Shark's Tooth

“But if he saw something, that’ll be the nail,” said Terry.  “We’ll have ourselves a Shark, and his whole California crew.”

“You turning local now?”

“Told you, I’ve been local.  Going to lose the Chicago accent any day.”

Terry pointed.  There was a big figure standing in the shadows on the beach, slowly raking the sand.

“Don’t spook him,” said Blackbeard, opening his door.  “He runs, we’ll never find him.”

But he didn’t run.  He turned and watched, leaning on the rake, as they walked down to the beach.





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