Blake’s dark eyes pulsed. “I can do that. Friends.” He smiled again, carving deep dimples into his cheeks. “It’s a good place to start.”
“Blake . . .”
He laughed, clearly so happy with the turn of events that he couldn’t be discouraged.
“So what’s this about Delphine?” she said, dragging them back to the subject at hand. “Or was that just a ploy to get rid of Taylor? Because if it was, it worked.”
“I’d like to think I was that clever. But I should’ve known anything about Delphine would trump whatever else was on the table.”
“You’re right about that. Sit down”—she indicated the chair beside her—“and tell me what’s going on.”
Blake took the wicker chair beside her. He leaned forward in his chair, holding his hands together between his knees. When he spoke, it was in the way of announcement. His eyes sparkled with excitement. “I’ve received word that Delphine has improved to the point that Mote is recommending release.”
Carson sucked in her breath. “That’s great!” she exclaimed, slipping her leg out from under her to sit straighter in her chair. They sat knee to knee and she leaned forward with anticipation.
Blake nodded in agreement. “Her progress has been nothing short of amazing. And, more than one person has commented on how your visit turned things around for her.”
Carson felt her heart lurch at that news. Her visit to Delphine at the hospital had been emotional and had confirmed the bond between them.
“It’s also your relationship with Delphine that has us worried, though.”
Carson shifted her weight.
“We’ve begun assessing her for release to the wild. It’s a complex procedure. I came to ask you a few questions. It won’t take long.”
“Sure.” She thought it was strange that NOAA would need her to answer questions. Still, she noted that Blake had lost his authoritarian tone from earlier when he’d been furious with her for attracting the dolphin to the dock in the first place. Blake had seen that as a betrayal to all he’d believed in, and his forgiveness had been hard-won. “I’m willing to cooperate in any way I can.”
“Good. Let’s get started.” He pulled papers out of his bag. “Prior to the release of any cetacean, the National Marine Fisheries Service requires that a thorough evaluation be done. This includes all historical, developmental, behavioral, and of course medical records. So far, they’ve completed her medical evaluation, and as I said, all checks out. That’s good. Her behavior was approved insofar as she has retained the skills necessary to find and capture food in the wild. We also know she can identify predators in the wild, given how she battled the shark to save your life.”
Earlier in the summer, Carson had been at the mercy of a shark when Delphine swooped in and saved her, which had been the start of Delphine and Carson’s special bond. Carson felt, as she always did, the weight of her gratitude to the dolphin.
“This is where it gets tricky,” he continued. “Ideally, after rehabilitation the cetacean is released into its home range with the same genetic stock and social unit. Unfortunately, we still don’t have proof that Delphine is part of the Cove’s resident dolphin community. We haven’t found a photo ID of Delphine in my computer database. And believe me, we looked.”
Carson felt her stomach tighten.
“The hospital couldn’t find any freeze branding or dorsal-fin tags, either.” Blake sighed and leaned back in his chair, letting the papers in his hands fall. The movement suggested defeat. “Bottom line, without some form of identification, it’s unlikely Delphine will be approved for release to the Cove.”
Carson’s heart sank. Neither of them could do anything. She felt the day’s heat and wiped perspiration from her brow.
In contrast, Blake didn’t seem bothered by the heat. “I’m not ready to give up on this.” She saw again the spark of determination in the eyes of the dedicated marine biologist she’d fallen in love with.
“Me neither. What can I do to help?”
“My gut tells me that she is part of the community. Despite her bond with you—and we’ll get into that in a minute—she stayed in the community longer than she would have if she were merely migrating through.”
“But she was injured.”
“True, but not seriously. At least not at that point. Only a small part of her tail fluke was bitten off. She could still hunt and forage. Lots of dolphins do fine out there with those minimal injuries.” He shifted his weight, getting to the heart of the matter. “I need to find any physical characteristics, such as scars that were present before the accident, that I can use to run against my computer data and identify her. We’re down to the wire on this. Can you think of any?”
Carson considered this as she folded a sheet of the newspaper from the table into a fan. Fanning herself, she blew out a plume of air. “Rather than trust my memory, I have a lot of photos that I took of her in the Cove over the summer.”
Blake chortled. “Like baby photos?”
“Hey, I’m a photographer. It’s what I do.” She gave a short laugh. “Do you want to search those?”
“Absolutely.”
“They’re on my computer. Come on.” Carson rose to her feet. She led the way back into the kitchen, aware of Blake’s eyes on her as he followed.
Once inside Carson’s room Blake made a beeline for the computer on Carson’s desk. “So where are these photographs?” Blake was already opening his manila folder, intent on work.
A half hour later, Blake was leaning against the desk, his body so close beside hers that they often grazed each other when he pointed to something on the screen. As the minutes ticked by, she was finding it harder to concentrate on the photographs and not on the chemistry simmering between them. There had always been a visceral physical connection.
“This is the best one I can find,” Carson said with finality, showing a close-up of Delphine staring up at the camera. “See the scar at the bottom of the rostrum? It’s not something I thought about before, but it’s in every photo. It’s a defining scar. Will that work?”
“It’s something.” Blake stepped back and straightened. He put his hands on his back and stretched. “I just don’t know how many close-up photos we have of dolphins that would show a small scar on the rostrum.”