Page 68 of If You're Reading This
By the time Logan, Duke, Andi, and Ranger reached the overlook point that matched Morgan’s photograph, dusk had deepened into genuine darkness, the stars emerging like pinpricks in the black canvas overhead.
They all split up, having decided in advance who would cover what area.
“No sign of Walsh,” Duke said in the comm system they’d set up before coming. “No sign of anyone.”
Logan adjusted his position behind the rocky outcropping that provided both cover and a clear view of the small peninsula jutting into the lake—the exact spot where Morgan had set up her tripod the day of her shoot. The crack in the ice remained visible, a darker line bisecting the frozen surface.
Now came the hardest part.
They waited, careful to remain quiet and out of sight. Even nature seemed silent around them.
No wind. No animals.
Nothing.
Finally, three hours after they arrived, a buzz sounded overhead.
“The aurora’s starting.” Andi’s voice came through Logan’s earpiece.
He glanced up toward the northern sky where green tendrils had begun to unfurl, their ghostly light casting an otherworldly glow across the landscape.
Through his binoculars, Logan studied the peninsula.
If the killer followed his established pattern, he’d recreate Morgan’s composition precisely. That meant positioning his victim at the same angle, with the same framing, the same relationship between figure and landscape.
“I see movement.” Ranger said from his position on the southeastern corner of the lake. “Single figure approaching on foot.”
Logan redirected his binoculars, catching the distinctive flash of a headlamp approximately half a mile from their position.
The figure moved with purpose, following the lake’s edge with the confidence of someone who knew exactly where they were going.
“That’s our guy,” Duke whispered. “It has to be.”
Logan bristled as he prepared himself to act.
Logan signaled for everyone to maintain positions. They needed to see if Morgan or another victim was with him before making their move.
“Ranger, do you have a visual on anyone else?” Logan asked into his mic. “Any sign of Morgan or another potential victim?”
“Negative. Just the one figure so far.”
The minutes stretched by as they tracked the figure’s progress around the lake. The aurora intensified overhead, ribbons of green and violet dancing across the stars. Their reflection shimmered across the ice just as Morgan had captured in her photograph.
“He’s stopping.” Andi kept her binoculars trained on the distant figure. “Right at the peninsula.”
Logan’s heart rate quickened as he watched the figure begin to set up a camera.
“No sign of a victim,” Duke reported.
The figure worked methodically in the ghostly light of the aurora, setting up what appeared to be a tripod and camera.
“Still no sign of a second person.” Duke voiced the concern growing in each of their minds.
“Something’s wrong,” Logan muttered. “This doesn’t fit the pattern.”
As if in confirmation of his unease, the figure suddenly looked up from his camera. He stared directly at their hidden position on the ridge.
Even at this distance, the deliberate nature of the movement was unmistakable.
