Page 19 of For Silence

"Doesn't seem our killer’s style," Morgan muttered, her eyes scanning the wreckage. But they’d been called in for a reason—she needed more details from the officers on site."

They ducked under the yellow crime scene tape, badges flashing briefly in the harsh light from the squad cars. Morgan moved closer to the vehicle, the sharp scent of spilled gasoline mingling with the metallic tang of blood in the air. She peered through the shattered windshield at the victim, a woman, her body slumped over the steering wheel, dark hair cascading down her shoulders.

"Looks like she never saw it coming," Derik observed quietly, his gaze locked on the figure in the front seat.

"Or couldn't stop it," Morgan added, noting the angle of the car, as if it had been driven straight into disaster. There was something eerily deliberate about it all—the way the pole cradled the mangled metal, the silent stillness of the woman who now seemed almost part of the wreckage.

Morgan's boots crunched on broken glass as she approached the twisted wreck, her breath a fog in the cool night air. The stench of burnt rubber and spilled fuel hung heavy, mingling with the faint coppery scent of blood. She spotted a tall, familiar figure among the sea of uniforms.

"Officer Smith," she called out, her voice cutting through the cacophony of crackling walkie-talkies and murmuring first responders.

The uniformed officer turned, his young face drawn tight with the gravity of the situation. "Agent Cross," he greeted, stepping away from the huddle of his colleagues. His eyes flickered to the crushed vehicle, then back to Morgan. "This is Mariana Torres," he said, gesturing towards the wreckage. "New judge at the courthouse."

Morgan's mind whirred, piecing together the implications. A judge meant widening circles, expanding threats. "Your team was first on scene?" she asked tersely, her gaze never leaving the car.

Smith nodded. "We got here fast, but..." He trailed off, a shadow of doubt clouding his features. “She was dead on site. Thought it was just an accident at first, but we found something.”

"Found something?" Morgan pressed, reading the hesitation like a telltale sign.

"Inside the car. Passenger seat." Smith gestured for her to follow.

They moved closer, the flashing lights from the emergency vehicles casting an eerie dance over the scene. Morgan leaned in, her dark hair falling like a curtain around her face as she peered through the shattered window. There, amidst the chaos of debris, lay the small, plush foot of a teddy bear—ripped off, its stuffing exposed like entrails.

For a moment, silence roared in Morgan's ears, the noise of the scene fading into the background. The innocent remnant was an accusation, a signature left with cruel intention. Her jaw clenched, the revelation etching itself onto the hard lines of her face.

"Anything else?" she asked, her voice steady despite the storm brewing inside her.

"Still processing," Smith replied, watching her closely. "But the brakes... there's talk they might've been tampered with."

Morgan's heart raced as the gravity of the situation took hold. The teddy bear’s larger, more conspicuous limb was a brazen departure from the subtlety of previous tokens—a taunt left in plain sight. She felt the weight of every decision pressing down on her shoulders as she turned to Officer Smith.

"Your thoughts?" Her voice cut through the din of activity, crisp and demanding.

"Looks like sabotage to me," Smith said grimly, gesturing towards the twisted wreckage. “She might not have even noticed the item in her passenger seat. Maybe she was just going for a drive…”

The words hung heavy in the air, each syllable a confirmation of their worst fears. Morgan nodded curtly, filing away the information with clinical precision. This was no accident; it was a message.

"Thanks, keep me posted."

Morgan's eyes flicked back to the car one last time before she pivoted on her heel, seeking out Derik in the sea of uniforms.

"Derik," she beckoned, her tone urgent but composed as they stepped aside, away from prying ears.

"Torres wasn't just another attorney—she was a judge," she stated, watching his reaction closely. "It means this killer isn't just targeting defense lawyers. He’s escalating, hitting the whole justice system."

Derik's eyes darkened, the implications of her words sinking in. "It broadens the scope," he murmured, "puts anyone involved on the potential hit list."

"Exactly," Morgan affirmed, her brain already sifting through the ramifications. They weren't just hunting a murderer; they were up against someone challenging the very pillars of their society.

"Let's get back and dig into those court documents. We need to find a connection before this spirals out of control," she instructed, her resolve steeling.

Derik nodded, his own determination mirroring hers. They had entered uncharted territory, where the line between hunter and hunted blurred. As they made their way back to their vehicle, the night seemed to close in around them, filled with shadows and untold threats.

Morgan could feel the unsaid words hanging between them—the fear that they might already be too late to stop the next attack. But she pushed it aside; hesitation was a luxury they couldn't afford.

CHAPTER NINE

The fluorescent lights of the FBI headquarters buzzed overhead, casting harsh shadows across the briefing room where Morgan hunched over a scattered array of court documents. Derik was beside her, scanning papers with an intensity that belied the late hour. They had returned from Mariana Torres’s crime scene, and the image of her crushed car was imprinted in Morgan's mind—a grim punctuation to their urgent search.

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