Page 19 of For Rage

CHAPTER EIGHT

Morgan woke up too early the next day, before the sun was even up.

She took in the dismal landscape of the neighborhood as she walked, Skunk's paws padding the damp sidewalk beside her. Small, rundown houses lined the street, and many of them had boards nailed over their windows, giving them a depressing and eerie look. She could feel the alcohol from last night still buzzing in her veins and making her feel slightly warm, but the phone call she'd received in the early hours of the morning, plus her short hours of sleep, had sobered her right up. The street was empty, and a cold breeze blew, carrying with it the faint smell of garbage and smoke. The dark sky felt oppressive, casting a deep blanket of darkness over the street.

Up ahead, there was a man in a black hoodie. Just who she needed to see.

After Morgan had last talked to Samson, he’d floated the idea that Sandra Berryhill—his last victim—had a husband who was out of town, and that husband may have been the person who was there the night Morgan was framed for murder, for being Samson’s accomplice.

But soon after, with some digging, Morgan found out that the husband trulywasout of town. He was innocent. She’d confirmed it with ten-year-old footage of the man’s trip, and he was in Canada at the time.

That left Morgan more confused, more lost, and so she’d gone back to Samson, played into his little game. He’d been so amused to see her again, to know he’d caught her attention. She’d asked him again who was there that night.

She’d hated herself for it, but she needed to know who framed her.

She needed to know why she’d lost ten years of her life.

He told her that he didn’t know the man’s name, but that he had an associate who could give her a name.

And now, here she was.

Skunk growled at the sight of him, but Morgan said, "It's okay, boy," and he calmed down. But the stranger looked at the dog, pausing for a moment. "He won't bite unless I tell him to," Morgan called out.

The man kept coming toward her. He stepped into the light of a streetlamp, revealing the gaunt face of a twenty-something man.

"You're Morgan Cross?" he asked.

"Yeah," she said. "Thanks for calling me back."

"Well, you have friends in high places," he said. "I've got the name you're looking for."

Morgan's heart picked up.

"Eric Domino," the stranger said. "That's the guy you're looking for."

Morgan gritted her teeth. She'd never heard of this Domino guy. But according to Samson, The Seven Signs Killer, another person had been on the scene the night Morgan had been framed. This person had stepped aside, allowing Samson to kill, and allowing Morgan to be framed for it. It had all ended in her ultimate arrest and ten years of her life gone, all for a misunderstanding. If that Domino guy had been there, he hadn't made it known. He'd disappeared.

"You're sure?" Morgan asked.

"I'm sure," he said. "He lives in an apartment building somewhere around here. That's all I can tell you."

Morgan nodded, feeling a sense of relief. She had a name now. It was a start.

"Thank you," she said to the stranger, then turned to leave. Skunk followed her, trotting by her side.

As she walked, Morgan couldn't help but feel a sense of unease. If Eric Domino was the missing piece to her story, then why had he disappeared? And why was he never mentioned in any of the reports or investigations? It seemed odd. There was so much more to this story—toherstory—than she knew, and it infuriated her.

She needed to know why they did it.

And she needed to knowwhoit was, so she could handle it accordingly.

What does that mean?she asked herself, even though she wasn’t sure. Was she going to kill them? She couldn’t do that—she wasn’t a cold-blooded killer, even if she did want that person to pay. She could try to lock them up based on her word against theirs; after all, much of the media had grown to take Morgan’s side, but she knew for a fact that there were still people out there who thought she belonged behind bars.

She found her car, parked on the side of the street, and opened the back door to let Skunk hop in. Then Morgan got behind the wheel and pulled out her laptop, opening it, and connecting to the FBI database. She looked right into one Eric Domino.

No match came up.

But Morgan wasn't convinced. She continued to dig deeper, looking for any clue as to why Domino had vanished that night. She pulled up old reports, witness statements, and anything she could find that was related to the case. As she delved deeper, she began to realize that there was something very wrong with the story of the Seven Signs Killer. And Eric Domino? He didn't seem to exist.

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