“So it definitely survived,” he said.

“And it’s headed to the coast.”

Jack stood up and clutched his rifle. “Even after the storm, the delta will be full of fishermen, campers, hikers. We’ll have to evacuate the area. Put together a hunting party while we still have daylight.”

Lorna joined him. “You’ll have a hard time finding the cat during the day. It’ll find a place to hole up and sleep. Your best chance is at dusk, when jaguars usually begin their hunt.”

He nodded. “It’ll take that long to put a team together anyway. Trackers, hunters, people who know the coastal region of the delta. I’ll bring along my SRT.”

She glanced at him for explanation.

“Special Response Team.” Jack nodded to the white patrol boat moored off the other island. “The Border Patrol’s equivalent of Special Forces.”

“In other words, Border Patrol commandos?”

“They’re good men,” he said a bit too defensively, only realizing afterward that she was gently joking with him.

Flustered, he turned away.

A flurry of activity was going on across the water. The Fish and Wildlife boat-a foil-supported catamaran-had arrived and anchored offshore. The wardens and border agents were busily ferrying cargo from the trawler’s hold.

“Let’s get back over there,” Lorna said.

Jack heard the desire in her voice, plainly anxious to oversee the offloading herself. She had left the jaguar cub on his boat, cradled in an empty fishing tackle box.

They were wading toward the Zodiac-when the fishing trawler exploded.

Chapter 6

Knee-deep in water, Lorna watched in horror as the trawler’s hull shattered outward in a blast of fire and smoke. Its wooden fishing booms went sailing high, trailing flaming nets. Debris scattered over the island and out to sea.

Along with bodies.

She covered her mouth.

How many had been aboard the trawler?