Isla rubbed her temples, feeling a headache building behind her eyes. The lack of sleep, the stress of the case, the lingering heat exhaustion from the tunnels—it was all catching up to her. "I think he's telling the truth about not killing Langford. His reaction to learning about the death felt genuine. And the burner phone—if he'd planned a murder this carefully, would he really run from us over stolen equipment?"
"People do stupid things when they panic."
"True." Isla watched as Morrison's team began carrying equipment out of Bellamy's apartment, documenting each piece. "But something doesn't fit. The thermal imaging equipment, the paranoid surveillance—it all points to someone worried about being caught for theft, not someone planning and executing a murder."
"So, we're back to square one," James said.
Not quite, Isla thought. They'd eliminated one suspect—or at least moved him down the priority list. But they'd also confirmed that someone had gone to considerable effort to lure David Langford into those tunnels using a burner phone and what appeared to be knowledge of workplace grievances.
Someone who knew about the complaint Langford had filed. Someone who understood the tunnel system well enough to modify the temperature controls. Someone who had access to current city codes despite not being an employee.
"We need to look at the other two people named in Langford's complaint," Isla said. "Thomas Sanders and Rebecca Whitmore. If someone wanted to target Langford specifically, they might have known about the complaint and used it to craft those text messages."
"Sanders and Whitmore still work for the city," James confirmed, pulling out his phone. "Both thermal systems technicians, both on duty today. We could bring them in for questioning."
Isla sighed. It was going to be a long day.
CHAPTER EIGHT
The field office felt like a tomb at 7 PM, December darkness pressed against the windows. Isla stared at her computer screen until the words blurred together, David Langford's life reduced to data points and timestamps that refused to coalesce into anything meaningful.
"His sister confirms he was having marital problems," James said from across her desk, phone pressed to his ear. "But nothing serious enough to... yes, thank you. If you think of anything else, please call." He ended the call and added another note to their rapidly expanding case file. "That's the last of the close family. Nobody saw this coming."
Isla rubbed her eyes, feeling the familiar burn of exhaustion. They'd been at this for twelve hours straight—interviewing Langford's relatives, friends, coworkers, anyone who might shed light on why someone would lure him into those steam tunnels to die. The answer remained frustratingly elusive.
"What about his social media?" she asked, though she'd already reviewed his profiles twice.
"Nothing unusual. Posts about his kids' hockey games, shares about Vikings games, some fishing photos from last summer." James scrolled through his phone. "The most controversial thing he ever posted was complaining about snow removal delays last February."
Isla stood and moved to the whiteboard they'd set up, where David Langford's life had been mapped in marker and photographs. Married seventeen years to Jennifer Langford, two kids—Sam, fifteen, and Ashley, twelve. Worked for Duluth Public Works for fifteen years, exemplary record until the complaint three weeks ago. No criminal history, no debts beyond a reasonable mortgage, no obvious enemies.
"The complaint has to be the key," Isla said, tapping the notation she'd made in red marker. "Someone knew about it and used it to craft those text messages. The question is who."
They'd spent most of the afternoon interviewing Thomas Sanders and Rebecca Whitmore—the other two thermal systems technicians named in Langford's complaint. Both had solid alibis for the night of the murder. Sanders had been home with his wife and teenage son, confirmed by multiple texts and phone calls throughout the evening. Whitmore had been at a friend's birthday party with twenty witnesses who'd posted photos to social media at regular intervals.
"Neither of them seemed particularly upset about the complaint," James noted. "Sanders said he expected it to be dismissed as baseless, which it probably would have been, according to HR. Whitmore was annoyed but not angry enough to kill someone over it."
"And neither of them has the systems knowledge to modify those temperature controls," Isla added. She'd confirmed that with Carol Martinez earlier—Sanders and Whitmore were technicians, skilled at repairs and maintenance, but the kind of sophisticated override they'd found in the D-8 chamber required deeper expertise.
James leaned back in his chair, the old furniture creaking. "So, we're looking for someone with advanced knowledge of the thermal system, access to information about internal complaints, and a grudge against David Langford.”
Isla moved to the window, staring out at the dark expanse of Lake Superior. Somewhere out there, Robert Brune was hiding. And here she was, chasing a different killer entirely, feeling like she was failing on both fronts.
Her phone buzzed with an email—the additional phone records she'd requested from the carrier, showing all calls and texts to Langford's number in the week leading up to his death.They’d had access to the days before, but only now was the full week available. Isla pulled them up on her laptop, scanning through the data with the methodical attention that had become second nature.
Calls from his wife. Texts from his kids. Work-related messages about shift schedules and maintenance requests. Everything ordinary, everything normal, until—
"James, look at this." Isla turned her laptop so he could see. "Three days before the murder, Langford got a call from a number registered to Duluth Public Works. But according to the employee directory, that extension isn't assigned to anyone currently employed."
James moved closer, his blue eyes sharp despite the late hour. "An inactive extension? Could it be a mistake?"
"Or someone accessing the system remotely." Isla's mind raced through possibilities. "If they had the right credentials, they could route calls through old extensions, make it look like official city business."
"The same way they could get current access codes for the tunnels," James said, following her logic. "We're looking for someone with IT knowledge, not just thermal systems expertise."
Isla pulled up the Public Works organizational chart, looking for positions that would have both types of access. The list was depressingly long—dozens of employees who worked with both physical infrastructure and digital systems, any one of whom could theoretically have the skills and access they needed.
"This is going to take days to narrow down," she said, frustration creeping into her voice. "Background checks, interviews, alibi verification for everyone on this list. And meanwhile, whoever killed Langford is—"
