Page 40 of Beneath the Surface

Brad chewed his cheek, contemplating the situation. He didn’t want to tell them how badly he wanted Isobel to stay in Whispering Hills with him. He had a state-of-the-art security system and the resources to maintain her safety. But she had four very protective sisters who may not approve.

"She can stay with me," Brad said firmly, "if she'll agree. When are they going to discharge her?"

Ethan shrugged. "They keep pushing it off. It was supposed to be tonight, but my guess is tomorrow."

Brad nodded. "Someone will need to pack her clothes. If the apartment is being watched, put them in garbage bags. We don't want to draw any attention.”

Ethan cocked a brow. “Now we need to convince Izzy.”

The hospital roomwas bright and unrelenting, the sterile fluorescence washing out everything in shades of pale. Isobel lay on the stiff mattress, a thin hospital blanket pulled up to her chest, her face a stark contrast to the vibrant woman Brad knew. The welts were healing, but her expression—a haunting mix of exhaustion and fear—was not something that would fade easily.Outside, rain tapped against the window, soft and rhythmic, as if to mock the tension in the room.

Brad sat in the chair beside her bed, leaning forward, his hands clasped loosely between his knees. He looked at her for a long moment, as though gathering the courage to speak. Finally, he broke the silence.

"Isobel, while the investigation is ongoing, and with your apartment… uninhabitable," he began, his voice steady but soft, "I need you to come stay with me."

Her eyes fluttered open, a sluggish blink, and she turned her head toward him. When she finally spoke, the single word was raspy and weak, "What?"

Brad straightened in his chair, leaning closer. "I mean it. I’ve got security—cameras, alarms, everything. I can keep you safe. I don’t like the idea of you being anywhere alone, especially not after this."

Isobel closed her eyes briefly, shaking her head as much as her soreness allowed. "Brad… I don’t want to be a burden. You’ve got enough on your plate trying to catch whoever did this to me. I?—"

"You’re not a burden," he cut her off, sharper than he intended. Then he softened, sighing as he ran a hand through his hair. "Belle, listen. Whoever’s behind this… they’re not done. I can feel it. Until we catch them, I need to know you’re safe."

She hesitated, clearly struggling with his insistence. Her eyes searched his face, and for a moment, her vulnerability broke through. “You have a separate bedroom?”

Brad’s lips quirked in a small, reassuring smile. “Two. And, honestly, it’s not just about keeping you safe. I think we need to look at everything—together. Starting with the camp those four kids who died at the lake were from.”

Her expression tightened, and she glanced away toward the rain-slicked window. "The wilderness camp? How does that connect to me?"

Brad leaned back slightly, folding his arms as tension stiffened his frame. "It’s not just about the camp—it’s the way those murders were staged. The patterns… they mirror cases you’ve worked on, Belle. Too closely. Whoever did this knows your work."

Her breath hitched,and she gripped the blanket tighter. Her mind churned, dredging up memories of those four victims: teens, all found near different sections of Old Mill Lake. The crime scenes appeared to be drownings, but their bodies revealed something more ritualistic—each body arranged in a pose of submission before they were murdered, their wrists and ankles bound.

"The camp," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "It was the one thing they all had in common. That’s where they met. I had nothing to do with the camp other than to find the commonality between the first two victims. You found the commonality between the second pair and then the four."

Brad nodded. "Exactly. But think about this: these weren’t random killings. Someone studied your work—maybe even you. There’s a pattern within the pattern, a familiarity. The way they were staged… it mirrors your old cases almost too perfectly. And the other murders… it’s like whoever’s doing this knows your work, knows you. They’re either copying your cases or…" He hesitated, his gaze locking with hers. "Or they’re sending a message. A personal one."

Isobel shuddered at the thought. Her police cases had always taken her into the darkest corners of human behavior, but she had always believed in the safety of her own boundaries. This felt like those boundaries had been breached, like the shadows had followed her home.

"You think it’s someone I’ve worked with?" she asked, her voice cracking. "Or… someone I’ve treated?"

Brad’s expression darkened. "It’s a possibility we can’t ignore. You’ve worked with a lot of people—police departments, private consultations, and your patients. We need to narrow it down."

Her hands trembled, clutching the blanket like a lifeline. "Brad, I can’t just break confidentiality. Even if I could, none of my patients are violent, let alone capable of… this."

"I’m not asking you to break confidentiality," he said quickly. "I just need descriptions, profiles. Anything that might help us draw a connection between your past and what’s happening now."

She looked away, her chest rising and falling unevenly. "The idea that one of my patients—or someone I worked with—could be behind this…" Her voice trailed off, and she pressed a hand to her throat—it was all nearly unbearable. The words felt like they were suffocating her. Isobel rubbed her chest, feeling like she was going to vomit.

"That’s why I need you safe," Brad said, his tone resolute. "And there’s something else, Belle. I need you to think about your past relationships."

Her head snapped back to him, her eyes wide with panic. "Brad, no?—"

"I know it’s hard," he interrupted, his voice softening as he leaned closer. "But we need to look at every possibility. Is there anyone you dated who might have taken things too far? Anyone who might have held a grudge?"

She stared at him, tears brimming in her eyes. "I… I don’t think so," she stammered. "I haven’t been involved in anything serious for years. There were men, sure, but nothing ended badly. At least, I didn’t think so."

Brad reached out, covering her trembling hand with his own. "Think back," he urged gently. "Even if it didn’t seem serious to you, it might have been to them. Anything could be a lead."

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