Page 49 of Once Broken
The office fell silent as the three of them absorbed this revelation.
“Lucy Morgan is Myrtle Carroway’s descendant,” Riley said slowly.“And she wrote articles exposing her ancestor’s role in destroying Weston Black’s career.”
“That puts her in our killer’s crosshairs,” Hayes said grimly.“If they’re targeting people connected to Roberta Rimes and Myrtle Carroway—the two women who effectively ended Weston Black’s career...”
“We need to contact her immediately,” Riley insisted.“She could be in danger.”
Hayes was already reaching for his phone.He dialed quickly, putting the call on speaker.After three rings, a woman’s voice answered.
“Atlanta Chronicle, Arts and Culture department.”
“This is Detective Marcus Hayes with Atlanta PD.I need to speak with Lucy Morgan urgently.”
A pause.“I’m sorry, Detective.Lucy isn’t in yet.”
Hayes frowned at the phone.“What time does she usually arrive?”
“Seven sharp, every morning,” the woman replied, a note of concern entering her voice.“She’s always the first one here.That’s why it’s strange—she hasn’t called, and she’s not answering her cell or home phone.It’s not like her at all to be late without letting someone know.”
Riley felt a cold knot form in her stomach.She glanced at her watch: 9:17 AM.
“Has anyone gone to check on her?”Hayes asked.
“Our managing editor called her super to check her apartment about twenty minutes ago.No one answered the door.But her car was still parked in the apartment building’s garage.”
“Thank you,” Hayes said.“Please have her call this number immediately if she shows up or makes contact.”He provided his direct line before ending the call.
The three of them exchanged grim looks.A theatrical killer was working through a list, recreating scenes from films directed by a man whose career and life had been destroyed.
“Lucy Morgan isn’t just late for work,” Riley said.“She’s the next victim.”
***
Pain erupted behind Lucy Morgan’s eyelids as consciousness returned in cruel waves.The throbbing at her temple sent fresh agony through her skull.She tried to lift her hand to the wound, but her arms refused to obey.She realized they were bound behind her back, a coarse rope biting into her wrists.
Lucy’s eyes flew open, seeking light, finding none.She tried to call out, but something filled her mouth—fabric, wedged between her teeth and secured behind her head, reducing her voice to muffled vibrations in her throat.Panic fluttered against her ribs.
Where am I?
The air around her felt vast, empty.Her labored breathing echoed slightly, suggesting high ceilings, wide spaces.A chill seeped through her jogging clothes, the dampness of the floor bleeding through her thin leggings.The scent of dust filled her nostrils, mixed with the metallic tang of her own blood.
Lucy strained against her bonds, testing their strength.The rope held firm, expertly tied.Her ankles were similarly secured, allowing only inches of movement.She rolled to her side, the motion sending fresh pain lancing through her head.As she shifted, a draft whispered across her face—cold air flowing from somewhere above or beyond, carrying the promise of a world outside this prison.
How did I get here?
Memory returned in jagged fragments.Her morning ritual—lacing up her running shoes in the pre-dawn darkness of her apartment.The familiar weight of her house key tucked into the small pocket of her leggings.Stretching her calves against the bottom step of her building.The empty streets, still sleeping as she began her daily five AM run.
Then, there had been that movement in her peripheral vision.Something wrong.A figure lunging from behind the tall hedge bordering the park.The shocking impact.Darkness descending.
The sudden creak of hinges split through Lucy’s thoughts.A door opened somewhere to her right, flooding the space with harsh light that stabbed at her eyes after so long in darkness.She squinted against the glare, catching only the silhouette of a figure before the door swung shut again, plunging the room back into impenetrable blackness.
Footsteps approached—measured, unhurried.Lucy’s heart hammered against her ribs.She twisted on the floor, instinct driving her to escape despite the futility of the attempt.A desperate sound tore from her throat, the gag reducing her scream to a guttural groan that echoed in the empty space.
The footsteps stopped.Somewhere in the darkness, her captor stood, invisible yet palpably present.Lucy strained her eyes against the black void, seeing nothing.
A woman’s voice broke the silence, calm and eerily pleasant.
“You’re awake.That’s good.”
