Almost peaceful, James had said.He wasn't wrong.There was something unsettlingly tender about the way she'd been arranged, as if the killer had wanted her to look comfortable, to look cared for.The same signature they'd seen with Monica Hayes.
Isla crouched beside the body, careful not to disturb anything.The bruising around the woman's throat was visible even through the frost—the same marks of manual strangulation that Henley had identified on the first victim.She'd been killed somewhere else, brought here, posed with care.
"No ID?"Isla asked without looking up.
"Nothing.No purse, no wallet, no phone."James's voice came from the doorway of the freezer."Her pockets were empty.Either the killer took everything, or she wasn't carrying anything when she was grabbed."
Isla studied the woman's face, trying to see past the frost to the person beneath.The resemblance to the other victims was undeniable—the same coloring, the same general features, the same impression of gentle prettiness.If she'd seen this woman on the street beside Monica Hayes, she would have assumed they were related.
He has a type, she thought.And he's hunting them.
"She looks like Hayes," James said quietly, reading her thoughts.
"She looks like all of them."Isla stood, her knees protesting the cold that had seeped through her pants."Maria Carlisle, Monica Hayes, and now her.Same hair color, same build, same age range.This isn't coincidence anymore."
"So we were right about the victim profile."
"We were right about the profile.But wrong about the connection to Carlisle."Isla stepped out of the freezer and took a breath of air that felt almost warm by comparison, letting her gaze sweep across the gutted kitchen, the plastic sheeting, the construction debris scattered across the floor."The resemblance between Monica Hayes and Maria Carlisle made us think this was personal—about Carlisle's grief, his restaurant, his loss.But he's not targeting women who look like Maria Carlisle specifically.He's targeting atype.Maria just happened to fit it."
"Walk me through the entry points."
James nodded, leading her back through the building toward the front."Main door's got a padlock on it—crew keeps a key, but it was still locked when Reeves arrived this morning.Back door's the same story.Fritz has already checked both; no sign of forced entry."
"But?"Isla could hear it in his voice—the qualifier that was coming.
"But."James stopped at the wall that had been knocked through, where the plastic sheeting hung in loose folds, shifting in the breeze."This.One whole wall of the place, covered by nothing but a few sheets of plastic.Anyone with a pair of scissors and a flashlight could have gotten in."
Isla pushed aside one of the plastic sheets and looked through the gap.Beyond it lay the gravel parking lot, the frozen wetland, the empty stretch of highway disappearing into the gray morning light.No witnesses.No cameras.No one to see a killer slip through in the middle of the night, carrying a body over his shoulder.
"Same as Bella Ristorante," she said quietly."The place was closed.Vulnerable.Easy to access if you knew what you were looking for."
"The salmonella shutdown," James agreed."And now a renovation that's been dragging on for months.Both restaurants were empty, both had working freezers, and both were easy to enter without leaving any obvious signs of forced entry."
"He's choosing the locations deliberately."Isla let the plastic sheet fall back into place and turned to face her partner."Closed restaurants with freezers.That's his hunting ground—not the victims, but the disposal sites."
"So, he's not connected to the restaurants at all.He's just using them."
"The restaurants are incidental.Tools."Isla started back toward the freezer, her mind racing."Bella Ristorante wasn't significant because it belonged to Carlisle.It was significant because it wasclosed.Empty.Accessible.The Maria Carlisle connection was a red herring—or at best, a coincidence that sent us down the wrong path."
"We need to ID her," James said."See if she has any connection to the other victims beyond the physical resemblance."
"Yes.But I'm betting she doesn't."Isla paused at the doorway of the freezer, looking at the woman's frost-touched face one more time."He's choosing them because of how they look, not who they are.Monica Hayes, this woman—they're interchangeable to him.They fit his type.That's all that matters."
"Henley's on her way," James said."Should be here in twenty minutes."
Isla nodded, her eyes still on the victim."And the construction crew.I want full statements from all of them—when they left yesterday, when they arrived today, whether they noticed anything unusual over the past few days."She paused, thinking."The plastic sheeting.Has it been disturbed?Cut, repaired, anything that might indicate someone came through?"
"Fritz is checking.He's got a couple of uniforms doing a perimeter sweep, looking for footprints or tire tracks in the snow."
The sound of a vehicle pulling into the lot drew their attention.Through the gap in the plastic, Isla could see Dr.Patricia Henley's county-issued SUV parking beside the forensics van.The medical examiner climbed out, medical bag in hand, her expression carrying the same neutral professionalism Isla had come to expect.
"Agents."Henley ducked under the crime scene tape and approached the building."I'm starting to feel like I should just set up an office in the back of that van."
"Two bodies in forty-eight hours," James said."We were hoping you might have some good news."
"The only good news in my line of work is when I get to stay home."Henley's mouth curved in something that wasn't quite a smile."Show me what we've got."
They led her back to the freezer, where the nameless woman lay in her peaceful pose, waiting for someone to tell her story.Henley stepped inside, snapped on her gloves, and began her examination with the same methodical efficiency she'd displayed at Bella Ristorante.
