Page 14 of For Wrath

"We'reworking on finding that out, Mary," Morgan assured her. "I promisewe'll do everything in our power to bring her killer to justice. In themeantime, if you can think of anything that might help our investigation,please don't hesitate to reach out."

"Thank you, SpecialAgent Cross," Mary managed to say, her voice barely holding together.

"Mary, Iunderstand this is difficult, but can you tell me more about your sister?"Morgan asked, her voice gentle but firm. "What was it that drove you twoapart?"

There was a pause,and then Mary answered with a tremor in her voice. "Bethany becameaddicted to plastic surgery. It consumed her life, turned her into a vain,reclusive woman. We lost touch, but I had been planning on reaching outsoon."

Morgan could hearthe regret in Mary's voice and felt a pang of sympathy for the woman. Morganwished she had been able to see her father again before he died. If she'd knownhe was going to die, she would have asked him to stay longer during his lastvisit to her in prison. There were a lot of things she would have said.

"I'm sorryfor your loss," Morgan said, meaning every word. "I'll do everythingI can to find out what happened to Bethany."

"Thankyou," Mary replied, her voice steadier now. "It all went wrong whenshe met that damn consultant in Dallas."

"Consultant?"Morgan's interest was piqued. She gripped the steering wheel with one handwhile holding the phone to her ear with the other. This could be a lead.

"Who wasthis consultant?" she probed further, her mind racing with possibilities.

"His namewas Dr. Lance Friedman," Mary shared hesitantly, as if unsure whether ornot to trust Morgan. "He's a plastic surgeon, and he convinced Bethany toundergo more surgeries than she needed. She got hooked."

Morgan's gutclenched with anger at the thought of a doctor taking advantage of someone'svulnerability for personal gain. But she kept her emotions in check, knowingthat she needed to focus on the task at hand.

"Could youtell me more about this plastic surgeon?" Morgan asked.

"Sure,"Mary replied, her voice wavering slightly as she collected her thoughts."Bethany started out with minor surgeries, but a few years before we losttouch, she met this man who convinced her to get more and more procedures done.He was like a drug dealer, feeding her addiction. I remember she told me he wasthe only surgeon she'd trust with her face."

Morgan's eyesnarrowed as she processed the information. She could practically hear the gearsturning in her head, fitting together pieces of the puzzle.

"Thank you,Mary. You've been very helpful." Morgan's words were sincere, and she knewthat the call must have been incredibly difficult for Mary. "I'm going tolook into Dr. Friedman. Please take care of yourself, and if I have any furtherquestions, I'll be in touch."

"Of course,Agent Cross," Mary said, her voice stronger than before. "Thank youfor telling me all this."

As soon as thecall disconnected, Morgan felt an urgency to act. Dr. Lance Friedman was now aperson of interest, and she needed to find out more about him. Her instinctstold her that he might be the key to solving this case – or at least a vitalpiece of the puzzle.

She wasted notime in powering up her laptop, quickly searching for any information she couldfind on him. His practice had many five-star reviews—it seemed legitimateenough, although she was curious to know if there was more hiding under thesurface. She filtered down to the one-star reviews, and there were only a few.The most recent was anonymous, and it said: This guy will pressure you intogetting expensive and dangerous surgeries you don't need. Avoid!

Morgan frowned.That lined up with Mary's statement about the way Lance allegedly manipulatedBethany.

Morgan went intothe FBI database and looked up Lance Friedman's file. Her search revealed thatLance had attended medical school at the prestigious University of Chicago,graduating with honors. He had no criminal record and a spotless professionaltrack record, aside from those few allegations that he pressured clients.

Well, one of hisclients was now dead. Morgan shut her laptop and turned on her car. It was timeto pay him a visit.

CHAPTER EIGHT

The sun wassetting, casting an eerie glow on the pristine white exterior of Dr. LanceFriedman's plastic surgery clinic as Morgan pulled into the parking lot. Shecouldn't help but notice how the building stood out against the darkening sky,seemingly untouched by the chaos and horror that had been plaguing Dallas.

Her thoughts wereinterrupted by the shrill ring of her cell phone. Glancing at the screen, shesaw it was the coroner.

"This isCross," she answered.

"SpecialAgent Cross, I've just finished examining Bethany Good's body. The cause ofdeath has been confirmed as heart failure, likely as a result of the trauma thevictim was going through."

So it wasn'tinjections this time, Morgan thought. Maybe Bethany had died before the killerhad the chance to inflict more pain upon her.

"Thanks forthe update," Morgan said, her brow furrowing in thought. She wondered if thekiller had caused the heart failure or if it had been a tragic coincidence thathad occurred before their macabre handiwork began. But deep down, she doubtedit was that simple.

"Keep me postedif you find anything else," she told the coroner before hanging up. Hergaze returned to the clinic, determination settling over her like a cloak. Itwas time to confront Dr. Friedman.

Stepping out ofher car and into the fading light, Morgan approached the glass doors of theclinic. As she entered, she was struck by the sterile brightness of thereception area. The walls were adorned with unsettling photographs of smilingpeople, their faces unnaturally smooth and taut, a testament to the work donewithin these walls.

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