Page 6 of For Silence

"What?" Derik's brows furrowed again as he leaned closer to read the report.

“Just like how Elaine Harrows was killed in a similar method one of her defendants was accused of.”

“So you think that connects them?” Derik asked, skepticism in his voice.

Morgan nodded, her eyes blazing on Derik’s. “We should bring this to Mueller.”

CHAPTER TWO

Morgan's boots clicked a steady rhythm on the polished floors of the FBI headquarters as she and Derik approached Assistant Director Mueller's office. The tension knotted in her shoulders, a familiar weight when dealing with Mueller, but necessary. She needed this case.

She raised her hand to knock, but the door swung open before her knuckles could make contact. Assistant Director Mueller stood framed in the doorway, his imposing figure taking up space like a storm cloud ready to burst.

"Cross, Greene," he greeted in his gravelly tone, stepping aside to let them enter.

"AD Mueller," Morgan acknowledged with a nod, stepping into his meticulously organized office. She scanned the room quickly, noting the strategic placement of accolades and commendations—a silent declaration of power. "Sir, we believe we've got a serial on our hands," Morgan began, wasting no time. She pulled out the files from her leather bag, laying them on his desk with precision. "Two victims in little over a week — both female defense attorneys who recently acquitted men charged with violent crimes. Gina Bellwood, strangled with a noose. Elaine Harrows, blunt force trauma."

Mueller's eyes remained impassive as he glanced at the evidence laid out before him. "And you think this is our jurisdiction because?"

"Because these aren't random acts of violence," Morgan stated. "These women were targeted, methodically chosen. It’s calculated, which suggests premeditation and possibly a deeper motive. We need to get ahead of this before another attorney ends up dead."

"Interesting theory," Mueller said flatly, though his fingers tapped against the desk—a telltale sign of interest Morgan had come to recognize.

"More than a theory," she insisted. "We can link these cases, given the chance. This killer is meticulous, leaving breadcrumbs that scream for attention. We can track him down with the right resources."

Mueller regarded her for a long moment, the silence stretching between them. Then, without a word, he scooped up the files and sank into his chair, the leather creaking under his weight as he began to read.

Morgan exchanged a brief glance with Derik, whose expression echoed her own resolve. They watched as Mueller's eyes narrowed, tracing lines of text, absorbing the grim details of their plea for jurisdiction. The clock ticked audibly in the background, each second a tiny hammer against Morgan's patience.

"Defense attorneys," Mueller mumbled, almost to himself. "Interesting choice of prey."

"It's a pattern," Morgan pressed. "And it's our job to understand why. To stop it."

Mueller folded his arms, a skeptical arch to his brow. "Or it's two separate incidents. You know as well as I do, Morgan, coincidence is more common than conspiracy."

"Too easy," Morgan shot back. "These women, their profiles were public, searchable. A killer could've found them with a few keystrokes. It's targeted, Mueller. Someone's picking off defense attorneys."

"Based on what? Your gut?" Mueller challenged, leaning back in his chair, the leather groaning in protest.

"Experience," she retorted. "Patterns emerge if you're willing to connect the dots. And these dots..." Morgan paused, letting the gravity of her statement sink in, "...they form a line straight to a predator."

Mueller's eyes narrowed, assessing. She knew that look—it was the calculating gaze of a man who had spent a lifetime sifting truth from lies. Morgan held her ground, her resolve a steel beam through the heart of her argument.

"Convince me," he finally said, his words clipped.

"Defense attorneys," Morgan began, ticking off each point like a metronome set to a sprinter's pace. "They stand between the law and those who fear its grip. They're champions to some, villains to others. Anyone with a grudge against the system, against perceived injustice..."

She stood up, pacing the room now, her mind racing, her tattoos peeking out from under her sleeves like silent witnesses to her intensity. "Think about it—vigilantes, fanatics, individuals burned by plea deals gone wrong. The list goes on. Men and women who've watched someone walk free when they believed they should've been locked away."

"Speculation isn't evidence," Mueller cut in.

"True." Morgan stopped pacing, fixing him with a stare that bore all her years of chasing shadows. "But speculation founded on logical patterns has led us to killers before. If we wait for concrete proof, it might be too late for the next victim. We need to get ahead of this, and that means considering every angle, no matter how much it challenges our assumptions."

"Your argument is compelling, Agent Cross," Mueller admitted, his voice betraying a hint of respect that was as rare as it was fleeting. "But compelling isn't synonymous with conclusive. We have two victims, two different methods of execution. That doesn’t scream serial killer—it whispers coincidence."

Morgan tensed, the muscles in her jaw tightening. She knew better than to let frustration seep into her tone. "Understood, sir. But if we consider the killer's psychological profile—"

"Profiles are built on evidence, not suppositions," he interrupted. His gray eyes were sharp, dissecting. "However," he continued, lifting a hand to stall her rebuttal, "the fact that both women were defense attorneys and their online presence made them accessible... it could merit further investigation. I will consider your request to transfer jurisdiction over to the Bureau."

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