CHAPTER NINETEEN #2
By 4 PM, the field office conference room had transformed into a command center.
Isla stood at the whiteboard where she'd mapped out the seventeen high-risk locations Garrett had identified, color-coding them by threat level and accessibility.
Lieutenant Morrison and three of his detectives occupied one side of the conference table, while James worked his laptop on the other side, coordinating with patrol units throughout the city.
"We don't have the manpower to cover all seventeen locations," Morrison said, his weathered face drawn with frustration. "Not effectively. We're already stretched thin with the existing investigation."
"Then we prioritize," Isla said, circling five locations in red marker. "These are the most isolated chambers with the most dangerous environmental conditions. If the killer follows their established pattern, they'll choose one of these for maximum impact."
"Assuming they stick to their pattern," James added. "They've already had to adapt once, with Yamamoto. They might change tactics completely."
The conference room door opened, and Thomas Garrett entered carrying two large thermoses and a brown paper bag. "Thought you all might need coffee and sandwiches," he said, setting them on the table. "Looks like you're planning a long night."
Isla felt a flash of irritation that he'd returned uninvited, followed immediately by guilt. The man was trying to help, was offering resources and expertise they desperately needed. "Mr. Garrett, you don't need to—"
"I want to help," he said simply, moving to look at the whiteboard.
"Those are the locations I identified. Good choices for priority surveillance.
" He studied the map for a moment, then pointed to three additional access points Isla hadn't marked.
"But you're missing the remote entrances.
Access Points 18, 21, and 23—they're not on the official city maps because they were supposed to be sealed decades ago.
But the seals have failed, and anyone who knows they exist could use them. "
James pulled up a city map on his laptop. "Where are these located?"
Garrett provided coordinates for each one—all in industrial areas far from downtown, places where activity at odd hours wouldn't attract attention.
Isla added them to the whiteboard with a growing sense of futility.
Twenty locations now. Twenty potential murder scenes scattered across the city, and their resources were already inadequate for seventeen.
"We need more personnel," Morrison said, reaching for his phone. "I'll call the state police, see if they can loan us some bodies for overnight surveillance."
While he made the call, Garrett settled into one of the empty chairs, studying the case files spread across the table with the focused attention of someone trying to solve a puzzle. Isla noticed but didn't stop him—at this point, they needed all the help they could get.
"Agent Rivers," Garrett said after several minutes of silence. "These victims—did they have any connection to the tunnel system beyond the obvious?"
Isla considered the question. "Langford worked for Public Works, so he was in the tunnels regularly. But Graves and Yamamoto had no professional reason to be down there. Why?"
"Because the killer would need to lure them," Garrett said slowly.
"Would need to create scenarios that got them to specific locations at specific times.
That requires advance planning, surveillance, and understanding of their routines.
" He looked up from the files. "Whoever's doing this isn't just operating in the tunnels.
They're operating in the world above, too.
Watching people. Learning their patterns. "
The observation was astute, and it added another layer to their profile. Their killer moved between two worlds—the underground passages where they executed their murders, and the surface where they selected and studied their victims.
"Mr. Garrett," Isla said carefully, "given your expertise with the tunnel system, would you be willing to check some of these remote access points yourself? The ones you identified that aren't on official maps?"
James's head snapped up, his expression immediately concerned. "Isla, we can't ask a civilian to—"
"I'm not asking him to confront the killer," Isla interrupted. "I'm asking him to do what he does every day—inspect infrastructure and report back. He knows those passages better than anyone we could send, and we're spread too thin to cover them otherwise."
Garrett was already nodding. "I can do that. I've got my equipment in the truck, and I know those sections well enough to navigate them safely. If I see anything unusual—any signs that someone's been preparing another murder scene—I'll radio immediately and get out."
"Absolutely not," James said firmly, standing. "It's too dangerous. If the killer is down there preparing their next victim—"
"Then I'll see them before they see me," Garrett said with quiet confidence.
"I know how to move through those tunnels without making noise.
How to use the darkness and the steam as cover.
I've been doing it for over twenty years, and I'm not about to let some killer make me afraid of my own workplace. "
Isla felt torn. James was right about the danger—sending a civilian into potentially active crime scenes violated every protocol. But Garrett was also right that his familiarity with the system made him uniquely qualified for surveillance in areas they couldn't adequately cover otherwise.
"If you do this," Isla said finally, "you stay in radio contact at all times. You don't approach anyone you see down there—you observe and report only. And at the first sign of anything unusual, you get out and call for backup. Understood?"
"Understood." Garrett pulled a radio from his belt, checking its battery level. "I'll start with Access Point 18—it's the most remote and the most likely place someone would try to set up without being discovered. Should take me about forty minutes to get there and do a thorough inspection."
As Garrett left the conference room, James moved closer to Isla, his voice low enough that the others couldn't hear. "This is a mistake. We're putting a civilian at risk."
"I know," Isla said quietly. "But we're out of options, James. We can't cover twenty locations with the personnel we have. Garrett knows those tunnels better than any of our people do, and he's volunteering. All we can do is monitor him closely and be ready to respond if something goes wrong."
Morrison ended his call with the state police, his expression grim. "They can spare four troopers for overnight surveillance. Combined with my people and yours, we can cover maybe eight locations adequately. The rest will have to rely on periodic drive-bys."
Eight out of twenty. The odds were worse than Isla wanted to acknowledge.