One of the analysts—a young woman with dark hair pulled back in a severe ponytail—touched her laptop screen, and audio began playing through the conference room speakers.The voice was distorted, run through some kind of software that stripped away identifying characteristics, but the words were clear enough.
"You want to know who's killing people on the lake?Look at Elena Rodriguez.Harbor pilot out of Duluth.She knows every shipping schedule, every route, every vessel that moves through these waters.And she's got a score to settle.Her brother was killed two years ago in a drug deal that went wrong—deal involving weapons that came through the same networks she guides ships past every day.She's been waiting for her chance to make them pay."
The recording ended with a soft click, leaving silence in its wake.
Isla stared at the laptop as if it might offer additional information through sheer force of will."Elena Rodriguez.Harbor pilot."
"Already running her," the analyst confirmed, her fingers flying across the keyboard."Elena Maria Rodriguez, age thirty-eight.Been a harbor pilot for the Port of Duluth-Superior for eleven years.Before that, she served six years in the Navy as a surface warfare specialist, then transitioned to navigation.Honorable discharge, exemplary service record."
"Military background," James said, moving to stand beside Isla."That fits our profile."
"There's more."The analyst pulled up another screen, this one showing a news article from two years ago.The headline read: LOCAL MAN KILLED IN DRUG DEAL GONE WRONG.Below it was a photograph of a young man, mid-twenties, dark hair, a smile that suggested he'd been caught mid-laugh by the camera."Miguel Rodriguez, twenty-six.Elena's younger brother.Killed in March two years ago during what police described as a dispute between rival drug trafficking organizations.Case was never solved."
Isla leaned closer, studying the photograph.Miguel Rodriguez had the same dark eyes as his sister—or at least, what his sister probably looked like based on the driver's license photo now appearing on an adjacent screen.Elena Rodriguez was attractive in a severe way, with angular features and the kind of focused expression that suggested she didn't waste time on things that didn't matter to her.
"The case file mentions weapons," the analyst continued."The drug deal that killed Miguel involved a shipment of illegal firearms that had been smuggled through the Great Lakes shipping corridor.Police believed he was trying to buy a gun for personal protection—he'd been having trouble with someone at his workplace—but he walked into something much bigger than he realized."
"So someone who knew about illegal shipments set him up," James said."Or he stumbled onto information he shouldn't have had."
"Either way, he ended up dead."Kate's voice was carefully neutral, but Isla could hear the wheels turning behind her gray-blue eyes."And his sister—who happens to have military training, maritime expertise, and intimate knowledge of every vessel that moves through these waters—has been sitting on that grief for two years."
The profile clicked into place in Isla's mind with almost disturbing precision.Harbor pilots were the invisible gatekeepers of maritime commerce—they boarded incoming vessels and guided them safely through the complex channels and hazards of unfamiliar ports.They knew shipping schedules weeks in advance.They knew which vessels were legitimate and which seemed wrong in ways that casual observers might miss.They had access to cargo manifests, crew rosters, communication frequencies.
If you wanted to identify criminal operations moving through Lake Superior, a harbor pilot would be the perfect person to do it.
"She fits," Isla said slowly, testing the words against her instincts."Military training, maritime knowledge, personal motivation.She would know which vessels were running contraband just from the way they behaved, the crews they carried, the schedules they kept."
"But?"Kate prompted.
"But anonymous tips are dangerous."Isla moved to the whiteboard, staring at the photographs and notes that documented three separate massacres."Someone calls in with information this specific, this convenient, and we're just supposed to believe it?Where did this tip come from?Who knows enough about Rodriguez's background to connect her to these killings?"
"The call was routed through several different servers," the analyst said."We're still tracing it, but whoever made this wanted to stay hidden."
"Which could mean they're protecting their own identity as a witness," James said."Or it could mean they're setting Rodriguez up."
"Or," Kate added, "it could mean that someone in the criminal networks figured out who's been killing their people and wants law enforcement to deal with the problem for them."
The possibilities spiraled through Isla's mind, each one leading to different conclusions.Elena Rodriguez could be their killer—the profile fit, the motivation was clear, the access was undeniable.Or she could be an innocent woman whose brother's death had made her a convenient scapegoat for someone else's crimes.Or the tip could be accurate but incomplete, pointing them toward one killer while the real threat remained hidden.
Isla rubbed her temples, feeling the headache that had been building since dawn sharpen into something more insistent."We don't have enough information to make this call.Not based on an anonymous tip that could be anything from a genuine break to a deliberate misdirection."
Kate was quiet for a moment, her fingers steepled in front of her face in the pose she adopted when weighing difficult decisions.Finally, she spoke."We can't ignore this.Anonymous or not, the tip contains specific, verifiable information.If Rodriguez is our killer, we need to know.And if she's not—if someone's trying to frame her or distract us—we need to know that too."
"So we bring her in?"James asked.
"No."Isla shook her head, the decision crystallizing even as she spoke."We don't have enough for an arrest, and bringing her in for questioning would tip our hand.If she is the killer, she'll know we're onto her.If she's innocent, we'll have traumatized a grieving woman and potentially burned an important contact in the maritime community."
"Then what do you suggest?"
Isla looked at the photograph of Elena Rodriguez—those dark eyes, that focused expression, the face of a woman who had lost her brother to violence and spent two years living with that loss.She thought about what it would feel like to know the people responsible for your loved one's death were operating freely, moving through the same waters you worked every day, protected by a system that couldn't or wouldn't touch them.
She thought about what she might be capable of in that circumstance.
"We investigate," she said."Quietly.We verify everything in that tip—Rodriguez's background, her brother's death, her movements over the past months.We check her schedule against the timeline of attacks, see if she had an opportunity.We dig into her finances, her communications, anything that might confirm or contradict the theory."
"And if it all checks out?"Kate asked.
"Then we'll have to make a harder decision."Isla met her boss's gaze, seeing in those gray-blue eyes the same conflict she felt in her own chest."But I'm not ready to do that yet.Not based on a voice on a phone call.We've been wrong before—I've been wrong before—and the cost of that was someone's life."
