Page 29 of For Wrath

Was this wherethe killer was working?

Was he here?

Okay,Blanchard. Where did you run off to?

As she carefullystepped through the darkened halls, her eyes slowly adjusted, revealing theclinic's true nature. Abandoned medical equipment lay strewn haphazardly acrossthe floor as if left behind in a hurried escape. The faint echo of herfootsteps seemed to emphasize the emptiness of the place, a reminder that shewas truly alone.

His patientswere paying him good money for these procedures,Morgan thought, trying to make sense of the situation. Why would he just up andleave everything like this? There had to be something more going on.

As she continuedher exploration, a wave of unease washed over her. It felt as though the verywalls of the clinic were hiding some terrible secret, one that she wasdetermined to uncover. The thought of what could have driven Blanchard to suchdesperate measures gnawed at her mind, propelling her forward despite thegrowing sense of dread.

The weight of thepossibility settled heavily on her shoulders, making it difficult to breathe.But Morgan knew that she couldn't let herself be swayed by fear or doubt. Shehad a job to do, and she wouldn't let anything stand in her way.

Morgan crouchedlow, her eyes adjusting to the darkness that enveloped the clinic. She creptforward, scanning the room with a keen eye. Her heart pounded in her ears asshe navigated the abandoned space, every shadow threatening to conceal someunseen danger.

She had to findsomething. Anything that would give her a lead. Morgan couldn't stomach anymore failures.

As she moveddeeper into the clinic, Morgan's fingers grazed the cold metal of an empty filecabinet. She pulled open the drawers one by one, hoping to discover a hiddenclue or a forgotten document that might reveal Blanchard's true identity or hiswhereabouts. But each drawer was just as barren as the last, offering hernothing but the echo of her own disappointment.

"Damnit," she hissed, slamming the final drawer shut with a satisfying clang."He really wiped this place clean."

She turned herattention to the abandoned equipment that littered the room, her gaze fallingon a discarded scalpel that glinted menacingly in the dim light. The memory ofElla Van Sant's mutilated face flashed before her eyes, sending a shiver downher spine.

"God, whatdid you do to those women?" she asked the empty room, her words swallowedby the silence. "And why, Blanchard? Why?"

A sense ofurgency welled up inside her, fueling her determination to bring this guy down.She refused to let him slip through her fingers, to hide in the shadows whileothers suffered at his hands.

With a deepbreath, she plunged back into the darkness of the clinic, her eyes scanningevery corner, her mind working overtime to piece together the puzzle that wasDr. Steve Blanchard. The truth was out there, lurking in the shadows, and shewouldn't stop until she dragged it into the light.

Just then,Morgan's pulse quickened as she registered the sound of shuffling coming fromthe adjacent room. A mixture of adrenaline and dread coursed through her veinsas she quietly drew her gun, her fingers gripping the cold metal with practicedease. Years of experience told her that in moments like these, hesitation couldbe fatal.

She advancedcautiously toward the source of the noise, her footsteps silent on the coldlinoleum floor. The sound was clearer now – glass bottles clinking together,drawers being rifled through.

Someone else washere.

As Morgan peeredaround the corner into the next room, she caught sight of a man crouched by anoverturned supply cabinet. His back was to her, but it was evident that hewasn't Steve Blanchard; this man had a full head of hair. Morgan's initialassumption was that he was a meth head scavenging for supplies, but somethingabout his movements seemed too deliberate, too methodical.

"Freeze!"Morgan barked, leveling her gun at the intruder. "FBI! Put your handswhere I can see them!"

The man jerked insurprise, and as he turned to face her, Morgan took note of his most strikingfeature: a mask that obscured his features, leaving only his eyes visible. Thiswas no desperate drug addict – this was someone with purpose, someone whodidn't want to be recognized. But his form was also very different from the manshe'd seen lurking by her car earlier--wasn't him either.

"Who areyou?" Morgan demanded, her voice steady even as her heart hammered in herchest. "What are you doing here?"

The man's eyesdarted around the room, searching for an escape route. Morgan tightened hergrip on her gun, ready to give chase if necessary. She couldn't let him getaway; he might have information on Blanchard or even be an accomplice in hiscrimes.

"Answerme!" Morgan growled, taking a step closer. "You have one chance toexplain yourself before I bring you in."

The man's gazeflicked back to Morgan, a glint of defiance shining in his eyes.

Then, the maskedman bolted, his footsteps echoing through the abandoned clinic like the sharpcrack of a whip. Morgan's blood surged with adrenaline as she gave chase, hergun raised and her senses on high alert. She had no time to dwell on who he wasor why he was here; all that mattered now was capturing him before he slippedthrough her fingers.

"Stop!"she shouted, her voice straining with the intensity of the pursuit. The manonly increased his pace, ducking around corners and weaving through themaze-like corridors of the clinic. Frustration gnawed at Morgan's resolve, butshe refused to let it slow her down.

"Lastchance!" she called out, her finger hovering over the trigger. When theman showed no signs of yielding, Morgan fired a warning shot, the bullet ricochetingoff a metal cart and grazing the man's forehead. He yelped in pain butcontinued running, desperation fueling his every step.

"Damnit," Morgan muttered, her breaths coming in short, controlled gasps as shesprinted after him. Her muscles burned, but she couldn't afford to falter now –not when so much was at stake.

As they nearedthe clinic's exit, the man shoved a bookshelf across Morgan's path, sending acascade of medical supplies crashing to the floor. She skidded to a halt, hereyes narrowing as she assessed the obstacle. There would be no getting aroundit quickly, but she refused to give up.

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