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Just then, Morgan's phone buzzed in her pocket, the sudden vibration jolting her back into reality. Derik watched as she pulled it out and glanced at the screen, her face a mask of professionalism. She swiped to answer the call, her eyes never leaving his.
"Cross," she said curtly, her voice sharp and authoritative.
"Agent Cross, it's Officer Jenkins," came the voice on the other end. "I'm watching Matt, like you asked. Nothing unusual to report so far. But there is something that caught my attention."
"Go on," she prompted, her grip on the phone tightening.
"An unfamiliar man has been spotted in the neighborhood a couple of times, wearing gloves even though it's been hot outside. I asked around, but none of the neighbors recognize him or claim he lives here."
"Did you get a photo?"
"Sending it to you now," Jenkins replied.
As Morgan waited for the image to come through, she could feel Derik's gaze on her, his curiosity piqued by the conversation. She knew he was itching to ask what was going on, but she couldn't bring herself to include him just yet. Trust had to be earned, after all.
Her phone buzzed again, signaling the arrival of the picture. She opened the message and studied the image, her brow furrowing in concentration. The man in question appeared unassuming, but there was something unsettling about the way he wore gloves in the summer heat. Morgan studied the photo intently, taking in every detail of the man's appearance. The hoodie was pulled low over his face, casting a shadow that obscured his features, but it couldn't hide the strangeness of those gloved hands hanging at his sides. Something about the image sent a shiver down her spine.
"Jenkins," she said into her phone, her voice sharp and commanding, "I want you to find this guy and bring him in for questioning."
"Understood, Agent Cross. We'll track him down."
As Morgan ended the call, she found herself staring at the photo again. Who was this man? And why was he lurking around the victim's house with gloves in the sweltering heat? Her instincts told her that there was more to his story than met the eye.
She glanced up from the photo and noticed Derik watching her, concern etched on his face. Despite everything that had happened between them, she knew he still cared. But it wasn't enough. Not yet.
"Derik," Morgan said, her voice tense and strained, "if you want to help, see if you can find out what this symbol means. I'm going to take a quick break while we wait for Jenkins."
Without waiting for his response, she turned on her heel and left the room, her steps echoing through the quiet hallway.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
The break room was dimly lit, casting shadows on the plain white walls that were adorned with outdated posters about workplace safety. The hum of the fluorescent lights above seemed to heighten the tension that hung in the air like a thick fog. Morgan approached the coffee machine, her hands trembling slightly as she reached for a stale Styrofoam cup.
"Come on, Morgan," she whispered to herself, willing the machine to dispense the dark liquid faster. "You've been through worse. You can handle this."
As the bitter aroma filled her nostrils, she tried to focus on the warmth of the cup between her hands, to allow it to ground her in the present moment. But her mind refused to cooperate, instead replaying fragments of memories and half-formed thoughts, each one more unsettling than the last.
Is this really what I've become?she wondered, her gaze fixed on the swirling patterns in her cup.A woman who can't even trust her own partner? I said I wanted to work alone... I should've stuck to it.
She shook her head, trying to dislodge the unwelcome thoughts that threatened to pull her under. This wasn't the time for introspection – not when there was a killer out there, stalking his next victim.
Taking a deep breath, Morgan raised the cup to her lips and took a tentative sip. The hot liquid scalded her tongue, but the pain was almost welcome; it served as a reminder that she was still alive, still fighting.
The sound of footsteps echoed through the break room, pulling Morgan's attention away from her coffee. She looked up to find Thomas standing in the doorway, his warm smile contrasting sharply with the cold dread that had settled in her chest.
"Hey, Morgan," he greeted her, his voice light and friendly. "Taking a break?"
"Something like that," she replied, forcing a smile onto her face. It felt strange, almost unnatural, after everything that had happened, but she couldn't deny the small measure of comfort it provided.
Thomas stepped further into the room, his movements fluid and effortless. "I've been reviewing security footage from around where the victims have been found," he said, his expression turning serious. "No luck yet, though."
Morgan's heart sank at the news. She had been clinging to the hope that they might find some clue, some connection between the victims that would lead them to their killer. But as the hours ticked by, that hope was beginning to slip through her fingers like sand.
"Thanks for trying," she told him, her words genuine despite the hollowness that accompanied them. Deep down, she knew that Thomas was doing everything he could to help her – even going above and beyond what was expected of him. And while she didn't want to admit it, she found herself grateful for his support.
"Of course," he replied, his eyes meeting hers with an intensity that took her breath away. Thomas shifted on his feet, the smile on his face never faltering. "So, listen, I know we've both been incredibly busy with this case, but I have to ask again – when are you going to let me take you out on that date?" he asked, a hint of playfulness in his voice.
Morgan hesitated for a moment, her mind racing. She knew it wasn't fair to lead him on – not when she was still so tangled up in her own emotions and unresolved issues, especially with Derik. But the offer was tempting--almost as tempting as what she could gain from Thomas's unique skill set.
