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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