Page 20 of For Fear

Ramirez handed them an ID card, the face of Evan Rhodes frozen in time, blissfully unaware of his impending fate. He appeared as a perfectly average man; brown hair, hazel eyes, and a clean-shaven face. Ordinary, ordinary, ordinary -- a stark contrast to the horrific sight of his lifeless body sprawled in the parking lot. Morgan couldn’t help but feel a stark sense of failure. One thing was certain: they needed to know more aboutthe victim, to understand how he ended up chosen by this damn killer.

***

Morgan slid into the driver's seat, the car door slamming shut with a finality that echoed in the pre-dawn quiet. She pulled out her tablet, the screen's glow casting harsh shadows across her face.

"What are you thinking?" Derik asked, settling into the passenger seat beside her.

Morgan's eyes flicked across the screen, absorbing details of Evan Rhodes' life. "I'm thinking our killer has a type," she muttered, her voice low and gravelly from lack of sleep.

"Child prodigies turned addicts," Derik said, nodding. "But why?"

Morgan's fingers swiped through articles, pausing on a photo of a young Evan accepting an award. His smile was bright, eyes full of promise. "Look at this kid," she said, tilting the screen toward Derik. "Twenty-two years old, revolutionizing data encryption. Investors were practically throwing money at him."

Derik leaned in, his brow furrowed. "From wunderkind to washed up. It's a hell of a fall."

"Yeah," Morgan agreed, her voice tinged with a bitterness that surprised even her. "One bad decision, and it all goes to shit."

She thought of her own fall from grace, the years stolen by prison. The anger that had fueled her for so long bubbled up, mixing with a strange empathy for these victims.

"You okay?" Derik's hand found hers, warm and steady.

Morgan took a deep breath, pushing the memories away. "Yeah, I'm fine. It's just... I get it, you know? How easy it is to lose everything."

Derik squeezed her hand. "But you came back stronger. These victims... they never got the chance."

Morgan nodded, her jaw set. "And now some psycho is playing judge, jury, and executioner. We need to figure out why."

She turned back to the tablet, scrolling through more recent articles. "Christ," she muttered. "Rhodes was living in a dump, working as a night janitor. The last known address was that apartment complex."

"A far cry from the penthouse suites he used to frequent," Derik added.

Morgan's eyes narrowed as she focused on a particular paragraph. "Says here he was trying to get clean. Started attending AA meetings a month ago." Morgan tapped her fingers on the steering wheel, her tattoos stark against her pale skin in the dim light of the car. She turned to Derik, her dark eyes intense. "Why these people? What's the endgame here?"

Derik ran a hand through his slicked-back hair, exhaustion etched into the lines of his face. "Someone with a grudge against wasted potential, maybe? A twisted sense of justice?"

"It's more than that," Morgan muttered, her mind racing. "This killer... they're methodical. Each victim, a prodigy in a different field. It's like they're collecting trophies."

She couldn't shake the feeling that they were missing something crucial. The pieces were there, but the picture was still blurry. Morgan's time in prison had taught her to trust her instincts, and right now, they were screaming that there was more to this than met the eye.

"What if," she started, her voice low, "what if the killer isn't punishing them for wasting their potential? What if they're angry that these people had potential in the first place?"

Derik's brow furrowed. "You think we're looking at some kind of twisted envy?"

Morgan shrugged, her shoulders tense. "It's a theory. But it doesn't explain everything. The calling cards, the specific targeting... it feels personal."

She glanced at Derik, noticing the dark circles under his eyes. This case was wearing on them both, bringing up ghosts they'd rather keep buried. For a moment, Morgan felt a pang of guilt for dragging him into her quest for revenge against Cordell and the corrupt FBI agents. But she pushed it aside. They had a killer to catch.

"We're close," she said, more to herself than to Derik. "I can feel it. But until we nail this bastard, more people are going to die."

Derik reached out, his hand covering hers on the steering wheel. "We'll get them, Morgan. We always do."

She nodded, allowing herself a moment of comfort in his touch before pulling away. "Let's head back to the office. We need to dig deeper into Rhodes' background, see if there are any connections we've missed."

As she started the car, Morgan couldn't shake the feeling that time was running out. Somewhere out there, the killer was probably already selecting their next target. Another fallen star, another life to snuff out. And all she and Derik could do was try to stay one step ahead in a race they weren't even sure they could win.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

The faint light of dawn crept through the blinds, casting long shadows across the mess of papers strewn across the conference table. Morgan's eyes burned from staring at crime scene photos for hours on end. She rubbed her temples, willing away the headache that threatened to derail her focus.

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