Page 10 of For Wrath

"Of course Idid," Morgan replied, forcing herself to return the smile. "Ipromised I'd keep you updated, didn't I?"

"True,"Derik acknowledged, then winced as he shifted in the bed. "What have yougot for me?"

Morgan hesitatedfor a moment, remembering her earlier thoughts about telling him what she foundin his house. But now wasn't the time for that. Instead, she focused on thecase at hand. Sitting down in the chair by his bedside, she pulled out herphone and opened the gallery containing photos of the crime scene.

"SherylStewart," she began, her voice low and steady. "Her face wasmutilated, cut up, and stretched into a makeshift facelift. The coronerconfirmed the cause of death to be silicone injections in all her major nerves.We think we're dealing with someone who has a surgical background."

"Show me thephotos," Derik said, his eyes darkening with determination. Morgan sensedhis longing to be part of the action again, despite his weakened state. Shehanded him her phone, watching his expression as he scrolled through thegruesome images.

"God, thisis sick," he muttered after a few moments, "We need to find whoeverdid this and make sure they never hurt anyone again."

"Agreed,"Morgan nodded, her thoughts echoing his resolve. But in the back of her mind,the nagging question about Derik's connection to Darren La Roux still lingered,casting a shadow over their partnership.

Morgan watched asDerik's eyes flickered between the photos and her face, searching for answers.The dim light from the bedside lamp cast eerie shadows across the room,heightening the tension that hung in the air. Derik handed the phone back toMorgan, and Morgan tucked it away.

"Sheryllooks young for her age," Morgan commented. "Even with all thosesurgeries. Her ex-husband claimed she was too old, but in life, she certainlydidn't look it."

"I guessthat's what money can buy you," Derik said.

Morgan furrowedher brow, thoughts racing. She had been so focused on the gruesome state ofSheryl's face and the surgical precision of her killer that she hadn'tconsidered the implications of her appearance. If the motive wasn't financial,then why would someone do this to her? And why take the time to ruin her facelike that?

"Whoeverkilled her must have a different motive," Morgan murmured, mostly to herself."If it were about money, they wouldn't have gone through the trouble ofdisfiguring her so brutally."

"Exactly,"Derik agreed, visibly wincing as he adjusted himself in the bed. "We needto look at people in different circles, not just the ones who stand to gainfinancially from her death. Our perp obviously has some kind of medicalbackground, given the MO, like you said."

"Right,"she said, taking a deep breath. "So we're dealing with a killer who seemsto be sending some sort of message. They have surgical knowledge and aren'tafraid to use it. This is definitely someone who will strike again.”

Derik nodded, hisgaze never leaving her face. "It's possible they're trying to make astatement about vanity or the lengths people will go to maintain theirappearance. But we can't rule out jealousy or revenge either."

Morgan clenchedher jaw, feeling the weight of the case bearing down on her. She couldn't shakethe unease that gnawed at her, fueled not only by the grisly crime scene photosbut also by her own doubts about Derik and their partnership.

"Okay,"she said finally, stuffing her phone back into her pocket. "I'll startlooking into people connected to Sheryl who might have a history in the medicalfield. Surgeons, nurses, even hospital staff – anyone who could've had accessto the tools and knowledge needed to do this."

"Good,"Derik replied. His eyes, though still pale and tired, locked onto Morgan's ashe sensed her lingering reluctance. "Morgan," he said softly, raisinga hand to touch her arm. "Why don't you stay for a while? We can hash thisout together."

Morgan hesitated,feeling the warmth of his touch seep through her jacket sleeve. A part of heryearned to confide in him, to seek solace in their partnership. But the memoryof Darren La Roux's files, hidden within Derik's home, cast an unwelcome shadowover her thoughts.

"Thanks,Derik," she replied, gently pulling away from his grasp. "But I needto head home for the night. It's been a long day."

"Are yousure?" Derik asked, his concern evident in the furrow of his brow."You seem... off. Is everything okay?"

Morgan staredinto his green eyes, wavering between the desire to confront him about herdiscovery and the fear of what it might mean for their relationship. Shethought of all they had been through together, the trust they had built,despite her own dark past. Could that bond withstand the weight of such damningevidence?

"Everything'sfine," she lied, forcing a smile onto her face. "I'm just tired,that's all. I'll be back tomorrow, okay? Get some rest."

"Alright,"Derik conceded, looking unconvinced but too weak to push further. "Takecare of yourself, Morgan. I'll see you tomorrow."

As Morgan leftthe hospital room, she couldn't shake the feeling that she was leaving behindmore than just her injured partner. The truth, like an insidious parasite,gnawed at her insides, threatening to devour everything they had builttogether. And yet, she knew that revealing it now would only serve to weakenthem both in the face of a dangerous and cunning adversary.

"Goodnight,Derik," she whispered, her hand on the cool metal door handle. And withthat, she stepped out into the dimly lit hallway, alone with her thoughts andthe burden of truth.

CHAPTER SIX

Bethany paced heropulent living room, the soft soles of her slippers barely making a sound asthey kissed the imported floor. The grandfather clock in the corner ticked awaythe seconds, its rhythmic cadence serving only to underscore the emptiness ofthe grand house. She felt the weight of her loneliness pressing down on her,like an oppressive fog seeping into every corner of her luxurious but hollowlife.

Her gaze wanderedto the ornate mantle above the flickering fireplace, the flames casting shadowsthat danced around the room. There, amidst the collection of gilded frames andtreasured memories, she spotted a photo of herself and her sister, Mary, takenyears ago when they were both still young and carefree. The sepia-toned imageshowed the two sisters with arms wrapped around each other, their laughterfrozen in time.

"Rememberwhen we used to be inseparable, Mary?" Bethany whispered to thephotograph, her voice cracking with a mixture of nostalgia and regret.

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