She closed her eyes and tried to recapture the salty sea, the blood, the tortured cries, hoping a fuller image would form.
As if she didn’t already have enough to worry about with Juneau missing.
Today Juneau, a snow-white beluga whale and Shannon’s research partner, had set out on her very first day of freedom from the steel-and-concrete sea pen that extended from the shore in a great semicircle around the UC. She’d lived in captivity for ten long years at the SeaQuarium in Ocean City, California, in a pool that the designers had declared generous compared to other captive whale pools, but compared to the whole northern Pacific Ocean, um, no.
The Dickson had set her free today at last. And then she had disappeared.
Shannon whipped her radio off her belt.
“Hey, Steve. Shannon here. Have you spotted Juneau on your monitors by any chance?”
“Why hello, Shannon. What’s it been? Let me check my log. Wow, seven minutes since you last asked. I’ve been up here looking for her nonstop and chewing my hangnails, thanks to you. And no, nothing. Nada. She’s definitely MIA.”
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