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"Find anything?" Derik's voice echoed through the room, causing Morgan to jump slightly. She hadn't heard him enter. She turned to see her partner leaning against the doorway, his green eyes observing her with curiosity.
"Nothing," she said, shaking her head. "Horace's tip didn't pan out. The feather's just...red."
Derik nodded, his expression solemn. "I finished talking to Sam about the feather and the bird species. He couldn't provide any insight either."
"Of course not," Morgan muttered, more to herself than to Derik. She crossed her arms, her dark tattoos peeking out from under her sleeves as she contemplated the situation. "The feather comes from a bird that represents the afterlife in an ancient Brazilian tribe's culture," she told him. "But I'm not sure how that ties into the murder. It could be some kind of message from the killer, but it doesn't help us figure out who they are."
Derik rubbed his chin thoughtfully, his tired eyes reflecting the weight of their unsolved case. "You're right. We need something more concrete to go on. We can't just rely on obscure cultural references."
Morgan couldn't help but agree, even as her gut told her that the key to solving this case lay hidden within this feather's origins. But for now, they had reached a dead end. As she glanced back at the evidence bag, she silently vowed to uncover the truth, no matter how many feathers it took. The victims deserved nothing less.
"Maybe we should consult a historian or an expert on Brazilian tribal culture," Derik suggested, his eyes lighting up with renewed hope. "Someone who can provide more insight into the feather's significance."
Morgan nodded, her determination to solve this case keeping her focused. "It's a good lead. I'll look into it." She stepped forward, intending to leave the evidence room and start her search for such an expert immediately. But as she moved to walk past Derik, he shifted his stance, blocking her path.
Suddenly, Morgan found herself mere inches from him, so close she could feel the warmth radiating from his body. A flush crept up her neck, her heart pounding in her chest. They hadn't been this close in a long time, and for good reason. The memories of their past relationship were both painful and bittersweet. She couldn't help but feel vulnerable in his presence.
"Derik, what are you doing?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper, betraying her unease.
"Look, Morgan..." Derik began, his voice filled with a mixture of regret and longing. "I want to make things right between us. I know I messed up, and I'm willing to do anything to earn your trust back. I just...I need you to give me a chance."
Morgan was left speechless, her mind racing with conflicting emotions. Part of her still felt a connection to Derik, but his lies had been too much to bear in the past, leaving her wary and afraid to trust again. As she stared into his sincere eyes, she struggled to find the words that would adequately convey the turmoil inside her.
"Derik, I..."
"Come on, Morgan," Derik urged gently, his concern evident in his eyes. "You've been quiet lately, like something's bothering you. You can tell me what's wrong; we're partners."
Morgan bit her lip, fighting the urge to spill her secret. She couldn't risk Thomas finding out she'd told anyone about Skunk, especially not Derik. The threat of losing her beloved Pitbull was a constant weight on her mind, and it took everything she had to keep the worry from showing.
"Derik, I..." she started but was cut off by the shrill ring of her phone. Relief washed over her as she fumbled in her pocket to retrieve the device, grateful for the interruption. Her heart dropped, however, when she saw Assistant Director Mueller's name flash across the screen.
"Cross," she answered, her voice steady despite the knot forming in her stomach.
"Agent Cross, we have another murder. I need you and Agent Greene to drop everything and head to the scene immediately," Mueller's voice was curt and authoritative, leaving no room for questions.
"Understood, sir. We're on our way," Morgan replied, her steely resolve clicking into place. As she hung up the call, she met Derik's questioning gaze.
"Another murder," she informed him, all traces of vulnerability vanishing behind the mask she wore as an agent. "Mueller wants us there right away."
"Let's go," Derik nodded, his own expression hardening. They exchanged one last look before both agents walked out of the evidence room, leaving the unresolved tension between them hanging in the air.
***
Morgan's car tore down the dirt road, a cloud of dust billowing in its wake. The sun was beginning to set, casting long shadows across the rough terrain and bathing the farm outside of town in a warm orange glow. Derik gripped the door handle, bracing himself as they skidded to a halt next to the police barricade. Without a word, they both leaped from the vehicle and hurried toward the commotion.
"Hey, Morgan," an officer called out as they approached. "Body's just over here."
"Thanks, Jim," she said, her eyes scanning the scene for any immediate clues. The tension in the air weighed heavily on her chest, but she pushed it aside.
As they neared the body, Morgan's breath caught in her throat. A man lay sprawled on the ground, his lifeless eyes staring blankly at the sky above. Blood pooled around the back of his head, seeping into the parched earth below. It was clear he'd been murdered on the spot, a stark contrast to Melissa's staged crime scene.
"Jesus," Derik muttered under his breath. "What's with the feathers?"
Morgan crouched down, taking in the two objects clutched tightly in the victim's hands—one brown and one green feather. She furrowed her brow, piecing together what this might mean. It wasn't the specific feather that was the MO, but feathers in general. Her mind raced with questions: Was there a connection between the victims? What did the colors of the feathers signify?
"Hey," Morgan called over to a uniformed officer, "do you have an ID on the victim?"
The officer nodded and consulted his notepad. "Yeah, his name is Steven Kirk. He works here on the farm."
