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warned.
    “How so?”
    She stood up, carrying the creature, and ducked out to join Jack. “This is the cub of a saber-toothed cat.”

Chapter 5
    Back in the brightness of the morning sun, Jack stood on the trawler’s deck with Lorna Polk. She still cradled the jaguar cub. If the woman was right, they were looking for a massive cat, pale as a ghost, possibly with fangs ten to twelve inches long. She had gone on to explain how such fangs were not limited to the infamous saber-toothed tiger. According to her, many other prehistoric felines, even some marsupials, carried this genetic trait.
    But a saber-toothed jaguar?
    It seemed impossible. Still, he did not doubt her assessment. She had spoken at length about atavism and genetic manipulation and had supported her case soundly. Plus he had seen the other freakish animals caged down below.
    He stared over the rail toward the coast. It was a dense mass of bottomland forests, marshes, and swamps, encompassing millions of acres of the Mississippi River delta.
    It was also his home.
    He’d been raised in the bayou, where family and clan held sway far more than any rule of law. His own family earned their income through shrimping and fishing . . . and through a few less-than-legal enterprises on the side. He knew how easy it was to hide out in the swamps, how difficult it could be to track something that wanted to keep out of sight.
    Lorna stepped over to him. She’d been talking on the radio, making arrangements with U.S. Fish and Wildlife.
    “They have a boat on the way,” she said. “They’re bringing portable cages and tranquilizers. I also talked to Dr. Metoyer over at ACRES. They’re setting up a quarantine lab for the animals.”
    He nodded. It had been decided to use the isolated ACRES facility as a base of operations. One of his men had found a steel trunk locked up in the captain’s quarters. It held a laptop and some digital tapes. An expert on computer forensics was already en route from New Orleans to start working on the contents. Hopefully the archive held more than just the captain’s stash of porn.
    But before they abandoned the trawler completely, Jack still wanted more answers . . . specifically about the most pressing threat.
    “Do you have any idea where this jaguar might have gone? Could it have drowned during the storm?”
    “I doubt it. Big cats have no aversion to water, and jaguars are quite strong swimmers. And besides, these waters are shallow. It could easily have swum from island to island, taking rest stops along the way.”
    “And you think it would have headed all the way for the coast.”
    “Jaguars typically have territories covering a hundred square miles. These islands are too small. It would have kept going.”
    “But what about her cub?” He nodded to the creature cradled in Lorna’s arms. “Would a mother abandon it so easily?”
    “Not likely. Jaguars are very protective of their young. Nursing them until six months, mothering them until the age of two. But they’re also practical. This cub is sickly. A typical litter for a jaguar is two or three cubs. I suspect there was another cub caged with this one. The mother took the stronger of the two with her, abandoning the weaker as a means of survival.”
    “So she’ll have a cub with her. That could slow her down.”
    “It could also make her more dangerous. She’ll aggressively defend her last child.” Lorna’s brow tightened with a new concern. She pointed to the blood trail on the stairs. “Which raises another question. Where are the bodies? The ship’s crew?”
    “Not here, and not on the island,” Jack said. “We searched. From the blood patterns, we figured the crew numbered four. Maybe the bodies were washed overboard.”
    “Or they were dragged overboard.”
    “Dragged? By the cat?”
    “From the blood on the stairs, that body wasn’t just washed away. The cat must’ve hauled it up from below.”
    “But why?”
    “That’s a good question. Cats