Page 33 of For Wrath

"Look atthose eyes," she whispered, noticing the same intensity in Dr. Reid's gazethat she saw in Steve Blanchard's. And the curve of that jawline... it wassubtle, but it was there."

Her heart racedas the pieces began to fall into place. This was him; she was sure of it now.

Steve Blanchardhas rebranded himself as Dr. Terrance Reid.

"Skunk, wefinally have a lead!" She looked at her dog, who wagged his tailexcitedly, sensing her enthusiasm.

But what wastheir next move? Morgan asked herself, her mind racing through variousscenarios. She knew she needed to act quickly, but she also had to be cautious.If this really was Steve Blanchard, he was a dangerous man who wouldn'thesitate to harm anyone who got too close to the truth. And it was late. Thebest bet was to contact him and pose as a client so she could meet him inperson, catch him off-guard.

"First thingsfirst, I need to make sure Derik knows about this," she decided, reachingfor her phone. But as she dialed his number, her thoughts turned to theirrecent argument at the hospital, and she hesitated.

She didn't needto report to him.

Morgan's fingers flewacross her keyboard as she navigated the clinic's website, seeking a way tomake contact with Dr. Terrance Reid. The sterile white background and cheerfulimages of well-rested, glowing patients did little to put her at ease. If anything,they stood as a stark reminder that beneath the veneer of healing and beautywas a man who dealt with pain and death.

She found anonline form to schedule a consultation. Using the alias "LacyCallahan" and providing a burner email address, she typed out her inquiry."I'm interested in discussing potential facial rejuvenation procedureswith Dr. Reid. Please let me know when he has availability for a consultation,ideally first thing tomorrow."

With a finalclick, Morgan sent off her message into the digital void, hoping it would bethe first step in drawing Steve Blanchard – or rather, Dr. Terrance Reid – outinto the open. If she didn't get a timely reply, she'd just storm in firstthing in the morning anyway.

As she leanedback on her couch, her gaze drifting over to Skunk curled up beside her,Morgan's phone rang, jolting her out of her thoughts. She glanced at thescreen: Derik. Her jaw clenched involuntarily, recalling their last heatedexchange.

"Hello?"she answered, her tone guarded and weary.

"Morgan, weneed to talk," Derik said, his voice uncharacteristically soft.

"About what,Derik? More secrets you've been keeping from me?" she snapped, thebitterness clear in her voice.

"Please,just hear me out," he pleaded.

"Derik, Idon't have time for this right now," Morgan said, her frustrationmounting. "I need to focus on the case."

"Then let mehelp you!" Derik insisted, desperation creeping into his words.

"Like youhelped Darren La Roux?" she shot back, unable to stop herself from bringingup their earlier argument.

"Damn it,Morgan!" Derik hissed. "That's not fair."

"Fair? Youwant to talk about what's fair?" Morgan's voice was laced with anger andhurt. "You're the one who pushed me into this case. And now that thingsare getting difficult, you want to back out, pretend nothing happened?"

"Is thatreally what you think?" Derik asked, his voice wavering.

"Right now,I don't know what to think," she admitted, her voice softening slightly."But I do know that I need to focus on catching this killer. So, if you'llexcuse me, I'm getting back to work."

And with that,Morgan hung up the phone, leaving Derik's unspoken words hanging in the airbetween them. She took a deep breath, forcing herself to push him out of hermind and refocus on the task at hand. There would be time to deal with theircomplicated relationship later, but right now, she had a murderer to catch.

CHAPTERTWENTY

Derik was gettingdamn sick of the smell of the hospital. It burned his nostrils as he stared atthe white ceiling tiles above his hospital bed, listening to the steady beepingof the heart monitor. The phone call with Morgan still echoed in his mind, herwords like daggers that pierced through him. He could feel her anger andfrustration even through the cold, digital connection.

He knew he waskeeping things from her, and the guilt weighed heavily on his chest, making itharder to breathe with each passing moment. But how could he tell her? Howcould he admit to betraying the only person who believed in him when no oneelse did? She'd been through so much already – framed for murder, spending adecade in prison for a crime she didn't commit. This would break her, and hecouldn't bear to see that happen.

"Damnit," Derik muttered under his breath, his hands balling into fists as hetried to push away the overwhelming guilt. He wanted to make it right, but hedidn't know where to begin.

The hospital roomsuddenly felt suffocating, the walls closing in on him and threatening to crushhim under the weight of his secrets. He had to get out of here.

Gritting histeeth, Derik swung his legs over the side of the bed, feeling the cold linoleumfloor beneath his feet. His head swam with dizziness, but he ignored it,focusing instead on gathering his belongings. He wouldn't stay in this placeany longer than necessary.

He reached forthe clothes that Morgan had brought him, a simple pair of jeans and a blackT-shirt. The fabric felt foreign against his skin after days in the thinhospital gown, but it was a welcome change. He could feel a semblance ofstrength returning to him as he dressed, the familiar garments serving as areminder of who he once was – an agent who had faced down danger and alwaysemerged victorious.

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