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"Robert, you need to understand the gravity of the situation here," Morgan said sharply. "Two people are dead, and there's a pattern emerging. The feathers, the brutality of the murders... It's not a coincidence."
Robert's jaw tightened, his eyes narrowing. "I already told you, I don't know anything about that woman," he growled.
Morgan stopped, studying the man before her. While the connection between Robert and Steven was obvious, his connection to Melissa was not so much. Morgan had to admit, in her research, she'd found nothing linking Melissa Grayson to Robert Tuck at all.
The thought made her pause. Robert was definitely a piece of shit, and abusive. He may have had motive to kill Steven, but... Morgan saw no motive to kill Melissa, especially not first, unless he was some sort of criminal mastermind who had murdered someone else in order to create a fake serial killer, and get away with Steven's murder.
Was she expected to believe this aggressive farmer was capable of that? That he was some criminal mastermind?
She hated to admit it, but she needed to get more evidence, something to draw Robert to Melissa. For now, she had nothing, but she couldn't let him know that.
Morgan leaned forward, her voice dripping with a mix of frustration and determination. "You know, Robert, we have ways of finding the truth. And if you think we won't dig deeper into your life to find any connections or evidence, you're sorely mistaken. We'll uncover every dark secret you have."
Robert's smug facade faltered, a flicker of unease crossing his eyes. Morgan had hit a nerve. She could see the fear creeping over him, a crack forming in the wall of his confidence.
With a voice as cold as ice, Robert replied, "You can dig all you want, but you won't find anything connecting me to that woman."
Morgan clenched her fists, feeling the heat of anger rising in her chest. As she stormed out of the interrogation room, Derik followed closely behind her. They needed to regroup and strategize their next steps, but Morgan knew one thing for certain: they were far from done with Robert Tuck. And until they found the truth, she wouldn't rest – not while there was a killer on the loose, leaving a trail of feathers and broken lives in their wake.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Morgan sat in her dimly lit office, alone in the stillness of the FBI headquarters. The door was closed, but she could hear the faint hum of the air conditioning system. Her gaze drifted to the clock on the wall; it read 11:47 PM. She sighed and leaned back in her chair, rubbing her tired eyes. Tonight, she wasn't going home. Not when Skunk was missing, and she still had so much work to do.
She glanced at the file on her desk, which contained information about Robert Tuck, the farmer currently in custody. He might be the killer, but something didn't add up. A nagging thought in the back of her mind made her hesitate, as she couldn't see a clear connection between him and Melissa, the first victim. Morgan's dark, tattooed arms folded across her chest, deep in thought.
"Robert, why would you target Melissa?" she murmured to herself, letting out an exasperated sigh. Morgan knew that the answer wouldn't just magically appear, so she turned her attention to her computer, opening a new tab and diving into Melissa's social media presence.
Fingers flew across the keyboard as she browsed through Melissa's online following, searching for any hint of a connection to Robert Tuck. But the deeper she delved, the more she became convinced that the old farmer had no place in the digital world. It just didn't make sense for him to target someone like Melissa.
"Damn it," Morgan whispered under her breath. Her frustration mounted with each click, each dead-end she encountered. She longed for a breakthrough, a clue that would finally shed light on this baffling case. But nothing seemed to fit.
As she scrolled through the endless list of names and faces on Melissa's social media page, an unsettling feeling settled in her chest. Her thoughts wandered to Thomas. That bastard. She still hadn't heard from him.
With a sigh, she closed the browser and leaned back in her chair again, staring at the ceiling as if it held the answers she sought. The silence of the night enveloped her, offering solace in its embrace.
The clock on the wall ticked away, marking the passage of time in its relentless march forward. And as the minutes slipped by, Morgan Cross remained in her office – searching, thinking, and waiting for the pieces of this twisted puzzle to finally fall into place.
Morgan's eyelids felt heavy, and her eyes burned from the strain of staring at her computer screen for hours on end. She rubbed her temples, trying to push away the exhaustion that threatened to consume her. Her thoughts drifted to the previous night when she had passed out on her couch, plagued by a nightmarish vision that haunted her dreams. Sleep hadn't come easy lately, and it was beginning to take its toll on her.
Glancing at her phone, she noticed there were still no messages or calls from Thomas. The unease in her chest grew as she worried about his intentions with Skunk. With a deep breath, she picked up her phone and dialed his number once more, only to be met with his voicemail again.
"Thomas," Morgan said, her voice wavering slightly despite her best efforts to sound strong, "You better not have touched Skunk. I need proof he's alive, or I'm done playing your games." She ended the call abruptly, her heart pounding in her chest.
As soon as she hung up, a wave of dissatisfaction washed over her. She knew that showing any signs of vulnerability would only fuel Thomas's enjoyment, but she couldn't help the raw emotion that seeped into her voice. The thought of losing Skunk was too much to bear.
Morgan's body screamed for rest as she leaned forward, resting her forehead on her desk. The cool surface provided a small measure of relief, and her tired mind began to give in to the pull of sleep. As the weight of unconsciousness settled upon her, she hoped that the temporary escape from reality would grant her some semblance of peace before tackling the case anew.
***
The harsh morning sunlight filtering through the blinds jolted Morgan back into consciousness. Her eyes fluttered open, squinting against the brightness as she realized she had passed out cold at her desk. The faint smell of stale coffee and old paperwork filled her nostrils as she quickly tried to put herself together, smoothing down her hair and straightening her clothes.
Just as she was regaining her bearings, the door to her office swung open, revealing Derik in the doorway. His green eyes were filled with concern as they swept over her disheveled appearance. "Did you sleep here?" he asked, his voice a mixture of worry and surprise.
"Look, I'm fine," Morgan replied defensively, forcing a smile on her face. "Don't worry about it."
Derik hesitated for a moment, clearly not convinced, but then shifted gears. "Morgan, I have bad news." As he spoke, the concern in his eyes morphed into a grave seriousness. "I just got a call—another victim has been found dead. That means Robert, the man we have in custody, is innocent. The real killer is still out there, and they're getting bolder."
Morgan's heart dropped like a stone in her chest, her blood running cold at the thought of the monster they were hunting continuing to claim lives. The taste of bile rose in her throat and her fingers dug into the edge of her desk, as if gripping onto something solid could anchor her amidst the swirling storm of fear and frustration.
