Page 52 of For Blood

"You should have let him die," Sarah spat, her eyes locked on Morgan."He deserved it.They all deserved it."

Morgan turned, grabbing Sarah's arm."Let's go," she said firmly, steering the still-laughing woman toward the door.

As they moved, Morgan caught Derik's eye.He gave her a small nod, silently communicating that he had things under control with Phillips.Morgan returned the nod, grateful for their wordless understanding.It was one of the things she valued most about their partnership, both on and off the job.

"Twenty years," Sarah muttered as Morgan led her from the cell."Twenty years of lies and cover-ups.And for what?To protect a murderer?"

Morgan remained silent, her jaw clenched.Sarah's words hit too close to home, echoing her own thoughts about the corruption that had stolen a decade of her life.But Morgan had chosen a different path.She was seeking justice, not vengeance.

As they walked down the corridor, Sarah's laughter faded into quiet sobs.Morgan felt the weight of the situation pressing down on her.She'd stopped Sarah, saved Phillips, but at what cost?The pain that had driven Sarah to this point was still there, raw and festering.

Morgan thought of her own quest for answers, the letter from her father burning a hole in her pocket.She wondered, not for the first time, how close she was to becoming Sarah—consumed by the need for justice, willing to cross lines she'd once thought uncrossable.

"It's over now," Morgan said softly, more to herself than to Sarah."It's done."

CHAPTER TWENTY TWO

The steady beep of heart monitors filled the dim hospital room, a rhythmic reminder of Gregory Phillips' brush with death.Morgan stood at the foot of his bed, her eyes fixed on the man who had nearly died because of her mistake.The afternoon sun struggled to penetrate the half-closed blinds, casting long shadows across Phillips' face.His skin was still mottled with angry red marks, a stark reminder of Sarah Winters' attempt on his life.

Morgan's fingers twitched, her body tense with anticipation.She'd been waiting for hours, watching Phillips drift in and out of consciousness.Now, his eyes were open, sunken but clearer than she'd ever seen them.There was a lucidity there that made her breath catch in her throat.

"Mr.Phillips," she said softly, stepping closer to the bed."How are you feeling?"

His gaze shifted to her, recognition dawning slowly.He opened his mouth to speak, but only a rasp emerged.Morgan quickly poured him a glass of water, holding it to his lips.

As he sipped, Morgan's mind raced.She needed answers, but she couldn't push too hard.Not yet.The weight of her father's letter seemed to burn in her pocket, a constant reminder of her own unresolved past.

After what felt like an eternity, Phillips lowered his head back to the pillow.His eyes locked onto Morgan's, filled with a mixture of fear and resolve.

"I saw him," Phillips whispered, his voice barely audible above the machines."I saw Andrew Keller kill Lucas Hayes."

Morgan's heart thundered in her chest.This was it—the breakthrough they'd been waiting for.But as she looked at Phillips, saw the pain etched into every line of his face, she felt a wave of empathy wash over her.How long had he carried this secret?How had it eaten away at him, year after year?

"Can you tell me what happened?"she asked gently, pulling a chair close to the bed.

Phillips nodded, his eyes never leaving hers."I lied before.I wasn't drunk that night.I saw everything."

As Phillips began to recount the events of that fateful night, Morgan listened intently, her mind piecing together the puzzle.She thought of Sarah Winters, of the rage and pain that had driven her to such desperate acts.She thought of her own father, of the secrets and lies that had shaped her life.

In that moment, surrounded by the trappings of mortality, Morgan realized that the truth was a double-edged sword.It could heal, but it could also destroy.And as Phillips' words washed over her, she wondered which edge she was balancing on.

Gregory's fingers trembled as they clutched the thin hospital blanket.His eyes, once clouded with doubt, now held a clarity that sent a chill down Morgan's spine.

"Keller..."he began, each word a struggle, "He wasn't just our pastor.He was...everything to us.The pillar we all leaned on."

Morgan leaned in, her voice gentle."Tell me about him, Gregory.Help me understand."

A ghost of a smile flickered across Gregory's face."He baptized my nephew, you know.Little Tommy.I remember how proud we all were."His eyes grew distant, lost in the memory."Every Sunday, there he'd be, up at that pulpit.His words...they touched something in you.Made you believe."

Morgan nodded, encouraging him to continue.She could see the conflict raging behind his eyes, the struggle between the man he'd known and the truth he'd witnessed.

"How could he have been a murderer?"Gregory's voice cracked, the question hanging heavy in the air."I kept asking myself that, over and over.It didn't make sense.None of it made sense."

Morgan's hand hovered over his, not quite touching."What did you see that night, Gregory?"

He squeezed his eyes shut, as if trying to block out the memory.When he opened them again, they were filled with tears."I was walking home.Took a shortcut through the alley behind St.Michael's.That's when I heard it – a struggle.I thought maybe it was just some kids horsing around, but then..."

Gregory's breath hitched, and Morgan found herself holding hers.

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