Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
🔹
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Two days later Sierra was back at the police station. She had taken advantage of her day off at the aquarium to compile some useful information she had gathered on a manila folder. She had tought about dropping by and asking to speak with the detective in charge of the investigation. She was sure some of the details in her file might help move things along in the search of a body.
The last talk she had with agent Jesse Morris had left her brooding. She had been irritated, yes. The agent had spoken with her as if her mental capability was below his. So far below, she couldn't even distinguish between a real arm and a fake rubber one.
Two days had given her enough time to brood though, and after running the conversation through her head—several times—she had concluded she had gotten ahead on her conclusions. Sure, at the time it had seemed like he had been confronting her, now she wasn't so sure of herself. After confirming the arm had been very real the agent hadn't actually stated anything. It had been her who had drawn the conclusions by judging the arrogant way in which he carried himself.
The idea that he was out looking for more than a dead body had come from her, as had been the crazy deduction that the man was still alive. He must have thought her a moron for sure. It hadn't been until a day later that she'd realize he had never given her a straight answer. And it hadn't been until a day later that she'd come up with the useful information she now held in her arms.
They were general statistics, but she doubted the police department had someone at hand who knew that much about tiger sharks. And even if they did, she doubted they'd think of them as useful for the investigation.
The idea wouldn't even have crossed her mind if she hadn't spoken with her mother the day before and heard her rant about the plumber who had come by to fix the blocked balcony drain. She'd had some trouble with it after the storm the past week, when the water flooded her kitchen, and had been waiting to fix it before it rained again.
She'd had to cut her mid rant as thoughts suddenly bombarded her.
