Page 27 of For Mercy

"Some partner I am," she whispered, careful not to wake him."Making you pull an all-nighter on a case that's going nowhere."

Morgan's gaze drifted back to the files, her mind churning.She reached for her coffee mug, grimacing at the cold dregs within.The bitter taste did little to clear the fog from her mind.Morgan set the mug down with a soft clink, her fingers trailing over the handle.

"Dad," she breathed, the word barely audible."What would you do?"

The memory of John Christopher's face flashed in her mind—alive, after all these years.The revelation still felt surreal, like a dream she might wake from at any moment.She closed her eyes, picturing the determination in his gaze as he'd explained everything to her in that hidden shack.

"Focus on what you know," she could almost hear him say."Build from there."

Morgan's eyes snapped open.She reached for a notepad, scribbling furiously as her thoughts coalesced.

A soft whine from Skunk pulled her from her reverie.The dog's tail thumped gently against the floor as he lifted his head, dark eyes fixed on her with concern.

Morgan managed a tired smile, reaching out to scratch behind his ears."I'm okay, boy," she assured him."Just trying to put the pieces together."

Skunk huffed, unconvinced, and rested his chin on her knee.Morgan's smile softened as she stroked his fur, grateful for the companionship.

"What do you think, Skunk?"she asked quietly."Any insights into our mystery killer?"

The dog's only response was to snuffle and press closer against her side.Morgan chuckled softly, her gaze drifting back to the sleeping form of her partner.

"At least one of us is getting some rest," she mused.

With a sigh, Morgan turned back to her notes.Sleep could wait.She had a killer to catch.

Morgan's eyes burned as she sifted through the sea of documents before her.Hawthorne's cases blurred into an indistinguishable mass of legal jargon and dates.She blinked hard, trying to focus on the details that mattered.Sentences handed down, lives irrevocably altered by the stroke of Hawthorne's pen.There had to be something here, some thread connecting the judge's death to this elaborate staging.

"Dammit," she muttered, rubbing her temples."What am I missing?"

Skunk's ears perked up at the sound of her voice, but he remained nestled against her side, a warm, comforting presence.Across the room, Derik stirred slightly in his sleep, mumbling something incoherent before settling back into silence.

Morgan's gaze fell on a familiar name: Sarah Reeves.The young law clerk's file lay open atop a stack of papers, her smiling face staring up from an old employee ID photo.Morgan reached for it, her fingers tracing the edge of the photograph.

"Why you?"she whispered."What's your connection to all this?"

She scanned the report again, searching for any detail she might have overlooked.Depression.Deteriorating mental state.Suicide.The words were clinical, detached, reducing a vibrant young woman to a tragic statistic.

Morgan closed her eyes, trying to picture Sarah as she must have been – ambitious, driven, working long hours under Hawthorne's exacting standards.What had pushed her over the edge?Was it really just the pressure of the job, or was there something more?

"There has to be more to your story, Sarah," Morgan murmured."What aren't these reports telling me?"

She flipped through the pages, looking for anything out of place.Witness statements, medical records, all painting a picture of a woman spiraling into despair.But something nagged at Morgan, a persistent feeling that she was missing a crucial piece of the puzzle.

"If you were connected to Hawthorne's death," she reasoned aloud, "why wait a year?”

Morgan's fingers traced the edge of Sarah Reeves' file, her mind churning with possibilities.She wanted—needed—there to be a connection between Sarah's death and Hawthorne's murder.But the more she searched, the more elusive that link became.

She closed her eyes, trying to visualize the timeline.Sarah's suicide, a year ago.Hawthorne's murder, just a day ago.

Morgan exhaled heavily, rubbing her temples.The headache that had been threatening all evening was now pounding behind her eyes."Focus," she commanded herself."There has to be something I'm missing."

She reached for her coffee mug, grimacing as she swallowed the cold dregs.As she set it down, her gaze fell on a small detail in Sarah's file—a notation about a therapist Sarah had been seeing in the months before her death.

"Dr.Elaine Foster," Morgan read aloud."Maybe you can shed some light on—"

The shrill ring of her phone cut through the silence like a knife, jolting Skunk from his peaceful slumber.The dog's head snapped up, his ears perked and alert as Morgan snatched her phone from the coffee table.Her eyes widened as she saw the caller ID: Mueller.

A chill ran down her spine."If he's calling this late, it can't be good," she muttered, her thumb hovering over the answer button for a split second before she swiped to accept the call.

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