Page 27 of For Wrath

"Thank you,Matt," Morgan said, her eyes scanning through the documents as sheprepared to dive deeper into the twisted world of Dr. Steve Blanchard.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Morgan's fingerstightened around the steering wheel as she stared at the address listed for Dr.Steve Blanchard. The afternoon sun cast long shadows over the pristine lawn,giving the suburban home an eerie quality. She knew better than to trustappearances, but the quiet façade did little to reveal the secrets that lurkedwithin.

"Time to seewhat you're hiding, Dr. Blanchard," Morgan muttered to herself, steppingout of her car and squinting against the sunlight.

As she approachedthe front door, she couldn't help but notice the sound of children playing in anearby yard – a stark contrast to the grim business that had brought her here.She took a deep breath, steeling herself before rapping firmly on the door.

A woman with akind smile and warm eyes opened the door, confusion etched across her features."Can I help you?" she asked.

"Ma'am, myname is Agent Morgan Cross with the FBI," Morgan said, flashing her badge."I'm looking for a Dr. Steve Blanchard. Is he here?"

The woman'sconfusion only deepened. "I'm sorry, there must be some mistake. No one bythat name has ever lived here."

Morgan frowned,glancing down at the photo of Blanchard she'd obtained from Matt. The pale,bald man with a beard bore no resemblance to anyone she could see in the house."Are you certain? This is the address I have for him."

"Positive,"the woman replied, shaking her head. "My husband and I have lived here foryears, and we've never even heard of a Dr. Blanchard."

As they spoke,the sound of footsteps approached, and a tall man appeared behind the woman,his expression a mix of concern and curiosity. "What's going on?"

"Sir,"Morgan said, turning her attention to him and extending the photograph,"do you recognize this man—Dr. Steve Blanchard?"

The husbandstudied the image, then shook his head. "No, never seen him before. Who ishe?"

"Anindividual of interest in an ongoing investigation," Morgan repliedcryptically, her frustration simmering beneath the surface. She couldn't affordto waste any more time on false leads.

"Thank youfor your time," she said, pocketing the photo and stepping back from thedoorway. "If you hear anything about Dr. Blanchard or anyone matching hisdescription, please contact me immediately."

"Ofcourse," the woman said, still looking bewildered. "Good luck withyour investigation, Agent Cross."

As Morgan walkedback to her car, her mind raced with the possibilities. If Blanchard had goneto such lengths to conceal his true identity and location, it only made hermore determined to uncover the truth. But where could she begin?

She gripped thesteering wheel tightly as she pulled away from the curb. The road aheadstretched out before her, but the path to finding Blanchard felt as if it wereshrouded in shadows. With only a fake name, a false address, and anever-growing list of potential victims, Morgan knew she had her work cut outfor her. And the longer it took to unravel this twisted mystery, the more liveshung in the balance.

"Damn it,"she muttered under her breath, her determination fueling her resolve. Shewouldn't let this killer claim another life, but so far, she'd had no damn luckin finding him. Steve Blanchard was a ghost, but Morgan had tracked ghostsbefore. She could do it again.

At least, shehoped she could.

***

Morgan sat in hercar as the chill of the air conditioner seeped into her skin, replacing theoppressive heat of the Texas sun. She powered up her laptop, feeling theurgency of her task pressing on her shoulders like a heavyweight.

Where are youhiding, Blanchard? she wondered, her fingers flyingover the keys as she logged into the FBI database. Her search for SteveBlanchard came up empty, confirming her suspicions that the name was nothingbut a fabrication.

"Damnit," she muttered, her frustration flaring. He wasn't going to make thiseasy.

Her eyes scannedthe screen, searching for any clue, any connection that might lead her closerto the truth.

Then it hit her -his client list. Maybe there was something there that would reveal a pattern oreven just a single piece of information that could help her track down thiselusive killer.

"Okay, let'ssee who you've been treating, 'Dr. Blanchard,'" she said to herself,opening the file containing the names of his former clients. Ella Van Sant andSheryl Stewart were both there, their names standing out like neon signs. Butthere were others too; women whose lives had unwittingly become intertwinedwith a monster.

Who else had heheard? Morgan wondered, her heart aching for the potential victims. She knewshe had to act quickly before any more lives were destroyed by this madman'stwisted obsession with beauty.

As she scrolledthrough the list, her mind raced with possibilities. Were these women allconnected in some way? Did they share a common thread that made them targets?Or was it simply a matter of being in the wrong place at the wrong time?

But as theminutes ticked by, the connections remained elusive, and Morgan felt as if shewere chasing shadows. And time was running out.

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