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The door creaked open, and the kidnapper stepped out, lingering for a moment before closing it again. He flashed Carissa a tight-lipped smile, as if to reassure her one last time that he meant no harm.
"Take care of yourself," he said softly before turning away.
Heart pounding, she barely allowed him to take a step away from the car before she slammed her foot on the gas pedal, sending gravel flying in all directions. She didn't dare look back, focusing solely on putting as much distance between them as possible.
"Finally," she whispered to herself, trying to calm her racing heart. "I'm free."
Her hands tightened around the steering wheel, slick with sweat inside the gloves he'd given her earlier. They were black leather, an odd gift from a man who had terrified her only moments ago. The uneasiness in her stomach grew stronger, making it difficult to focus on the road ahead.
"Stay calm," she told herself, taking deep breaths to steady her nerves. "Just get home and forget about this nightmare."
As she rounded a bend, the headlights of an oncoming vehicle pierced the darkness, momentarily blinding her. She squinted, struggling to see past the sudden glare, but her vision blurred, and her head swam with dizziness. Panic gripped her as her body betrayed her, her limbs growing heavy and unresponsive.
What's happening to me?she thought frantically, her breathing shallow and labored.Am I having a heart attack? A stroke?
The car veered toward the center line as her grip on the steering wheel slackened, the cold reality of her situation settling in like a shroud. The oncoming headlights drew closer, their blinding light the last thing she saw as the world went dark around her.
CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR
The first rays of sunlight seeped through the blinds, casting thin strips of light onto Morgan's face. She groaned and pulled the covers over her head, trying to ignore the persistent headache that throbbed behind her eyes. Her mouth was dry, as if she'd been chewing on cotton balls all night. Damn whiskey, she thought.
She knew she shouldn't have had that last drink, but the memories of yesterday weighed heavily on her conscience. In a moment of desperation, she had asked Thomas for help – something she rarely did. He was brilliant with computers, and she had needed his expertise to dig deeper into the database that held vital information about the case.
Morgan couldn't shake the guilt of involving Thomas in her personal crusade for justice. He was a good guy, but she had dragged him into a dangerous game. What if someone found out he had helped her? He could lose everything: his job, his freedom, maybe even his life. It was a risk she had been willing to take for herself, but putting Thomas in the line of fire made her stomach churn.
"God, what have I done?" she whispered, rubbing her temples.
As she lay there, the room slowly brightened, and she knew she couldn't hide from the day any longer. With a sigh, she swung her legs over the side of the bed and planted her feet on the cold hardwood floor. The chill sent shivers up her spine, but it also cleared some of the cobwebs from her mind.
Morgan stood and stretched her aching limbs, feeling the stiffness in her muscles from another restless night. She glanced at the clock on the wall: 6:15 AM. It was a new day, and despite her guilt and the lingering effects of her hangover, she had work to do. There was still a killer on the loose, and she couldn't afford to waste any more time.
The hard edges of determination forged by years of adversity settled over Morgan like a suit of armor, pushing the guilt and uncertainty to the back of her mind. There would be time for second-guessing later; right now, she had work to do. She pulled on a pair of dark jeans and a gray button-down shirt, her movements swift and efficient. The familiar weight of her gun holstered at her side was both a comfort and a reminder of the stakes.
Her fingers were just finishing with the last button when her phone rang, the pulsating tone slicing through the early morning quiet. Without hesitation, she grabbed it and pressed it to her ear. "Cross."
"Hey, Morgan, it's Derik," said the voice on the other end. There was an undercurrent of urgency in his tone that instantly set her on edge. "We've got another one."
"Where?" Her heart thundered in her chest, adrenaline flooding her system as the weariness of the hangover receded.
"Car crash near Pine Street, on the outskirts of town. Looks like the same M.O. as the others." Derik's words were clipped, professional, but she could hear the concern beneath them. They'd been tracking this killer for months, and each new victim only heightened their sense of helplessness.
"Damn it," Morgan muttered, clenching her free hand into a fist. Another life was taken, and another family was left shattered. And still no closer to catching the bastard responsible. "I'll be there ASAP."
"Be careful, Morgan. We don't know what we're dealing with yet." Derik's warning was unnecessary – she knew all too well the dangers they faced – but she appreciated it all the same. It was good to know someone had her back.
"Always am," she replied, her voice steady, despite her anxious thoughts. She ended the call and took a deep breath, her eyes flicking to the small framed photo on the bedside table: a younger version of herself, smiling and carefree. A lifetime ago.
"Let's catch this son of a bitch," she whispered, and strode out of the room, her resolve hardening with each step.
***
The sun was a pale disc in the sky, casting weak light on the quiet street as Morgan pulled up to the scene. Her heart hammered against her ribcage; she knew what awaited her, but it didn't make it any easier to face. She stepped out of her car, gravel crunching beneath her boots, and took a moment to steady herself before approaching the wreckage.
"Hey, Morgan," Derik greeted her grimly as she hurried over, flashing lights casting eerie shadows across his face. "I wish we were meeting under better circumstances."
In truth, Morgan wished they weren't meeting at all. It bothered her how Derik could act so casually with her after everything that had happened. He had betrayed her in numerous ways, lying to her about his knowledge about the people who framed her, for one, and two, the fact that he still hadn't told her what she needed to know. Morgan had accepted that maybe Derik had just been a pawn to those men too, that maybe he did know nothing…
But it didn’t mean she had to trust him.
