Page 14 of Forbidden

The house looked unremarkable, its façade betraying none of the sorrow that had seeped into its foundations. Derik raised his hand, knocking firmly. The sound felt like an intrusion, too loud in the hush that followed.

The door swung open, revealing Eric, Rachel's fiancé. His face was drawn, eyes rimmed red with grief. Derik's earlier betrayal, though forgiven, shadowed Morgan's perception, but even she could see that Eric's pain was raw and unfeigned. It was a look she knew well—echoes of her own past torment reflected back at her.

"Eric Stone?” Morgan asked, her voice low and steady, and he nodded solemnly. Morgan flashed her badge. "FBI. We're investigating your fiance’s death." Her words cut through the air, devoid of unnecessary warmth. Eric's gaze shifted from Morgan to Derik—two agents worn by the world but undeterred in their pursuit of justice.

"Please, come in," Eric murmured, his voice a mere echo of a man who had once been whole.

They stepped across the threshold into a house that seemed to hold its breath, as if preserving the memory of its lost occupant. The warmth that greeted them was a contrast to the chill they brought with them, the kind that seeped into bones and settled in the soul. Morgan's eyes instantly catalogued the living room: a place where happiness had been a familiar guest, now an unwelcome stranger amidst grief.

Photographs adorned every wall and surface, chronicling a history abruptly discontinued. There was Rachel, smiling wide on a sunlit beach; Eric, laughing with an arm around her shoulder; birthday candles blown out amidst friends and family. Each frame was a silent testament to a future stolen, a love unfulfilled.

The living room was still, suspended in time. A coffee mug sat on the table, its contents long cold, the echo of morning routines now silent. Rachel's running shoes, placed neatly by the door, were a stark reminder that their owner would never lace them up for another jog through Dallas streets. Morgan noted the dust settling on the leather, the way it seemed to mark the passage of time since Rachel's absence.

Eric shuffled forward, gesturing towards the couch with a hand that couldn't quite steady itself. "Please," he said, his voice threaded with pain.

"Thank you," Morgan replied, her tone measured, as she and Derik took their seats. She drew in a slow breath, the air thick with sorrow, before speaking again. "We're very sorry for your loss, Eric."

Derik echoed her sentiment, "Our condolences."

Eric nodded, acknowledging their words but unable to find any of his own. He crossed his arms tightly across his chest, a fragile dam holding back a flood of grief. The tremor in his hands betrayed his composure, revealing the struggle to remain upright, to remain present in the face of such devastation.

Morgan cleared her throat softly, breaking the silence. "Eric," she started, her tone gentle yet firm, "can you tell us about the last time you saw Rachel?"

Eric's eyes flicked up to meet hers, and for a moment, Morgan could see the raw pain etched within them. His voice trembled as he began to recount the evening. "She went out for her run, like she always did," he said, his voice catching on the words. "After work...to clear her head." He paused, looking down at his hands.

"Did she often run late at night?" Morgan asked, keeping her questions simple, direct.

"Always," Eric replied, a hint of frustration coloring his words. "I didn’t like it—told her plenty of times. But she was stubborn, felt safe here in Dallas. She knew these streets like the back of her hand."

Morgan nodded, noting the way Eric's lips thinned when he spoke of Rachel's habits. The city could indeed be unpredictable, but fear had not been a language Rachel seemed to speak.

"Was there anything different about that night?" she probed further, watching as Eric's expression shifted from one of sorrow to something more perplexed.

He shook his head, his frown deepening. "No...nothing I noticed. But she never came back." There was a long pause before he continued, "When they found her...it wasn't along her usual route. That doesn't make sense."

"Her route was consistent?" Derik interjected, leaning forward slightly.

"Like clockwork," Eric confirmed with a weary nod. "The same path every time, for years. But where they found her..." He trailed off, his confusion evident. "It's like someone or...something led her away from it."

Morgan observed Eric closely, the rain's steady patter against the windows a distant background to the scene unfolding within the warm confines of the living room. She spoke with deliberate calmness, each word measured and clear. "Eric, we've found that a construction sign had been moved that night," she began, her gaze never leaving his face.

"Moved?" His voice was barely audible, a fragile whisper in the storm of his grief.

"Yes. It was deliberately placed to reroute pedestrians... to lead them towards the construction site." Morgan watched as understanding dawned upon him, and sorrow etched deeper lines into his already haggard features. He brought his hand up to his mouth, pressing against his lips as if to hold back the tide of emotion threatening to overflow.

"Are you saying... it was intentional? That someone wanted her..." He couldn't finish the sentence, the implications too horrific to vocalize.

Morgan gave a slight nod, her own heart heavy. "It appears so, Eric. And we think Rachel was not the first one targeted by this person.”

Desolation consumed Eric's face, a mask of anguish that spoke volumes of the love he must have felt for Rachel. The realization that her death was not an accident but a premeditated act sent shivers through the room.

The moment hung between them, thick and unyielding. Yet, despite the pain, Morgan knew they needed more. With a gentle movement, she reached into the folder she'd brought with her, producing a photograph. "We found this symbol near where Rachel... near the crime scene," she said, her words soft but unwavering. "Have you ever seen anything like this before?"

Eric leaned forward, squinting at the image. His brow furrowed as he studied the symbol—a harsh, angular design that seemed out of place in the cozy room. Time stretched as he searched his memory, but eventually, he shook his head, defeated. "No. I've never seen this before. I don't know what it means."

Morgan took the photo back, placing it carefully into the folder. The symbol, a possible key to unlocking the why behind Rachel's untimely demise, remained elusive, just beyond their reach. Eric's ignorance of it only deepened the mystery, another dead end in a case that seemed full of them.

Morgan watched as Eric paced the length of the living room, his gait uneven, a man grappling with a reality too cruel to process. His voice, when he finally spoke, was tinged not just with sorrow but with adamant disbelief.

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