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"Goodthinking," Morgan said, nodding with approval. This woman hadinadvertently stumbled upon a vital clue, and her quick thinking might havesaved her own life.
"Can youdescribe him?" Morgan asked, reaching for her notebook. Detail waseverything; each line and curve could draw them closer to the killer.
"Um, he wasaverage height, I guess. Lean build. His hair was brown, kind of shaggy,"Jessica recalled, trying to paint the picture from the scattered fragments ofher recollection.
"Would yoube willing to work with a sketch artist?" Morgan's question was direct."Your description is a good start, but we need something visual."
Jessica nodded, atrace of determination etched into her features. "Yes, I'll do whatever Ican to help. I don't want anyone else getting hurt because of this guy."
"Thank you,Jessica. Your courage could make all the difference here." Morgan stoodup, signaling the meeting's end with a resolute nod. Jessica's sketch would bea beacon, guiding them through the murky waters of fear and suspicion towardthe man who lurked in the shadows of the war memorial park.
Morgan's fingersdrummed against the grain of the conference room table, a staccato rhythm thatmirrored the pounding of her thoughts. The room seemed to shrink around them,the air thick with the weight of unsolved murders. Jessica Edwards, who hadjust agreed to help create a composite sketch of the man she'd seen, was anunexpected lifeline in a sea of dead ends.
Suddenly, thesharp trill of Morgan's phone cut through the tension like a scalpel. Sheglanced at the caller ID, her dark eyes narrowing as she recognized the techdepartment's extension. Excusing herself with a brief tilt of her head, shestepped away from the table and answered.
"Crosshere," she spoke crisply.
"AgentCross," came the hurried voice on the other end, "we've managed toaccess Nicole Lee’s personal devices. You'll want to see this."
A spark ofurgency ignited within Morgan, her pulse quickening. This could be the breakthey needed. Every second mattered now—the thread that connected Nicole Lee'sfinal moments to their elusive killer might finally be unraveling.
"Keepeverything on lockdown. I'm on my way," Morgan instructed with theauthority of someone who knew that time was slipping through their fingers.
"Will do,Agent Cross," the tech confirmed before ending the call.
Morgan slippedthe phone back into her pocket and turned to Derik. His face, usually a calmsea, was creased with concern. She read the question in his green eyes beforehe even voiced it.
"Tech gotinto Nicole Lee's devices. I need to see what they found."
"Alright,I’ll stay with Jessica," Derik replied, his voice a solid anchor amidstthe swirling chaos. He pushed back his chair and rose to his full height, hislean form casting a long shadow across the sterile floor.
"Keep hercompany, and make sure she's ready for the sketch artist." Morgan'sinstructions were clear and concise. She trusted Derik—his betrayal was a woundthat had scabbed over with the passing of time and the shared pursuit ofjustice.
With a nod thatconveyed both understanding and readiness, Derik settled back down, turning hisattention to Jessica. She was crucial now, a beacon that might lead them out ofthe darkness.
Morgan strode outof the briefing room, her tattoos hidden beneath her clothing like the scars ofher past—each one a testament to survival and strength. The tech lab awaited, aden of digital revelations that held the potential key to unlocking the identityof a killer who hid among them, taunting them with shadows and silence.
***
Morgan's bootsechoed in the sterile stillness of the FBI's tech lab, a symphony of purposethat carried her swiftly past rows of humming machines and glowing screens. Theair was thick with the tension of anticipation, each technician a sentinel inthe war against the darkness that had claimed four lives—and counting.
"AgentCross," greeted a young tech agent, his voice betraying a trace ofnervousness as he stood to meet the reputation that preceded her. He was afresh recruit, but his eyes were alight with the fervor of one who believed inthe cause, his fingers eager to unravel the digital enigma laid out beforethem.
"Show mewhat you've found," Morgan said, her words clipped as she pulled up achair beside him, her tattooed arms folding across her chest, a barrier againstthe dread that threatened to seep into her bones.
The young agentnodded, swallowed hard, and turned back to his keyboard. With a few deftclicks, he called up the footage they'd extracted from Nicole Lee's cloudaccount—images that might hold the key to unlocking the shadow that stalkedtheir city.
As the videobuffered on the screen, Morgan leaned forward, her gaze sharp and unyielding.She watched, the tight coil of concentration in her gut unwinding with eachpassing second, as Nicole Lee appeared—a spectral presence brought back to lifeby the flicker of pixels and bytes.
In the hauntingglow of the monitor, Nicole strolled through the war memorial park, hermovements casual, a stark contrast to the finality that awaited her. The park'ssolemn statues loomed in the background, silent sentinels to the horror thatunfolded beyond the camera's eye.
Morgan's jawclenched, a visceral response to the all-too-familiar dance with death capturedin high definition. She scrutinized every detail, searching for an anomaly, aclue that might shatter the killer's veil of secrecy. Her history—the yearsspent behind bars, wrongfully accused—had honed her instincts to a razor'sedge. She would not let another innocent life be extinguished, not while shehad breath in her body and resolve in her heart.
"Rewindit," she instructed, her voice steady despite the storm brewing within."Let's go through it frame by frame."
The agentcomplied, his own intensity a reflection of hers, as together they embarked ona silent vigil. Each frame revealed more of the park, the night's darknesspierced only by the occasional streetlamp and the soft luminescence of Nicole'sphone.
"Stopthere," Morgan commanded suddenly, her finger stabbing at the screen wherea shadow moved at the edge of the light—a whisper of movement that could justas easily have been a trick of the mind. But Morgan knew better; shadows hadbecome her domain, both in her past and now, in her quest for redemption andjustice.
