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Morgan carefully turned the white glove inside out, her eyes scanning every inch of the delicate fabric for any clues. The room seemed to hold its breath as she worked, the hum of the overhead fluorescent lights the only sound accompanying her movements.
"Wait," she whispered, pausing as her eyes locked onto a small detail that hadn't been visible before. It was a tiny stitched monogram, almost imperceptible amid the intricate lace patterns. "Derik, look at this."
"Where?" he asked, leaning in closer to examine the glove with her.
"Here," Morgan pointed out, her gloved finger hovering just above the minuscule letters. "See those stitches? That's a monogram, or some kind of signature. It looks almost like... a series of arrows."
"Interesting," Derik mused, his brow furrowing. "Killers sometimes leave calling cards like this. But what does it stand for?"
"I don't know yet," Morgan admitted, feeling a renewed sense of determination. This clue could be the key to understanding the killer's motive and ultimately stopping him. "Let's take this to the briefing room and see if we can find any matches for this symbol."
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
In the briefing room, Morgan sat at a computer, her fingers flying over the keyboard as she conducted a reverse image search on the mysterious monogram. Derik paced behind her, trying to keep his mind occupied while they waited for the results.
"Anything?" he asked after several minutes had passed.
"Nothing," Morgan sighed, frustration creeping into her voice. "No matches for this symbol. It's like it doesn't exist."
"Maybe it's something personal to the killer," Derik offered, attempting to help. "A family crest, or some sort of secret organization?"
"Could be," Morgan conceded, her mind racing with possibilities. She knew they were close to unraveling the truth, but this monogram remained stubbornly elusive. "We're missing something, Derik. We just need to figure out what it is."
"Let's take a step back," Derik suggested, placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "We'll find the answer, Morgan. We always do."
Morgan stared at the computer screen. The search bar blinked mockingly, a cruel reminder of the countless failed attempts to find any information on the monogram. Her fingers hovered over the keyboard, ready to type in yet another combination of keywords.
"Maybe we're going about this the wrong way," Derik said, leaning against the table next to her. "We could try researching different types of monograms, see if that leads us anywhere."
"Maybe." Morgan's voice was flat, her mind churning with frustration and growing desperation. Time was running out, and they still had nothing solid to go on.
Derik fell silent, watching her intently. She could feel his eyes on her, heavy with unspoken thoughts. Morgan knew what he wanted to say, but she wasn't ready to have that conversation—not now, when there was so much at stake.
"Look, Morgan—" he started, only for her to cut him off.
"Save it, Derik. We can talk later. Right now, let's focus on finding this killer."
"Fine," he muttered. "But at some point, we're going to have to address the damn elephant in the room."
Morgan turned back to the computer, her stomach twisting with both relief and bitterness. They needed to work together, at least for now. But she couldn't forget, couldn't forgive his betrayal. Not yet.
Morgan typed in another set of keywords, her pulse quickening as new images filled the screen. Maybe this time, they would find something—some clue that would lead them to the truth.
And as she continued her search, Morgan couldn't help but wonder if they would ever be able to mend the fractured bond between them. Or if it was simply too broken, destined to splinter further with every passing day.
The tension in the room was palpable as Morgan continued to sift through the seemingly endless string of search results, her fingers tapping impatiently on the desk. The silence between her and Derik was suffocating, but she refused to be the one to break it. She had every right to be mad at him, and until he made things right, she wasn't going to let that anger fade.
"Look, Morgan," Derik finally spoke up, his voice hesitant and a little shaky. "I just wanted to say... I'm sorry."
Morgan's fingers froze on the keyboard, but she didn't look away from the screen. Her jaw clenched, and she could feel the anger boiling under her skin. Still, she said nothing, waiting for him to continue.
"I thought I told you to save it for later," she said.
"Well, I don't want to," he told her. "I want things to go back to the way they were before," he admitted, his eyes searching her face for any sign of forgiveness. "I know I messed up, but we were a great team once. I miss that."
She couldn't ignore him any longer. With a sigh, she turned to face him, her gaze icy. "There's only one way to do that, Derik," she said, her voice low and steady. "Help me find the people who put me in prison. Give me all the information you've got."
His expression tightened, and she could see the reluctance in his eyes. But she wouldn't budge. This was non-negotiable.
