Page 32 of For Fear

She met Derik's gaze, seeing the same determination reflected back at her. They'd been partners long enough to know when they were onto something.

Morgan paced the cramped apartment, her mind racing as she tried to piece together the connection between Dahlia Maddox and the victims. The brochure in her hand felt like a lead weight, a tangible link to a world of cutthroat ambition and broken prodigies.

Suddenly, a thought struck her. She pulled out her own phone and dialed a number she'd hoped she wouldn't need again.

“Mrs. Sanchez? This is Agent Cross. I have one more question for you."

“Of course—how can I help?” The woman's voice on the other end was hesitant, but Morgan pushed on.

"Was Lila ever involved with the Maddox Talent Program?"

There was a pause, a sharp intake of breath. Then, "Yes. When she was younger. But she... she didn't talk about it much."

Morgan's heart skipped a beat. "Thank you. That's all I needed to know."

She hung up, her mind already whirling with the implications. Two victims, both connected to Dahlia Maddox. It couldn't be a coincidence.

"Maddox knew Lila Sanchez. We need to talk to her," Morgan said, her voice hard. "If she's involved in this somehow, we need to know."

She thought of the crime scenes, the cold precision of the murders. The idea of a woman being behind it all was jarring, but Morgan had seen enough in her career to know that evil wore many faces.

"Maybe it's not about the killing for her," she mused aloud. "Maybe it's about the perfection. The need to eliminate those who don't measure up."

It was a dark thought, but one that seemed to fit with what they knew of Dahlia Maddox. A woman who valued talent above all else, who saw people as tools to be honed and discarded when they outlived their usefulness.

Derik sighed, running a hand through his hair. "It's a stretch, Morgan. But I trust your instincts. If you think Maddox is worth looking into, then that's what we'll do."

Morgan nodded, already moving toward the door. "Let's go pay Dahlia Maddox a visit. See what she has to say for herself."

As they stepped out into the hall, Morgan couldn't shake the feeling that they were on the precipice of something big. Something that could change everything they thought they knew about this case.

But one thing was certain: if Dahlia Maddox was involved, Morgan would stop at nothing to bring her to justice.

No matter how dark the truth turned out to be.

***

The sleek lines of the Maddox Talent Program's studio glinted in the fading evening light as Morgan and Derik pulled into the parking lot. The building exuded an air of prestige, all gleaming glass and polished stone, the kind of place where the elite sent their prodigies to be molded into something extraordinary.

Morgan stepped out of the car, her eyes narrowed as she surveyed the facade. "Looks like no expense spared," she muttered, her tone laced with a hint of distaste.

Derik fell into step beside her as they approached the entrance. "Let's hope that extends to their security cameras. Might give us a lead if Maddox is involved."

The doors slid open with a whisper, and they stepped into an eerily silent main hall. Morgan stopped dead in her tracks, her hand instinctively reaching for Derik's arm. Before them stood two dozen children, ramrod straight, each balancing a thick, leather-bound book atop their head. The scene was surreal – like stumbling upon some twisted finishing school from another era.

And then there was Dahlia Maddox herself, prowling between the rows of children like a predator sizing up its prey. She cut an imposing figure in a high-necked black dress that seemed to absorb what little warmth remained in the room. Her silver-streaked hair was pulled back so severely it looked painful, emphasizing the sharp angles of her face.

A young boy near the entrance turned his head slightly at the sound of their footsteps. The movement was minute, barely perceptible, but it was enough. The book wobbled, then crashed to the floor with a thunderous bang that shattered the silence.

"Mr. Chen!" Maddox's voice cracked through the air like a whip. The boy flinched as she strode toward him, her heels clicking against the hardwood floor in a rhythm that sounded like a countdown to execution. "What have I told you about focus? About discipline?"

"I-I'm sorry, Ms. Maddox," the boy stammered, his face draining of color.

"Sorry?" She loomed over him, her voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "Sorry is what weak people say when they've failed. Are you weak, Mr. Chen?"

"No, Ms. Maddox," he whispered, tears welling in his eyes.

"Then prove it. Twenty minutes in the corner, book on head, arms extended. Perhaps that will help you understand the importance of unwavering attention."

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