Page 21 of For Blood

A sudden flicker of light from within the house caught Morgan's attention, drawing her gaze to the narrow window beside the front door.Her muscles tensed, ready for action, as the sound of shuffling footsteps grew louder.The clink of a chain being undone echoed in the night air, followed by the creak of hinges as the door opened a crack.

A man in his early 60s peered out, his face a roadmap of late nights and hard living.His graying hair stood up in unruly tufts, and his bleary eyes squinted against the porch light.Despite the late hour and unexpected visitors, he looked more annoyed than alarmed.

Morgan felt a mix of relief and frustration wash over her.Phillips was alive, but his cavalier attitude suggested he had no idea of the danger he might be in.She took a step forward, her hand still hovering near her weapon.

"What the hell is this?"Gregory Phillips muttered, his voice rough with sleep."It's the middle of the night."

Morgan moved closer, fishing her badge from her pocket and holding it up for Phillips to see.The metal gleamed in the weak porch light as she spoke, her tone firm but urgent.

"Mr.Phillips, I'm Special Agent Cross, and this is Special Agent Greene.We need to talk to you.It's urgent."

She studied Phillips' face, looking for any sign of recognition or fear at their presence.But his expression remained one of irritated confusion, giving no indication that he understood the gravity of the situation.

Is he really this oblivious?Morgan wondered, her mind racing.Or is he hiding something?She glanced at Derik, seeing her own tension mirrored in his stance.They needed to get inside to make Phillips understand the danger he was in.But they also needed to tread carefully.If the killer was watching, any sign of alarm could set him off.

"Urgent, huh?"Phillips grumbled, running a hand through his disheveled hair."What's so damn important it couldn't wait till morning?"

Morgan took a deep breath, choosing her words carefully."Mr.Phillips, it's about a case from eighteen years ago.The Lucas Hayes murder.We have reason to believe you may be in danger."

She watched as Phillips' eyes widened slightly, a flicker of something—fear?guilt?—passing across his face before he schooled his features back into annoyance.

Phillips heaved a weary sigh, muttering something that sounded suspiciously like "goddamn feds" under his breath.Despite his obvious reluctance, he swung the door open wider, revealing his rumpled t-shirt and pajama pants.

"You got a warrant?"

"No, sir," Derik replied, his patience clearly wearing thin."But we strongly advise—"

"Then we can talk right here," Phillips interrupted gruffly.

Morgan fought back a surge of frustration.Every minute they spent on this porch was a minute wasted, a minute the killer could be getting closer.

"Mr.Phillips," she said, leaning in slightly, her voice low and urgent, "I understand your reluctance, but this is a matter of life and death.We believe you may be in serious danger.Please, let us come inside so we can explain."

She watched the internal struggle play out on Phillips' face—suspicion warring with curiosity, and underneath it all, a flicker of fear he couldn't quite hide.Finally, with a resigned grunt, he stepped back, gesturing them inside.

Morgan stepped into the cluttered living room, her eyes quickly scanning the space.The hunting rifle leaning against the wall caught her attention, a stark reminder of Phillips' earlier bravado.She chose her words carefully, knowing they needed to strike a balance between urgency and tact.

"Like I said, we're here about Lucas Hayes," Morgan began, watching Phillips closely.His posture stiffened, brow furrowing as if the name itself was a weight settling on his shoulders.

"Lucas Hayes?"Phillips echoed, his voice gruff with a mix of confusion and wariness."What about him?That was eighteen years ago."

"Two witnesses connected to similar cases have been murdered in the last twenty-four hours.We believe you might be a target."

She watched Phillips' face, noting the flicker of fear in his eyes before it was quickly masked by skepticism.

Phillips let out a short, humorless laugh, shaking his head."A target?Of what?I didn't even know the guy, I just found him in that alley."He waved a dismissive hand, but Morgan noticed it trembled slightly."And anyway, I don't need your protection.I've got enough firepower in this house to protect myself just fine."

He nodded toward the hunting rifle, as if that settled the matter.Morgan felt a surge of frustration.

"Mr.Phillips, we're advising you to stay home, away from your usual haunts, until we apprehend this suspect."

Phillips scoffed."So I'm supposed to just sit here all day?What about The Rusty Nail?I've been going there every night for twenty years.They know me there."

Morgan's eyes narrowed."The Rusty Nail?Isn't that where you found Hayes's body?"

"Yeah, in the alley out back," Phillips confirmed with a casual shrug that didn't quite mask his unease."But what's that got to do with anything?It's my favorite spot.Joe keeps my bourbon ready at the bar before I even sit down."

Morgan exchanged a significant glance with Derik.This could explain how the killer was finding his victims—through their established routines and haunts.

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