Page 1 of Beneath the Surface

One

Brad Killian stood stoically on the shoreline, the warm summer night air thick and oppressive, clinging to him like an unwelcome shadow. The lake, its surface placid under the moon’s glow, hid beneath it a terror that had once again clawed its way into peaceful Waverly County. His gray eyes swept over the scene with the practiced calm of a seasoned officer, yet his mind raced, haunted by the memories of the nightmare that had unfolded four years ago. It was all too familiar.

Every detail before him was a grotesque replica, a cruel reenactment of the case that gripped the town in terror and left an indelible mark on his soul. His jaw clenched as divers emerged from the lake’s cold grasp, pulling the bodies of two teenagers—lifeless, waterlogged, and eerily posed by the ropes tied around them—onto the muddy shore. The gruesome sight was a painful echo of the past, a twisted reflection of the tragedy he hoped would never resurface.

Beside him stood Sergeant Bill McKenzie of the Waverly County Police, a solid and steady presence as always. The older officer’s face was grim, his eyes reflecting the same torment that weighed on Brad’s heart. The only sound breaking the stillness of the night was the distant murmur of radios and thesoft sloshing of the water as the divers worked. The lake was deceptively calm, as if mocking them with its serenity.

Brad, Assistant District Commander for Field Operations of the South Dakota Highway Patrol Bureau, gripped the plastic evidence bag he held. Inside was a note—crumpled, damp, and carrying a sinister message. Its words, scribbled hastily, were chillingly familiar. The note was meant for Isobel Everhart.

Her family called her Izzy. He called her Belle.

Brad watched as the head of the dive team approached, his expression unreadable but his eyes sharp with concern.

“You feeling it too, Brad? That same sense of déjà vu?” The man’s voice was low, barely carrying over the muffled sounds of the dive site.

Brad nodded slowly, his gaze drifting toward the water’s edge, where the team had just brought up the bodies of two teenage girls. The scene was eerily similar, too similar, to another tragic recovery years ago.

“Yeah.” A chill ran down his spine. “It’s like we’re reliving it. Same age, same look… I’d bet the cause of death is identical to last time.”

The head diver exhaled, running a hand over his face. “Two young lives, gone like this. And nothing to explain why.”

Brad felt a knot of unease tighten in his gut. It wasn’t just the girls who seemed familiar—the circumstances, the eerie calm of the water, the strange sense that this tragedy had happened before, all of it tugged at him. They needed answers, but deep down, he feared what those answers might reveal.

He remembered the first time he met Isobel Everhart. Izzy, as her family called her, had been there with her mother, visiting her big sister Olivia. She was only eighteen then, fresh-faced and full of life, her auburn hair catching the sunlight.

She was adorable in that carefree, slightly awkward way of young women just beginning to find themselves. Brad hadsmiled at her, and when Olivia introduced them, Belle blushed, her bright hazel eyes meeting his briefly before she quickly looked away, shy and flustered—submissive?

At thirty, Brad had felt every year of the age difference between them that day. He was already established in his career, weathered by the demands of his job. She was just beginning her journey, wide-eyed and full of potential.

Now, ten years later, that memory stirred something deep within him. Belle had grown—no,transformed—into the stunning woman she was today. At twenty-eight, she had the same fire in her eyes, but now it was tempered by experience, by her work in forensic psychology. She was no longer the shy, blushing girl from that first time meeting her. She was strong, sharp, and beautiful in a way that was impossible to ignore.

He smiled to himself, remembering the shy eighteen-year-old who blushed when she met him. She was all grown up now, and he was in deep—too deep. The horrors of Isobel’s first case had followed her.

His phone buzzed, cutting through the silence. Isobel’s name flashed across the screen. She was at her sister Sophie’s house with her family tonight. It was supposed to be a simple, relaxing summer evening—a celebration of Sophie’s return to work after she nearly lost her life. He was supposed to be there. They were his family too.

“Belle,” Brad began, his heart pounding in his chest. “Are you at Sophie’s?”

“Yes.” Her voice, so light and carefree just moments ago, was now tinged with confusion. “Where are you? We’re all getting worried. Did you get stuck on a case?”

Brad’s throat tightened. He could hear laughter and music in the background, the sounds of family and peace—a peace that was about to be shattered. He swallowed hard, the situationpressing down on him like a vise. “I’m sending a patrol car for you.”

“What’s going on?” her voice trembled.

“I’m at Old Mill Lake. There’s been a double murder, Belle. It’s... it looks like a reenactment of the Ferguson case, the one with the drowned teens.” He heard her sharp gasp, followed by a heavy silence. She was a naive intern in forensic psychology when she worked the case with her advisor.

“Belle, stay with your family,” Brad said firmly, pushing aside his own rising fear. “Stay with them until the patrol car arrives. Do not leave, do you understand?”

There was a brief pause before her big sister’s voice replaced Isobel’s on the line. Olivia was a detective. “Brad, it’s Liv. What is going on? Izzy is shaking like a leaf.”

Brad inhaled slowly, steeling himself for what he had to say next. “Liv... it’s bad. We found a note. It’s addressed to Belle.” He heard Liv curse under her breath, her usual calm slipping.

Isobel came back on the line. “Brad?”

He closed his eyes briefly, mustering the strength to keep his own emotions in check. “Forget the patrol car,” he said in a quiet command. “I’m coming to get you. Stay right where you are. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“Okay,” she whispered.

As the line went dead, Brad stood still for a moment, staring out over the lake that had once again become a graveyard. His pulse thundered in his ears, and the familiar burn of anger ignited within him. This was no coincidence.

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