It was Travis who spotted the second body.

Muck and Mr. Dillinger had tried to hoist the dead dolphin into the Zodiac, but it was too large and slippery for them to handle, so they ended up using the mooring ropes to lash the poor creature to the side of the boat while the guide made slowly for harbour.

All of the Screech Owls were upset. They’d come out to see grey whales swimming and playing in the sea, and they’d found, instead, a dead dolphin. “Shot,” Muck had said, but it made no sense to Travis. Shot for what reason? he wondered. And who would do such a thing?

Jenny Staples, the Owls’ goalie, was sobbing. A few of the others, Fahd included, were brushing away tears and trying to pretend that it was just the splash from the sea. Travis’s throat felt tight and he avoided having to talk. He sat, staring at the rolling horizon, and tried to think of anything but the death of this beautiful creature that now lay strapped to the side of the boat, blood stringing out pink behind the small wake that rippled from its tail fin.

Muck and Mr. Dillinger talked in low voices as they leaned over the side making sure their ties held. The coach said it must have something to do with tuna fishermen and gill nets, but Mr. Dillinger didn’t think there was any tuna fishing done off these waters. Mr. Dillinger said it must have been some idiot with a rifle out for nothing more than a kick, but Muck shook his head in disgust. Muck looked angry, as if somehow this attack on an innocent sea creature had been an attack on himself and his team of peewee players.

On the slow journey back to shore, a huge, mottled grey whale breached off to one side. The next time the gigantic dark creature rose out of the water, several of the Owls raised their disposable cameras and clicked off a few shots before it disappeared again in a thundering crash of spray, but they did so without much enthusiasm. Hardly anyone said a word, except to point out where the whale was coming up again.

Soon, however, it had moved off and there was only the slow drone of the engines on low speed, the trickling sound of water as it played between the trussed dolphin and the side of the boat, and the hypnotic rise and fall, rise and fall of the wide, rolling sea.

Some of the Owls were dozing off. Fahd was slumped over. Sarah was leaning on Sam, both of them nodding sharply from time to time as they bobbed in and out of sleep. Andy lay against Wilson in the seats up ahead. Dmitri and Lars and Simon were asleep too, their hooded heads down low as if in prayer.

Travis kept watching the sea. He could not stop wondering how this had happened. If Muck was right and the dolphin had been shot, could it really have been for sport? For a kick? Maybe it was a fisherman who’d accidentally caught the dolphin in his nets, and when he couldn’t untangle the poor creature he had put it out of its misery.

But that didn’t seem possible. There was no torn netting on the dolphin, just the gaping black hole in one side where dark blood was still seeping out and thinning to pink, eventually fading to nothing as it washed away in the sea.

Perhaps the dolphin hadn’t been shot. Maybe Muck was wrong. Maybe it was a shark attack! A swordfish, like Fahd said. A bite from some fierce sea creature. Maybe it was the mark of a suction cup from the arm of a giant squid or octopus.

But Travis knew nothing about the ocean and decided he shouldn’t pretend to. He’d have to wait, like everyone else, to find out what had happened. He just hoped it wasn’t a gun that had done this.

Would it be murder? he wondered. Can you murder a dolphin? Or does it have to be a human before it counts for that much. But then the guide had said they’re smart as us, they breathe like us, they can learn, they speak to each other.

It would be murder in Travis Lindsay’s opinion, anyway.

He tried to doze off, but couldn’t. He watched, instead, the slowly approaching land and the islands merging into the horizon behind. It was difficult adjusting to the size of the ocean after all those summers at his grandparents’ little lake up near Algonquin Park, where he and Nish last summer had managed to swim from shore to shore while Travis’s dad stayed alongside in the rowboat and kept a sharp eye out for waterskiers and wakeboarders. At the lake he was never out of sight of the shore. Here, if he looked to his left–what had the guide called it, port?–he could see nothing. For all he knew, there was nothing in that direction all the way to Japan.

He was staring out, thinking of Japan and Nagano and the Big Hat arena, when suddenly he thought he saw something. He half stood, but then crouched back down. He didn’t want to shout out if it was nothing. Maybe it was just his imagination playing tricks on him.

He waited for the next long roll of the sea. Then he saw it again–a flash of something white.

Another dolphin?

He waited until he had seen it twice more before he said anything. By now he was sure. He stepped over to the pilot’s seat, where the guide was nursing the controls and staring ahead towards her destination.

When Travis finally caught her eye, she looked down, wary. It occurred to Travis that she, too, might have been crying.

He pointed to the west. His voice caught slightly. “I-I see something over that way.”

The guide said nothing. She stood up, raised her binoculars, and stared for a long time. One long swell, then a second, then a third, the guide still staring, seemingly as uncertain as Travis had been.

She put the glasses down, and Travis saw a look of extreme anger flash across her face. She said nothing to him, but turned back towards the two men on the far side still holding the dolphin tight to the Zodiac.

“We have another sighting on the port side!” she called.

Muck and Mr. Dillinger looked up, Mr. Dillinger’s eyes blinking behind water-spotted glasses. “Of what?” he called.

“I don’t know,” said the guide. “I’m not sure.”

Muck got to his feet, lifted his hand to shield his eyes, and stared. “We’d better check it out.”

The guide said nothing. She turned the boat at once towards the object Travis had seen. The movement jolted the dozing Screech Owls and several stirred. Sam and Sarah stood up together, staring out to see where they were going.

“W-wh-what’s goin’ on?” said a voice below Travis. He stared down into a face that was not nearly as green as it had been a half-hour earlier. Still, Nish did not look at all well.

“We’re turning,” Travis said. “There’s something in the water.”

“Fish?” Nish said sarcastically.

Nish was trying to smile. He was coming back, recovering from his bout of seasickness.

“You want to sit up?” Travis asked.

“Give me a hand.”

Travis helped his pal onto the seat beside him. Nish shook his head and rubbed his face.

Slowly, at times almost seeming to go backwards, the Zodiac crawled over the rolling swells towards whatever was floating in the distance.

Most of the Owls were awake by now and knew they were headed for something in the water. Sarah and Sam were trying to stand in order to see better, but with the rolling waves and slippery floor of the Zodiac, it wasn’t easy. They plunked down and waited like everyone else.

Travis could feel the tension rise around him. The white thing he had first seen in the distance was drawing closer, visible now with each swell rather than just every so often. From time to time the guide lifted her binoculars to check. Her concern seemed to be growing.

She pulled the Zodiac around to starboard, then hard left again to port. The Zodiac rose up and over a wave, and then slipped down into the same trough of sea that held the mystery object.

Travis and Nish both moved to the side of the boat, staring hard.

It was a white shirt, drifting slowly in the water.

And from inside the shirt came a familiar dark stain, fading to pink, just as it had around the dolphin.

The object rolled easily in the waves, tumbling to reveal a gaping black hole in the white cloth almost exactly the same as the wound on the dolphin.

Only this was a man!

Travis turned in shock to Nish.

Nish had gone green. He looked like he was about to be sick all over again. But he was pointing, his finger shaking.

“What?” Travis asked impatiently.

“W-we…know…him!”