CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO #2
"Rodriguez's attorney is already pushing back," he said, dropping into the chair across from her.
"Stinson's laying the groundwork to argue the confession was coerced, that her client is suffering from psychological distress related to her brother's death.
She's going to try to get this thrown out before it ever reaches a courtroom. "
"Let her." Isla gestured toward her laptop, where the preliminary list of names awaited further development. "I've started building a new search framework. Military veterans with special operations training, discharged in the past five years, living within operational range of the Great Lakes."
James leaned forward, studying the screen. "That's got to be hundreds of people."
"Thousands, initially. But the profile narrows it down.
" She pulled up the parameters she'd established, walking him through the logic.
"Naval combat experience—essential for the maritime operations we're seeing.
Close-quarters combat training—the knife work demands it.
Evidence of adjustment difficulties post-discharge—the psychological profile of someone who might turn to vigilantism. "
"You think our killer is a veteran who couldn't readjust."
"I think our killer is a soldier who never stopped being a soldier.
" The phrase felt right, capturing something essential about the psychology they were dealing with.
"Someone trained to identify threats and eliminate them, who came home to find that the threats had simply changed location.
Drug runners, arms smugglers, human traffickers—they're enemies, just like the ones he fought overseas. And if the system can't stop them..."
"He'll do it himself." James nodded slowly, his weathered face thoughtful. "Continuing his mission."
"Exactly." Isla turned back to the laptop, scrolling through the preliminary list she'd assembled.
"These are the names that survived initial filtering.
Veterans with the right training, the right geographic proximity, the right circumstances to potentially match our profile.
None of them are suspects yet—we don't have nearly enough for that. But they're starting points."
"How many?"
"Forty-three, so far. And that's just from the records I can access quickly.
" She rubbed her eyes, feeling the burn of exhaustion that never quite faded anymore.
"Once we get authorization for deeper searches—psychological evaluations, classified service records, the stuff that requires formal requests—that number will change.
Some will be eliminated. Others might be added. "
James was quiet for a moment, processing the scope of what she was describing. "That's a lot of investigation. A lot of resources."
"It's the only way to do this right." Isla met his gaze, seeing in his blue eyes the same uncertainty she felt in her own chest. "Rodriguez's confession is a gift—it buys us time, keeps the media occupied, maybe even keeps the real killer calm for a while.
But it's not going to hold. Stinson will tear it apart, or Rodriguez will recant, or the killer will decide to prove she's lying by striking again.
We have a window, James. A narrow window to build an actual case. "
"And if the killer's not on your list?"
The question hung between them, uncomfortable in its implications. Isla had considered it—had spent the past hour considering all the ways her methodology might fail, all the assumptions that might prove wrong, all the variables she couldn't account for.
"Then we expand the search," she said finally.
"Widen the parameters, consider alternative profiles, look at possibilities we haven't imagined yet.
But we have to start somewhere, and military veterans with special operations training is the best fit for what we're seeing.
The precision, the efficiency, the complete lack of forensic evidence—that doesn't come from YouTube tutorials or crime novels.
That comes from years of professional instruction in the art of killing. "
James stood, moving to the window where the media trucks still crowded the parking lot.
His reflection ghosted across the glass, superimposed over the chaos outside.
"The public thinks we have our killer. #LakeSuperiorHero is trending, people are calling Rodriguez everything from a vigilante saint to a tragic figure.
They want this story to have an ending."
"The story will have an ending. Just not the one they're expecting.
" Isla began organizing her notes, preparing for the deeper investigation that would follow.
"I need you to start the authorization process for expanded military record access.
Psychological evaluations, disciplinary files, anything that might help us narrow the field.
And I want to cross-reference these names with maritime activity—boat registrations, harbor access records, anything that puts them on the water. "
"That's going to take time."
"I know." She looked up from her laptop, meeting James's eyes with the steel that had sustained her through almost two years of hunting a different killer on these same waters.
"But we're going to do this the right way.
No shortcuts, no assumptions, no jumping to conclusions because the evidence seems to fit.
I learned that lesson in Miami, and I'm not going to forget it here. "
The afternoon light was beginning to fade beyond the window, the gray sky darkening toward evening.
Somewhere out there—in the maze of docks and warehouses, in the modest homes that lined Superior's shore, in the places where soldiers went when they couldn't be soldiers anymore—the real killer was watching.
Waiting. Perhaps planning the next attack, or perhaps simply observing the chaos his work had created.
Isla didn't know which of the forty-three names on her preliminary list might belong to that person.
She didn't know if any of them would prove relevant, or if the answer lay somewhere she hadn't thought to look.
The uncertainty was maddening, the scope of the investigation daunting, the possibility of failure lurking at the edge of every decision.
But she had a direction now. A framework.
A methodology that honored the evidence rather than bending it to fit a convenient narrative.
Elena Rodriguez was sitting in a holding cell, sacrificing her freedom for someone she'd never met, and Isla intended to prove that sacrifice unnecessary by finding the person actually responsible.
The hunt was far from over. But for the first time since the Northern Dawn had drifted into their awareness, Isla felt like she was hunting in the right direction.
She turned back to her laptop, to the list of names that represented the beginning of the real investigation, and began the painstaking work of building a case that would actually hold.
The gray light faded toward darkness outside the window, and somewhere on Lake Superior, a predator waited.
Isla Rivers would be waiting too.