Page 33 of For Fear

Morgan felt her stomach turn as she watched the boy shuffle to the corner, his small arms trembling as he lifted them parallel to the ground. The other children remained perfectly still, but their eyes darted nervously in his direction, a shared terror evident in their rigid postures.

"Christ," Derik muttered under her breath. "This isn't a talent program, it's a boot camp for kids."

Maddox finally turned her attention to them, fixing them with a gaze as cold as winter frost. She didn't smile, didn't even attempt the pretense of warmth. "This is a private session. You're interrupting."

Morgan stepped forward, her badge held aloft. "Agent Morgan Cross, FBI. This is my partner, Agent Derik Greene. We need to speak with you about two of your former students."

Maddox didn't move. "Do you have an appointment?"

"We don't need one. This is a murder investigation."

"How unfortunate for you." Maddox's lips curved into something that might have been a smile on another face. "However, I'm in the middle of training. My students require absolute focus. You can schedule an appointment with my secretary for next week."

Morgan took another step forward. "Ms. Maddox, two people are dead. This isn't a request."

"And this isn't a police state," Maddox shot back, her voice sharp enough to cut glass. "I know my rights, Agent Cross. Unless you have a warrant, you have no authority to disrupt my business."

"Children," Morgan called out, her voice carrying across the room. "You can put the books down now. Class is dismissed."

"Don't you dare!" Maddox's composure cracked, her face contorting with rage. "These children are under my supervision. Their parents pay considerable sums for my expertise, my methods. You have no right—"

"Your methods?" Morgan's voice was quiet but carried an edge of steel. "You mean like forcing a crying child to stand in the corner? Is that the expertise parents are paying for?"

"You know nothing about excellence," Maddox spat. "Nothing about what it takes to cultivate true greatness. These children need discipline, structure—"

"They need to be protected from you." Morgan turned to Derik. "Call it in. I want Child Protective Services here within the hour. And get me Judge Harrison on the phone – I want an emergency warrant for every piece of paper in this building."

Maddox's face went white with fury. "You're making a grave mistake." She spun toward the children. "Nobody moves! This woman has no authority here!"

But the spell was already breaking. One by one, the books began to waver, then fall. The sound of them hitting the floor was like artillery fire in the tense silence.

"This is harassment," Maddox snarled, advancing on Morgan. "I'll have your badge for this. My lawyers will—"

"Will what?" Morgan cut her off. "Explain why you're torturing children? Try to justify your abuse as 'training'. Be my guest. I'm sure a jury would love to hear it." She pulled out her handcuffs. "Now, we can do this one of two ways. You can come with us voluntarily to answer some questions about EvanRhodes and Lila Sanchez, or I can arrest you right here for obstruction of justice and child endangerment. Your choice."

Maddox's eyes darted around the room like a trapped animal's. The children were watching now, their faces a mixture of fear and something else – hope, maybe. Or relief.

"You have no idea what you're doing," Maddox said, her voice trembling with barely contained rage. "These children need me. Without my guidance, they'll amount to nothing. They'll be ordinary." She spat the last word like it was poison.

"Better ordinary and alive than perfect and dead," Morgan replied coldly. "Now, what's it going to be?"

For a moment, Morgan thought Maddox might actually try to fight. But then her shoulders slumped, though her eyes remained hard as flint. "Fine. But my lawyer meets us there. And these children stay exactly where they are until their parents arrive."

Morgan nodded to Derik, who was already on the phone calling for backup and CPS. Then she turned back to Maddox. "After you."

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

He moved through the shadows, a ghost in the night, his footsteps silent on the damp pavement. The city slept, unaware of the predator in its midst. He had been watching her for days now, the fallen chess prodigy, Tara Lin. Once, her name was spoken with awe, the girl who defeated grandmasters while still a child. A brilliant flame, destined to illuminate the world of competitive chess for years to come.

But the flame had flickered and died, suffocated by the pressure, the expectations, the bright spotlight of fame that seared and scarred. Tara Lin, wunderkind, had vanished into the shadows, fading away as the world moved on to new prodigies, new obsessions. He had tracked her descent, watching from afar as she drowned in drink and despair, gambling away her dwindling fortune in seedy backrooms and casinos.

Gone was the incandescent girl glowing with talent and promise. In her place, a broken shell, haunted and haggard, jumping at shadows, withering under the weight of her failures. A wasted genius, another light extinguished too soon.

He watched her now, hunched and shivering against the chill wind as she scurried down an alley. Her dark hair hung lank and dull, her pale face pinched and bruised with exhaustion. She clutched her threadbare coat around her thin frame, a wraithlike figure, insubstantial, already halfway to ghost.

His eyes tracked her, clinical and assessing. He knew her routines now, could predict her movements like the steps of a chess game. He had studied her as she once studied chessboards, searching for weaknesses, awaiting the opportunity to strike.

Tara Lin, prodigy, champion, now just another lost soul, unremarkable, unremembered. He watched her disappeararound a corner and faded back into the shadows of the sleeping city, a patient predator biding his time, waiting for the moment to end her fall from grace, to snuff out a once brilliant light gone dark.

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