Page 7 of For Rage

But the Maze Killer's timeline had unfolded rapidly. Four women in the past month, and the last two were the closest together. That was an aggressive timeline, and Morgan was sure it was only the beginning.

Most notably, though, was that the killer clearly had a type. All the women were in their mid to late thirties, red-haired, and were killed with blunt force trauma to the back of the head—a fairly clean hit that did the job quick. That aside, the crime scenes became so messy because of the way he buried them, which caused blood to get everywhere. And yet not a speck of the actual killer's DNA—at least not yet—had been found.

"Why do you think he's going after red-haired women in their thirties?" Morgan asked, hoping to pick Derik's brain.

He eased back into the seat, letting out a breath. "Let's see here ... maybe he's pissed off at a wife? A mother? Sister? Ex-lover?"

Morgan considered this for a moment. "It's possible. Maybe it's a twisted fantasy he has. Maybe he's hurting women who look like someone in his life."

Derik nodded. "That's definitely another possibility. We won't know for sure until we catch him. The pool of red-haired women in the city is, well, broad."

Morgan leaned back in her chair, running a hand over her face. "God, I hate this feeling of being so helpless. Every lead the cops have followed have led nowhere."

Derik offered a smile. "Hey, don't get discouraged yet. We're in this now. It's in our hands."

She smiled faintly at him, grateful for his support. In the midst of all the chaos and frustration of the case, she was glad to have someone like Derik by her side. But she had to admit that the fear of getting it wrong was still present in her.

"You remember back in the day?" Derik suddenly said, and Morgan lifted a brow. It still felt weird to talk about the past with Derik, after she'd been out of the picture for ten long years behind bars for a wrongful conviction.

"What about back in the day?" she asked.

"We tackled some of the toughest cases out there," Derik said. "You were always one of our best, and I was honored to work with you."

Morgan turned away, her face warming with embarrassment. Reconnecting with Derik after so long wasn't a walk in the park. She felt awkward sometimes, other times a little resentful. He might not have put her behind bars, but he didn't get her out, either.

Still, he was right. They had history in the FBI. They'd cracked some of the hardest cases in the history of the Bureau, and they had cracked them open together. It had been a time of great success and accomplishment, before everything had gone wrong with her conviction.

"Yeah, those were some good times," she said, a wistful smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.

Derik grinned. "We can have those times again. We just need to catch this guy, put him away, and move on to the next case. It's what we do."

"It's what you did for ten years while I was locked up," Morgan corrected. She hadn't meant to come across so bitter, but she couldn't help it.

Derik's expression fell. "I know," he said softly. "And I'm sorry. I should've done more."

Morgan shook her head, trying to push the feelings of resentment aside. "It's not your fault, Derik. You at least tried to testify for me.”

“But it wasn’t enough. And … I guess, eventually, I gave up.”

Her heart sank, his words only confirming what she knew to be true. It hurt, she had to admit, but what good would getting angry do? Even though Morgan knew that if the same thing had happened to Derik, she never would have stopped fighting for him. “It wasn’t your job,” she said.

Silence hung between them for a few moments before Derik spoke up again. "Listen, Morgan," he said, his tone serious, "I know you're still adjusting to life outside of prison, but I want you to know that I've got your back. Whatever you need, I'm here for you."

Morgan felt a pang of guilt at her earlier bitterness. Derik had always been a good friend, even if she had been too stubborn to see it at times. "Thanks," she said softly. "It means a lot."

"I'm gonna go send this in," Derik said, holding up the paperwork. "Let's reconvene in a bit."

She nodded, and Derik left the room.

Morgan leaned back in her chair, trying to clear her mind. She needed to think about this case from a different angle, to see if there was anything they'd missed. She thought back to the timeline the killer had given them. If the victim had been alive when they'd started looking—which, according to the crime scene, it did seem like the kill was fairly fresh—then that would mean that if the blunt force trauma was what killed her, then the killer would have had to be present just moments before Morgan found the woman dead. Was that even possible? There was no way he could have escaped with all those officers and the helicopter in the sky. Someone would have seen him.

Just then, her phone rang on her desk. Morgan quickly swiped it up.

"This is Morgan Cross."

"Special Agent Cross?" a tentative voice said. "It's Amy from forensics. I ... I think you need to see something."

Morgan sat up, her heart racing. Maybe this was it—the one thing they needed to take the killer down. Their golden ticket.

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