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CHAPTER

THIRTY-FIVE

Still in Morgan’s cabin with Duke and Andi, Logan continued to stare at the photograph of Borealis Lake, the aurora’s reflection fracturing along a single, perfect crack in the ice.

Morgan’s artistic vision had captured something elemental—beauty on the precipice of destruction. Now that same vision was being twisted into a murder map.

The cabin felt too small suddenly, the walls pressing in with the weight of what they’d discovered.

He rubbed his temples, exhaustion and fear creating a persistent throb behind his eyes.

Two nights without real sleep were catching up to him.

It had been six days since Morgan vanished. Two men were dead. Each murder had been meticulously staged to mirror her photographs.

“So you’re thinking this killer is imitating one photo from each one of her six most popular series,” Andi murmured. “Based on that, the next body should be found at Borealis Lake. Tomorrow.”

“Correct.”

“Borealis Lake is remote.” Duke’s expression was grim as he said the words. “There’s a minimal chance of witnesses there, and access is difficult.”

“That makes the location perfect for his purposes.” Logan’s words hung in the air, heavy with implication.

Andi’s phone chimed with an incoming text. Her eyes widened, then she looked up at them. “It’s Matthew.”

They’d reached out to him for help.

“He’s identified a man named Reuben Walsh who’s been flagged multiple times by gallery staff for his persistent interest in Morgan,” Andi told them. “He sends flowers after every show, and he called the gallery seventeen times in the past month asking about her schedule.”

“Anything else?” Logan asked.

“This guy works night shifts as a security guard at an office complex—a quiet job that gives him plenty of time to research Morgan online.” Andi frowned as she stared at the message on her screen.

“He’s forty-two, divorced, no kids. His ex-wife filed a restraining order two years ago for what she called ‘obsessive behavior.’”

Logan’s jaw tightened. The name was vaguely familiar. Morgan had mentioned a particularly enthusiastic amateur photographer once or twice, though she’d brushed off Logan’s concern. She’d said something about a man who wanted to be her protégé.

“Last known location?” he asked.

“That’s the thing.” Andi frowned again at her phone. “According to Matthew, Walsh purchased an expensive set of cold-weather camping gear yesterday. He charged it to his credit card along with supplies that suggest he’s planning an extended stay somewhere remote.”

Duke and Logan exchanged a look that communicated volumes. The timeline matched perfectly.

“We need to be there tomorrow,” Logan said. “When this guy shows up, we’ve got to catch him.”

“I agree,” Duke said. “And in the meantime, we need to prepare. We can’t go out there without precautions put in place.”

“Should you tell Ashcroft?” Andi asked.

He shook his head. “Captain Ashcroft’s looking for any excuse to shut me down permanently. I call this in, and none of us will be in a position to help Morgan.”

“He’s right.” Duke nodded slowly. “We go in quiet, confirm our suspicions, then call it in when we have something concrete.”

Andi hesitated only briefly before nodding. “Okay then. Count me in.”

The next day, the team spent all morning planning. They’d even called in backup.

Ranger Garrett was going to help them. They could use the manpower the former CIA operative offered. Matthew had helped with some things behind the scenes as well, and Mariella had said she was on standby if they needed her to post anything online—any requests for help from the public, etc.

As they loaded gear into Logan’s SUV, Duke outlined their approach.

“We’ll hike in from the lower trail—it adds two miles but keeps us hidden from the main viewing area,” Duke said. “If this guy is setting up his scene, he’ll want the exact vantage point from Morgan’s photograph.”

Logan nodded, his mind already mapping the terrain. He’d accompanied Morgan once on a photo shoot—not to Borealis Lake but to the oil fields. He remembered how she’d spent hours waiting for the perfect light, the exact moment when the aurora’s reflection aligned with the solitary crack in the ice.

“We should reach the lake by nightfall.” He checked the time on his phone. “That gives us time to establish positions before it’s too dark outside.”

Andi climbed into the passenger seat, her laptop balanced on her knees. “Ranger’s gathering his wilderness gear and will meet us at the trailhead.”

The gravity of what they were attempting settled over the SUV as Logan pulled away from Morgan’s cabin.

Three civilians and one on-the-verge-of-suspension state trooper, all pursuing a killer who’d already claimed two victims and abducted Morgan.

The protocol violations alone would end his career if Ashcroft found out.

Logan didn’t care.

Career, regulations, consequences—none of it mattered compared to finding Morgan alive.