Page 3 of Outside the Room
As if summoned by his name, a tall man appeared in the doorway. With broad shoulders, dark blonde hair graying at the temples, and deep-set blue eyes, Agent James Sullivan looked every inch the Midwestern law enforcement stereotype—right down to the flannel shirt visible beneath his practical suit jacket.
"Sullivan, this is Agent Isla Rivers, your new partner," Channing said.
Sullivan nodded, his expression unreadable. "Welcome to Duluth." His handshake was brief and professional, his gaze assessing.
"Thank you," Isla replied, matching his tone. She couldn't help but wonder what he'd heard about her, what judgments he'd already formed.
"Agent Sullivan will show you the ropes," Channing explained. "Duluth might seem quiet compared to Miami, but appearances can be deceiving. Our port is the largest freshwater port in the world and a major transit point for everything from grain to industrial equipment."
"And illegal goods," Sullivan added, his first voluntary contribution to the conversation.
"Precisely," Channing nodded. "We've been tracking increased smuggling activity connected to Canadian criminal organizations. The border's proximity creates unique challenges."
Isla absorbed this information, surprised. Her research on Duluth had focused on the city's industrial decline, not its potential as a nexus for criminal enterprise. Perhaps this assignment wouldn't be the complete career stagnation she'd feared.
“Come on,” Channing said, “both of you. Let’s continue the tour.”
As they walked through the office, Isla noticed Sullivan keeping a careful distance beside her. His shoulders were rigid, hands tucked in his pockets. The body language spoke volumes – professional politeness masking reluctance.
"Our jurisdiction covers thirteen counties," Channing explained as they entered the main conference room. "From the Canadian border down to Pine County. We coordinate with tribal authorities on seven reservations, plus local law enforcement across northeastern Minnesota."
The wall displayed a large map dotted with colored pins. Sullivan stepped forward, pointing to clusters along Lake Superior's shoreline.
"These markers represent unusual activity in the past six months. Shipments coming through the port with documentation that doesn't quite add up. Nothing concrete enough for customs to flag, but the pattern's there."
Isla moved closer to the map, studying the distribution. "These are too regular for random smuggling. It's organized."
Sullivan's eyebrows raised slightly. "That's what I've been saying."
"Agent Sullivan has developed sources throughout the shipping industry," Channing added. "Local knowledge that's proven invaluable."
"The problem," Sullivan continued, "is we can't determine what's being moved. Traditional drug indicators aren't present."
"Human trafficking?" Isla suggested.
"Possible, but the pattern doesn't fit established corridors." Sullivan crossed his arms. "Whatever it is, they're using the legitimate shipping infrastructure as cover."
They ended in a large conference room where Channing pulled up digital maps of Duluth's port facilities on a wall-mounted screen.
"Most people don't realize how significant this port is," Channing explained, zooming in on the harbor area. "Over thirty million tons of cargo moves through annually, connecting the heartland to the Atlantic via the Great Lakes and St. Lawrence Seaway."
Isla studied the complex network of docks, warehouses, and rail connections. "It's much more extensive than I expected."
"It's also vulnerable," Sullivan said. "Too many entry points, too few eyes watching."
Before Channing could respond, her phone rang. The conversation was brief, her expression growing serious as she listened.
"We've got a situation," she announced after ending the call. "Harbor patrol just found a body inside a locked shipping container at the port terminal."
Sullivan straightened, already reaching for his coat hanging on a nearby rack.
"Looks like you'll get your welcome to Duluth sooner than expected, Agent Rivers," Channing said, a grim determination lighting her eyes. "This case is perfectly suited to baptize you into Great Lakes law enforcement."
As they prepared to leave, Isla caught Sullivan watching her, his expression calculating. She lifted her chin slightly, a silent message that whatever test this was, and she intended to pass it.
CHAPTER TWO
A storm had started and further intensified by the time they left the field office. Fat snowflakes swirled in gusting winds that cut through Isla's inadequate coat. Sullivan led her to a Bureau SUV, brushing snow from the windshield with practiced efficiency.
