Page 38 of For Wrath

"Like Isaid, I really don't know anything about it," he repeated nervously,clearly desperate to change the subject. "Now, let's get back todiscussing your needs and how we can help you achieve them, shall we?"

Morgan nodded,feigning defeat. But as Dr. Reid began rattling off various procedures theycould perform, her mind raced, piecing together the puzzle before her. She wascloser than ever to catching this killer, and she had no intention of lettinghim slip through her fingers.

Morgan's patiencehad reached its limit. Dr. Reid was hiding something, and she knew it. Sheglanced around the small room, noting the sterile white walls adorned withposters of perfectly airbrushed models, their flawless skin gazing down at herin silent judgment. The irony wasn't lost on her.

"Actually,Dr. Reid," she began casually, stepping between him and the door,effectively blocking his only exit. "I think we've discussed enough aboutmy needs. It's time to talk about yours."

"Excuseme?" He blinked in confusion, his composure slipping for a moment.

"Your needto hide behind a fake name and a new look," Morgan clarified, her voicenow cold and assertive. She pulled out her FBI badge and gun, holding them upfor him to see. "And what, exactly, you're running from."

Dr. Reid's eyeswidened, all pretense of calmness gone as he stared at her badge. "I-Idon't know what you're talking about," he stammered, but the fear in hiseyes betrayed him.

"Drop theact," Morgan snapped, her hardened gaze never leaving his face. "Iknow who you really are, Steve Blanchard, or whatever your real name is. AndI'm not leaving until you tell me everything."

To her surprise,he broke down easily, tears pooling in his eyes as he slumped against theexamination table. "Okay, okay," he sobbed, his hands trembling."I'll tell you what you want to know. Just... please don't hurt me."

“Let’s start withCasey,” Morgan said. “You killed her, didn’t you?”

“No!” heexclaimed. “No—that was an unfortunate accident, really, it was.”

“So why are youin hiding? Start talking," Morgan demanded, her tone unyielding. Everyinstinct told her to remain guarded, but part of her couldn't help but beintrigued by this sudden vulnerability.

"Twentyyears ago, I opened a practice with my childhood best friend," he began,his voice barely above a whisper. "We were like brothers, inseparable. Butthings changed... he changed."

"Who is thisfriend?" Morgan asked, her curiosity piqued.

"His name isJohn Pesci," he confessed, tears streaming down his face. "He becameobsessed with staying young and started experimenting on himself. It wenthorribly wrong, and now... now I'm running from him."

Morgan's mindraced as she processed this new information. Could it be possible that the realkiller was someone else entirely? She had to know more. "Why are yourunning from him? What has he done?"

"Every timeI change my name and appearance, he finds me," he sobbed. "He'sdangerous, and I'm scared for my life and for my wife, Harriet. I just want toescape from him and start over."

Morgan loweredher gun, feeling the weight of the situation settle heavily on her shoulders.If what he said was true, then they both had a common enemy in John Pesci. Thenagain, of course, this guy would lie to save himself. She couldn't trust a wordhe said.

Morgan's eyesnarrowed, her grip tightening on her gun as she studied the man before her. Heseemed genuine in his fear, but she couldn't afford to let her guard down. Shehad been wrong before, and it had cost her dearly. "Tell me your realname," she demanded, her voice steady and unwavering.

"Mark...Mark Holland," he stammered, wiping away tears with the back of his hand."I started changing my name and appearance when John threatened to hurt mywife, Harriet."

Morgan's thoughtsraced, trying to piece together the information. Could this man really be avictim himself? Or was he simply playing her for a fool? She couldn't ignorethe possibility that he was still the killer she was hunting.

"Tell memore about this friend," Morgan said.

"We've knowneach other since we were kids. We opened our first practice together,"Mark explained, his voice trembling. "But he changed, became obsessed withstaying young, and now he's dangerous... I'm sure of it."

Morgan's mindchurned, evaluating every word, every nuance in Mark's expression. Despite herreservations, she found herself drawn into his story. There was something aboutthe way he spoke, the desperation in his eyes, that made her consider thepossibility that there was more to this case than she'd initially thought.

As she looked atMark, she recalled her own past, the betrayal and pain she had endured. Thememory of being framed for murder ten years ago still haunted her, leaving herhardened and distrustful. But if she wanted to catch the real killer, she wouldhave to take some risks, even if it meant putting her trust in someone whocould very well be lying to her face.

"Alright,Mark," Morgan said finally, her voice softening just a fraction."Tell me everything you know about John Pesci. And don't leave anythingout."

Mark noddedsolemnly. "John was always the more successful one," Mark continued,staring down at his hands. "He had this charm about him, always surroundedby beautiful women. But as we got older, he became obsessed with stayingyouthful. He began experimenting with extreme surgeries, testing them onhimself. The results were... horrific."

Mark shuddered,his eyes haunted as he looked up at Morgan.

"His face,it was like something out of a nightmare. He tried to fix it, but each time hejust made it worse. I can't get the image out of my mind."

"Every timeyou change your name and appearance, he finds you?" Morgan asked curiositypiqued despite her instincts telling her to tread carefully.

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