Page 47 of For Blood

"He let him go," Morgan said, disbelief coloring her voice.This wasn't the behavior of a cornered killer.Something wasn't adding up.

As the clerk was swiftly pulled to safety by nearby officers, Morgan's mind raced.The pieces of the puzzle didn't fit.Whitaker's actions, his calm demeanor—it all felt wrong.

She thought back to her own wrongful conviction, the years stolen from her life.The bitter taste of injustice rose in her throat.What if...what if they were making the same mistake with Whitaker?

"Hold your fire!"Morgan shouted, her voice carrying across the tense scene.She couldn't shake the feeling that they were missing something crucial."I'm going in."

"Morgan, what are you doing?"It was Derik, his voice tight with concern.

She turned to face him, seeing the worry etched across his features."Trust me," she said softly."Something's not right here.I need to talk to him."

Derik hesitated, then gave a small nod."Be careful," he whispered.

Morgan took a deep breath, steeling herself.As she approached the store, her hand hovering near her holstered weapon, she couldn't help but think of her father.Of the letter that had brought hope and confusion in equal measure.Of the questions that still burned within her.

She reached for the door handle, the weight of the moment settling on her shoulders.Whatever happened next, she knew it would change everything.

The bell above the door chimed, a jarringly mundane sound in the midst of such tension.Morgan stepped inside, her eyes never leaving Whitaker's still form.He stood like a statue, hands at his sides, his gaze fixed on her with an unsettling intensity.

"Whitaker," she said, her voice low and controlled."What's going on here?"

He didn't move, didn't flinch."Agent Cross," he replied, his tone eerily calm."I'm glad it's you."

Morgan's tattoo-covered arms tensed, ready for action if needed.But Whitaker made no aggressive moves.She took another step forward, her mind racing.This wasn't the behavior of a cornered killer.It reminded her of something else—something she knew all too well.

"Why did you run?"she asked, studying his face for any hint of deception.

Whitaker's eyes, tired but clear, met hers."Because I knew you wouldn't believe me.Not at first."

The words hit Morgan like a punch to the gut.How many times had she said those exact words during her own ordeal?The parallel was impossible to ignore.

"Believe what?"she pressed, fighting to keep her voice steady.

"That I'm not the killer," Whitaker said simply."I never was."

Morgan's heart pounded.She thought of Sarah Winters, of her insistence that Andrew Keller was the real murderer.She thought of the inconsistencies in the witnesses' stories, of the nagging feeling that something wasn't adding up.

"Then why are you here?"she asked, her hand unconsciously moving away from her weapon."Why turn yourself in like this?"

Whitaker's expression shifted, a mix of determination and what looked like...fear?"Because I need your help, Agent Cross.There's more going on here than you know.And I think you're the only one who might understand."

The weight of his words hung in the air between them.Morgan felt the eyes of the officers outside boring into her back, could almost hear Derik's worried thoughts.But in that moment, looking at Whitaker, she made a decision that went against every protocol, every rule she'd ever followed.

She believed him.

"Start talking," she said, her voice barely above a whisper."And make it quick.We don't have much time."

The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, casting a sickly pallor on Whitaker's face.Morgan's nostrils flared at the acrid smell of burnt coffee mingling with the sweet, cloying scent of day-old donuts.Her eyes never left Whitaker as she slowly advanced, her muscles coiled tight, ready to spring into action at the slightest provocation.

Whitaker remained motionless, his hands hanging limply at his sides.The weariness etched into the lines of his face made him look a decade older than when she'd last seen him.His voice, when he finally spoke, was hoarse but steady.

"I didn't come back to hurt anyone, Agent Cross.I came back to protect."

Morgan's eyebrow arched skeptically."Protect who?The woman you just left dead in a church parking lot?"

A flicker of pain crossed Whitaker's features."I didn't kill Vanessa.I was trying to save her, but I was too late.Just like I was too late twenty years ago."

Morgan's mind raced, trying to piece together this new information with what she already knew.None of it made sense.She thought of the manhunt outside, of Derik waiting anxiously, of the years she'd spent in prison, wrongfully accused.The irony wasn't lost on her.

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