Double Whammy

A washboard ripple lingered on the quiet pool. Frogs peeped, crickets trilled, waterbugs skated through the bulrushes. There was no sign of the great fish, no sign of the man.

"Hear it?" Decker asked.

Catherine brushed the insects away and strained to listen. "I don't think so, Rage."

"Something swimming." The gentlest of motions, receding somewhere out in the Glades. Decker was sure of it.

"Wait," Catherine said, taking his arm, "now I do."