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"Are you sure about this?" Derik asked, breaking the tense silence as they sped through the city streets. "What if it's another dead end?"
"Trust me, Derik," Morgan replied, her voice steady despite the storm of doubts raging inside her. "I've been studying the patterns, and I'm almost certain this is where we'll find Mary."
Derik nodded, his jaw set in a grim line as he stared out the window. They both knew that if Morgan was wrong, they might never get another chance to save Mary – or any other potential victims.
Morgan's heart pounded fiercely against her ribcage, each beat a reminder of the precious time slipping away. She couldn't shake the feeling that every second counted, and she silently prayed that her instincts were right.
"Okay," Derik said, turning back to face her. "Let's do this."
CHAPTER TWENTY NINE
The sun was high, casting bright rays across the manicured lawn as Morgan and Derik climbed the porch steps of Greg van Sant's suburban home. The place oozed normalcy, a façade that Morgan knew concealed an illicit secret. She hesitated for a moment, her hand hovering over the doorbell, then decided against it. Instead, she rapped sharply on the door with her knuckles, the sound echoing through the quiet neighborhood.
"Who is it?" a muffled voice called from inside.
"Open up, we need to talk!" Morgan shouted back, her patience wearing thin.
Greg van Sant's face appeared in the doorway, his eyebrows climbing toward his receding hairline. It was clear he hadn't been expecting visitors, especially not two grim-faced FBI agents.
"Agents Cross and Greene," Morgan said, flashing her badge. "We're here about Mary."
"Mary?" Greg's face drained of color, his eyes widening in alarm. "What about her?"
"Look," Morgan began, cutting straight to the point. "We know about your relationship with Mary. But right now, our priority is her safety. We believe she's in danger, and you might be the only one who can help us find her."
"Mary's in danger?" Greg repeated, the fear in his voice palpable. "What do you mean?"
Greg's face blanched as he stepped onto the porch, hastily closing the door behind him. The faint sound of a television show drifted from inside the house, muffled by the barrier between them. Morgan could tell he was desperate to keep his wife from overhearing their conversation.
"Exactly what are you talking about?" he demanded, his voice barely above a whisper.
"Listen, Mr. van Sant," Morgan replied, her voice low and urgent. "I don't care about your affair with Mary. That's not why we're here. Mary is in imminent danger, and we need to find her before it's too late."
She watched as Greg's eyes widened with fear and disbelief, his breaths coming in short, ragged gasps. Derik stood beside her, his jaw clenched and eyes narrowed, clearly disgusted by the whole situation but keeping his focus on the task at hand.
"Is there anywhere you can think of where she might go? Somewhere personal, somewhere she'd feel safe?" Morgan pressed, feeling the seconds ticking away.
"Safe?" Greg hesitated, his fingers drumming nervously on the doorframe. "I don't... I mean, there is one place..."
"Look, there's no time to explain," Morgan replied urgently, her own worry for the young woman mirrored in her eyes. "We need to know where she might be right now."
Greg hesitated, glancing back towards the closed door as if expecting his wife to burst through it at any moment. He bit his lip, clearly torn between protecting his secret and helping Mary. Finally, he sighed, relenting. "Alright," he said, his voice strained. "There's a place... outside of town. A private woodshop I've been renting. I've taken Mary there for lessons, and sometimes she stays over."
Morgan's heart raced, knowing they needed to act quickly. She forced herself to focus, reminding herself that staying calm was the only way to help Mary now. "Does your wife know about this place?" she asked, even though she could guess the answer.
"No," Greg confirmed, his face flushing with shame. "She doesn't have a clue."
Derik's jaw clenched as he stared at Greg, his expression a mixture of anger and disgust. Morgan could almost feel the tension radiating off him, and she remembered how he had confided in her about his ex-wife's infidelity. That betrayal had left deep wounds, and now Greg's situation was hitting too close to home for Derik.
"Where is this woodshop?" Morgan asked, her tone sharp and urgent. She wanted to get out of there as quickly as possible, not only for Mary's sake but also for Derik's.
Greg fumbled in his pocket for a moment before pulling out a pen and scrap of paper. He jotted down the address, his hand shaking slightly. "Here," he said, handing it to Morgan. "Please, find her."
"Stay here," Morgan commanded, locking eyes with Greg. "We'll do everything we can." She turned on her heel and strode back toward their car, Derik following closely behind.
As they got into the vehicle, she couldn't help but notice Derik's knuckles turning white as he gripped the steering wheel. "You okay?" she asked, concern coloring her voice.
"Fine," he replied curtly, but she knew better. She recognized the pain lurking beneath his terse response. A part of her wanted to reach out, to offer some words of comfort, but she knew that now wasn't the time. They had a job to do.
