Page 16 of For Rage

And it was late now. Chances were, the lawyer wouldn't come until the morning, which left them spinning their wheels until then. As she walked down the hall with Derik, she felt like the walls were closing in on her. All those thoughts she'd had earlier, about how much of her life she'd missed, came flooding back, filling her with panic. It didn't seem fair that people like Jim Alba could live in the world and get what they want, while she was locked away for so long when she was completely innocent.

"Cross, you sure you're okay?" Derik asked.

"No, I'm not okay," she snapped, turning away as the darkening sky growled above, and more rain fell on them.

"Cross—"

"No!" Morgan snapped, emotion hitting her like a whip. She could admit that part of her did resent Derik. "Why did you stop fighting for me?”

"What?" Confusion flickered all over his face.

"When I went to jail," Morgan said, knowing she was being out of line, but unable to stop it. "I know it wasn’t your job, but—we were friends. No, we were more than friends.” She wasn’t even talking about the stupid kiss they’d shared. She didn’t even want to bring that up. But they had been partners, above all else.

Derik looked taken aback by Morgan's outburst. "You know I did everything I could," he said softly. "But the evidence was stacked against you, and there was only so much I could do. I told you, I’m sorry for giving up.”

Morgan turned to face him, her eyes filled with anger and hurt. "That's not good enough," she said. "You were supposed to be my friend, my partner. You were supposed to fight for me, no matter what."

"I did fight for you," Derik insisted. "But sometimes, the system just isn't fair. You of all people should know that. As the years went on, I went through my own shit, and I just … I didn’t know what else to do for you.”

Morgan shook her head, feeling a rage building inside her. It wasn’t at Derik anymore, but at the world. She felt bad for exploding on him, that he was in her line of fire, but she couldn’t help it. "You don't get it," she said. "You don't know what it's like to be behind bars, to be treated like a criminal when you know you're innocent. You don't know what it's like to lose everything you ever cared about."

"Morgan, I—"

"No," she cut him off. She didn't want to hear it. She just wanted to be alone.

Without another thought, Morgan took off. She needed to clear her head.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Back at home, Morgan buried herself in case files to distract herself from her earlier embarrassment. She shouldn't have snapped at Derik like that. It was unfounded and unprofessional. But something about the whole situation had made her snap.

She sighed, leaning back on her couch. Her table lamp was on, filling the living room with a soft, warm glow. Beside her, Skunk wagged his tail and looked up at her with milky eyes. When Morgan had first got the Pitbull, before she went to prison, he'd been just a puppy. She hoped Derik could understand why she'd snapped, how hard it was for her to have gone to jail at thirty and been released at forty, ten years later. She was more muscular, hardened, jaded, but deep inside, she was still her. The more time she spent out of prison, the more she remembered that.

But the memories also brought back the pain, the trauma, the fear. The fear of being locked up again, of being accused of a crime she didn't commit. She couldn't afford to make any more mistakes, any more missteps. She needed to stay focused, to keep digging until she found the answers she was looking for.

Skunk whined and nosed at her hand, and Morgan absently petted his head. It was getting late—night had settled over the town, and Jim Alba was being detained for the night. They'd question him properly tomorrow, once he had his lawyer secured, but Morgan was just grateful they'd caught the bastard, and he was behind bars, which meant more women were safe. Still, she needed to build as strong of a case against him as she could.

She just hoped Jim Alba was the right guy. Either way, he was the best lead they had.

Try as she might, her mind kept going back to Derik's face when she'd snapped earlier, and her face burned with embarrassment. She needed a break from the case, from the memories that threatened to overwhelm her. She needed to clear her head.

She grabbed her keys and put on her coat, Skunk following closely behind her. As she threw on her jacket, she knelt down and rubbed her dog's head. "I'll be back soon, boy. Just need to get out of here for a bit."

Skunk whined but then went over to his bed like a good boy. Morgan smiled before she headed out into the night.

The sky had cleared, revealing the stars above. She walked to the nearest bar, a dive that she used to frequent before her arrest. She pushed open the door and stepped inside, the familiar scent of alcohol and smoke greeting her. She felt a pang of nostalgia, of regret, as she walked up to the bar.

The bartender was the same as he'd always been, just older. Gareth, now in his fifties, was just as spry as he'd always been as he poured two beers on tap for a couple and handed it off to them, just as Morgan slid into the barstool. When Gareth noticed her, he looked like he'd seen a ghost.

"Hey, Gareth," Morgan said.

"Well, shit," Gareth said. "Morgan Cross, is that you? I thought you'd gone and moved away."

"I did, sort of," Morgan said, grateful that her fate hadn't exactly spread to the bar. Some of the neighbors knew, but ten years was a long time to go away. She was sure most people in general had forgotten about her.

Gareth raised an eyebrow. "Sort of?" he asked.

"I was in prison for ten years," Morgan said, and Gareth's eyes widened in shock. "But I'm out now. Trying to get my life back on track."

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