Page 2 of Beneath the Surface

With one final glance at the lake, Brad turned and strode toward his car, every muscle in his body coiled and ready. He had to get to Isobel.

Her sisters sat close,their presence a quiet comfort as they waited for Brad to arrive. Isobel could feel their concern, though none said a word. It was an unspoken understanding, the kind only family shared.

She slipped her phone into her pocket, hands trembling slightly, and inhaled deeply, trying to center herself. Brad was on his way. Brad was coming for her.

But it wasn’t just the unknown that unsettled her. It was the feelings she had buried for years. Feelings she didn’t dare admit aloud.

She had admired Brad for as long as she could remember, ever since she was a teenager watching him from the sidelines at family gatherings. At twenty-eight, she knew the age gap between them was significant—Brad was forty—but that hadn’t stopped her heart from beating fast every time he entered the room. His deep brown hair, streaked with strands of blond from the sun, his piercing gray eyes, and his unwavering dedication to his work made him formidable. And, in her eyes, heartbreakingly irresistible.

She knew better than to let herself get caught up in those feelings. He was a friend of the family, nothing more. Yet now, as she waited for him to arrive, those old, confusing emotions stirred deep within her, blending with her fear and anxiety. The minutes seemed to stretch forever, each one heavier than the last as memories of the original case replayed in her mind. Four years ago, Old Mill Lake had become a tomb for two teenagers. Their deaths were initially ruled as tragic accidents, but as she dug deeper, the truth emerged.

When Brad finally arrived, the tension in her chest loosened just slightly. His presence brought with it a sense of safety, as if, just by standing next to him, the world seemed a little less terrifying. His eyes, sharp and concerned, found hers immediately. Without a word, he crossed the distance between them, his movements precise and deliberate. He placed a hand on her shoulder, his touch gentle yet grounding.

"Belle, are you alright?"

She nodded, though her voice betrayed her, high-pitched and fragile. "It happened again, Brad. The same MO, the same location?”

Brad’s jaw clenched, his gray eyes darkening with an intensity she had come to know so well. "We'll get to the bottom of this. I promise you."

After a silent drive, they walked together to the water’s edge, where the area had been cordoned off by yellow police tape. Officers moved in the bright portable lights. The low murmur of voices and the distant flashing lights created a surreal backdrop, a stark contrast to the horrors that had unfolded sometime earlier that day.

Brad handed the note to her, his expression shifting from concern to something darker as she read the chilling message. She turned it over in her hands, a plain white envelope with no markings, addressed simply to "Dr. Isobel Everhart."

Dearest Isobel,

Four years ago, you thought you solved the mystery, but you were wrong.

The truth has always been in the shadows, waiting for the right moment to surface.

Now, as the lake claims more innocent lives, remember:

You were so close, yet you missed the mark.

Look deeper this time. The past is not buried as deeply as you think.

Time is running out, Isobel.

Tick, tock.

When she finally looked up, he said, "The killer is playing a twisted game."

Isobel shuddered. She wasn’t the scared intern from four years ago. She had faced down those nightmares before and survived. But this... this felt personal in a way the previous case hadn’t.

"We have to find whoever wrote this, Brad," she said, stronger now.

Brad’s eyes met hers, his expression softening for just a moment, a flicker of something unspoken passing between them. His hand brushed against hers, and the brief contact sent a surge of warmth through her. "We will find the killer," he said. "I won’t let anyone hurt you, Belle.”

Brad’s presence made her feel braver, more capable. She wasn’t alone in this. Not this time.

Two

The chill in the air wasn’t just from the cold; it seemed to seep from the ground beneath her feet, curling up her legs and freezing her from the inside out. Isobel wrapped her jacket tighter around herself as she stood by the edge of the scene, the lake shimmering under the pale moonlight. Divers were still pulling equipment from the water, their movements slow and deliberate. She tried not to look too closely, knowing two bodies had been lifted from the murky waters.

Brad stood beside her, his presence solid and comforting, even though his expression was drawn tight. They had now been there for hours, and exhaustion weighed heavy on her bones. The joy of Sophie’s party was long gone.

From the shadows near the perimeter, a figure emerged, tall and imposing. A shiver ran down Isobel’s spine before she even saw his face. As the man stepped closer, the glow of the emergency lights revealed him, a towering man with jet-black hair slicked back from his forehead, and eyes so dark they seemed to absorb the light around him. His shoulders were broad, tapering down to a narrow waist, his movements controlled, like a predator. There was something unsettlinglyprecise about the way he walked, his polished shoes making no sound on the gravel.

When he reached them, his presence was suffocating, dominating the space. The air seemed to thicken, and Isobel instinctively took a step back, her breath catching in her throat. The man’s black eyes flicked over her, taking in every detail like he was cataloging them for later use. His mouth was set in a hard, thin line as he paused in front of them.

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