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"Here, localfirm downtown," Morgan responded, her finger tracing a line of text. Theimplications gnawed at her; the possibility that this man, Marcus Avery, hadused his expertise to plot out the final moments of those three women.
Morgan's fingersdanced across the keyboard with practiced precision, pulling up a detailedbackground check on Marcus Avery. Her eyes, sharp as flint, absorbed every lineof text, every data point that could unravel the enigma of the man who hadbecome the focus of their investigation. Derik hovered nearby, his presence asilent pillar of support in the sterile glow of the computer screens.
"Clean as awhistle," she finally muttered, her voice tinged with both surprise andfrustration. "No arrests, no charges. Not even a speeding ticket."
"Maybe he'sjust good at covering his tracks," Derik suggested, but Morgan shook herhead, unconvinced.
"His life'san open book," she continued, scrolling through travel logs and creditcard statements that painted a picture of a man incessantly on the move. Thecartographer's vocation seemed to bleed into his personal life—cities andstates were mere waypoints in his nomadic existence. It was a pattern, yes, butnot the kind they needed; it was too erratic, too widespread.
"Look atthis," she said, zooming in on a cluster of transactions dated within thelast week. "Avery's been using his card across the country. Hotels,restaurants... and here—" She jabbed a finger at the screen, "—a carrental in Portland."
"Portland?"Derik echoed, raising an eyebrow. "That's a long way from Dallas."
"Exactly,"Morgan replied, leaning back in her chair with a heavy sigh that bore theweight of dead ends and dwindling leads. "He's not our guy, Derik. Hecouldn't be in two places at once."
"Unless he'sgot a double." Derik's attempt at humor fell flat against the grimbackdrop of their case.
"Or an alibiwe can't shake." Morgan's gaze fixed on the map that sprawled across oneof the monitors, the digital web of interstate lines mocking her with itscomplexity. The simplicity of a criminal returning to the scene of the crimewas a luxury they weren't afforded this time.
"Threevictims," she murmured, half to herself, half to the ghosts that lingeredin the pixels. "And all we've got is a globe-trotting cartographer with anitinerary that puts him thousands of miles away from the chokehold of our city."
"Where doesthat leave us, then?" Derik asked, his voice low, a mirror of the sinkingfeeling that had begun to settle in Morgan's gut.
"Back atsquare one," she replied, the words tasting like ash on her tongue."We keep looking. We have to."
The silence thatfollowed was filled with the unspoken acknowledgment of the truth—they werechasing shadows, grasping for clues in the darkness, while a killer remained atlarge, hidden in plain sight amidst the labyrinthine streets of Dallas.
Morgan’s handflew to the edge of the monitor, knuckles whitening as she shoved it back witha force that sent it skittering across the desk. The image of the cartographervanished into a blur of pixels. She stood abruptly, the chair grating againstthe floor in protest, and her tattoos seemed to ripple with the tensioncoursing through her muscles. "This is pointless," she hissed, thewords laced with a venom born of frustration.
"Hey,Morgan—" Derik's voice trailed after her as she stormed out of the room,but she didn't look back. She couldn’t. If she did, she might just see thedisappointment reflected in those green eyes, eyes that had once betrayedher—yet now sought redemption.
The break roomwas empty, fluorescent lights humming above like distant echoes of thought. Sheseized a coffee cup from the counter, not to drink but to have something tohold onto, something real and solid amidst the quagmire of dead-ends they werewading through. The ceramic was cool beneath her fingertips, grounding her fora brief moment before the door swung open and Derik entered, breathless fromhaving caught up to her.
"Look, Iknow it's tough," he began, leaning against the doorframe, watching herwith an intensity that matched her own inner turmoil.
"Isit?" Morgan snapped, facing him squarely. Her dark hair fell like a shadowacross her face, eyes fierce with the pent-up energy of the chase."Because right now, Derik, it feels like we're just stumbling around inthe dark."
Derik pushed offfrom the doorframe and took a few cautious steps toward her. "We've beenhere before," he said quietly. "We'll find something. We alwaysdo."
"Always?Look at us, Derik. We're grasping at straws while some maniac is stringingwomen up like Christmas lights." The cup in her hand trembled, thoughwhether from anger or exhaustion, she couldn't tell.
"We can'tlet this get to us," Derik insisted, his voice firm but not unkind."I know you, Morgan. You're the best damn agent I've ever worked with. Ifthere's a way through this, you'll find it."
She wanted tobelieve him—to cling to the idea that there was a thread they could pull thatwould unravel the whole sordid tapestry. But belief was a luxury she'd longsince not afforded herself. Morgan set the cup down with more care than shefelt, turning to peer out the narrow window. Beyond the glass, the sun dippedbelow the horizon, igniting the sky in a blaze of reds and oranges—a beautifulend to another fruitless day.
"Let's callit," she said finally, her voice softer now, resigned. "Go home,Derik. Try again tomorrow."
Without waitingfor his response, Morgan grabbed her jacket from the hook by the door. As sheshrugged it on, her thoughts drifted unbidden to Thomas—the handsome agent wholingered at the edges of her mind like a promise she wasn't sure she couldtrust. When would he call? What game was he playing at? She shook her head,dispelling his phantom presence, and focused on the one constant in her life:Skunk. The loyal Pitbull who waited for her, who needed her. That was real.That was tangible.
“Morgan, holdon,” Derik said, jogging over to her with concern in his green eyes.
"I need togo," she said, cutting him off. His eyes met hers, and a silentunderstanding passed between them. "I need to check on Skunk."
“I know,” hesaid. “But can I come by? I’d love to see Skunk too.”
Morgan hesitated.In truth, she needed to be alone right now, but she did appreciate him trying.“No, Derik. Not tonight," she said, meeting his gaze squarely. "Justgo home."
Her partner'sexpression softened with understanding. He gave her a slight nod, stepping backto give her space. "Alright, Morgan," he said gently. "Besafe."
