“Yeah. He’ll snatch anything that isn’t nailed down. He got another pen last week. And Larry’s watch. I thought Larry’d have a stroke chasing him.”
When everyone had stowed his or her gear, checked assignments, and gone out, Sam took Katy on a tour of the island. I tagged along, watching my daughter become a monkey spotter. As we meandered along the trails, Sam pointed out the feeder stations, and described the groups that frequented each. He talked about territory, and dominance hierarchies, and maternal lines while Katy held binoculars to her face and scanned the trees.
At feeder station E Sam threw dried corn kernels against the corrugated metal roof.
“Hold still and watch,” he said.
Soon we heard the swish of foliage and saw a group move in. Within minutes monkeys surrounded us, some remaining in the trees, others dropping to the ground and darting forward to pick up corn.
Katy was enthralled.
“That’s F group,” said Sam. “It’s small, but it’s run by one of the highest-ranking females on the island. She’s a ball buster.”
By the time we got back to camp Sam had helped Katy design a simple project. She organized her notes while he got a bag of corn for her, then she headed back out. I watched her disappear into a tunnel of oak trees, the binoculars banging against her hip.
Sam and I sat on the screened porch and talked for a while, then he went to work and I got out the CAT scan draft. Though I tried, I found it hard to focus. Sinus patterns held little appeal when I could look up and see sunshine on a tidal estuary and smell air laced with salt and pine.
The staff came in at noon, Katy among them. After sandwiches and Fritos, Sam went back to his data, and Katy returned to the woods.
I resettled with my paper, but it was still no go. I drifted off after page three.
I woke to a familiar sound.
Thunk! Rat a tat a tat a tat a tat. Thunk! Rat a tat a tat tat tat.
Two monkeys had dropped from the trees and were running across the porch roof. Being as inconspicuous as possible, I opened the screen door and eased myself out and onto the steps. O group had entered camp and was resting in the branches above the field station. The pair that had wakened me now leaped from the field station to the trailer and settled on opposite ends of the roof.
“That’s him.” I hadn’t heard Sam come up behind me. “Look.”
He handed me the binoculars.
“I can make out the tattoos,” I said, reading the chest of each monkey. “J-7 and GN-9. J-7 has a collar.”
I passed back the glasses and Sam took another look.
“What the hell’s he got? You don’t suppose the little shit’s still toting Larry’s watch?”
Another handoff.
“It’s shiny. Looks like gold when the sun hits it.”
Just then GN-9 lunged and gave a full, openmouthed threat. J-7 screeched and flew off the roof, launching himself from branch to branch until he was out of sight behind the trailer. His treasure slid down the roof and into the gutter.
“Let’s find out.”
Sam dragged a ladder from under the field house and propped it against the trailer. He brushed away spiderwebs, tested his weight on the first rung, then climbed up.
“What the hell?”
“What?”
“Sonofabitch.”
“What is it?”
He rotated something in his hand.
“I’ll be goddamned.”
“What is it?” I tried to see what the monkey had dropped, but Sam’s body obscured my view.
Sam stood motionless at the top of the ladder, his head bent.
“Sam, what is it?”
Without a word he climbed down and held the object out for my inspection. I knew instantly what it was and what it meant, and felt the sunshine go out of the day.
I met Sam’s eyes and we stared at each other in silence.
16
I STOOD WITH THE THING IN MY HAND, UNWILLING TO BELIEVE what my eyes were telling me.
Sam spoke first.
“That’s a human jaw.”
