down when the next to last made him sit upright.

“Jesus Christ, Vince.” Regina put her cup down on his desk with a bang. “How big did you say that whale was?”

“What?” He spoke without being able to drag his eyes away from the picture. “About, eighty feet, I guess.”

“Well that fucking thing underneath it is nearly as big.” Regina crowded in beside him.

Vincent sat back, licking lips that had suddenly gone dry. No wonder his gut had told him to get the hell off that whale. The almost 3D hydrological image showed the whale, with him crouching at its edge, as it had with the previous shots. But this one showed something passing underneath, a shadow that was nearly as big as the whale itself.

“I hope that’s another damned whale,” Regina said.

Vincent couldn’t speak; only stare. He felt the hair on his neck prickle, and he had that funny feeling inside, the one his old granma used to say was death walking over your grave. He knew the shape was all wrong for a whale, and he looked back at the tooth. He suddenly had the feeling it was just the tip after all.

“I think we just found out what happened to those missing boats.” He rubbed a hand over his mouth and stubbled chin. “You know what? I think I need to speak to an expert.” He turned to her. “We may have a bigger problem than a hundred tons of rotting whale meat washing up somewhere.”

“An expert? Your friend?” Regina looked into his face.

He lifted his coffee cup, his hand shaking slightly. “Yeah, my old sparring partner, Jack Monroe.” He looked up at her. “Feel like taking a little trip?”

CHAPTER 29

CHAPTER 29

Cate took the 101 north, and exited at Washington Street, Petaluma. Her GPS applauded her choice, and encouraged even more twists and turns on her way to Nick’s Cove in Marin County.

Jack had rented a cabin there for so long the landlord let him have it now for peppercorn rent, provided that was, he maintained the place, and stayed out of it over spring break so it could be rented to the high-value tourists. Whenever Jack had a boat to work on, which was most days of the year, he could be found on Miller’s Wharf, sanding, painting, or elbow deep in a marine engine.