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"Y-yes," Sam stammered, sweat trickling down the sides of his face. "I get a good price for them from collectors. I know it's wrong, but I needed the money."
Morgan considered his words for a moment before asking, "What's your alibi for last night? Where were you when Melissa was killed?"
"Home," Sam insisted, his voice firming up with conviction. "I was home all night with my wife. She doesn't know about the illegal bird sales or the extra cash I've been making. I wanted to surprise her with a vacation once I had enough money." He looked pleadingly at Morgan, desperation shining in his beady brown eyes.
Morgan pursed her lips, her thoughts racing. While she couldn't shake the feeling that Sam knew more than he was letting on, she also knew that Sam having a bird collection didn't make him a killer. "Perhaps you should find a more honest way to make money," she suggested icily. "Something tells me your wife won't be too keen on a vacation funded by criminal activity."
Sam nodded vigorously, his face a mix of relief and shame. "You're right. I'll do better. I promise."
As Morgan stared into Sam's eyes, she knew that while he might not be completely innocent, it was becoming increasingly doubtful that he was Melissa's killer. The connection to the red feather remained a mystery, one that she and Derik would need to unravel together.
"Alright, Sam," Morgan said, her voice softening slightly. "We're going to look into your alibi. But if you're lying... well, I suggest you don't." She rose from her seat, leaving the interrogation room with Derik close behind.
As they walked down the sterile hallway, Morgan's thoughts were consumed by the unanswered questions surrounding Melissa's murder. And though she knew the case was far from over, she couldn't help but feel a sense of unease creeping in – an unsettling feeling that the truth might be even more twisted than she could imagine.
Just as Morgan was about to ask Derik what he thought of all this, her phone buzzed in her pocket. She glanced at the screen and saw that it was a call from the lab. Excusing herself, she stepped up the quiet hallway to answer.
"Agent Cross speaking," she said, her voice low and guarded.
"Agent Cross, this is Marsha from the lab," the caller identified herself. "I've got some results for you on that feather analysis you requested."
"Great, I'll come down right away." Morgan hung up and turned to Derik. "Can you handle things here while I go check on those lab results?"
"Of course," Derik nodded, understanding the urgency. "I'll confirm Sam's alibi and keep an eye on him."
"Thanks." With that, Morgan hurried away, her mind already racing with anticipation.
***
The lab at FBI headquarters was a sterile, white-tiled space filled with high-tech equipment and the soft hum of machinery. As Morgan walked in, she spotted Marsha sitting at a computer, peering intently at the screen. The lab tech looked up when she heard the door open, offering Morgan a tight-lipped smile.
"Agent Cross, glad you could make it so quickly," Marsha greeted her.
"Time's critical in cases like these," Morgan replied, her eyes scanning the room. "So, what have you found out about our mysterious feather?"
"Let me show you," Marsha gestured for Morgan to join her at the computer. As the agent leaned in, Marsha pointed at the screen. "Our analysis indicates that the feather is from a rare and endangered bird species. It's not something you'd find just anywhere."
Morgan's heart raced at the new information. Could this be the lead they needed to crack the case wide open? "What kind of bird are we talking about?" she asked, her voice tense with excitement.
Marsha hesitated, clearly weighing her words. "It appears to be from a type of parrot native to the Brazilian rainforest."
Morgan studied the vibrant red feather displayed on the table in front of her, its delicate structure a stark contrast to the sterile lab environment. Marsha, the lab tech, looked at Morgan expectantly.
"Alright, Marsha," Morgan said, trying to keep her impatience in check. "Is there anything you can tell me about this feather?"
"Like I mentioned earlier," Marsha began, carefully picking up the feather with gloved fingers, "this feather is from a rare and endangered bird species—a type of parrot found in the Brazilian rainforest."
"Any idea how someone here in Dallas could get their hands on such a bird?" Morgan asked, her eyes narrowing as she considered the implications.
"Unfortunately, I don't have that answer for you," Marsha replied, setting the feather back down. "I'm no expert on birds, but maybe you should talk to someone who is."
"Right," Morgan nodded, feeling a newfound sense of urgency. "Thanks, Marsha."
"Of course, Agent Cross. Good luck with your investigation."
As Morgan exited the lab, her mind buzzed with questions. A red feather from a Brazilian parrot had to be a major clue. The killer must have obtained it somewhere, but where? She needed to talk to someone who had knowledge in this field.
Just then, her phone buzzed in her pocket. She answered it, recognizing Derik's name on the screen. "Cross."
