"How many?"James asked.
"At least four that I know of personally.Probably more."Callahan's voice had taken on a haunted quality, the bravado stripped away by the magnitude of what he was describing."Someone's been hunting us, Agent Rivers.Picking off operations one by one, taking weapons, leaving no witnesses.And until you showed up today, I thought my boat was going to be next."
The implications hit Isla like a physical blow.If Callahan was right, they weren't dealing with a single murder or even a series of connected crimes.They were looking at a predator who had been operating on Lake Superior for months, possibly longer, systematically targeting illegal operations and eliminating anyone who might identify them.The violence aboard theNorthern Dawn—the knife wounds, the methodical execution of the crew—suddenly made a terrible kind of sense.This wasn't business.This was hunting.
"The weapons," she said, forcing herself to focus on the concrete details that might help them identify the killer."What happens to them?Where do they go?"
"That's just it—we don't know."Callahan's frustration was evident."They don't show up on the black market, at least not through any channels we monitor.They don't get used in crimes that make the news.They just...disappear.Like whoever's taking them has their own plans for military-grade hardware."
James caught Isla's eye, and she could see he was thinking the same thing she was.Someone was building an arsenal.Someone patient and methodical, willing to kill repeatedly to acquire weapons that they had no intention of selling.That kind of collector usually had a purpose in mind—and purposes that required automatic weapons and grenades rarely ended well for anyone.
"Agent Rivers," a voice called from below decks.One of the Coast Guard search team emerged through a hatch, his face tight with the expression of someone who'd found something significant."You're going to want to see this."
Isla rose, her knees protesting after crouching on the cold deck, and followed the officer down a narrow ladder into theArctic Wind's main cabin.The space was cramped and utilitarian—bunks built into the hull, a small galley, navigation equipment that looked more sophisticated than a legitimate fishing boat would need.But it was the communications setup that drew her attention: a bank of radios, encrypted satellite phones, and a laptop computer that was still powered on despite the chaos of the chase and capture.
"We haven't touched it," the officer said."Figured you'd want to see it in situ before we bag it for evidence."
The laptop's screen showed an email program, and Isla leaned in to read without touching the keyboard.The most recent message was time-stamped from two days ago—a brief, coded communication that nonetheless made her pulse quicken:
DAWN failed to make delivery.Cargo compromised.Crew status unknown.Suspect hostile action.Recommend all operations suspend until further notice.
Below it, a response from an address she didn't recognize:
Acknowledged.Third incident this quarter.The pattern suggests a single actor or a small team.Exercise extreme caution.Will advise.
"They knew," James said from behind her.He'd followed her down and was reading over her shoulder."They knew something was targeting their operations, and they were trying to figure out what."
"Third incident this quarter," Isla repeated."Three attacks in three months, if these communications are accurate.Plus whatever happened before that."She turned to face James, her mind working through the implications."We're not dealing with a crime of opportunity here.We're dealing with a serial predator who's been active for months, maybe longer, and we didn't even know he existed."
The weight of that realization settled over her like the cold of Superior's waters.She'd come to Duluth tracking a different killer—the Lake Superior Killer, the one who made drownings look like accidents, who had possibly been operating for decades without detection.Now she was facing the possibility that there wasanotherpredator on these waters, one with a completely different methodology but an equally disturbing patience and capability.
The thought struck her with the force of revelation.Different methods, yes—knife wounds versus staged accidents—but the same hunting ground.The same ability to move through the maritime environment undetected.The same pattern of violence that left no witnesses and generated no useful evidence.
But the MOs were completely different.Isla felt in her gut they were dealing with an entirely different criminal than the Lake Superior Killer, but she still couldn’t help but draw the similarities.
TheArctic Windcreaked around them, her damaged engines silent, her fate now in the hands of the law enforcement officers who swarmed her decks.Above them, Callahan sat in handcuffs, a criminal whose testimony had just transformed their understanding of what was happening on Lake Superior.And somewhere out there—on the docks, in the warehouses, moving through the rhythm of daily maritime operations—a killer waited.
A killer who had just acquired more military weapons.
A killer who had been doing this for far longer than anyone had realized.
A killer who, for reasons Isla couldn't yet fathom, was preparing for something that required an arsenal.
She climbed back up the ladder into the gray April light, her mind already racing through the implications of what they'd learned.The investigation had just expanded exponentially—from a single massacre to a pattern of killings, from weapons trafficking to something that might be far more sinister.And at the center of it all, invisible and patient, a predator who had turned Lake Superior into his personal hunting ground.
"We need to get back to Duluth," she told James as he emerged behind her."We need to cross-reference every suspicious maritime death in the past five years with these new incidents.If there's a connection, we need to find it."
"And Callahan?"
Isla looked at the smuggler, still sitting against the wheelhouse bulkhead, his eyes following her with the desperate hope of someone who believed cooperation might save him from the worst consequences of his choices."He talks.Everything he knows, every rumor he's heard, every boat that's gone missing.He's going to help us build a profile of whoever's doing this, whether he wants to or not."
TheResolutewas preparing to take theArctic Windunder tow, and theGriffonwould escort them back to port with the prisoners.It would be hours before they reached Duluth, hours of gray water and cold wind and the knowledge that somewhere out there, a killer was watching the same horizon.
But for the first time since she'd started tracking the Lake Superior Killer, Isla felt like she was finally beginning to understand the scope of what she was facing.Not just a murderer who made accidents look natural, but a sophisticated predator with multiple hunting patterns, military capabilities, and a plan that remained terrifyingly unclear.
The hunt was far from over.But at least now she knew what she was hunting.
CHAPTER NINE
