Page 4 of For Rage

"Okay," Morgan said, breaking the silence. "We need to trace this email.Special Agent Greene and I will head to the scene. The rest of you—work on finding out everything you can about the sender."

Everyone in the room nodded in agreement, and Morgan made her way to the door with Derik right behind her. As they walked through the hallway, she could feel her heart pounding in her chest. This was the moment she had been waiting for. Ten years of thinking about all the things she couldn't do, and now, she was going to be able to do something that mattered. Something that could save a life.

As they made their way to the governor's estate, Morgan couldn't help but think about the last time she had been in a situation like this. The last time she had received a taunting message from a killer, and how it had almost cost her everything. But this time, things were different. This time, she was prepared. She was ready.

CHAPTER TWO

Rain poured violently over the estate. Morgan arrived at the scene in record time, the flashing lights of police cars blinding as she pulled her car up to the gate. Morgan and Derik jumped out of the vehicle and were instantly drenched—cold rain made the goosebumps on Morgan's arms raise and her clothes stick to her skin, but she pushed on. They were met by a swarm of police officers, all trying to figure out what was going on. A helicopter was parked off to the side, standing by for aerial support.

"Where's the maze?" Morgan demanded at an officer, her voice cold and commanding as she flashed her badge. The sound of the rain was deafening; it was a constant roar in the background, like a symphony playing in reverse.

"This way." The lead officer pointed in the direction of a large hedge maze that had been set up in the backyard of the governor's estate. "Over there," he said.

Morgan looked into the abyss of the maze, then glanced back at Derik. She nodded at him. "You take the sky, I'll lead the ground team in."

Derik nodded. "Good luck." With that, he jogged in the rain toward the helicopter to meet with the team.

Morgan refocused on the officer. She knew she had to stay focused, no matter what they might find in that maze. "I need to speak with whomever is in charge of the operation."

The officer pointed to a figure in a slicker and hat, pacing back and forth in front of the entrance to the maze. Morgan marched over to him, the rain almost blinding her. She could hear the sound of her footsteps pounding against the soaked grass.

"Special Agent Morgan Cross," she said, introducing herself, "what's the situation?"

The man in charge turned toward her, his face haggard and tired. "We've been searching for the victim for about thirty minutes now, but we haven't found anything. We're moving as quickly as we can."

Thirty minutes. By the time the email had been sent, there had only been an hour left on the clock. Now, it was cut in half. They needed to act fast.

"What's the layout of the maze?" Morgan asked. "Do you have a map?"

The officer nodded, handing over a piece of paper with a crudely drawn map of the maze. Morgan studied it quickly, trying to memorize the twists and turns. She took a deep breath, her heart pounding in her chest. This was it. This was what she had been trained for. After so many years locked up, she had to admit that it felt good to get her hands dirty again.

Still, her nerves grew. There was always the risk of failure. And she didn't want another body on her conscience.

"Okay," she said. "I'm going in. Special Agent Greene will be handling the aerial search."

The person nodded, and Morgan took off into the maze, her feet splashing through the puddles that had formed. A sense of foreboding washed over her as she ran. The rain made it hard to see, and she could hear the sound of crunching leaves and twigs underfoot. The maze was labyrinthine, with twists and turns that seemed to go on forever.

It was quiet, too quiet, as if the rain had washed away any sound that might have been there before. Above, the rotaries of the helicopter spun as it soared over the maze, a spotlight on the ground, searching for any sign of this alleged victim.

Morgan kept running and searching, but despite her thoroughness, she found nothing. The rain kept pummeling her, and the maze seemed to go on forever. She was cold and exhausted, but she knew she had to keep going. Someone out here needed her—needed to be saved.

She turned a corner and came face-to-face with a wall, her heart racing as she realized she had hit a dead end. She looked at the map again, trying to figure out where she had gone wrong. She retraced her steps, trying to find where she had taken a wrong turn. The helicopter swooped above again.

Time was running out. Morgan's lungs heaved, and the rain kept pouring. The weather caused an assault of memories to flit through her mind. When she was in prison, there were many rainy days that had passed beyond the bars of her cell window. She remembered her bitterness, her resentment, her pointless wishes to be let go, to be seen as innocent.

And yet none of that ever happened. Ten years behind bars can change a person.

Morgan shook her head, clearing the memories away. Ten years was enough. She had to focus on the task at hand; she couldn't let that person out in the maze go unprotected. She kept running, checking every corner and crevice for any sign of life, but she saw nothing.

The seconds ticked away, and Morgan could feel the frustration building up inside her chest. She had to find this person, she had to save them from whatever danger lurked within these walls. She clenched her jaw and started running faster and faster, determined not to fail again.

As she turned a corner, she saw a figure in the distance. It was a person, lying on the ground. Morgan's heart jumped in her chest, and she raced toward the figure, her feet slipping in the mud, her hair whipping in the wind.

But the closer she got, the more apparent it became.

Half-buried in the ground was the upper half of a woman's torso, her red hair matted and bloody. Morgan collapsed in front of the woman. She already knew the truth.

They were too late.

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