Page 20 of For Blood

"Get forensics in here," Morgan said to the team."I want every inch of this park scoured for DNA evidence.The killer spent time here arranging the body after the attack—they may have left something behind."

As Morgan issued her instructions, she felt a familiar tension building in her chest.This case was rapidly evolving into something far more complex and sinister than she had initially anticipated.The theatrical nature of the killings, the deliberate recreation of past crime scenes – it all pointed to a level of planning and patience that sent chills down her spine.A serial killer, laid dormant for twenty years, now back to repeat the same cycle.

CHAPTER NINE

The harsh glare of headlights cut through the darkness, illuminating a modest one-story house on the outskirts of town.Morgan squinted as she took in the chipped paint and sagging porch, a stark contrast to the manicured lawns and pristine facades she'd passed on the way here.The silence of the night was oppressive, broken only by the faint chirp of crickets and the soft click of her car door as she shut it carefully.

Beside her, Derik's movements were less restrained.His shoes crunched on the gravel driveway as he strode towards the house, his impatience evident in every step.Morgan followed, her mind racing with the implications of what they were about to do.

As they climbed the creaking wooden steps to the front door, Morgan couldn't shake the feeling of unease that had settled in her stomach.This visit couldn't wait, but she wondered if they were already too late.

"You think he's even awake?"Derik muttered, glancing at his watch.

Morgan shook her head."Doesn't matter.We need to talk to him now."

She thought of Gregory Phillips, the man they'd come to see.The first of two surviving witnesses connected to one of the murders Whitaker had identified.Phillips had discovered Lucas Hayes's body eighteen years ago in an alley behind a bar.Now, he might be next on the killer's list.

"We're not just here to warn him," Morgan said softly, more to herself than to Derik."We need information.Anything that could help us understand how the killer is choosing these targets."

Derik nodded, his jaw set in determination."Let's hope he's in a talkative mood."

As they reached the door, Morgan hesitated, her hand hovering over the weathered wood.She thought of Rachel Martinez, of the man in Reverchon Park.Two witnesses, two deaths.How many more before they caught this killer?

"What if he doesn't want to talk?"she asked, voicing the concern that had been nagging at her since they'd left the station.

Derik's eyes met hers, a glimmer of his usual bravado showing through."Then we make him talk.This isn't a social call, Morgan.Lives are at stake."

She nodded, steeling herself.Derik was right.They couldn't afford to be gentle, not with a killer who'd waited nearly two decades to exact his revenge.Morgan raised her hand and knocked firmly on the door, the sound echoing in the quiet night.

As they waited for a response, Morgan's mind raced through the possibilities.What if Phillips knew more than he'd let on eighteen years ago?What if he'd seen something, or someone, that could break this case wide open?And more importantly, what if the killer was already aware of what Phillips knew?

The porch light flickered on, startling Morgan from her thoughts.She straightened, adjusting her jacket to ensure her badge was visible.Whatever happened next, she was determined to get answers.They needed to understand this killer's motives, his methods.And Gregory Phillips might be the key to unraveling it all.

Derik's knuckles rapped against the weathered door, the sound reverberating through the still night air.Seconds ticked by with no response, and Morgan felt her partner's impatience radiating off him in waves.He pounded again, harder this time, his urgency palpable.

"Gregory Phillips!This is the FBI, please open up!"Derik's voice boomed, shattering the eerie quiet.

Morgan took a step back, her eyes scanning the darkened yard.The weak porch light cast long shadows, transforming ordinary objects into ominous shapes.A rusted truck sat in the gravel driveway, its dented frame a silent sentinel.Near the side of the house, a garden hose coiled like a serpent ready to strike.

"Something's not right," Morgan murmured, more to herself than to Derik.Her hand instinctively moved to rest on her holstered weapon.

She couldn't shake the feeling of being watched.If the killer was targeting witnesses, how close could he be?The thought sent a chill down her spine.

"Phillips might not be alone in there," she said, keeping her voice low."We should consider the possibility that our suspect beat us here."

Derik nodded grimly, his own hand moving to his weapon."You want to call for backup?"

Morgan hesitated.If they were wrong, they'd be wasting precious resources.But if they were right...

"No," she decided."We can't risk spooking our killer if he is here.Let's proceed carefully."

She took another step back, her eyes darting from shadow to shadow.The flickering porch light created a disorienting strobe effect, and Morgan found herself wondering if the intermittent darkness could conceal a lurking figure.

"I don't like this, Derik," she whispered."Phillips should have answered by now.Even if he was asleep, our knocking would've woken him."

Her partner's jaw clenched."You think we're too late?"

The question hung in the air, heavy with implication.Morgan's mind raced through the possibilities, each scenario more grim than the last.Had they unknowingly led the killer straight to his next victim?Or were they about to walk into a trap?

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