Page 36 of For Fear

Dahlia's lips curled into a sneer. "Their failures are not my concern. I gave them the tools to succeed. What they did with those tools once they left my tutelage is on them, not me."

Morgan shook her head, a humorless chuckle escaping her lips. "And there it is. The crux of your philosophy. You mold these children, shape them into your vision of perfection, and then cast them aside when they inevitably crack under the pressure."

Dahlia's eyes flashed, her mask slipping for just a moment. "I push them to greatness. If they can't handle it, that's their weakness, not mine."

Morgan leaned back, her gaze never leaving Dahlia's face. She could see the cracks now, the fault lines in Dahlia's carefully constructed facade. Time to hammer them home.

"But what happens when they break, Dahlia? When they shatter into a million pieces, unable to cope with the scars you've left on their psyche? Do you even care? Or are they just collateral damage in your quest for vicarious glory?"

Dahlia's hands clenched into fists, her knuckles white. She opened her mouth to retort, but Morgan cut her off.

"I think you do care, Dahlia. More than you'd ever admit. Because their failures reflect on you. They're a crack in your perfect record, a blemish on your reputation. And you can't stand that, can you? The idea that anyone might see you as fallible, as human."

Morgan could practically hear Dahlia's teeth grinding, see the vein pulsing in her temple. She was close, so close to cracking her wide open.

"So tell me, Dahlia," Morgan said, her voice a razor's edge. "Just how far would you go to punish those who disappointed you? To make them pay for their perceived sins against your legacy?"

Dahlia's eyes widened, a flicker of something raw and primal flashing across her face before she quickly masked it. But Morgan had seen it—the fear, the guilt, the shame. It was there, buried beneath the layers of arrogance and denial.

"How dare you," Dahlia hissed, her voice trembling with barely contained rage. "I have dedicated my life to nurturing talent, to giving these children a chance to shine. And you have the audacity to sit there and accuse me of... of what? Harming them? Punishing them?"

She leaned forward, her face inches from Morgan's, her eyes blazing with a manic intensity. "I push them because I believe in them. Because I know what they're capable of. And if they can't handle that, if they crumble under the pressure, that's not on me. I'm not responsible for their weaknesses."

But even as the words left her lips, Morgan could see the doubt flickering in Dahlia's eyes, the slightest hesitation in her voice. She was trying to convince herself as much as Morgan, desperately clinging to the belief that her methods were justified, that her intentions were pure.

Morgan held her gaze, unflinching. "But you are responsible, Dahlia. You're the one who molds them, who shapes them. You're the one who holds their dreams in your hands. And when you crush those dreams, when you break them down and leave them shattered, that's on you. Whether you want to admit it or not."

Dahlia's lower lip trembled, her composure cracking like a porcelain mask. For a moment, Morgan thought she might crumble completely, might finally admit to the depths of her obsession, the lengths she'd gone to maintain her iron grip on her prodigies.

But then, just as quickly, the mask slipped back into place. Dahlia straightened in her chair, her eyes hardening, her jaw set in a stubborn line. "I have nothing more to say to you. I've done nothing wrong, and I won't sit here and be slandered by your baseless accusations."

Morgan sighed, feeling a mix of frustration and pity. She'd been so close, so damn close to breaking through Dahlia's defenses. But she could see now that the woman was too far gone, too deeply entrenched in her own delusions to ever truly confront the reality of what she'd done.

She glanced at Derik, who had been watching the exchange with a grim expression. He gave her a subtle nod, a silent acknowledgment that they'd pushed as far as they could. For now, at least.

Morgan turned back to Dahlia, her voice cool and professional once more. "This isn't over, Ms. Maddox. We'll be looking into your program, your methods, your former students.If there's anything there, anything at all that suggests you've crossed a line, we will find it. And we will hold you accountable."

Dahlia met her gaze with a defiant stare, her lips curled in a sneer. "Do what you must, Agent Cross. But you'll find nothing. My conscience is clear."

“We’ll be right back.”

But as Morgan and Derik left the interrogation room, Morgan couldn't shake the feeling that Dahlia's conscience was anything but clear. There was something there, something dark and twisted lurking beneath the surface. And one way or another, she was determined to uncover it.

As the door closed behind them, Morgan let out a frustrated sigh. "She's hiding something, Derik. I can feel it."

Derik nodded, his brow furrowed. "I agree. But without any hard evidence, our hands are tied."

Morgan leaned against the wall, her mind racing. Dahlia's airtight alibi for the night of the most recent murder had thrown a wrench in their investigation. But Morgan couldn't shake the feeling that Dahlia was somehow connected to all of this, even if she wasn't the one wielding the knife.

"We need to dig deeper," she said, pushing off from the wall. "There has to be something we're missing. Some connection between Dahlia and the victims that we haven't found yet."

Derik fell into step beside her as they walked down the hallway. "Where do you want to start?"

Morgan thought for a moment, her lips pressed into a thin line. "Dahlia's program. Her former students. We need to find out if there are any other prodigies who fell from grace, anyone else who might fit the profile of our victims."

Derik nodded, already pulling out his phone. "We better convince her to help us, then. After how we talked to her, I doubt she’ll be in a generous mood.”

"You're right," Morgan agreed, the corners of her mouth turning up in a wry smile. "But I have a feeling there's more to Dahlia than meets the eye. Her conscience may be clear, but I don't think that makes her innocent, far from it. Let’s go back in there and talk to her.”

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