“Hooper said there was one thing we could do,” Meadows said. “Now that you’ve got the beaches closed down, we could chum. You know, spread fish guts and goodies like that around in the water. If there’s a shark around, he said, that will bring him running.”

“Oh, great. That’s what we need, to attract sharks. And what if he shows up? What do we do then?”

“Catch him.”

“With what? My trusty spinning rod?”

“No, a harpoon.”

“A harpoon. Harry, I don’t even have a police boat, let alone a boat with harpoons on it.”

“There are fishermen around. They have boats.”

“Yeah, for a hundred and a half a day, or whatever it is.”

“True. But still it seems to me …” A commotion out in the hall stopped Meadows in mid-sentence.

He and Brody heard Bixby say, “I told you, ma’am, he’s in conference.” Then a woman’s voice said, “Bullshit! I don’t care what he’s doing. I’m going in there.”

The sound of running feet—first one pair, then two. The door to Brody’s office flew open, and standing in the doorway, clutching a newspaper, tears streaming down her face, was Alexander Kintner’s mother.

Bixby came up behind her and said, “I’m sorry, Chief. I tried to stop her.”

“That’s okay, Bixby,” said Brody. “Come in, Mrs. Kintner.”

Meadows stood and offered her his chair, which was the closest one to Brody’s desk. She ignored him and walked up to Brody, who was standing behind his desk.

“What can I do …”

The woman slapped the newspaper across his face. It didn’t hurt Brody so much as startle him—especially the noise, a sharp report that rang deep into his left ear. The paper fell to the floor.

“What about this?” Mrs. Kintner screamed. “What about it?”

“What about what?” said Brody.

“What they say here. That you knew it was dangerous to swim. That somebody had already been killed by that shark. That you kept it a secret.”

Brody didn’t know what to say. Of course it was true, all of it, at least technically. He couldn’t deny it. And yet he couldn’t admit it, either, because it wasn’t the whole truth.

“Sort of,” he said. “I mean yes, it’s true, but it’s—look, Mrs. Kintner …” He was pleading with her to control herself until he could explain.

“You killed Alex!” She shrieked the words, and Brody was sure they were heard in the parking lot, on the street, in the center of town, on the beaches, all over Amity. He was sure his wife heard them, and his children.

He thought to himself: Stop her before she says anything else. But all he could say was, “Ssshhh!”

“You did! You killed him!” Her fists were clenched at her sides, and her head snapped forward as she screamed, as if she were trying to inject the words into Brody. “You won’t get away with it!”

“Please, Mrs. Kintner,” said Brody. “Calm down. Just for a minute. Let me explain.” He reached to touch her shoulder and help her to a chair, but she jerked away.