He stayed in constant motion, thrusting and feinting and drilling in again. He squirmed and writhed whenever the whale moved, for if the whale teeth closed on his flank, they would never open, and the two would die together in the night.

Deeper and deeper the white shark probed, tearing at the wound. The old sperm weakened quickly, once the shark had gnawed to his gut. In a while, as his blood filled the water, he twitched with the passing of his life.

When he shuddered and died, he was a thousand miles from the sunlit beach he remembered, and the pod he had longed to see.

The great white feasted half the night. Lesser sharks drew near, but none dared join him.

Finally, with the old sperm one-tenth eaten, he headed south again.

Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Hoagie Newcombe skimmed the emerald waters of Whiskey Cay, cleared a clump of palms, and eased the little plane to a coral runway hardly longer than Amity's Main Street. They landed without a bump. He taxied swiftly to a weather-beaten shack.

"Whiskey Cay International Terminal," he said, "home of Calypso's Friendly Charters." He cut the airplane's engine. As the prop ticked to a stop, Ellen peered past it to where a sparkling, tail-finned Cadillac sat waiting in the shade.

All at once Thea was racing toward the plane, her long blond hair streaming. She wore a loose blue dress, none too clean. She ran under the wing and waited, hopping up and down.

In Amity she had been a bundled waif, subdued and maturely sad. Here she was in her element, vibrant and alive. Even from here, her eyes were dazzling blue. She was barefoot.

Ellen's throat caught. Brody had missed so much, and Sean—who would have had beautiful children with Tiffany—had missed so much too.

But she had not come a thousand miles to keen like a mourner at a wake. She began to unclip her safety belt.

"Don't get out," warned Hoagie. "The local narc."

A white jeep driven by a black official in a visored cap, worn askew, rolled to a stop. The man was dressed in white shorts and wore a big gold badge. He skirted the plane, peered into nooks and crannies in the control surfaces, and finally swung open the door.

He saluted Papa Jacques, scanned the interior, nodded brusquely to Hoagie, and strolled back to his jeep.

"Okay," said Hoagie. "Now!"

She squirmed from her seat, scrambled out, and scooped Thea up.

"Santa's coming," Thea announced, "in three more days!"

Ellen looked around. "He'll never come here. There isn't any snow!"

Thea giggled. "He's got a boat!"

A shadow fell across them. Ellen looked up. Michael stood against the sun, looking so much like Brody that she almost choked again. He wore shorts and a scruffy baseball cap and a faded Hawaiian shirt.

He took her into his arms. "Mom, Mom, Mom... Is it better now?"

"Yes," she said, lying. "It is."