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"Right next to his workplace?" Derik said, incredulous. "This killer has some nerve."
"Another shift in MO," Morgan added, her voice low as she observed the crime scene. The daylight murder was a far cry from Melissa's body found hidden in a back alley.
Slipping on a pair of latex gloves, Morgan approached the body cautiously, her eyes locked on the feathers clutched in each of Steven's hands. One brown, one green. What could it mean?
As Morgan leaned in, she noticed that Steven's eyes were slightly open, staring blankly into the sky. She felt a shiver run down her spine but forced herself to focus. There had to be something here, something that would help them understand why this man had been targeted.
"Derik, look at his eyes," Morgan said quietly, motioning for him to come closer.
Derik stepped up beside her, following her gaze. "They're open... Wait, are they different colors?"
"Seems like it," Morgan confirmed, tilting her head for a better angle. She couldn't shake the feeling that the answer to the connection between the victims lay in their extraordinary features. But what did it all mean? And more importantly, who was behind these gruesome murders?
Morgan flicked on her flashlight, illuminating Steven's lifeless eyes. The heterochromia was unmistakable—one eye a deep, rich brown and the other a vivid green. She glanced over at Derik, who stood beside her with furrowed brows.
"His eyes are definitely different colors," she said, trying to make sense of it all. "Heterochromia."
Derik studied the body for a moment before asking, "What do you think it means?"
Morgan hesitated, her mind racing. "I think the killer is targeting people with extraordinary features, then leaving feathers to match their palettes." She looked back at the brown and green feathers clutched in Steven's hands, then at his mismatched eyes. "But I have no idea why he's doing this or what it means."
As the agents continued to examine the scene, Morgan couldn't help but feel a sense of dread creeping up on her. The killer's MO was becoming clearer, but the motive was still a mystery. Why leave feathers and target people with unique features? Was it some sort of twisted game, or was there a deeper meaning behind it all? Morgan wasn't sure, but she needed to talk to the owner of this farm, the man who employed Steven, and see what he had to say about all of this. A murder in broad daylight, right next to the farm, was a bold move by the killer.
CHAPTER TWELVE
After gaining everything she could from the crime scene, Morgan made her way toward the nearby farmhouse to speak with the owner who had employed Steven, with Derik close behind. His name was Robert Tuck, apparently, and this farm had been in his family a long time, according to the intel she'd gotten from the cops. The property was unkempt, tools scattered haphazardly across the yard, and the house itself appeared neglected.
Morgan knocked on the door, waiting for a response. When none came, she knocked again, harder this time. Finally, she heard shuffling from inside the house, and a gruff voice called out, "Who is it?"
"Agent Cross, FBI. I'd like to speak with you for a moment, sir," Morgan replied, her tone professional.
The door creaked open, revealing a tall, weathered man with deep lines etched into his face. He looked the agents up and down before grunting and stepping aside to let them enter.
"What do you want?" he asked, his voice gruff.
"Are you the owner of this farm?" Morgan inquired, her tone professional but firm. "We're here to talk about Steven Kirk."
The man's gaze flickered between them, as if weighing his options. "I already talked to the cops. I got nothing else to say."
"Mr. Tuck, my name is Morgan Cross, FBI, and this is my partner, Derik Greene."
"Like I told the cops," Robert grumbled, leaning against the door frame with a scowl etched onto his face, "I don't know what happened to Steven. He worked here, that's all. Now leave me alone."
"Your cooperation would be greatly appreciated, Mr. Tuck," Morgan insisted calmly, noting the tense line of Derik's jaw as he observed their interaction. "We're just trying to find out who killed your employee."
"Employee?" Robert spat out the word like a curse. "I didn't even want him working here in the first place!"
"Can you tell us more about that?" Morgan asked, her curiosity piqued.
Robert's eyes narrowed, and he attempted to slam the door shut. But Morgan was quick, her hand shooting out to prevent it from closing. She could feel the tension building between them, but she couldn't back down now. They were getting closer to the truth, and she needed answers.
"Leave me alone!" Robert roared, reappearing in the doorway with a shotgun cradled in his arms. Derik instantly drew his gun, aiming it at the farmer. The air crackled with tension, each second stretched taut like a wire about to snap.
"Robert, listen to me," Morgan said firmly, raising her hands in a placating gesture. "You don't want to do this. We're federal agents, and threatening us can land you in serious trouble."
"Damn right, I have the right to defend myself! This is my property!" Robert snarled, his grip tightening on the shotgun. "Now get off my land!"
Morgan's thoughts raced, trying to find a way to defuse the situation without further escalating it. She could feel Derik's unwavering gaze on her, silently urging her to make the right move.
