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With each step, Morgan's resolve hardened. This time, she wouldn't make the same mistakes. This time, she would do whatever it took to bring Joe Dancer to justice and protect the innocent lives he threatened.
But first, she needed to find the connection between this girl and Joe's twisted motives. And she needed to do it fast. Time was not on their side.
***
Back at the precinct, the briefing room was a hive of activity. Thomas and the tech team were hunched over their computers, rapidly typing and scanning through databases as they searched for the identity of the woman with an M name and a woodshop teacher connection.
"Any luck yet?" Morgan asked, striding into the room with urgency in her voice, her eyes darting from one screen to another.
"Nothing concrete so far," Thomas replied, frustration evident in his tone. "We've narrowed it down to a few possible individuals, but we need more information to pinpoint the exact person."
"Keep looking," she urged, her fingers drumming impatiently on the table beside her. "We don't have much time."
As the team continued their search, Morgan paced the room, her mind working overtime to unravel the twisted logic behind Joe's killings. Woodworking seemed like such an innocuous detail, and yet it held the key to saving this girl's life.
"Come on, come on," she muttered, her impatience growing with each passing second. "There has to be something we're missing."
"Wait," Thomas called out suddenly, his fingers flying across the keyboard. "I think I might have something."
Morgan stood by the window, her eyes tracing the movement of the traffic outside, but her focus was on the tense atmosphere within the room. The hum of computer fans and the rapid keystrokes of the tech team were the soundtrack to a high-stakes search for a single piece of information.
"Damn it," she muttered under her breath, biting her thumb in frustration. Her thoughts raced, thinking about how Joe Dancer had slipped through their fingers. She couldn't let him claim another victim.
"Any progress?" Morgan asked, her voice tight as she turned to face Thomas.
"Nothing yet, but we're closing in," one of the analysts replied, his brow furrowed in concentration. "We just need a bit more time."
"Time is something we don't have," Morgan snapped, her anxiety spilling over into anger. She took a deep breath, reminding herself that the team was doing their best.
"Hey, I've got something!" Thomas called out from across the room. Morgan's heart leaped with hope as she crossed the room in two strides, her eyes locked on the screen. Thomas followed suit.
"Talk to me," she said, trying to keep her voice steady.
"Mary Stone, twenty years old," Thomas read from the screen, excitement evident in his voice. "She's enrolled in a woodworking class at the local college. Her teacher is Greg van Sant, a professional woodworker who tutors part-time."
"Finally," Morgan sighed with relief. "Thomas, I want you to go to Mary's address and check things out for yourself. And arrange a team to head to her workplace. Keep me updated on everything, okay?" Morgan instructed, her eyes not leaving the screen.
"Got it," Thomas replied, already grabbing his jacket. He hesitated for a moment before asking, "What are you going to do, Morgan?"
Morgan paused, her mind racing with possibilities. The locations of the murders had all held significance for the victims – the piano hall, the pageant show... It seemed likely that Mary's passion for woodworking would be the key to finding where Joe Dancer had taken her.
"I have an idea," she said, her voice full of determination. "Most of the murder locations were important to the victims. I think Mary's interest in woodworking might lead us to where Joe's taking her."
"Sounds like a solid plan," Thomas nodded. "Be careful, Morgan."
"Always am," she replied, forcing a tight smile as she stood up from the computer. Her heart pounded in her chest, adrenaline coursing through her veins. This was it – the break they'd been waiting for. And she couldn't afford to make any more mistakes.
Just as Morgan reached for the door handle, her fingers inches away from the cool metal, Derik burst into the room, his face flushed and eyes wide with concern. "Morgan, what's happening? What did you find?" he asked, his breaths coming out in short pants.
"Relax, Derik," Morgan said without looking at him, her focus still on the door that led to her next destination. "I've got this covered."
"What do you mean 'you've got this covered'? We're a team, remember?" Derik's voice held an edge of frustration mixed with worry. He knew Morgan had a tendency to take matters into her own hands, but with the stakes so high, they couldn't afford any more missteps.
Morgan sighed, finally meeting his gaze. She saw the fear and determination mirrored in his eyes – emotions she recognized all too well within herself. "Fine," she relented, her voice softening. "I think I know where Joe's taking Mary. You can come with me, but we need to move fast."
"Thank you," Derik replied, relief washing over his features. He followed Morgan out of the room, their footsteps echoing down the empty hallway as they hurried toward the parking lot.
As she slid into the driver's seat, Morgan's grip tightened around the wheel, her knuckles turning white. Images of the victims flashed through her mind, their lifeless bodies a haunting reminder of the danger that loomed ahead. She swallowed hard, trying to push the memories away. Focus, she told herself. You can't save Mary if you're lost in the past.
