Page 34 of Forbidden

They moved with purpose, navigating through a maze of construction materials and heavy equipment. The jobsite, half-built and abandoned for the day, seemed almost otherworldly in the fading light.

A figure detached itself from the shadow of an unfinished wall, a man in a hard hat stepping forward, wiping his brow with a dusty hand. Morgan assessed him quickly—a coworker, she presumed—his stance wary but open.

"Can we help you folks?" he called out, squinting against the setting sun.

"Agents Cross and Greene, FBI," Morgan stated, showing her badge briefly. "We're looking for Elliott Crane. Is he around?"

The man's face shifted to concern as he shook his head, a sigh escaping him that spoke volumes. "Haven't seen Elliott in days."

"Since when?" Derik interjected, picking up on the unsaid.

"Few days ago, maybe. He’s been off since his brother passed last year." The man's voice held a note of sympathy. "Elliott... well, he took it hard. Started pulling away from everyone, holed up somewhere, I guess."

"Did he say anything before he left? Anything that might tell us where he'd go?" Morgan pressed, her mind racing.

"Nothing. Just... wasn't himself, you know?" He looked between the two agents, the lines on his face deepening. Morgan listened as the coworker's voice softened, his gaze trailing off to the unfinished beams above. "Elliott and Jace had it rough from the start," he began, wiping his hands on his jeans. "Their folks... well, let's just say home wasn't a safe haven for those boys. Addicts, both of 'em, and mean when they were using."

She noticed how his eyes darkened with the memory, reflecting a deep-seated pity for the Crane brothers. "Elliott was like a father to Jace, always looking out for him. But protecting your kid brother in a place like that... takes its toll, you know?"

Morgan nodded, her mind racing as she absorbed every detail. She could imagine Elliott, the burden of guardianship thrust upon him prematurely, trying to shield Jace from their harsh reality.

"Jace's death hit him hard," the coworker continued, shaking his head. "Real hard. Elliott was never quite the same after that. Like something inside him just broke."

"Thank you for sharing this," Morgan said, her voice steady despite the turmoil within. "It helps us understand him better."

The man nodded, looking up at the sky where the sun was dipping below the horizon, casting an orange glow across the site. "Just hope you find him before he does something... irrevocable."

As the coworker turned away, heading back into the maze of steel and cement, Morgan made her way to the car. She pulled out her phone, the screen illuminating her determined face against the encroaching dusk. With a few swift taps, she dialed her team.

"Cross here. What's the status on Crane's vehicle?" she asked, her tone all business.

There was a brief pause on the other end before the reply came. "No sign yet, Agent Cross. The perimeter's been widened; we're checking all known associates and hangouts."

"Keep me posted. Every minute counts," Morgan urged, ending the call with a press of her thumb. Her anxiety was mounting, each passing second a reminder of what was at stake.

Derik watched her, his eyes reflecting a shared concern. "What now?" he asked, his voice low.

"Stay vigilant," Morgan replied curtly. "We keep searching. He's out there somewhere, and we need to find him before he strikes again."

***

Hours passed, the dusk giving way to the deep blue of night. The city's sounds faded into a distant hum as Morgan and Derik sat in their parked car, eyes vigilant. The crescent moon cast a muted glow on the abandoned streets, adding an eerie stillness to their wait.

Derik squirmed in his chair, the leather groaning beneath him. "Feels like we're chasing a phantom," he murmured, more to himself than anyone else.

"Or a hunter," Morgan retorted softly, her eyes glued to the street. "Biding his time, ready to pounce when we least expect it."

"Another life hangs in the balance tonight," she said, breaking the silence. Her hand rested on her gun holster, a small comfort against the uncertainty. She could feel the scars beneath her sleeves, each a reminder of battles fought and a past that had forged her resolve in steel.

"Morgan.." Derik began, turning to face her. He reached out, as if to bridge the distance she had put between them, but stopped short. She felt his hesitation, the unspoken recognition of her need to maintain control, to keep focused on the hunt. "Nothing gets past us," he finally said, his voice firm. "We'll stop him, Morgan. We have to."

She nodded, accepting his silent pledge. Derik understood the stakes; he shared the burden. Together, they waited in the stillness, two sentinels against the dark, ready to pounce at the first sign of movement, the first whisper of trouble. For now, they watched and waited, every sense attuned to the shadows that danced just beyond the reach of the headlights.

Morgan’s phone pierced the silence, its ring slicing through the tension like a blade. She snatched it up, her pulse spiking as an agent's voice crackled through the line: "Cross, we've spotted Elliott's vehicle. North side, near an old construction site."

"Copy that," Morgan replied sharply, her words clipped as she tossed the phone aside and ignited the engine. Beside her, Derik's gaze sharpened, reflecting the urgency that had suddenly charged the atmosphere.

Lights flashed and sirens wailed, tearing through the quiet streets as Morgan maneuvered the car with practiced ease. The cityscape became a blur of lights and shadows, each moment propelling them closer to the man who held death in his hands. With every turn, Morgan’s focus narrowed, her thoughts crystallizing into a single goal: find Elliott Crane before another life was lost.

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