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"Each one of you," he murmured, caressing a lock of hair tied with a ribbon. "A part of my story, my journey to becoming who I am today."
He allowed himself a moment to revel in the memories of previous hunts - the exhilaration of stalking his prey, the rush of adrenaline as he closed in, and the ultimate satisfaction of claiming his prize. Those moments were what sustained him, driving him to continue down this twisted path.
Mildred never knew, he thought, a faint smile playing at the corners of his mouth. She saw the darkness within me, but she could never have fathomed the depths of my depravity.
As the memories dissipated, leaving behind only the cold reality of his present existence, he steeled himself for the task ahead. There was no turning back now - he had embraced the monster within, and it consumed him completely.
And he had to admit, it was a fun game to play. Especially now that there was someone out there... someone looking for him.
His eyes scanned the dimly lit basement, pausing only for a moment on the peculiar collection of oddities that adorned his sanctuary. He had meticulously planned for this moment, savoring the anticipation of watching the FBI squirm like worms under his thumb.
"Agent Morgan Cross," he whispered, her name feeling like an incantation upon his lips.
His fingers danced across the newspaper clippings, photographs, and detailed notes he had amassed about her. Morgan Cross, the hardened forty-year-old agent who had spent time in prison after being framed for murder. She intrigued him – a puzzle piece that seemed to defy his ability to fully understand her. And in that enigma, he saw opportunity.
"Ten years," he mused, feeling the weight of those lost years pressing down on him. "What would it take to bring you crumbling down?"
He strode toward a large map pinned to the wall, marking every location where his victims had been found. The intricate web of lines and symbols etched into the surface were like an encoded message only he could decipher. His heart raced as he considered the impact his next move would have on not just Agent Cross, but the entire investigation.
"Chaos," he murmured, his voice barely audible even to himself. "A storm they'll never see coming."
He retrieved a small box from beneath a stack of books, its nondescript exterior betraying the explosive contents within. With each careful movement, he felt the power coursing through his veins – the thrill of knowing that he held their fates in his hands.
"Let them scramble in the darkness," he said, reveling in the image of confusion and fear that would grip the FBI once his plan was set in motion. "And when they least expect it, I'll strike. Isn't that right, Mildred?"
The rocking chair in the corner of the room creaked, but Mildred didn't answer. She never did, not anymore.
But he didn't need her.
He only needed to give into the darkness, and that was exactly what he would do.
The FBI had no idea what was coming for them next.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Morgan stood in Assistant Director Mueller's office, the dim light casting ominous shadows on his face as he glowered at her from behind his desk. She clenched her jaw, mentally preparing herself for the verbal lashing she knew was coming.
"Agent Cross," Mueller began, his voice low and even. "I heard about your little incident today. The perp you were looking into tripped, twisted his ankle, and now it turns out he has no connection to the crime. To top it all off, he might be suing."
Morgan tried to keep her expression neutral, but her mind raced. How did Mueller find out so quickly? She glanced down at her hands, remembering how she'd grasped the steering wheel with white-knuckled fury after Derik had relayed the news to her. Her heart pounded at the thought of him betraying her trust, but then again, Derik had seemed worried about getting in trouble too. There was a chance that he was just hearing it because Anton reported it.
"Assistant Director, I—" she started, but Mueller raised a hand to silence her.
"Save it, Cross. I don't need excuses. What I do need is for you to be more careful." He leaned back in his chair, studying her. "You're usually more methodical than this. What happened?"
She forced herself to focus on Mueller's question and replied, "I didn't expect Anton to run off like that, sir. It wasn't my intention for him to get hurt."
"Intentions don't change outcomes, Agent Cross," Mueller said sharply. "Get it together. We can't afford any more screw-ups on this case."
Her face flushed with anger and frustration, Morgan nodded stiffly. "Understood, sir."
Assistant Director Mueller's gaze bore into Morgan, his steely eyes unyielding. "You need to be more careful, Cross," he stated firmly, leaning forward and placing his hands on the desk, the weight of his authority pressing down on her. "I'll handle the situation with Anton, but you can't just go barging into establishments in broad daylight with your gun drawn. Use some discretion."
Morgan clenched her jaw, her frustration threatening to spill over. She forced a measured breath through her nostrils and stared back at Mueller, her eyes defiant. "I'm doing my job, sir," she gritted out. "I didn't expect Anton to panic and run like that. It wasn't my fault he broke his ankle, and I resent the implication that it was."
Mueller held her gaze for a moment before sighing heavily, his expression softening ever so slightly. "Regardless of whose fault it is, we can't afford any more missteps like this. Keep it together, Cross," he said, his voice firm yet not unkind. Morgan had a long, tenuous relationship with Mueller, but somewhere along the line, they’d found some sort of understanding. And besides, Morgan didn't want Mueller hating her too much, not anymore. There was a time when she didn't care, but that was before she saw the photo of Mueller with a young version of her father. If her father really had been in the FBI, and the photo had been real, then Mueller knew him. And had been keeping it from her.
As far as Morgan knew, Mueller could be in on all of it. On framing her she went to prison. Part of her didn't believe that, but she also knew she couldn't trust anyone. And Mueller did enjoy chastising her.
