"This man didn't drown," she said, peeling back the victim's work shirt to reveal wounds that made Isla's blood run cold."Multiple stab wounds to the chest and abdomen.Deep penetration, probably a fixed-blade knife with at least a six-inch blade.He was dead before he hit the water.See here—no water in the lungs, no foam in the airways.These wounds would have been rapidly fatal."
Isla stared at the body, her mind racing through the implications.Arnold Jones had been stabbed to death with a knife, multiple times, with enough force to penetrate deeply through muscle and potentially nick bone.This wasn't a shooting that might be explained by rival smuggling operations or criminal disputes.This was personal, intimate violence that required getting close enough to look your victim in the face, close enough to feel their last breath.
"Jesus," James breathed, studying the wounds."Whoever did this was strong enough to overpower a commercial fisherman and skilled enough with a knife to kill efficiently.We're not just dealing with weapons smugglers—we're dealing with someone who's comfortable with extreme violence."
"Military background, maybe," Isla suggested, though something about the pattern bothered her.
"Or professional," James added."Mob enforcer, cartel operative.Someone who's done this before."
Dr.Henley pointed to one of the wounds."This one went right between the ribs.Angled upward toward the heart.That's not luck—that's training or experience."
Isla walked a few steps away, trying to piece it together."So our working theory: TheNorthern Dawnwas carrying illegal weapons, probably for delivery to a buyer on the lakes.They anchor somewhere to make the transfer.Something goes wrong—either betrayal, unexpected arrival of a third party, or a crew member discovers what's happening.Violence erupts.At least one crew member, Arnold Jones, is killed with a knife.Others are potentially killed or fled.The killer takes some weapons but not all, cuts the anchor chain, and disappears."
"Leaving us with a crime scene, a body, and a shipment of military weapons," James finished."And no idea where the killer is now or who else might be dead."
"Or where the rest of the weapons went," Isla added.
James looked back at theNorthern Dawn,its dark shape hulking against the harbor lights."You said something earlier about this not being their last kill."
Isla nodded slowly."Someone this capable, this violent, this comfortable with killing?They're not going to stop.Either they're going to try to sell those weapons, which means more criminal activity, or they're going to use them.Either way, we need to find them fast."
"The question is: are we looking for a smuggler who turned violent, or a violent person who saw an opportunity?"
"Does it matter?"Isla asked.
"For prosecution, maybe not.For tracking them down?"James met her eyes."It matters a lot.A smuggler might go to ground, try to lie low until the heat passes.But someone who kills like this, with a knife, up close?"He shook his head."They might be just getting started."
The wind picked up off the lake, carrying with it the smell of cold water and diesel fuel.Somewhere out there, a killer was moving through the night with military-grade weapons and a demonstrated willingness to use lethal force.The crime scene had evolved from a missing crew investigation to something far more sinister—a hunt for a predator who was both calculating and extremely dangerous.
And as Isla stood there, watching the medical examiner's team carefully document Arnold Jones's wounds, she had the sinking feeling that this was only the beginning.The Northern Dawn had been carrying death in its cargo hold, and now that death had been released into the world, carried by someone who knew exactly how to use it.
The real investigation was just beginning.
CHAPTER FIVE
The second body surfaced at ten-forty-five, and by eleven-fifteen, a third victim had been located on the rocky bottom of Lake Superior.Each recovery brought fresh confirmation that they were dealing with something far worse than a smuggling operation gone wrong.The crew of theNorthern Dawn—all four men—had been systematically murdered with knife wounds that spoke to a level of violence that made Isla's stomach clench with familiar dread.
Arnold Jones, Derek Carlson, Timothy King, and Captain Robert Kozlowski.All experienced sailors, all killed with the same methodical precision that suggested a single perpetrator working with calculated efficiency.Dr.Henley's preliminary examination revealed defensive wounds on several victims, indicating they'd fought for their lives before being overwhelmed by someone stronger, faster, or simply more ruthless.
"Look at the wound patterns," Dr.Henley said, her voice clinical despite the horror of what she was describing."Same blade on all four victims—fixed knife with approximately a six-inch blade, probably military or hunting style.Deep penetration, precise placement.This wasn't random violence—it was systematic execution."
Isla crouched beside the latest victim, studying Captain Kozlowski's wounds with the detached focus that years of crime scene work had taught her.The captain was a big man, probably two hundred pounds of muscle and experience, yet he'd been killed as efficiently as the others.Whoever had done this possessed both the physical capability and psychological coldness to murder four men at close quarters.
"Single perpetrator?"James asked, though his tone suggested he already doubted it was possible.
"Has to be," Dr.Henley replied, comparing wound measurements between victims."Blade angle, depth of penetration, striking patterns—it's all consistent with one person.Someone who knows how to use a knife and isn't bothered by getting close enough to look their victims in the face while they die."
The implications sent a chill through Isla that had nothing to do with the April wind coming off the lake.
Coast Guard vessels continued their search pattern across the dark water, their spotlights sweeping methodically for any additional victims.TheNorthern Dawnrode at anchor nearby, her bloodstained deck still being processed by crime scene technicians who worked with the focused intensity of people who understood they were dealing with something extraordinary.
James pulled out his notebook, reviewing the timeline they'd been able to establish."Northern Dawnleft Thunder Bay yesterday morning with a cargo manifest listing machine parts and agricultural equipment.Should have reached Duluth this afternoon, but she never checked in with harbor traffic control.Fishing vessel spotted her drifting unmanned around eight-thirty."
"So somewhere between this afternoon and early evening, someone intercepted her," Isla mused, walking toward the edge of the dock where she could see the ship's profile against the harbor lights."Boarded, killed the crew, took whatever weapons they were after, and left the ship to drift."
Isla stared across the harbor toward the maze of docks and warehouses that had become as familiar as her own apartment over the past two years.Her memories of Miami and its warmth felt so distant now.
"We need to trace the weapons," she said, turning back to James."Find out where they came from, who was supposed to receive them, how many similar shipments might be moving through the Great Lakes.If this was targeted rather than random, there's a network we need to identify."
