Page 3 of For Mercy

"I'm listening," she said finally, her voice barely audible.

"I'm sorry, Morgan.I should have reached out sooner, but I had my doubts.Now, I need you to come back to the woods—alone.Make sure you're not followed."

She could barely process his words, her mind reeling.The tattoos on her arms seemed to writhe with her inner turmoil."Dad, I can't just—"

"It's crucial," he cut her off, his voice edged with urgency."Your safety depends on it."

Morgan's gaze flicked to Derik, his green eyes filled with concern.She couldn't fathom facing this without him."I'm not going without Derik," she insisted, her voice stronger than she felt.

"No," her father's response was immediate and firm."It's too dangerous.You must come alone, Morgan.Please."

The desperation in his tone sent a chill down her spine.Derik, reading the conflict on her face, shook his head silently.His jaw was set, worry lines creasing his forehead.Morgan knew he was thinking of the last time they were separated, of the betrayal that had nearly torn them apart.

But this was her father.The man she'd mourned, whose loss had left a void in her life.She had to know the truth.

"Okay," she said finally, her voice barely above a whisper."I'll come.Tonight."

"Thank you," her father's relief was palpable."I'll explain everything when you get here.Be careful, Morgan."

As the call ended, Morgan lowered the phone, feeling as if she'd just agreed to step off a cliff.Derik's disapproval radiated from him in waves, but she couldn't meet his eyes.Instead, she knelt down to Skunk, burying her face in his fur, seeking comfort in his unwavering loyalty.

"I have to do this," she murmured, more to herself than to Derik or the dog.The weight of her decision settled on her shoulders.

Morgan stood, her fingers still tangled in Skunk's fur.She finally met Derik's gaze, bracing herself for the inevitable confrontation.

"This is insane, Morgan," Derik burst out, his green eyes flashing with a mixture of concern and frustration."It could be a trap.Hell, it probably is a trap.You don't know who's really on the other end of that call."

"It was him, Derik," Morgan insisted, her voice low but firm."I'd know my father's voice anywhere."

Derik ran a hand through his slicked-back hair, mussing it in his agitation."Even if it is him, why now?It doesn't add up.He already stood you up in the woods when you went after he wrote that letter.”

Morgan's jaw clenched."That's exactly why I have to go.To get answers."

"At least let me come with you," Derik pleaded, taking a step towards her."We're partners, remember?"

The word 'partners' hung in the air between them, laden with meaning beyond their professional relationship.Morgan's heart clenched, remembering the betrayal that had once threatened to destroy their bond.But she also remembered the forgiveness, the trust they'd rebuilt.

"I can't," she said softly."He was clear about that.But I won't be alone."She glanced down at Skunk, who sat alertly at her feet, his muscular body taut with readiness."Skunk will be with me."

***

The headlights of Morgan's SUV cut through the darkness, illuminating a narrow strip of asphalt that stretched endlessly before her.Her knuckles were white on the steering wheel as she pushed deeper into the countryside, leaving the familiar lights of Dallas far behind.

"What do you think, Skunk?"Morgan asked, glancing at the rearview mirror where her loyal pitbull sat attentively in the backseat."Are we walking into a trap, or am I about to see a ghost?"

Skunk's ears perked up at the sound of her voice, but he offered no answers.Morgan sighed, her mind racing with possibilities.

As the miles ticked by, the landscape began to change.The open fields gave way to dense forests, the trees looming closer to the road with each passing minute.Shadows deepened, and Morgan felt a familiar tightness in her chest.

"It's like stepping back in time," she murmured, memories flooding her mind unbidden.

She could almost smell the crisp autumn air from her childhood, hear her father's deep laugh as they trudged through these very woods.The weight of her first hunting rifle in her hands, the pride in her father's eyes as she took careful aim.

But then, another memory surfaced – sharp, painful.The crack of a branch, a moment of imbalance, and then searing pain as her ankle twisted beneath her.

"Dammit," Morgan hissed, shaking her head to clear the vivid recollection.She absently rubbed her ankle, the old injury a phantom ache."What am I doing out here, Skunk?"she asked, her voice barely above a whisper."Chasing ghosts and half-baked theories?"

But deep down, she knew why.The possibility of answers, of finally understanding the web of lies and deceit that had defined the last decade of her life, was too tantalizing to ignore.

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