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"Come on," she whispered, the glow from the screen illuminating her face as night fell around them. "There has to be something here."
Despite the weariness that clung to her like a second skin, Morgan refused to give in. Her fingers continued to type, her eyes scanning line after line of information as she searched for any clue that could lead her closer to the truth. And with Skunk by her side, she felt a renewed sense of strength and resolve – a reminder that even when the world seemed to be conspiring against her, she still had at least one loyal friend in her corner.
Morgan took a spoonful of the steaming soup, the warmth soothing her throat and providing a brief comfort from the day's events. As she continued to eat, one hand navigated her laptop, pulling up Tom Orchard's file in the FBI database.
"Dr. Thomas Orchard," she read aloud, the words echoing slightly in the quiet room. "No criminal record... A dentist for over twenty-five years." She leaned back against the cushions, Skunk's steady breathing at her side providing a familiar rhythm. Her eyes flicked across the screen, taking in the details of Orchard's life – his well-regarded practice, his volunteer work, even his hobbies of bird-watching and model ship building. On paper, he seemed like just another upstanding citizen.
"Doesn't look like our guy, does it, Skunk?" she mused, scratching behind the dog's ear with her free hand. But something within her urged her not to dismiss him so easily – a nagging feeling that there was more to this than met the eye.
She decided to check Mary Jenkins again, clicking through the electronic records. Her fingers moved quickly, each keystroke echoing in the stillness of the room as she searched for any connection between Orchard and the other victim.
Skunk shifted beside her, sensing her growing tension, and Morgan absentmindedly stroked his fur while poring over the documents on the screen. Mary Jenkins had been a widow for several years, living alone in a small house not far from Gretchen Smith's residence. Their lives had been unremarkable, ordinary – until they'd crossed paths with their killer.
"Nothing," she whispered, frustration tightening her chest. "Not a single mention of Orchard in her records. No appointments, no consultations..."
She sighed, running a hand through her hair. She couldn’t shake the feeling that something was there. Outside, the sky had grown dark, not only from the night, but a blanket of clouds grew on the horizon. A storm was coming, and Morgan could feel the air swell with the threat of rain.
Skunk stirred, his dark eyes meeting hers with unwavering loyalty. She knew he'd stay by her side as long as it took, offering silent support and companionship.
A sudden ping from her laptop drew Morgan's attention away from the frustrating lack of connections between Tom Orchard and Mary Jenkins. She squinted at the screen, seeing a new email notification from Thomas. Her heart rate picked up as she clicked on it, eager for information that could help her clear her name.
The email contained names and details about the people responsible for framing her for murder, but as Morgan's eyes darted across the screen, she barely caught two names before the file disappeared, leaving her staring at an empty inbox. Blinking in disbelief, she refreshed her email, hoping it was just a glitch. But deep down, she knew it wasn't – Thomas was an expert hacker, and he had obviously sent the email only to delete it, toying with her like she was some kind of pawn in his twisted game.
"Damn it, Thomas!" she growled under her breath.
Without a second thought, she took out her phone and dialed his number, her anger boiling over.
"Thomas, what the hell was that?" she demanded as soon as he answered, not bothering with pleasantries. "I barely saw anything before you deleted it. This isn't what we agreed on."
"Neither is you being so distant lately," he shot back, his voice cold and unyielding. "I've barely seen you these days, Morgan. If you come to meet me at my house, I won't mention our little pact to anyone. Otherwise, who knows?"
Morgan clenched her jaw, rage and disbelief coursing through her. "You're blackmailing me now? Is that what this has come to?"
"Call it what you want," Thomas replied impassively. "It's your choice. But I wouldn't take too long to decide."
The realization that Thomas was blackmailing her sent a shiver down Morgan's spine. She stared at her phone, the screen displaying his name and the call timer ticking away. Could she have been wrong about him? Derik had warned her, but she had trusted Thomas. Now, it seemed that trust might end up costing her everything.
"Are you coming over or not?" Thomas asked, his voice annoyingly calm.
Morgan clenched her jaw. "I'm working on the case," she snapped, trying to keep the tremor out of her voice. "And I need some sleep. I'll think about it." Without waiting for a response, she ended the call, her heart pounding in her chest.
She lowered the phone and stared blankly at the wall, the neon glow from the streetlights outside casting eerie shadows across the room. What now? Should she risk meeting Thomas in person, knowing what he was capable of? Or should she sever ties with him completely and try to find another way to clear her name?
"Damn it," Morgan muttered under her breath, rubbing her temples as she tried to sort through the whirlwind of thoughts and emotions that threatened to overwhelm her. But no matter how hard she tried, one fact remained painfully clear: she was running out of time, and she needed answers.
As if sensing her distress, Skunk, her loyal Pitbull, padded over and nudged her hand with his wet nose. Morgan absently scratched behind his ears, grateful for his comforting presence. At least there was one living being she could still trust.
"I don't know what to do, boy," she whispered, her voice cracking with the weight of her decision. Skunk tilted his head, his dark eyes filled with concern, but he had no advice to offer.
Sighing, Morgan forced herself to focus on the task at hand. She would deal with Thomas later. For now, she needed to concentrate on the case and finding justice for the victims. With renewed determination, Morgan picked up her laptop and opened her notes, forcing herself to push Thomas and his betrayal to the back of her mind.
"Let's get to work, Skunk," she said, her voice steady, despite the turmoil within.
CHAPTER TWELVE
The man stood in his dimly lit living room, the only source of light being the occasional flash of lightning outside. Rain pelted against the windowpane, the droplets forming a temporary mosaic before they were washed away into oblivion. The cityscape stretched out before him, its buildings towering as though they aimed to pierce the heavens. He couldn't help but think of her again, Mildred.
She had been so many things to him: a mother, a grandmother, maybe even a friend or a lover. It was all a blur now. But one thing was for certain – she'd seen past his exterior and recognized the darkness within. And yet, she hadn't turned away. She'd taken him in, nurtured him, and attempted to guide him through the shadows that consumed his soul.
