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Back at the precinct, Morgan and Derik escorted Robert into the sterile interrogation room. The harsh fluorescent lights above cast an unforgiving glare on his rough features as he sat down, his jaw clenched in defiance. Morgan didn't have time for any bullshit. Especially after meeting Steven's pregnant wife, Morgan couldn't stomach the idea that Robert had senselessly killed him.
"Let's get this straight, Robert," Morgan began, her eyes narrowing as she assessed him. "You claim you never hurt Steven, but you didn't want to pay your employee what he was worth, even with a baby on the way?”
Robert scoffed, his voice dripping with contempt. "That's none of your damn business. Steven knew what he was getting into when he took the job."
Morgan leaned forward, her gaze piercing through him. "Oh, I think it is my business when a man ends up dead under suspicious circumstances," she retorted, her voice laced with steel. "You thought you could take advantage of him, didn't you? Pay him under the table, make him work overtime without compensation. But things got messy, didn't they?"
Robert's fists clenched, his face turning red with anger. "I didn't kill him," he growled through gritted teeth.
Morgan's eyes narrowed even further, her tone unwavering. "We have evidence that Steven confronted you about the unpaid overtime. Did things escalate? Did you resort to violence?"
But Robert remained defiant, his face contorted with rage. "You can't prove anything," he spat.
"I have ways of getting the truth out," Morgan replied calmly, a glint of determination in her eyes. She reached down and pulled a folder from the table, opening it to reveal photographs of bruised and battered bodies from past cases. "I've dealt with men like you before, Robert. They always slip up eventually."
A flicker of fear crossed Robert's eyes, but he quickly masked it with a defiant smirk. "You think you scare me? You don't know what I'm capable of," he taunted.
Morgan leaned back in her chair, her expression unfazed. "Maybe not. But I do know that justice will prevail in the end."
Derik, who had been observing silently from the corner of the room, stepped forward. His voice was calm yet stern as he added, "Robert, the evidence against you is mounting. We have witnesses who heard Steven confront you about the unpaid overtime. We have records of your consistent pattern of under-the-table employment. And we also have reason to believe that there might be something more sinister at play here."
Robert's smug demeanor faltered for a moment, but he quickly regained his composure. "Sinister? You've got nothing on me," he sneered.
Morgan leaned forward again, her eyes narrowing into icy slits. "Funny you should say that. Because we've uncovered some interesting information about your past, Robert," she said, her voice dripping with accusation.
The room fell silent as Morgan continued to stare at Robert, waiting for his reaction. She knew she had hit a nerve. She could almost see the fear bubbling beneath the surface of his confident facade.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Robert's smirk faltered. His eyes darted around the room, searching for an escape route, but finding none. Morgan could see the panic in his eyes, a glimmer of self-doubt creeping through the cracks in his bravado.
"Tell me, Robert," Morgan pressed, her voice steady and relentless. "What happened to your wife? The woman you used to beat?"
Robert's face contorted in anger, his fists clenched even tighter. "That's none of your goddamn business!" he spat, his voice laced with venom.
He was showing his true colors at last.
Morgan felt her anger and frustration rise within her as she recalled Francine's tear-streaked face, the pain of losing her husband so palpable. She couldn't let this man slip through their fingers if he was guilty. Her voice grew more aggressive as she addressed Robert again.
"Listen, Steven had a kid on the way. His wife is pregnant, and now she's going to be all alone because of what happened to him," she snapped. "If you murdered him just to avoid paying him, you better fess up, because we will find out."
Robert bristled at her tone, his eyes finally meeting hers. "I didn't have anything to do with it," he maintained stubbornly. "I was inside when it happened. Didn't even know what was going on until the cops showed up. Like I've said, you have nothing on me!"
Morgan's suspicions deepened as she considered this information. A passerby had called in the death, not Robert. Why hadn't he been the one to discover Steven's body?
Was he simply trying to distance himself from the crime?
Morgan's eyes bored into Robert's, her jaw set with determination. She needed to find a crack in his story, something that would give them the lead they so desperately needed. With a swift motion, she reached into her folder and pulled out a photograph. It was an image of Melissa Grayson, her red hair cascading down her shoulders.
"Have you ever seen this woman before?" Morgan asked, her voice cold and unyielding as she placed the photo on the table between them.
Robert glanced at the picture briefly before shaking his head. "No," he said simply, his face devoid of any reaction.
Morgan could feel frustration bubbling up within her but didn't let it show. Instead, she leaned in closer, trying to read any hint of deception in his eyes. The dim light from the overhead lamp glinted off the dark ink of her tattoos as she moved.
"Her name is Melissa Grayson," Morgan said, her tone steady. "She was found murdered a few days ago, a red feather left on her body. Now we have another victim, your employee Steven, found dead with two feathers clutched in his hands. Do you see a connection, Robert?"
Robert's gaze flickered between Morgan and the photo, his expression remaining stubbornly impassive. "I don't know anything about that other woman or any connection," he insisted, folding his arms across his chest defensively.
Morgan could sense that Robert was holding something back. His body language, the way his eyes shifted, it all screamed guilt. She leaned back in her chair, studying him intently, determined to break through his facade.
