He ended the call and turned to Isla, his expression grim."Forensics finished their analysis of the ice where Helen Rodriguez died.Carol Stevens wants to show us something that wasn't visible during preliminary examination."
As Sullivan started the engine and pulled back into traffic, Isla found herself hoping that the forensic evidence would provide clarity about whether they were dealing with one sophisticated killer or two separate predators operating in the same geographic area.But experience had taught her that complex investigations rarely resolved into simple answers, and the truth they were pursuing was likely to be more disturbing than either of the theories they'd been constructing.
The drive to the forensics lab took them through downtown Duluth, past the harbor district where massive freighters sat locked in ice like prehistoric beasts waiting for spring's liberation.Somewhere in the maze of industrial facilities and residential neighborhoods, at least one killer was going about his evening routine, confident that his crimes would continue to be mistaken for accidents.
But they were getting closer to the truth, Isla realized.Even if that truth was more complex than she'd initially anticipated, even if it meant acknowledging that her year-long investigation had been built on assumptions that were only partially correct.The evidence was beginning to tell a story, and that story would eventually lead them to whoever was using Lake Superior's deadly reputation to hide multiple murders.
The question that haunted her as they approached the forensics facility was whether they would identify the killer before he claimed his next victim.Because whatever psychological drivers were motivating the recent murders, the accelerated timeline suggested someone who was becoming increasingly confident in his ability to avoid detection.And confidence, in Isla's experience, often led to the kind of mistakes that allowed law enforcement to finally close cases that had seemed impossible to solve.
The evening light was fading rapidly toward another harsh winter night, and with it came the certainty that their investigation was entering a new phase.One that would require them to abandon their previous assumptions and follow the evidence wherever it led, regardless of how uncomfortable the destination might prove to be.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
The January twilight painted Lake Superior in shades of gray and purple, the frozen expanse stretching endlessly toward a horizon that blurred into the darkening sky.David Kucharski adjusted the focus on his binoculars, the cold metal burning through his gloves as he tracked the solitary figure moving across the ice roughly four hundred yards from his concealed position behind a wind-sculpted snowdrift.Dr.Jennifer Hayes moved with the methodical precision of someone accustomed to working alone in harsh conditions, her bright yellow parka a splash of color against the monochrome landscape as she collected water samples from holes she'd augered through the surface.
She was in danger and didn't even know it.
David had been monitoring this section of the lake for three weeks now, documenting the ice conditions with the same attention to detail that had made him successful in search and rescue operations for over thirty years.This area was treacherous—underwater currents fed by a spring created temperature variations that weakened ice integrity in ways that weren't visible from the surface.He'd filed reports with the harbor master, but researchers like Dr.Hayes often prioritized their work over safety warnings.
Through the binoculars, he could see her kneeling beside a fresh hole in the ice, her sampling equipment arranged around her with laboratory-like precision.She'd been out here since four o'clock, following what appeared to be a regular research routine.Jennifer Hayes was clearly dedicated to her work to the point of obsession, the kind of scientist who prioritized data collection over personal safety.
Someone needed to warn her about the dangers.But more than that—someone needed to be ready when the inevitable happened.
The memory of Agent Isla Rivers' voice still echoed in his mind from that afternoon at the lake—the genuine admiration in her tone when she'd called his rescue attempt "incredibly brave," the way her amber eyes had reflected something approaching reverence when she'd watched him accept medical treatment for his injuries from entering the frigid water.That moment of recognition, of being seen as the hero he'd always known himself to be, had been more intoxicating than any drug he could imagine.
The hunger for more of that validation had become overwhelming.He couldn't wait for the next accident to happen naturally.
For thirty years, David had sustained himself on the gratitude of strangers and the temporary recognition that came from responding to tragedies after they occurred.But Agent Rivers was different.She was federal law enforcement, someone whose respect carried weight far beyond the appreciation of grieving families or impressed civilians.When she looked at him, she saw competence, dedication, heroism—everything he'd spent his adult life trying to prove he possessed.
What if he didn't have to wait?What if he could ensure that an accident happened—tonight, in this dangerous location, with Dr.Hayes as the victim?She was already taking foolish risks by working alone on compromised ice.All he would need to do was...help the inevitable along.Create the conditions that would make the accident certain rather than probable.
Then he could be there to attempt the rescue.Could demonstrate his heroism to Agent Rivers.Could secure the kind of recognition that would validate thirty years of dedicated service.
David lowered the binoculars and checked the equipment he'd brought to this observation point.Wire saw, carefully coiled.Ice auger with specialized cutting attachments.Emergency radio, tuned to the frequency that would allow him to call for help—and to monitor when other responders arrived.Everything he needed to transform Dr.Jennifer Hayes from a dedicated researcher into another testament to his selfless heroism.
The thought should have horrified him.He was a rescue worker, someone who'd devoted his life to saving people from Lake Superior's dangers.But the need for validation had grown beyond moral considerations.Thirty years of arriving too late, of watching people die despite his best efforts, of being praised for failing to save lives—it had created a hunger that could only be satisfied through increasingly desperate measures.
The wind shifted, carrying the sound of Jennifer's auger biting through the ice as she prepared another sampling location.She was approximately two hundred yards from shore now, well within the danger zone he'd identified during his surveys of this section.The currents beneath the frozen surface were strong here, fed by an underwater spring that created temperature variations.Even without his intervention, this area was treacherous.With his modifications to the ice integrity, it would become lethal.
Through the binoculars, he watched Jennifer stand and stretch, her movements revealing the physical strain of working in subzero temperatures for extended periods.She was younger than Helen Rodriguez had been—thirty-four according to the university directory he'd researched—with the lean build of someone who spent significant time in physically demanding fieldwork.Her dark hair was pulled back beneath a wool hat, and her face showed the kind of intense concentration that spoke to someone genuinely passionate about their work.
Part of him—the part that remembered why he'd become a rescue worker in the first place—wanted to warn her.To radio the university and report unsafe research conditions.To prevent the tragedy he was contemplating rather than cause it.
But that voice was growing quieter with each passing day, drowned out by the overwhelming need for the kind of recognition that only came from dramatic rescue attempts witnessed by people who mattered.
The FBI's involvement had transformed everything.For decades, David had been content with local recognition—newspaper articles about dramatic rescue attempts, thank-you notes from grateful families, the respect of his colleagues in the search and rescue community.But Agent Rivers' investigation had elevated everything to federal significance, creating opportunities for the kind of recognition he'd never imagined possible.
The memory of her voice calling him "incredibly brave" sent warmth through his chest despite the bitter wind cutting across the frozen lake.She'd meant it, too—he could see the genuine admiration in her expression, the way she'd studied his injuries with something approaching awe.Federal agents didn't impress easily, but his willingness to enter Lake Superior's killing waters had clearly affected her.
He couldn't wait for the next natural accident.Not when he could create the circumstances that would give him exactly what he craved.
Tonight's media coverage would be even more impressive than Helen Rodriguez's death.Another victim, another failed rescue despite his heroic efforts, another opportunity for Agent Rivers to witness his dedication and courage.The television interviews would give him a platform to discuss water safety and rescue protocols.The newspaper articles would document his thirty-year career of service to the community.The federal investigation would create a permanent record of his heroic actions.
David returned his attention to Jennifer, who was now moving toward the location he'd identified as optimal—isolated enough that no one would witness his preparations, but visible enough from shore that witnesses would observe his rescue attempts in the morning.The depth was perfect—deep enough to be immediately fatal, shallow enough that recovery would be possible with the right equipment and sufficient determination.
She was working her way systematically across the research grid she'd established during previous visits.Her scientific methodology was making her predictable, and predictability was making her vulnerable.Before midnight tonight, Dr.Jennifer Hayes would become another tragedy on Lake Superior, and by morning, David Kucharski would be the latest hero to risk everything in a doomed attempt to save her.
The fantasy of Agent Rivers' reaction sustained him as he began the careful process of preparing his equipment.Her amber eyes wide with admiration as she watched him pulled from the water, hypothermic but still fighting to save someone else's life.Her voice breaking with emotion as she commended his courage to news reporters.Her professional respect as she documented his rescue efforts in federal investigative reports that would become part of the permanent record.
