"From what?"
"From the fact that Brune got away. From three years in a city I thought was a dead end for my career. From—" She stopped, not quite ready to finish that sentence. From partnerships that matter too much. From connections that complicate everything.
James was quiet for so long that Isla finally looked at him. His expression was unreadable, somewhere between concern and something else she couldn't identify.
"Tell me your thoughts after we catch this killer," he said finally. "Clear this case first, then decide what you want to do next. Fair enough?"
The reprieve felt like both a gift and a postponement. Isla nodded, grateful not to have to analyze the decision right now, in the cold darkness of a stakeout while a killer planned his next victim.
"Fair enough," she agreed.
They fell into silence again, watching and waiting while precious minutes ticked away. But the conversation hung between them, changing something subtle in the air of the car. Isla's mind wandered through case files and crime scenes, trying to focus on victimology and patterns rather than the complicated emotions stirred up by mentioning Miami.
David Langford, Linda Graves, Robert Yamamoto—three people with seemingly nothing in common except their deaths in the tunnels.
And Thomas Garrett's detailed knowledge of every location where those deaths had occurred.
The thought materialized slowly, like ice forming on still water. Garrett had been indispensable—providing maps, identifying high-risk locations, volunteering to inspect remote access points. His expertise had shaped their entire surveillance operation, had determined where they positioned their limited resources.
Which meant if Garrett was the killer, he knew exactly where the cops would and wouldn't be tonight.
Isla's chest tightened with sudden clarity. The helpful consultant who'd appeared at exactly the right moment with exactly the knowledge they needed. The maintenance engineer with twenty-three years of experience navigating passages nobody else could find. The man who'd volunteered to check remote locations alone, who even now was supposedly inspecting Access Point 18 while they sat watching empty asphalt at Point 12.
"James," she said, her voice sharp enough that he immediately turned toward her. "When did Garrett last check in?"
James pulled out his phone, scrolling through messages. "Forty-seven minutes ago. Said he was at Access Point 18, everything looked clear, moving to check Point 21 next."
"Call him."
Something in Isla's tone must have conveyed her urgency because James didn't question, just pulled up Garrett's contact and hit dial. The phone rang once, twice, three times before kicking to voicemail. James tried again with the same result.
"Could be underground," he offered. "No cell service in the tunnels."
"He has a radio." Isla was already starting the car, her hands moving with the sharp precision of certainty crystallizing into action. "He said he'd stay in constant contact. Why isn't he answering?"
There was only one reason Isla could think of.
Either he was in danger…
Or he was the danger, and all of this had been a ruse.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Isla's sedan fishtailed slightly as she accelerated out of the Access Point 12 parking lot, her headlights cutting through December darkness that suddenly felt full of malicious intent. James was already on his phone, coordinating with Morrison's unit while Isla navigated toward the industrial district where Thomas Garrett should have been conducting his inspection.
Should have been. But wasn't answering his radio or his phone, and the certainty that had crystallized in Isla's chest during those seconds in the surveillance car now felt like ice spreading through her bloodstream.
"Morrison's dispatching units to Access Points 18 and 21," James said, his voice tight with controlled urgency. "State police are maintaining their positions at the covered locations. Kate wants to know if we're sure about this."
"No," Isla said honestly, taking a corner faster than was strictly safe. "But Garrett's the only person we've encountered who has the complete knowledge of the tunnel system that our killer demonstrates. He's been helpful to the point of suspicion, volunteering information, access, and maps that shaped our entire investigation. And now he's not answering when he said he'd maintain constant contact."
She didn't add the other observation that was nagging at the edges of her consciousness—how Garrett had been present at exactly the right moments, had provided exactly the right expertise, had positioned himself as indispensable to their investigation.
"If he's our killer," James said, following her logic, "then he knows where all our surveillance teams are positioned tonight. He knows the gaps in our coverage."
"He created the gaps," Isla said, her hands tight on the steering wheel. "He identified twenty locations that needed monitoring, knowing we couldn't possibly cover all of them. Which means he can work in the blind spots he engineered."
The implications made her stomach clench. While they'd been congratulating themselves on comprehensive coverage, on finally understanding the tunnel system well enough to anticipate the killer's moves, Garrett had been playing them. Had been using their investigation as reconnaissance, learning what they knew, shaping what they saw, always staying one step ahead because he was the one drawing the map.
