“Jack! Over there!”

He responded and swung the Zodiac in the man’s direction. They sped over and collected the injured man. It was the agent who had passed Jack the flashlight earlier. His arm was broken, clearly a compound fracture from the white bone poking through his sleeve.

Lorna held a fistful of rags to his forehead, stanching the bleeding.

“Where’s Tompkins?” the man asked, bleary-eyed. “He… he was still on the upper deck.”

They searched the waters. The wounded agent tried to stand in the Zodiac, but Jack barked for him to stay seated.

Lorna noted Jack squint toward the beach one last time and away again. Only then did she spot a body sprawled near the tree line. Smoke steamed from his burned clothes. A dark stain flowed into the sand. The body was missing an arm and half its skull.

Jack met her gaze as he swung around. She read his expression.

Tompkins.

Lorna felt tears swelling-not in grief but at the senselessness of it all. “What happened?” she whispered to herself.

Still, Jack must have heard her as he cut the engine and let the Zodiac drift up against his patrol boat. The pontoons bumped them to a stop. “A dead man’s switch,” he answered cryptically as men scrambled down to help carry the injured agent up to the deck of the boat.

Another replaced Jack at the rudder of the Zodiac, ready to continue the search for survivors. Jack was needed above, to take command. Lorna followed him up the ladder.

The open deck had been converted into a triage hospital. The uninjured tended to the wounded. Some sat up; others were flat on their back. She also noted one form covered over with a tarp.

Without being told, Lorna headed to the emergency medical kit on the deck. She began to administer first aid, using her medical skills as best she could, moving from patient to patient. Shortly thereafter, a Coast Guard rescue helicopter and a Life Flight air ambulance flew in and began loading the most critical cases.

Word slowly spread of the number of casualties.

Three dead.

A horrible number, but it could have been worse.

The Border Patrol boat began its journey up the Mississippi, followed by the Fish and Wildlife catamaran. A newly arrived Coast Guard cutter remained behind to secure the area and keep it cordoned off until a forensic team could sweep the wreckage.

Lorna stood by the bow rail, letting the wind cool the sweat from her brow, but it did little to ease the tension or shock. Amid the chaos, she had focused on her work, staying professional, turning her full attention upon a laceration, a concussion, a broken bone. It was a crutch she used to get through the morning. The remaining injured were now stable and monitored by a Coast Guard doctor.

Once she was no longer needed, the weight of the tragedy settled over her. She hugged her arms around her chest. What if I’d still been in the hold with Jack… what if we hadn’t gone to the island?

She suddenly sensed someone behind her and glanced back.

Jack stood a few steps away, as if unsure if he should disturb her.

She appreciated his civility, though it irritated her a little, too. Did he think she was that fragile? She nodded to him to join her. She wanted answers, some explanation that would allow her to sleep at night. She hoped he could give it.

He came forward. “I’m sorry for dragging you into this. If I had known-”

“How could you have known?” She turned to study the shoreline as Jack joined her at the rail. A long stretch of silence followed as each tested their footing with the other.

“What do you think happened?” she finally asked. “The explosion. Earlier you had a theory. Something about a dead man’s switch.”

He made a noncommittal sound at the back of his throat. “We’ll need a demolition expert to confirm it. But while you were working here, I inspected the wreckage. Looks like the fuel tank exploded. Maybe triggered by some sort of fail-safe.”

“Your dead man’s switch.”

He nodded. “Someone else knew about that boat. The cargo had to come from somewhere, had to be headed somewhere. After the storm, when no word reached that other party, they must have triggered the fail-safe by radio.”

“To destroy the cargo.”

“And cover things up.”

His words reminded her of her other responsibility. “The animals… how many made it?”

“Unfortunately, the team only had time to ferry off a handful of the animals before the explosion. The parrot, the pair of monkeys, the lamb. They also managed to salvage that clutch of python eggs. But the snake and all the rest were lost.”

“We also have the jaguar cub.”

“That’s right. I hadn’t forgotten. Despite all that happened, there’s another survivor to worry about.”

“The cub’s mother.”

“She’s still out there somewhere. As soon as we hit New Orleans, I’ve got to arrange a search party.”

“And in the meantime, I’ll set in motion the genetic studies necessary to figure out exactly what happened to those animals, try to ascertain who might have been capable of all this.”

“Good. I’ll call tomorrow to see what you found.”

He began to turn away, but she grabbed his arm.

“Wait, Jack. I can have everything set up at ACRES before nightfall.”

His brow crinkled in confusion, not understanding the implication behind her words.

“I’m going with you tonight,” she said.

His crinkles failed to smooth. If anything, they grew deeper.

She sighed in exasperation. “When you go hunting for the cat, I’m coming along.”

He stared hard at her, his features turning granite. “No. There’s no need for you to come. It’ll be too dangerous.”

Anger warmed through her-and a part of her appreciated feeling anything after so much death. She took strength from that.

“Look, Jack. I’ve hunted big game before. I’m an expert marksman with a tranquilizer gun.”

“So am I-and I’m not talking about a tranquilizer gun. And I know the bayou better than you.”

“And I know big cats better than you.”

“Lorna-”

“C’mon, Jack. Be reasonable. If I were a man, would we even be having this conversation? You told me that you were going to put together a team of experts: trackers, hunters, your Special Response Team. I’m offering you my expertise.”

He looked ready to argue, but she refused to back down-and not out of pride.

“I know big cat behavior better than anyone south of the Mason-Dixon Line.” She stared him square in the eye. “My knowledge could save someone’s life. You know that. Or is preserving your male ego worth someone dying over?”

She knew those last words weren’t fair. Her anger had gotten the best of her. Though before she could take her words back, Jack turned away.

“Be ready by dusk,” he said and stalked off.

Hours later, Lorna stood inside the isolation ward of the veterinary hospital at ACRES. Power was back up. The overhead lights shone brightly off the bank of stainless-steel cages climbing one wall. The ward had been commandeered in order to quarantine the animals recovered from the trawler.

Only five left… along with the clutch of eleven python eggs.

Dressed in scrubs, she cradled the jaguar cub in the crook of her arm and held a bottle of milk. It suckled and gnawed at the rubber nipple, eyes closed. A low growl flowed whenever she jostled him too much. Hungry little fella. It was his third bottle of milk since arriving here six hours ago.

She had spent most of her time here and was glad to do it. After all the death, there was a balm in spending time with the animals, to get them settled, examined, and fed. As always, she drew comfort and consolation in caring for her patients.

As a scientist, she understood why. There had been thousands of studies of the human-animal bond, how petting a cat lowered a person’s blood pressure, how visiting dogs got bedridden hospital patients to respond and revive. While no one could quite explain this bond, it was real and quantifiable.