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The air in the cramped interrogation room grew heavy with tension, and Morgan could feel her patience wearing thin. Running a hand through her short, dark hair, she fixed Johnny with an icy stare. "So, where were you last night?" she asked, her voice cold and sharp like the edge of a knife. "Can anyone vouch for your innocence?"
Johnny's face drained of color, his dark eyes flickering between Derik and Morgan. He licked his lips nervously, swallowing hard before managing to stammer out a response. "I... I live alone. I was just, uh, sleeping last night. That's all."
"Convenient," Derik interjected, folding his arms across his chest and raising an eyebrow. The skepticism in his tone mirrored Morgan's own thoughts – without an alibi, Johnny's claims of innocence seemed flimsier than ever.
"Look, I know it sounds bad, but that's the truth," Johnny insisted, pleading with them to believe him. "Please, you have to reconsider."
Morgan's jaw clenched as she fought the urge to let her emotions dictate her actions. She knew firsthand the consequences of jumping to conclusions, having spent years in prison for a crime she didn't commit. But in this case, everything pointed toward Johnny's guilt. Or did they? Was she letting the ghosts of her past cloud her judgment?
"Let's step outside for a moment, Derik," Morgan suggested, rising from her chair and motioning for her partner to follow. As they exited the room, she could hear Johnny's panicked voice calling after them, begging them not to throw the book at him without considering all the facts.
Once they were out in the hallway, Derik leaned against the wall, his expression resolute. "This seems pretty open and shut, Morgan. The guy has no alibi, he's admitted to stealing from vulnerable elderly women, and he had access to the morgue. What more do we need?"
Morgan's mind raced as she tried to reconcile her partner's certainty with the lingering doubt gnawing at the back of her mind. She knew what it was like to be accused without a fair trial, but she also knew that their duty was to protect the public from potential killers like Johnny.
"Maybe you're right," she conceded reluctantly, her exhaustion evident in her voice. "But something about this case still feels... off."
Derik leaned against the cold tiled wall, arms crossed. Morgan paced back and forth, her brow furrowed in deep thought. The faint hum of fluorescent lights above them underscored their hushed conversation.
"Look, Morgan," Derik said, his voice firm but gentle. "I know you have your doubts, but everything points to Johnny. He's our guy."
Morgan paused her pacing, her eyes still clouded with uncertainty. "I know, Derik. It's just... the teeth. Why send them to us after so long? And Mildred - she wasn't even murdered. She died of natural causes. Something’s off about that. We’ve been so caught up in this, we didn’t even get a chance to look deeper into Mildred herself.”
"Sometimes killers do things that don't make sense," Derik replied, unfolding his arms. "But we can't let that distract us from the facts. Johnny had access to the morgue, he has a history of targeting elderly women, and he doesn't have an alibi. He’s our guy, Morgan.”
Morgan rubbed her temples, feeling the weight of her exhaustion press down on her. In her mind's eye, she saw flashes of her own past – the false accusations, the injustice. She couldn't let that happen to someone else, but at the same time, she needed to protect potential future victims. And maybe it really was Johnny.
"Listen," Derik continued, compassion filling his voice. "I know how hard this is for you after what you've been through. But I've got your back, and I'll make sure everything is done by the book. You should go home and get some rest. I can handle things here."
Morgan hesitated, torn between her exhaustion and her desire to see justice served. Finally, she sighed and nodded. "Alright, Derik. But promise me one thing - if there's even a shred of doubt about Johnny's guilt, we keep digging. We leave no stone unturned."
"Of course, Morgan," Derik agreed, his gaze meeting hers with unwavering determination. "We'll find the truth, no matter what it takes."
With her heart heavy and her mind swirling with doubts, Morgan reluctantly left the precinct, the echo of her footsteps against the linoleum floor a haunting reminder of the stakes at hand.
***
The sun had dipped below the horizon as Morgan pulled into her driveway. She killed the engine and rested her forehead against the steering wheel, trying to make sense of the whirlwind of thoughts racing through her mind.
Maybe Derik's right, she thought to herself, her voice barely audible even in the silence of her car. Maybe I'm just too tired to see things clearly.
Her tired eyes stared at her darkened home, its windows like empty sockets. Morgan knew that sleep would be a temporary reprieve from the gnawing uncertainty about Johnny's guilt. But she also knew she needed to rest if she wanted to keep her wits about her. Another part of her dreaded sleep, after that horrible nightmare she'd had last night.
Unbuckling her seatbelt, she stepped out of the car and closed the door with a soft click. The cool evening breeze raised goosebumps on her skin, whispering through the leaves of the oak tree that towered over her front yard.
Get some rest, she told herself, forcing her legs to carry her up the steps to her front door. Tomorrow's a new day. Clear head, fresh start.
As she turned the key in the lock, she couldn't shake the nagging feeling that something was off - not just with Johnny, but with the entire case. It felt like a puzzle with one piece missing, and it was driving her mad.
Once inside, Morgan greeted Skunk, then dropped her keys on the hallway table and shuffled toward her couch. She collapsed onto the cushions with a heavy sigh, feeling the weight of the day's events press down on her. She closed her eyes, trying to block out the memories of the interrogation room and the doubts that swirled in her mind.
But the more she tried to push them away, the more persistent they became. They crawled into her thoughts like tendrils of smoke, twisting and curling until they formed a single, nagging question.
What if Johnny didn't do it?
Morgan shook her head, trying to dispel the thought. It was absurd - everything pointed to Johnny's guilt. But still, the doubt lingered like a splinter in her mind that wouldn't let go.
With a frustrated groan, Morgan pushed herself up from the couch and made her way to the kitchen. She needed something to take her mind off the case, even if just for a little while. But in avoiding thoughts of the case, it only gave her mind room to think about her father. The FBI. The men who'd framed her... and her horrible dreams. There was too much noise in Morgan's head, and she didn't know how to turn it off.
