Isla watched from the doorway, her arms crossed against the cold that seemed to seep through her blazer no matter how she stood.James had moved off to coordinate with Fritz, leaving her alone with her thoughts and the soft sounds of Henley's work.
Two victims in two days.Both strangled.Both posed in freezers.Both found in closed restaurants.Both blonde, both in their thirties, both fitting the same physical profile with uncanny precision.
The pattern was there, clear as the frost on the freezer walls.Not a pattern connected to Vincent Carlisle or his dead wife—a pattern centered on the killer's own preferences, his own criteria, his own definition of who deserved to be taken and preserved and displayed.
He's not hiding them, Isla realized again.He's presenting them.
The thought sent a chill through her that had nothing to do with the freezer's cold.
"Initial assessment," Henley said, straightening up from her crouch."Same cause of death as Hayes—manual strangulation.Same positioning, same care taken with the body after death.Time of death is harder to pin down because of the cold, but based on lividity patterns and what I can see of the early decomposition, I'd estimate she's been dead between twelve and twenty-four hours."
"So she was killed yesterday," James said, returning to join them at the freezer door."Monday night, maybe early Tuesday morning."
"That's my best estimate without the full autopsy."Henley stripped off her gloves and dropped them into an evidence bag."I'll know more once I get her back to the lab.But I can tell you one thing right now—whoever did this has killed before.The strangulation marks are almost identical to Hayes.Same hand position, same pressure points.This is someone who knows exactly what he's doing."
Practiced, Isla thought.Experienced.
She stepped back from the freezer, giving Henley room to organize the transport of the body.Her eyes drifted across the gutted kitchen—the exposed wires, the torn-up floor, the plastic sheeting that whispered and billowed in the wind.
The killer had known this place was here.Had known it was closed, vulnerable, accessible through the gap in the wall.Had known there was a working freezer where he could leave his victim posed like a sleeping princess, waiting to be discovered.
How?How did he know about Bella Ristorante's shutdown?How did he know about this diner's renovation?How did he know which restaurants were closed, which had freezers, which would give him the privacy he needed to arrange his victims with such careful tenderness?
"James."Isla's voice cut through the murmur of activity around them."The health department shutdown at Bella Ristorante—that was public record, right?Published somewhere?"
James frowned, following her train of thought."Local news covered it.The health department posts their inspection results online, too.Anyone with internet access could have found out."
"And this place?The renovation?"
"I don't know.We'd have to check with the owners, see if they've been advertising the closure or if it's just been word of mouth."
"Find out."Isla's mind was racing now, pieces clicking into place even as new questions emerged."And get me a list of every restaurant in Duluth that's currently closed—health department shutdowns, renovations, seasonal closures, anything.If this is his pattern, if he's specifically targeting closed restaurants with freezers, then we need to know which locations he might hit next."
"You think there's going to be more."
It wasn't a question.They both knew the answer.
"Two bodies in forty-eight hours," Isla said."He's accelerating.Either something's triggered him or he's been planning this for a while and now he's executing.Either way, we're behind."She turned to look at the freezer one last time, at the nameless blonde woman lying inside with her hands folded and her eyes closed."We need to catch up before someone else ends up like her."
James nodded and pulled out his phone, already dialing as he walked away to coordinate with Fritz.Isla watched him go, then turned back to the crime scene.
The morning light was growing stronger now, gray and pale, filtering through the gap in the wall and casting long shadows across the debris-strewn floor.Somewhere outside, she could hear the construction crew members talking to Fritz in low, shaken voices—ordinary men who had arrived at their job site expecting nothing more than another day of work and had found something that would haunt them for years.
She knew the feeling.
Two victims.Two freezers.Two closed restaurants.And now, with terrible clarity, two women who could have been sisters—blonde, beautiful in that soft and gentle way, chosen by a killer who saw something in them that he needed to possess.
He's not done, Isla thought, watching as Henley's team began preparing the body for transport.He's just getting started.
And somewhere in Duluth, she was certain, there was another woman walking through her day with no idea that she'd been chosen.Another blonde in her thirties with delicate features and a gentle smile.Another woman who fit the killer's type without knowing such a type existed.
The question was whether Isla could find her before he did.
She pulled out her own phone and dialed the office, already running through the tasks that needed to happen in the next few hours.Background on the victim once they ID'd her.Interviews with the construction crew.A comprehensive list of closed restaurants in the greater Duluth area.Follow-up on Vincent Carlisle's alibi—though she was increasingly certain it would only confirm what she already knew: that he was a broken man who had nothing to do with these killings except the cruel coincidence of his wife fitting the same profile as the victims.
And beneath all of it, the persistent, nagging question that wouldn't leave her alone:Why?
Why these women?Why this type?Why the posing, the tenderness, the deliberate presentation of death as something peaceful, something almost beautiful?
