Page 29 of Forbidden

The news hit Morgan like a physical blow. Dead ends were part of the job, but this felt different—like losing grip just before the summit. For a moment, silence reigned, oppressive as the walls around them. She collected herself, her training kicking in to push past the shock.

"How did Jace die?" Morgan asked, her voice steady despite the turmoil inside.

Trish's eyes, which had been defiant and challenging throughout the interview, softened. "It was an accident, they said." Her gaze drifted to some unseen point in the room, her voice dropping to a whisper. "He was at a construction site late one night. No one really knows why he was there."

"Go on," Morgan urged gently, sensing the shift in Trish's demeanor.

"He fell," Trish continued, her arms wrapping around herself as if the memory brought a chill. "There was a pit, supposed to be marked off, but the signs... they weren't where they should've been. By the time he realized it wasn't safe, it was too late." A tear glistened at the corner of her eye, quickly brushed away by a sleeve.

"Did anyone see what happened? Was there an investigation?" Morgan probed, her mind already drawing parallels to the recent cases.

"Sure, there was an investigation," Trish scoffed, the sarcasm briefly returning. "But it was over pretty quick. Just a tragic accident, that's what they called it." She looked up, meeting Morgan's gaze with an intensity that conveyed the depth of her skepticism. "But accidents don't just happen, not like that."

Morgan scribbled notes, her hand moving mechanically while her brain raced. This was more than coincidence—the same pattern, the misplaced warning signs, now linked to someone connected to the symbol. It couldn't be dismissed; it was a clue that demanded attention, possibly the key to understanding the killer's motives. She needed to dig deeper, to uncover the truth behind Jace Crane's death and how it tied into the chaos unfolding before her.

Morgan's fingers tightened around the pen, her knuckles whitening. The sterile light of the interrogation room hummed above, casting stark shadows across Trish's face as she recounted Jace Crane's death—a fall into an unmarked pit. The emotion in Trish's voice had been unmistakable, a blend of sorrow and suspicion that resonated with Morgan's own instincts.

"Thanks, Trish," Morgan said, her voice low, steady. She glanced down at her notes, but the script seemed to blur before her eyes. Her gaze lifted, settling on the vacant chair where Trish had sat moments ago. In the silence that followed, Morgan's mind whirred, piecing together a pattern too distinct to ignore.

The cold dread crept through her, seeping into her bones like the chill of an unwelcome shadow. The signs at the construction sites—moved. The fatal accidents—they weren't just random occurrences. And now, Jace's death, another piece, another life claimed under eerily similar circumstances.

Her thoughts flickered to the symbol, its lines etched into her memory as clearly as it had been spray-painted near those tragic scenes. It was a marker, a signpost to something darker, more sinister than they had anticipated. Could it be coincidence that Jace, associated with that very symbol, met a fate so closely resembling the murders?

***

Morgan pushed open the door to the briefing room, her movements swift and purposeful. Inside, Derik hunched over a sprawl of case files, his eyes scanning page after page, seeking something he hadn't found yet. The fluorescent lights cast a harsh glow on his slicked black hair, evidence of another sleepless night etched beneath his eyes.

"Derik," Morgan announced, cutting through the silence. "Trish, from the nightclub raid—she gave us something."

He looked up, attention snapping to her like a magnet. In the starkness of the room, Morgan noticed anew how the years had carved deeper lines into his face, a map of the struggles they'd faced together.

"Jace Crane," she continued, not wasting a moment.

Derik straightened, rubbing at his temple. "Fill me in."

"Trish recognized the symbol from the crime scenes," Morgan said, her voice tight with controlled urgency. "Said it was Crane's handiwork. He used to show up at the club before he died."

"Another dead end?" Derik asked, skepticism lacing his tone.

"Maybe not. Crane's death—earlier this year," she pressed on, "another 'accident' at a construction site."

Derik's tired gaze sharpened. "You're saying there's a pattern."

"Exactly." Morgan leaned against the cold metal table, arms folded. The scent of stale coffee mingled with the tension that suddenly charged the air. She could almost feel the weight of the inked symbols that adorned her skin, reminders of a past that never stopped chasing her.

"Elizabeth Harmon, Rachel Marquez—both redirected to their deaths by misplaced signs," she reminded him. Each name felt like a stone in her mouth, heavy with the responsibility they bore.

"Crane too," Derik murmured, the pieces clicking into place behind his eyes. "And now this new guy, Finch, nearly buys it the same way."

"Too similar to be coincidence," Morgan stated flatly. Her mind raced, tracing the killer's steps, a shadow just out of reach. Every victim, every clue seemed to pull her deeper into a maze with no clear exit.

"Damn," Derik exhaled, leaning back in his chair. He ran a hand through his hair, pulling at the roots as if trying to extract some elusive truth hidden within. "Construction sites, symbols... What the hell is the connection?"

“I don’t know, but I feel like Jace Crane is where all of this began. We need to know more about him.” Morgan opened her laptop and clicked open the file, her fingers tapping a staccato rhythm on the keyboard. The photograph of Jace Crane filled the screen: a young man with an easy smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. She squinted at the birth date. "Twenty-four," she murmured. "Too young."

"Any next of kin?" Derik asked, leaning in closer to view the details on the laptop.

"Parents and an older brother, Elliott," Morgan read aloud, scrolling through the text. "No mention of them being questioned extensively after his death. Just a brief statement about the accident."

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