Dear Diary …. by Kellianne Sweeney

Dan’s forearm corded as he cast his fishing line. Brow furrowed under his lucky Ravens fishing cap, he aimed his baited hook under the waxy leaves.

After all this time, was Dan really hers?
He turned his head, raised his sunglasses, winked at her, and blew her a kiss. Her breath caught in her throat and a host of butterflies flapped around in her stomach.

Of course he was hers. They were on their honeymoon. What could possibly go wrong?
“You better be thinking about something other than your job.”
Sarah laughed. “I am not thinking about work.”
“No, you obsess about it.”
“And you don’t?”
He held the fishing pole with one hand like a jousting lance and cocked his head. “A vascular surgeon has to obsess. The smallest of slip-ups can kill a patient.”
“If I improve one kid’s life with my work, then it makes it all worthwhile.”
“True. But no one dies if you don’t teach a class, go to a committee meeting, or publish a paper.”
“If I don’t make the third year tenure review cut, my career at BMU will die.”
He frowned and flapped his hand at her. “Pffft. Not only is Bobbi your boss, she’s your friend. She put you on her grant. Your tenure and promotion are a slam dunk.”

Easy for him to say.
“If I don’t get a paper published in the Journal of Child Abuse Prevention, I’m out on the curb.” Sarah should have gone to see Bobbi when her boss texted her at end of the Women in Science Conference on Sanibel three days ago. But Bobbi knew they planned to go across the water to Punta Gorda for their honeymoon. Sarah chewed on her lower lip. Typical Bobbi. Waiting until the very last minute of the conference to say she needed to talk in private, away from the other attendees.
Sarah patted her pants pockets. She’d left her cell at home. She closed her eyes. What did Bobbi text?

“Investigating a faculty member. Need your help. Trust no one. Tell no one.” Though the air was hot and humid, Sarah shivered with an unexpected chill and crossed her arms to battle sudden goose bumps. Dan was right. She had to stop obsessing about work.
She blinked and watched as two huge turkey vultures looped in eccentric circles and dove into the dense mangroves.
“Buzzards in paradise?” Sarah asked, not realizing she’d spoken aloud.
“Bet they’re after a wild pig that got stuck in the mangroves and died,” the fishing captain said.
Sarah wrinkled her nose. “How would a pig get in there? Can you walk across the mangrove roots?”
Captain Fred made a perfect cast, removed his cap to scratch his shining scalp, and considered the question. A retired firefighter, only his balding head didn’t boast a Florida fisherman’s permanent tan.
“I tried it once. Didn’t get very far. Banged up my knees pretty good, but pigs don’t know that.”
Dan hooked a mangrove branch and his bait fish dangled over the water.
Sarah teased, “Hey, Bushmaster, you trying to teach the snook to jump?”
“Captain Fred told me they can leap three feet in the air.” A flash of silver popped out of the water. “See?”

She poked his arm. “That’s mullet.”
“Bickering so soon?” The captain smiled. “You guys should be making love, not fighting.”
Sarah stifled a giggle, but Dan was less successful at controlling his laughter. Captain Fred blushed up to the tips of his ears.
“We don’t fight. We have discussions.”
“Loud ones.” Sarah laughed. “Followed by great make up–umm–sessions.” She began to reel in her line. Dan leaned over and gave her a salty kiss. Momentarily distracted by the touch of his tongue on her bottom lip, she was startled by a sudden heavy tug. She laughed and called out, “Here fishy, fishy, fishy.” She pulled hard on unyielding weight. “I think I caught a mangrove root.”
“Keep the tip of your pole up,” Captain Fred yelled from the front of the twenty-two foot Ranger.
Twenty minutes later, her shoulders and arms ached, cork and metal rod slipped in her hands, and sun block-soaked sweat stung her eyes. She stopped, wiped her brow, and looked over her shoulder at Dan. “Want to reel for a while?”
“It’s not your fish if you don’t get it to the boat,” the Captain warned.
Right about then not a huge selling point in Sarah’s mind.
Grunting at the effort, she pulled back on the pole as hard as she could. Finally, her catch broke the surface of the water. Eyes still burning, she stepped back to pull it closer to the boat–and saw a bloated corpse in a neon orange bikini.

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