Page 8 of For Blood

Derik moved closer, his presence a comforting warmth at her back."You think it's the same killer?After all these years?"

Morgan sat back on her heels, her mind racing.The similarities were too striking to ignore, but something nagged at her."I don't know," she admitted."It could be a copycat with access to the old case files.But this level of precision...it speaks to firsthand knowledge."

She stood, her eyes never leaving the victim's face.Rachel Martinez's eyes were open, a look of surprise forever etched on her features.Morgan couldn't help but wonder what the nurse had seen in her final moments.Had she recognized her killer?Had she known why she was about to die?

Morgan's gaze swept across the cavernous parking garage, her eyes narrowing as they adjusted to the dim, flickering light.The vast emptiness of the space felt suffocating, as if the concrete walls were slowly closing in around her.Shadows danced at the edges of her vision, cast by the intermittent flashing of the fluorescent bulbs overhead.

She took a deep breath, inhaling the acrid mix of motor oil and death."Something's off here, Derik," she murmured, her voice barely audible over the low hum of the garage's ventilation system.

Derik stepped closer, his presence a mixture of comfort and unease."What do you mean?"

Morgan's eyes darted from one corner of the garage to another, her instincts on high alert."It's too clean," she said, gesturing to the scene around them."A crime this brutal, this personal – there should be more evidence of a struggle, signs of the killer's presence."

She crouched down again, her tattooed fingers hovering just above the pool of blood surrounding Rachel Martinez's body.The dark liquid reflected the flickering lights above, creating an unsettling, almost hypnotic effect.

"It's like they knew exactly what they were doing," Morgan continued, her voice tinged with a mix of admiration and disgust."In and out, quick and efficient.This wasn't just about killing Rachel Martinez.It was about sending a message."

As she spoke, memories of her own past flooded her mind – the frame-up, the trial, the years stolen from her in prison.She pushed the thoughts away, forcing herself to focus on the present.

Standing abruptly, Morgan turned to face Derik."We need to get the forensics team in here now," she said, her voice taking on a commanding tone."Every inch of this place needs to be combed over.If there's even a speck of evidence connecting this to the Santos case, we need to find it."

Derik nodded, already reaching for his phone.As he dialed, Morgan's gaze returned to Rachel Martinez's body, a grim determination settling over her features.

"We're looking at someone who's been carrying this weight for two decades,” morgan said.“Someone patient enough to wait twenty years to tie up loose ends.”She paused, her eyes narrowing as a thought struck her."And we need to find out why now.What changed?What made him want to come back after all this time?Why wait twenty years to kill again?And why Rachel Martinez specifically?"

"Maybe she remembered something," Derik suggested."Something that made her dangerous to the killer."

Morgan nodded, her mind flashing back to her own past, to the years stolen from her by false accusations and prison walls."Or maybe the killer thought they were safe, that they'd gotten away with it.And then something changed."

She stopped pacing, her gaze fixed on the body of Rachel Martinez."We need to dig deep into both victims' lives.Find every connection, every similarity, no matter how small.If this is the same killer, there has to be a link we're missing."

As the forensics team began to file into the garage, Morgan felt a familiar fire igniting within her.

"We need more information," she said firmly, turning to Derik."Let's start with the hospital staff.Someone must have seen Martinez leave last night.And we need to track down anyone who was around for the Santos case twenty years ago.If this is the same killer, they've been living with this secret for a long time.Secrets like that...they leave marks."

CHAPTER THREE

Morgan's fingers drummed on the wooden surface of the conference table, a disquiet rhythm that mirrored her thoughts.She sat opposite Derik in the FBI briefing room, where silence hung heavy save for the mechanical whirr and click of the old projector.Shadows danced on the walls as it sputtered to life, casting an eerie glow on the two agents held captive by the unfolding scene.

The dust-speckled light from the projector cut through the dimness, revealing a timestamp in the corner of the grainy footage: twenty years ago.On the wall, the video displayed a younger Rachel Martinez, the woman whose recent murder had reopened wounds on a case that went cold a long time ago.The interrogation room was small, the kind of place that felt less like a space for seeking truth and more like a cell designed to squeeze confessions out of those who sat within its confines.

Rachel hunched over the metal table, her body language a silent symphony of discomfort.Her fingers twisted in her lap, betraying an inner turmoil that words could never fully capture.The camera did her no favors, positioned in such a way that shadows seemed to claw at her features, accentuating the stark fear etched into her face.She avoided looking directly at the interviewer as if direct eye contact might somehow make her reality more bearable.

"God, she looks like she's about to bolt," Morgan murmured, her voice barely above a whisper yet slicing through the stillness with ease.The tension rolled off her in waves, a tangible force that Derik, sitting beside her, could almost feel pressing against his skin.

The footage continued to play out, Rachel's image frozen in time.Her hair, dark and unkempt, was yanked back into a ponytail, strands escaping to frame her weary face.The blue scrubs she wore, meant to be a uniform of care and healing, were wrinkled and stained, a testament to what must have been countless hours of labor before this moment of involuntary confession.

As she began to speak, a faint tremor laced her words, causing them to quiver in the air before dissipating into nothingness."I saw a man," she stammered, her gaze fixated on some unseen point beneath the table."He was standing over Maria's body...in the parking garage."

Morgan leaned forward, her eyes never leaving the ghost of Rachel flickering before them.The past clung to the nurse like a second skin, one she couldn't shed despite the years that had passed.It was a look Morgan recognized all too well—the haunted stare of someone who had glimpsed the abyss and found it staring back.

"Standing over Maria Santos's body..."Morgan repeated under her breath, the details of the cold case aligning like grim constellations in her mind.The memory of Rachel's death, so meticulously staged to echo Maria's, sent a shiver down her spine.Whoever had snuffed out Rachel's life had done so with a message in mind—a message written in blood and left for the FBI to decipher.

Derik shifted in his chair, his green eyes reflecting the flicker of the video.He looked as tired as Morgan felt, the lines around his eyes deepening with each revelation.They both knew what it was like to have the past come knocking, unbidden and unwelcome.But this—this was an echo of violence that demanded their attention, a puzzle that only they could piece together.

"Twenty years," Derik said, his voice low."And now she ends up dead, just like Maria."His gaze met Morgan's, a silent question passing between them.Who would want Rachel dead after all this time?And why?

The hush of the briefing room clung to Morgan like a second skin as she watched the interrogation video unfold.Rachel Martinez's voice, wavering and fragmented, filled the space between them and the past."He was...tall," Rachel stammered, her eyes downcast, flitting up only for fleeting moments."Around six feet."She paused, collecting her thoughts as though they were scattered pieces of glass."Not too thin.Not bulky..."Her fingers continued their nervous dance.

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