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"Agent Cross! Agent Greene!" a reporter shouted, shoving a microphone in their faces. "Can you confirm that this is the work of the Feathered Killer? Is the public in danger?"
Flashbulbs popped around them like a storm of fireflies, the bright lights momentarily blinding Morgan. She squinted, trying to maintain her composure under the intense scrutiny.
"Please, everyone, we can't discuss any details right now," Derik said firmly, raising his hands in an attempt to calm the crowd. "We need space to do our jobs and investigate the scene."
As Morgan scanned the sea of faces, her heart skipped a beat when her eyes fell upon a man with a camera who looked all too familiar. Was it him? The one from the first crime scene, the one she thought had been following her? Her adrenaline surged, and she instinctively reached for her sidearm, but the man disappeared into the crowd before she could act.
"Derik," she muttered, her voice barely audible over the clamor of the reporters. "I think I saw him again—the guy from the first crime scene."
"Are you sure?" Derik asked, his green eyes searching the crowd. "We're all on edge right now, Cross…”
"No, I'm certain it was him," Morgan insisted, her hand gripping her weapon tightly, ready for any sign of trouble. "Stay alert, okay?"
"Always," Derik replied, his gaze never leaving the throng of media personnel.
With the police finally pushing back the reporters, Morgan and Derik seized the opportunity to slip inside the apartment building. The noise from the crowd outside was replaced by an eerie silence that sent a chill down Morgan's spine.
With the assistance of the police, Morgan and Derik finally managed to break free from the chaos outside. The moment they stepped into the apartment building's dimly lit lobby, Morgan felt her chest tighten, as if a vice had been slowly clamped around her ribcage. She closed her eyes for a moment, taking a shuddering breath in an attempt to calm her racing heart.
"Who is this guy?" she wondered internally, her mind still reeling from the brief glimpse of the mysterious man outside. "Is he even real, or am I just seeing things?"
"Hey," Derik's concerned voice cut through her thoughts. "You okay?"
Morgan opened her eyes, meeting his gaze. She noticed the worry etched on his face and forced a tight-lipped smile. "Yeah," she replied, trying to sound more composed than she felt. "That was just... a lot."
"Tell me about it," Derik said, running a hand through his slick black hair. "Ready to see what we're dealing with upstairs?"
"Let's do it." Morgan nodded, steeling herself for what lay ahead.
As they ascended the stairs, Morgan couldn't help but let her mind drift back to the enigmatic figure who seemed to be haunting her. Images of the man flickered through her thoughts like a series of disjointed photographs, each one leaving her more unsettled than the last.
"Focus, Morgan," she chastised herself, shaking her head slightly as if to clear away the distracting thoughts. "You've got a job to do."
Reaching the apartment in question, Morgan took a deep breath before entering the crime scene. The air inside was heavy with the scent of blood and decay, making her stomach churn, but she pushed past the discomfort, determined to find some clue that would lead them to the killer.
"Alright," she said, looking over at Derik. "Let's get to work."
"Right behind you," he replied, his green eyes taking on a steely determination that matched her own.
Together, they stepped deeper into the apartment, ready to face whatever horrors awaited them. And as Morgan pushed aside her lingering fears about the mysterious man lurking in the shadows, she knew that no matter what, she wouldn't let him—or anyone else—stand in their way.
The apartment door creaked open, revealing a dimly lit living room where the forensics team buzzed around like morbid bees. Morgan followed an officer inside, her eyes immediately drawn to the body on the floor. A young woman lay sprawled out on the carpet, her white hair fanned around her head like a halo. Her skin was quite pale, and as Morgan got closer, she made out the features of a young woman with albinism; white hair not only on her head, but eyebrows and lashes as well.
"Who is she?" Morgan asked the officer, unable to look away from the lifeless, pale blue eyes staring up at the ceiling.
"Annie Joseph, twenty-six years old," the officer replied. "Lived here alone, worked as a model. Quite the social media presence, too."
"Another one with an online following, huh?" Derik observed, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.
"Seems that way," Morgan agreed, remembering Melissa's red hair and how it had first caught the killer's attention. She couldn't help but think of Steven, the simple farmer who didn't fit the pattern. Why him?
As Morgan knelt beside the body, she noticed a white feather protruding from the woman's mouth. It was a sickeningly familiar sight – the killer's signature. Carefully, she reached for the feather, plucking it free from Annie's lips. The girl's albinism made her a perfect target for their twisted murderer.
"Looks like our guy's been here," she said, holding up the feather for Derik to see. "What do you make of this?"
"Definitely his MO," Derik confirmed, his eyes narrowing as he studied the delicate plume. "We need to figure out the connection between these victims before he strikes again."
Morgan nodded, feeling the weight of the case settle heavily on her shoulders. As the forensics team continued to work around them, she stared down at Annie's lifeless form, determined to bring her killer to justice. No matter what it took.
