Page 18 of For Silence

The city lights reflected off Mariana’s glasses as she pulled them from her face, pinching the bridge of her nose in exhaustion. She exuded confidence; her every stride and gesture screamed defiance, unknowingly challenging him. His breath hitched at the sight; it was a picturesque tableau - a woman of power undone by her own hubris.

She would pay for that hubris.

She, and everyone else.

The FBI could try all they wanted, but they would never catch him.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Morgan's eyes felt like they were filled with sand, each blink a gritty reminder of the long day spent chasing ghosts. The sterile light of the briefing room flickered above, casting shadows that seemed to mock their lack of progress. Beside her, Derik slumped over the table, poring over the list of names they had compiled – every soul who'd purchased that damned marine rope.

"Nothing," he groaned, pushing away a stack of papers with a sense of finality that resonated through the quiet room. "They all have alibis tighter than Fort Knox."

"Of course, they do," Morgan muttered, scanning the list once more, as if the killer's name might magically reveal itself through sheer willpower. "Because why would it be easy?"

She knew the frustration gnawing at her was a hungry beast, but she couldn't afford to feed it – not when lives were at stake. She glanced sideways at Derik, his face drawn tight with fatigue and something else... guilt, maybe? He caught her gaze, and for a moment, there was a silent understanding between them. They were both haunted by their own demons, yet here they were, united in pursuit of someone else's monster.

Morgan flipped a page on the clipboard, her eyes scanning the endless rows of names and transactions. She could feel the fatigue gnawing at her bones, yet her mind churned relentlessly, refusing to succumb to rest. "You know," she started, her voice slicing through the silence of the briefing room, "this killer might've had the rope all along. Or maybe they didn't buy it—could've stolen it."

Derik leaned back in his chair, the leather creaking under his weight. His green eyes met hers, weary but sharp. "I've been thinking the same," he admitted. "It doesn't exactly expand our suspect pool, though."

"Nothing ever does," Morgan muttered under her breath. She tossed the clipboard onto the table, the sound echoing sharply. Then, as if remembering something, her expression softened slightly. "Hey, you did good today with the press. Kept your cool, got the message out. Thanks for handling that mess."

"Anything to keep us from being hounded every step of the way." Derik managed a tired smile. "Just hope it's enough to stop another headline with 'murder' in it."

"From your lips to God's ears," she said, her voice tinged with a bitter edge.

A frustrating dead end loomed over them, but Morgan's resolve only hardened. She stood, pacing like a panther in a cage, her dark clothing blending into the shadows.

"Look at this profile," Morgan began, her tone shifting gears. "Our perp is a man obsessed with retribution. The teddy bear fibers... I can't shake the feeling they mean something personal. A child, lost and mourned."

"His own twisted sense of justice," Derik murmured, following her train of thought. "He's targeting those who he thinks failed that child. Defense lawyers who walked a guilty man free."

"Exactly." Morgan stopped pacing and fixed her gaze on Derik. "Someone whose grief turned into madness. And now he's dealing out punishments where he believes the law fell short."

"Vigilante justice," Derik nodded. "But there's no pattern to the when or how. Makes anticipating his next move a shot in the dark."

“We should try to check the court records, see if there’s anyone in there who has a story like that. Child died, culprit got off free or too easy… something like that.”

Morgan went onto her laptop, the screen's glow casting an eerie pallor on her face as she scrolled through the endless digital pages of court documents. The clock was inching towards midnight, and the usual cacophony of the FBI headquarters had dwindled to a distant hum, leaving only the sound of their own frustrated breaths.

"Look for anything involving child endangerment, custody battles... anything that could have snapped," Derik said, his voice tinged with fatigue as his fingers flew over the keyboard. "We're looking for someone pushed over the edge."

A sudden creak of the door broke the silence, causing them to look up sharply. Agent Matthews stood there, his normally composed features twisted into a scowl of frustration. "There’s been another one," he announced grimly.

"Tell me you're joking," Derik said, half-rising from his seat.

"I wish I was," Matthews replied, stepping fully into the room. "Body's been found—looks like our guy might be connected."

"Damn it," Morgan cursed under her breath as she stood, the weariness momentarily forgotten. "Where?"

"Suburb just outside the city," Matthews informed them. "Looks like a car accident at first glance, but there's more to it."

"Always is," Morgan said tersely, grabbing her jacket. She met Derik's gaze, and without a word, they both knew—their profile, the court documents, all of it would have to wait. There was a new crime scene calling, and it could not be ignored.

***

Morgan and Derik approached the chaotic scene, red and blue lights slicing through the darkness of the late night suburb. The air buzzed with the low murmur of police radios and the distant wail of an ambulance siren fading into silence. A crushed car, pinned beneath a fallen pole, lay at the heart of the turmoil like a grim centerpiece.

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