CHAPTER FIVE
The second body surfaced at ten-forty-five, and by eleven-fifteen, a third victim had been located on the rocky bottom of Lake Superior.
Each recovery brought fresh confirmation that they were dealing with something far worse than a smuggling operation gone wrong.
The crew of the Northern Dawn—all four men—had been systematically murdered with knife wounds that spoke to a level of violence that made Isla's stomach clench with familiar dread.
Arnold Jones, Derek Carlson, Timothy King, and Captain Robert Kozlowski.
All experienced sailors, all killed with the same methodical precision that suggested a single perpetrator working with calculated efficiency.
Dr. Henley's preliminary examination revealed defensive wounds on several victims, indicating they'd fought for their lives before being overwhelmed by someone stronger, faster, or simply more ruthless.
"Look at the wound patterns," Dr. Henley said, her voice clinical despite the horror of what she was describing.
"Same blade on all four victims—fixed knife with approximately a six-inch blade, probably military or hunting style.
Deep penetration, precise placement. This wasn't random violence—it was systematic execution. "
Isla crouched beside the latest victim, studying Captain Kozlowski's wounds with the detached focus that years of crime scene work had taught her.
The captain was a big man, probably two hundred pounds of muscle and experience, yet he'd been killed as efficiently as the others.
Whoever had done this possessed both the physical capability and psychological coldness to murder four men at close quarters.
"Single perpetrator?" James asked, though his tone suggested he already doubted it was possible.
"Has to be," Dr. Henley replied, comparing wound measurements between victims. "Blade angle, depth of penetration, striking patterns—it's all consistent with one person.
Someone who knows how to use a knife and isn't bothered by getting close enough to look their victims in the face while they die. "
The implications sent a chill through Isla that had nothing to do with the April wind coming off the lake.
Coast Guard vessels continued their search pattern across the dark water, their spotlights sweeping methodically for any additional victims. The Northern Dawn rode at anchor nearby, her bloodstained deck still being processed by crime scene technicians who worked with the focused intensity of people who understood they were dealing with something extraordinary.
James pulled out his notebook, reviewing the timeline they'd been able to establish.
"Northern Dawn left Thunder Bay yesterday morning with a cargo manifest listing machine parts and agricultural equipment.
Should have reached Duluth this afternoon, but she never checked in with harbor traffic control.
Fishing vessel spotted her drifting unmanned around eight-thirty. "
"So somewhere between this afternoon and early evening, someone intercepted her," Isla mused, walking toward the edge of the dock where she could see the ship's profile against the harbor lights. "Boarded, killed the crew, took whatever weapons they were after, and left the ship to drift."
Isla stared across the harbor toward the maze of docks and warehouses that had become as familiar as her own apartment over the past two years. Her memories of Miami and its warmth felt so distant now.
"We need to trace the weapons," she said, turning back to James. "Find out where they came from, who was supposed to receive them, how many similar shipments might be moving through the Great Lakes. If this was targeted rather than random, there's a network we need to identify."
The crime scene technicians were finishing their work aboard the Northern Dawn, carefully cataloging evidence that might provide leads about the killer's identity.
Blood samples, fingerprints, tool marks from the knife wounds—any of it might prove crucial in identifying who had committed such systematic violence.
As they prepared to leave the marina, Isla took one last look at the four body bags that represented the crew of the Northern Dawn.
Four men who'd probably thought they were just making another routine weapons run, killed by someone who viewed their lives as obstacles to be removed.
The intimate nature of knife violence, the systematic torture, the complete elimination of witnesses—it all painted a picture of a predator who was both physically dangerous and psychologically sophisticated.
It didn’t matter what crimes the crew had committed—they didn’t deserve this.
Whoever had killed them felt he had the right to take their lives. And Isla was certain that someone like that wouldn’t stop here.