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With a shuddering breath, Morgan steeled herself for whatever lay ahead. She would uncover the truth – about Thomas, her father, and the darkness threatening to consume her life. No matter the cost.
Drawing her focus away from the vivid images of her nightmare, Morgan reached for her phone, her fingers hesitating briefly before she picked it up. Derik Greene's name flashed on the screen, and a familiar mix of wariness and relief washed over her. He had betrayed her once, blackmailed by the very people who had framed her for murder, but she knew now that Derik was just as much in the dark about their true intentions as she was. They had history together, and though she hadn't fully opened herself up to trusting him again, she could feel the old connection between them slowly rebuilding.
"Derik?" she answered, her voice still rough with sleep and lingering fear.
"Hey, Morgan," he replied, his tone somber. "Bad news. We've got a new case. I need you to meet me at the crime scene. It's... not pretty."
Morgan's heart sank. The last thing she needed was more work right now, but then again, if she didn't have a case, then she'd just be sitting there, waiting for Thomas to toy with her. That was exactly what Thomas wanted: to get into her head and make her suffer.
She had to get to work.
"Alright," Morgan agreed, her mind shifting gears from the disturbing remnants of her nightmare to the reality of another gruesome crime scene. As she pocketed her phone, she couldn't help but glance around her living room one last time, the unease from her dream stubbornly clinging to her thoughts like cobwebs in the corners of her mind.
CHAPTER THREE
The first light of dawn was beginning to wash over the city, casting a warm glow on the buildings that surrounded Morgan as she made her way through downtown Dallas. The air was crisp but comforting, a gentle reminder that summer would soon give way to autumn. She pulled her jacket tighter around herself, her mind still reeling from the nightmare and the lingering unease it had left behind.
Entering the alleyway, Morgan found herself surrounded by uniformed officers and forensic technicians who were already busy processing the scene. Her eyes scanned the area, seeking out her partner among the chaos. She spotted Derik, his tall, lean frame unmistakable, standing near the body of a young woman with vibrant red hair that seemed to defy the dim lighting of the shadowy alley.
"Derik," Morgan called out, picking up her pace as she approached him.
"Hey, Morgan," he replied, jogging over to meet her halfway. "Glad you could make it."
"Tell me what happened," she demanded, her eyes already surveying the scene before her. There was no blood, but the lifeless form of the redhead made it clear that she was dead.
"Garbage man found her about an hour ago," Derik explained, his voice tinged with sadness. "We've ID'd her as Melissa Grayson, twenty-four years old. She was a photographer, known for posting macabre images online."
"Macabre?" Morgan questioned, one eyebrow raised in mild curiosity.
"Taxidermy, dead animals, that sort of thing," Derik clarified, watching Morgan's expression shift from interest to something more solemn.
As they stood there, Morgan couldn't help but feel a pang of sympathy for the young woman whose life had been so brutally cut short. She knew all too well the darkness that could be lurking just beneath the surface of someone's seemingly ordinary existence. And now, faced with this grim reminder, she knew that she had to do whatever it took to bring Melissa's killer to justice - even if it meant putting her own fears and doubts aside.
"Well then, I better get to work," Morgan said quietly, her voice resolute.
"Right behind you," Derik agreed.
With latex gloves snapped into place, Morgan crouched down beside the lifeless body of Melissa Grayson, her eyes scanning every inch of the young woman as she sought to piece together the tragic puzzle before her. The dim light in the alleyway made it difficult to see, but Morgan was undeterred, her years of experience allowing her to focus on the details that mattered most.
"Derik," she called out over her shoulder, "bring me a flashlight."
"Got it," Derik replied, quickly retrieving a flashlight from their nearby equipment and handing it to Morgan.
As the beam of light illuminated the scene, Morgan couldn't help but notice how strikingly beautiful Melissa was, her porcelain skin contrasting sharply against the vibrant red of her hair. It wasn't just the color that caught Morgan's attention, but also the fact that it was clearly natural. Her eyebrows and eyelashes matched perfectly, giving her an ethereal and unique appearance.
"A damn tragedy," Morgan muttered under her breath, her heart heavy with the knowledge that this young woman's life had been stolen from her.
Morgan carefully examined the back of her head, noting the clumps of matted hair soaked in blood. It appeared to be blunt force trauma, but the absence of blood on the pavement suggested that the young woman had been killed elsewhere and then dumped in the alleyway.
"Looks like our girl didn't die here," Morgan concluded, her mind racing as she tried to fit the pieces together. "She was killed somewhere else and brought here."
"Damn," Derik murmured, running a hand through his hair in frustration.
Her gaze fell upon the shattered remains of an old school film camera lying beside the body. Even in its broken state, Morgan could tell it was an expensive piece of equipment. "The camera--is it hers?" Morgan asked.
"We think so," Derik said. "The witness said he didn't touch the scene, left it exactly as he found it."
"We'll need to find out what's on it," Morgan said. She turned and waved over a forensic tech, who eagerly joined her. "Hey, can you take a look at this?" Morgan asked, gesturing toward the shattered camera. "See if anything can be salvaged from it."
