Page 19 of For Fear

Derik's free hand came up to cup her face. "We'll get him, Morgan. We're close. I can feel it."

She wanted to believe him. God, how she wanted to. But the weight of the past decade – the stolen years, the shattered trust – pressed down on her like a physical thing.

Instead of responding, Morgan leaned in and kissed him softly. It wasn't passionate or desperate, just a gentle reminder that they were here, together, alive. When she pulled back, she nestled her head against his chest, letting the steady thump of his heartbeat lull her towards sleep.

Just as she was drifting off, Derik's voice rumbled through his chest. "I love you, you know. No matter what happens."

Morgan's throat tightened. "I know," she whispered back. "I love you too, Derik."

With that, they fell asleep in each other’s arms. Morgan expected another nightmare—most of her nights were plagued by them, these days. Images of her father, images of Cordell, images of the cabin where she grew up, where she now knew was just a hideaway for her dad as he hid his true identity. But when she drifted away, listening to the sound of Derik’s heart, she felt an odd sense of peace. Morgan dreamt of nothing at all.

Until the shrill ring of her phone shattered Morgan’s sleep like glass. Morgan jerked awake, her heart pounding as she fumbled for the device on the nightstand. The glowing numbers on the clock read 5:00 AM.

"Shit," she hissed, recognizing Mueller's name on the screen. With a sinking feeling in her gut, she answered. "Cross here."

"Cross." Mueller's voice was clipped, tense. "We've got another one."

She sat up, suddenly wide awake. "Where?"

As Mueller rattled off an address, Morgan was already moving, shaking Derik awake. The brief moment of peace they'd shared evaporated, replaced by the grim reality of their job.

"We'll be there in twenty," she told Mueller, ending the call.

Derik looked at her, his eyes reflecting the dread she felt. "Another body?"

Morgan nodded, reaching for her boots. "Looks like your feeling was right. The bastard's struck again."

As they hurried to get ready, Morgan couldn't shake the cold certainty settling in her bones. This was only the beginning, and things were about to get much, much worse.

***

The city streets blurred past as Morgan gripped the steering wheel, her knuckles white. The pre-dawn darkness cloaked everything in eerie shadows, broken only by the occasional streetlight. Beside her, Derik sat in tense silence, his jaw clenched.

As they turned onto a street lined with dilapidated buildings, Morgan couldn't help but draw parallels to her own past. They pulled up to the crime scene. The flashing lights of police cruisers painted the rundown apartment complex in surreal shades of red and blue. Yellow tape cordoned off an area near a cluster of dumpsters, where a swarm of officers and forensic techs moved about with grim purpose.

As they stepped out of the car, the stench hit them – a nauseating mix of garbage and something far worse. Morgan's stomach churned, but she steeled herself. This was the job, after all.

"Ready?" she asked Derik, her voice steady despite the tension coiling in her gut.

He nodded, his green eyes reflecting the same determination she felt. "Let's see what we’re dealing with.”

Together, they approached the scene, the weight of their mission hanging heavy in the air. Another life lost, anotherpuzzle piece to fit into the twisted game they were playing. And somewhere out there, a killer was watching, waiting for their next move.

Morgan's boots crunched on broken glass as she approached the body, her eyes scanning the scene with practiced efficiency. The victim lay face down, his limbs splayed at unnatural angles, a dark pool of blood spreading beneath him like a macabre halo.

"Jesus," Derik muttered beside her. "This one's messy."

Morgan knelt by the corpse, her gloved hand hovering over the man's back. "Stab wound to the chest," she observed, her voice clinical. "Looks like he put up a fight."

As she leaned closer, a flutter of white caught her eye. A small, folded piece of paper rested on the victim's back, held in place by a single drop of blood. Morgan's heart raced as she carefully plucked it from the body.

"Another calling card," she said, unfolding the paper. Her brow furrowed as she studied the intricate pattern of symbols and numbers. "It's code. Computer code, I think."

Derik peered over her shoulder. "Like the music notes for Lila and the equations for Simon. What the hell is this guy trying to tell us?"

Before Morgan could respond, a gruff voice cut through the air. "Agents Cross and Greene?"

They turned to see a heavyset officer approaching, his face grim beneath the brim of his hat. "I'm Officer Ramirez. Victim's name is Evan Rhodes, 31 years old."

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