CHAPTER FIFTEEN #2
James nodded, though his expression suggested he was weighing the same uncertainties she was. "So either we've got our man contained, or we're watching the wrong person while the real killer's out there somewhere."
"Story of this investigation," Isla muttered.
The Lake Superior Killer had eluded her for almost two years now.
Sarah Sanchez, Alex Novak, and god knew how many others—all of them ghosts in a case file that seemed to grow longer without ever getting closer to resolution.
And now this new predator, this vigilante with military training and a cause he believed in, adding his own victims to the lake's endless appetite.
Two killers. One lake. And her, standing in the middle of it all, trying to drag monsters into the light while the darkness just kept getting deeper.
"Isla." James's voice was gentler now, carrying the note of concern that had become more frequent over their months of partnership. "We've got eyes on Sterling. If he's guilty, at least we can rest tonight knowing he won't be able to kill again without getting caught."
She wanted to argue, to point out all the ways that certainty could be wrong.
Sterling could have accomplices they didn't know about.
The surveillance team could miss something.
The real killer could be someone else entirely, someone who hadn't even appeared on their radar yet.
But the exhaustion was a physical weight now, pressing down on her shoulders and making it hard to form the words.
"When did you last sleep?" James asked. "Actually, sleep, not just close your eyes for an hour between case reviews?"
Isla tried to remember and found she couldn't. The past few days had blurred together into a continuous stream of crime scenes and interviews, of bodies pulled from cold water and leads that went nowhere. Sleep had become a luxury she couldn't afford, or so she'd told herself.
"You need rest," James continued, his tone shifting from concern to something more insistent. "We both do. We're not going to solve this case tonight, and we're not going to be any good to anyone if we're running on empty tomorrow."
"There's still work to do. Sterling's records, the cross-references with the earlier attacks—"
"Will still be there in the morning." James moved to gather the scattered files on the conference table, stacking them with the methodical precision that characterized everything he did.
"Kate's got a night crew monitoring the situation.
Coast Guard's on high alert. Surveillance is watching Sterling.
There's nothing more we can do right now except run ourselves into the ground. "
Isla wanted to resist, to insist that she could push through for a few more hours, that the answer might be hiding in one more document or one more database search.
But her body was betraying her—her eyes burning, her muscles aching, her thoughts moving with the sluggish quality of a mind pushed past its limits.
"Fine," she heard herself say. "A few hours. But if anything breaks—"
"If anything breaks, they'll call us." James handed her her jacket, the wool worn soft from months of Duluth winters that she'd refused to dress properly for. "Go home, Isla. Get some actual sleep. Eat something that didn't come from a vending machine."
She took the jacket, feeling the familiar weight of it settle across her shoulders.
Home. Her apartment in Duluth had never really felt like home—not the way Miami had, not the way her childhood had been, moving from one coastal city to another following her father's Coast Guard postings.
It was a place to sleep, to shower, to stare at the walls while her mind refused to stop working through evidence and suspects and the faces of people she hadn't been able to save.
But James was right. She knew he was right. The investigation would still be here in the morning, and she'd be more useful to it with a few hours of rest than she would be stumbling through another sleepless night.
"Saturday," she said as she headed for the door. "Emma's soccer game. I promised."
James's face softened at the mention of his daughter. "She'll hold you to it. Been practicing that corner kick all week."
"I'll be there." It was a small thing, a commitment to normalcy in a world that seemed increasingly consumed by violence and darkness. But small things mattered. They were what kept you human when the job tried to turn you into something else.
The hallway outside the conference room was quiet at this hour, most of the office staff long gone home to families and lives that didn't involve ghost ships and vigilante killers.
Isla's footsteps echoed against the linoleum as she made her way toward the exit, passing the darkened offices of colleagues who had the luxury of normal working hours.
She paused at the window by the elevator, looking out once more at the darkness that had swallowed Lake Superior.
Somewhere out there, the Coast Guard was running patrols they couldn't possibly make comprehensive.
Somewhere out there, a surveillance team was watching Marcus Sterling's cabin, hoping that watching would be enough.
And somewhere out there—in the maze of docks and warehouses, in the holds of ships making their way through the darkness, in places she couldn't see and couldn't reach—predators were waiting.
The Lake Superior Killer, with his years of patience and his deaths disguised as accidents.
The vigilante, with his military training and his knife and his belief that he was saving these waters through blood.
And her, caught between them, trying to find the pattern in the chaos before someone else ended up floating in the cold, dark deep.
She pressed the elevator button and watched the numbers climb toward her floor. James was right—they had Sterling contained, or at least observed. If he was their killer, they'd bought themselves time. And if he wasn't...
The elevator doors opened with a soft chime, and Isla stepped inside, letting the mechanical descent carry her away from the case for a few precious hours. Tomorrow would bring new evidence, new leads, new reasons to doubt everything she thought she knew. But tonight, she would try to sleep.
She would try to forget, just for a little while, how many ways the lake could kill you.
And how many people seemed determined to help it try.