For Heather, the most frustrating thing wasn’t a lack of evidence. Evidence they had. They already knew how the perpetrator had gotten to the island. His canoe may have been reasonably well-hidden from passing eyes, but not from a team of detectives. His camp was fairly easily located, as well—even taking precautions for booby traps and preserving evidence. The island was simply too small to hide things for too long. True, they didn’t know who he was yet, but his radio had a serial number, his canoe had a registration number, and even better, there was a credit-card receipt in one of the books. There were fingerprints all over camp, and the empty beer bottles probably had enough saliva in them for a good DNA sample. They’d have him IDed in a day or two at most.