Page 9 of For Silence

"Forensics? What have they got?" Morgan inquired, her mind racing ahead, meticulously piecing together the scant evidence.

"Zilch on DNA. No prints, no fibers that don't belong to Gina herself. Whoever did this was thorough." Smith's eyes flickered with a mix of admiration and disdain—a professional recognizing the skill level of an adversary.

"Rope used in the murder—it's still with forensics?" Morgan pressed.

Smith nodded. "Yeah, but it's like everything else. Clean. Almost too clean." He gestured vaguely toward the direction of the forensics lab. "You wanna take a look? Be my guest."

"Thanks," Morgan replied curtly, her mind already shifting gears to the next phase of the investigation. “Our lab at the FBI is processing a piece of fabric I found at the scene too. Not sure if they’re related yet… but we’ll find out.”

Smith nodded. “Head downstairs. You’ll wanna talk to Lisa, our lead forensics expert.”

“Thanks, Smith.” With a determined stride, Morgan and Derik moved towards the lab, the possibility of a new lead igniting a familiar fire within her. Each step was purposeful, each thought honed to a razor's edge. In the sanitized silence of the lab, she would confront the silent witness to Gina's final moments—the rope that had snuffed out a life. It was there, in the intricate fibers of the seemingly innocuous object, that Morgan hoped to find the whisper of a clue that could scream volumes about the shadow they were chasing.

Morgan's boots echoed on the linoleum as she and Derik approached the forensics lab, a sterile chamber of cold fluorescence and stainless steel. The air was thick with determination, each inhale drawing in the scent of chemicals and latent answers. She nodded briefly to the lab technicians, her gaze settling on the table where the rope lay coiled like a silent serpent.

"Agent Cross, Agent Greene." Lisa's voice cut through the quiet. She was young, but her eyes held the weary knowledge of someone who'd seen too much. She gestured toward the murder weapon. "I was told to expect you. This is what you're here for, right?"

"Show us," Morgan said tersely, stepping closer to examine the rope. It looked deceptively simple, its weave tight and unfrayed, betraying nothing of its violent use.

"Marine-grade line," Lisa explained, pointing out the intricate braiding. "It's used for boating—strong, designed to resist water and weather. This one had no signs of wear; it must've been purchased recently."

"Could be a red herring," Derik chimed in, his tone cautious. "Killer might want us chasing boat owners."

Morgan considered his point, her fingers grazing the rope, feeling the roughness that had choked the life from Gina Bellwood. "Maybe," she conceded, her mind churning. "Or it's a mistake. They could have underestimated our ability to track purchases."

"Either way," Lisa added, "it's a clue. Whoever bought this wanted something reliable, something that wouldn't fail during... you know." Her voice trailed off, the gravity of the situation pressing down upon them all.

"Thanks, Lisa," Morgan said, giving the tech a nod of gratitude mixed with resolve. She knew the significance of every trace element, every choice the killer made. A rope with no past, purchased with a deadly future in mind—it was a thread, however thin, that Morgan intended to follow. "Let's go," she instructed Derik, already mentally cataloging marine supply stores, harbors, and sailing clubs that they would need to canvas. The killer had left a trail, however faint, and Morgan was determined to follow it wherever it led.

***

Back at HQ, Morgan stood before the briefing room's stark whiteboard, her dark eyes scanning over the hastily pinned photographs and scribbled notes. The fluorescent lights hummed overhead, casting an unnerving glow on the faces of her small but attentive team. Derik leaned against the wall, his green eyes sharp with focus despite the shadows of fatigue that clung to him like unwelcome companions. They were already partway through their first day, and they needed to prove these crimes were linked fast.

"Alright, people," Morgan stated, her voice a controlled blade slicing through the tension in the room. "We have two dead defense attorneys, both killed within days of each other, both with acquitted clients for similar crimes. Elaine Harrows was killed with a rock found near the scene." She tapped a finger against the board next to Gina Bellwood's photo. "And we have our murder weapon for Gina Bellwood, A rope." Her hand moved to reveal the image of the rope, coiled and sinister even in its stillness. "It's boating rope. No wear, likely bought for the job." She paused, letting her words sink in. "Which means we could trace it."

The team leaned forward, their expressions etched with anticipation.

"Derik and I are going to track down where this rope came from. We need to know who bought this type of rope in the past week."

"How many outlets are we talking about?" asked one of the agents, his pen hovering over a notepad.

"Every marine supply store, sports shop, and hardware store that could carry it," Derik interjected.

"Start with credit card transactions." Morgan's gaze swept across the room, locking onto each pair of eyes in turn. "I want names, and I want them yesterday."

Her last command echoed off the walls as the team sprang into action, fingers flying over keyboards, phones pressed against ears. The air crackled with the electricity of the hunt, the chase for a ghost hidden in transaction records and mundane purchases.

As the cacophony of the room escalated, Morgan turned to Derik, her face set in grim determination. They had a lead, fragile as it was, and every second counted. This killer was methodical, calculating—qualities Morgan despised and respected in equal measure.

Morgan's eyes narrowed as she watched her team tear through the digital labyrinth, each click and keystroke a step closer to the truth. The hum of computers blended with the murmur of hushed conversations, creating a soundtrack to their search for justice. She paced behind them, a spectral overseer, until Derik's voice drew her aside.

"Are you sure about this?" His green eyes, usually so clear and resolute, flickered with doubt. "Linking these murders—it's a bold move."

"Bold is what we need," Morgan replied without hesitation. "The clients are clean, families too. We're missing something, Derik, and I intend to find it. Trust me."

Derik searched her face, the lines around his eyes deepening. He nodded slowly, accepting her conviction as gospel. "Alright, Morgan. I'm with you." His words were a tether, grounding her in the storm of possibilities.

"Good. Let’s get back to it." She clapped him on the shoulder, feeling the reassuring solidity of an ally.

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