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"Maybe they wanted us to find her," Derik proposed hesitantly. "To send a message."
"Then what's the message?" Morgan asked, frustration bubbling up inside her. "What are we missing here?"
Derik shook his head, his face grim. "I don't know. But I think we need to look closer at Mary's life. See if there was anyone who had a motive to do this to her."
Morgan nodded thoughtfully, her mind already turning over the possibilities. She couldn't understand why somebody would target a seemingly docile elderly woman.
As she scanned the room once more, her eyes settled on a stack of papers on a nearby desk. Without a second thought, she approached it and began rifling through the documents. It didn't take long for her to find something that made her stomach drop – a letter from Mary's late husband.
"Derik, come look at this," she called out, her voice laced with urgency.
Derik joined her at the desk, his eyes scanning the letter as Morgan read it aloud. "Mary, I know what I did was wrong, and I'm sorry... I don't have much time left, as they said the cancer has spread through my blood. I'm writing this from the hospital, the way we used to write... no technology. I regret what I did to us and our children. I'm sorry, and I hope you can forgive me."
"Damn," Derik muttered. "What do you think he did?"
Morgan shook her head, feeling a sense of sadness wash over her. "I don't know, but it's clear that Mary was on the fence about forgiving him. According to the date, this was sent a couple of weeks ago. I wonder if the husband is still alive."
"But why would this have anything to do with her murder?" Derik asked, his brows furrowed in confusion.
Morgan shrugged. "I'm not sure, but I do know that unresolved issues from the past can sometimes come back to haunt us."
Derik nodded in agreement. "Let's see if we can find anything else that might give us some insight into Mary's life. Maybe we'll stumble upon something that will shed some light on her death."
They continued to search the room, combing through the stacks of papers and boxes. Morgan's heart ached as she realized just how lonely Mary's life had been, how little she had left behind. It was a stark reminder that life was fleeting and that nobody was immune to its cruel twists and turns.
Just then, Skunk's sudden pawing at the area beneath the bed startled Morgan from her thoughts. She glanced down, her heart racing as the dog continued to scratch and whine insistently. Trusting his instincts, she grabbed a latex glove from a nearby evidence kit and snapped it onto her hand.
"Derik," she whispered, "Skunk found something."
As Derik approached, Morgan knelt on the floor, cautiously lifting the dust ruffle to peer into the darkness below the bed. Her eyes darted across the space, searching for anything that might have caught Skunk's attention. And then she saw it: a single, bloodied tooth nestled among the dust bunnies.
"Damn," she muttered, plucking the tooth from its hiding place and dropping it into an evidence bag. "Looks like we missed one."
"Get forensics in here," Derik said, his voice taut with urgency. "And call Mueller. Maybe this tooth belongs to Mary... but maybe it doesn't."
Morgan nodded, already reaching for her phone – but before she could dial, the sound of a door creaking open elsewhere in the house sent a shiver down her spine. She exchanged a tense glance with Derik, their shared concern unspoken. They had searched the house thoroughly before entering the bedroom; there shouldn't have been anyone else inside.
Just as Morgan turned, a woman in her fifties stood frozen in the doorway to the bedroom, her face aghast as she took in the blood-soaked bed.
"Who are you?" Morgan demanded, her voice barely audible above the pounding of her heart. "What are you doing here?"
But the woman didn't answer; instead, she crumpled to the floor in a dead faint.
***
Morgan and Derik hauled the woman into the living room. The living room was a shrine to a life well-lived – framed photographs lined the walls, portraying Mary Jenkins surrounded by loving family and friends. Morgan couldn't help but feel a pang of sadness as she helped the woman onto the floral-patterned couch; it seemed so wrong that such a vibrant life had been reduced to this senseless tragedy.
Slowly, the woman’s eyes fluttered open as she came to again, her gaze focusing on Morgan and Derik.
“Who are you?” Morgan asked. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m… Jennifer,” the woman managed. “Mary’s daughter…”
Morgan’s heart sank. Obviously, Mary’s daughter had rushed into town to see what was going on.
"Here, drink some water," Derik said gently, handing Jennifer a glass. Her hands shook as she took small sips, her eyes darting nervously between the two agents.
"Thank you," Jennifer whispered hoarsely. "I'm sorry, I don't usually react like that. It's just... seeing my mother's room like that..."
