Page 5 of Beneath the Surface

Larson’s brows rose, surprise flickering across his features before hardening again. “The note. You saw it?” His eyes searched hers.

“Yes,” she replied, a subtle tremor in her tone. “It had my name on it, as if… as if it was meant to draw me in. I don’t know why, and I don’t know what this person wants from me, but I was there because Commander Killian believed I should be.”

Larson leaned back, folding his arms, suspicion etched in every line of his face. “Convenient, isn’t it? The killer’s sending you notes. You better hope this doesn’t lead where I think it will.”

Her brow arched. “And where is that?”

Brad, standing quietly in the corner, shifted his weight, his jaw tightening. Isobel was walking a fine line, and Larson seemed eager to push her over the edge. Isobel was pushing back.

Ruth slapped her palm on the table. “Detective, we are done for tonight. You have taken three laps around the track—the same questions over and over.”

After the repeated questions, they walked out of the station. Brad slipped his hand into Isobel’s. That small, simple touch, the feeling of her skin against his, grounded him. It reminded himthat, no matter how much he craved control, there were battles he couldn’t fight for her.

Isobel climbed into her place in the passenger seat. Brad took a moment to speak with Ruth outside the car before sliding in beside Isobel. He turned over the engine and cranked up the heat. “I told Ruthie you’d call her in the morning.”

She shook her head. “How could he think I’d have anything to say about these new deaths other than they are female, possibly teenagers, and it’s the same place two others were found four years ago?” She sniffled. “What did he think? A profile takes time and research to build. This isn’tCriminal Minds,where they have a profile by the next commercial break.”

“He comes from LAPD. That department is very enforcement-oriented. I need to make some calls and find out more about him.”

Isobel took a deep breath, focusing on a spot on the windshield. "The first girls came from troubled backgrounds. Both had single mothers who were substance abusers. Both girls were bullied in school. Both had been in several fights—they were the losers and couldn’t defend themselves. They were vulnerable, easily manipulated. My analysis suggested they were targeted by someone who viewed them as weak and wouldn’t be missed if they died. They were found because a couple of people scuba diving for treasures stumbled upon them. Otherwise…” She sighed. “The knots tying the sacks they were in were exacting and matched the bruises on their wrists and ankles.

"Power and control. The type of person who would do this likely has a personality disorder characterized by a need for dominance and a lack of empathy. They enjoy exerting control over others, especially those they perceive as weaker. In this case, the girls were seen as easy targets."

Brad listened. Isobel spoke with such clarity and confidence, yet he could hear the fear in her voice. "Did you have any suspects in mind?"

She shook her head. "Not at the time. We had theories but nothing concrete. The investigation was cut short before we could delve deeper. The town board wanted the case buried as quickly as the girls were. But the evidence I found pointed toward someone with intimate knowledge of the area and the girls' routines. Someone who could get close to them without raising suspicion."

“Were they sexually assaulted?” Brad asked.

“I think so. But that was the problem. The girls were waterlogged and showing severe signs of decay. There was a rush to judgment. The autopsy was performed by the outgoing coroner. Molly was at a medical examiner convention. The exam was, in my opinion, botched.”

Brad sighed, a hint of weariness softening his usually firm expression. “Belle, I’m going to take you home,” he said. “I’ll pick you up and take you to Sophie’s in the morning to get your car. It’s Saturday—you can sleep in, and we’ll grab some brunch.”

The drive to her apartment was quiet, the day lingering between them. Streetlights cast fleeting shadows across her tired face, and Brad couldn’t help but glance over, the worry etched deep in his brow. When they reached her building, he parked and walked her inside, every step a silent promise that she was safe with him.

At her door, he did a quick walk-through, scanning each corner with the practiced eye of someone who left nothing to chance. Satisfied everything was in order, he turned back to her. He reached out and placed a gentle kiss on her forehead, the gesture tender and protective.

“I’ll be back at eleven.” He held her gaze for a moment longer. “Get some rest, Belle.”

She nodded, a small, grateful smile tugging at her lips as she closed the door behind her. He waited, listening for the subtleclickof the lock turning. Only when he was sure she was secure did he head back down the hallway, the night air cool as he stepped outside, making his way home with the promise of morning hanging between them.

Three

Aweek later, Isobel’s family, their partners, and dear friends all assembled at her mother Charlotte’s home for the monthly family-style meal. Her childhood Victorian home had a comfortable familiarity, the heavy drapes and candlelight creating an intimate atmosphere. Isobel sat at the long table with her sisters—Olivia, Ruth, Molly, and Sophie—as well as their partners. Also attending was Brad, Olivia’s long-time friend, and Turk, best friend of Olivia’s fiancé, Jackson. Conversation flowed naturally about recent happenings until Isobel, who had been unusually quiet, spoke up, drawing the room’s attention.

“Hey, everyone, I’ve been working on a really tough case,” her voice cut through the noise. Everyone turned to listen, sensing the seriousness in her tone. “It’s a divorce case with a custody battle. The parents can’t even agree on their child’s cancer treatment.”

There was a collective sigh of sympathy from around the table. Ruth shook her head. “That’s awful. You’d think they’d focus on the child instead of fighting. Is there attorney ad litem?”

Isobel nodded. “You’d think. And, yes, there is a court-appointed attorney. But it gets more complicated. Each spousehas a partner. The father’s girlfriend is an accountant. It’s a two-year relationship. The mother’s is new, as in six months old. Her boyfriend is involved in an adult lifestyle club. You know... the type where they tie each other up, use whips, have public sex, that sort of thing. I have to assess his commitment to the mother as well as the mother’s fitness. I’m concerned because there are multiple police reports at that club regarding drugs, prostitution, drunk and disorderly conduct, and allegations of human trafficking.”

Her words landed like a stone, and an awkward silence settled over the table. Sophie glanced at Molly, who looked down at her plate, clearly uncomfortable, while Ruth’s lips twitched, fighting back a smile.

“I just don’t understand it.” Isobel shook her head. “How can anyone enjoy that? And how could a woman want to be treated like that?”

Brad,who had been quietly listening, cleared his throat. His eyes flicked to Olivia for a brief second before he glanced at Isobel. He gave a slight smile, deciding whether he should wade into dangerous territory.

“Well,” he began carefully, “what you’re talking about sounds like D/s—Dominance and submission. I took a seminar as part of a course at the FBI academy.” He wasn’t ready to explain he’d participated in the lifestyle for years. Olivia knew but no one else.

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