Page 5 of For Wrath

"Few crimescenes ever are." Morgan's words were cold, detached. She'd seen thingsthat would make most crumble, but she had long learned to steel herself againstthe horrors of her job.

As Morganfollowed the officer deeper into the house, she couldn't help but wonder whatdark secrets lay hidden beneath the surface of Sheryl Stewart's seeminglyperfect life. Luxury and wealth could only mask the truth for so long, andMorgan was determined to uncover it, no matter how ugly it might be.

The living roomwas a stark contrast to the rest of the house. While the rest of the mansionexuded elegance and sophistication, this room was marred by the grotesque scenethat greeted Morgan as she entered.

Sheryl Stewart'sbody sat upright on the pristine white couch, her face mutilated beyondrecognition.

The sight sent ashudder down Morgan's spine. Mueller hadn't been kidding. Morgan had imaginedthe scene, but what she'd envisioned had nothing on the real thing. This wassomething else.

"Jesus Christ,"Morgan muttered under her breath, forcing herself to maintain her composure.The sight was horrifying, but she couldn't afford to let it faze her. Not now.There was work to be done.

"Whoever didthis had a sick sense of humor," one of the medics commented, his voiceshaking slightly. "Her face... it's like they tried to give her amakeshift facelift."

Morgan's eyeswere drawn to the swollen, distorted features of the victim. It was as if thekiller wanted to make a statement, to mock the woman's vanity, even in death."Do you think she was killed here?" Morgan asked, trying to piecetogether the events that led up to this grisly discovery.

"Actually,no," another medic chimed in, looking up from where he was crouched besidethe body. "There's not enough blood at the scene and the way her body ispositioned... it's likely she was moved here after being killedelsewhere."

"Someonewent through the trouble of bringing her back here just for this sickdisplay?" Morgan mused aloud, anger bubbling within her. She clenched herfists, nails digging into her palms. The injustice of it all threatened tooverwhelm her, but she forced herself to focus on the task at hand.

"Seems thatway," the medic confirmed, his expression grim. "We'll know moreafter we've completed the autopsy, of course."

"Keep meinformed," Morgan said, her voice tight with barely suppressed rage. Asshe surveyed the room one last time, she vowed to herself that she would bringSheryl's killer to justice – no matter what it took.

She couldn'tchange the past or erase the years she'd lost, but she could make damn surethat Sheryl Stewart's murderer paid for their crimes. As many issues as Morganhad with the FBI, this was the part of the job that kept her here. It wasn'tabout whatever corruption might lie beneath the FBI's surface--it was aboutsaving lives and getting madmen off the streets.

Just as Morganwas about to ask the medics another question, the front door to the mansionburst open. A distressed young woman with tear-streaked cheeks and wild,desperate eyes pushed her way past the officers stationed at the entrance. Theytried to restrain her, but she screamed, "This is my house! That's mymother!"

Morgan's hearttwisted. She moved towards the distraught girl. Sheryl's daughter shouldn'thave to see her mother like this. Morgan thought of her own father, who haddied while she was still in prison. At least the last image she had of him washim alive, visiting her in prison, never giving up on his belief in herinnocence. She didn't want this girl to remember her mother that way.

But it was toolate. The moment the young woman caught sight of her mother's mutilated face,she froze, her gaze locking onto the horrific scene before her.

"Hey, comeon," Morgan gently urged, stepping forward and putting an arm around thegirl's shoulders, guiding her away from the living room. Once they were in aquieter part of the house, Morgan led her into a small study and closed thedoor behind them. She turned to face the girl, who stood there as if in atrance, her eyes glazed over with shock.

"Look atme," Morgan commanded firmly, placing her hands on the girl's shouldersand giving her a slight shake. The contact seemed to snap her out of hercatatonic state, and she looked up at Morgan, her eyes swimming with tears.

"Th-thankyou," she whispered, her voice shaking. "I... I don't know what Iwould have done if you hadn't been here."

"Ofcourse," Morgan said softly. "I'm just doing my job, trying tohelp." She paused for a moment, considering her next words carefully."What's your name?"

"Amelia,"the girl replied, wiping her tears away with the back of her hand. "AmeliaStewart."

"Amelia,"Morgan repeated, nodding. "I'm so sorry for what's happened here. But Ipromise you, we'll find out who did this to your mother."

"Thankyou," Amelia whispered again, her eyes flicking back towards the door thatseparated them from the grisly scene in the living room. "I... I don'tknow what to do now. How am I supposed to go on without her?"

"Firstthings first," Morgan said gently, squeezing Amelia's shouldersreassuringly. "We need to figure out what happened, and we'll need yourhelp with that. But for now, let's just focus on getting through today,okay?"

"Okay,"Amelia agreed, taking a deep breath and wiping away another tear. She looked upat Morgan, her gaze filled with determination. "I'll do whatever it takesto help you find my mom's killer."

Morgan studiedAmelia's face, noting the mixture of fear and determination in her tear-filledeyes. She knew that despite her shock, Amelia would do whatever was necessaryto help find her mother's killer.

"Amelia,"Morgan began, her voice soft but firm. "I know this is incrediblydifficult for you, but I need to ask you some questions about last night."

"Of course,"Amelia replied, nodding. Her chin quivered slightly as she tried to maintainher composure.

"Where wereyou last night?" Morgan asked, watching Amelia closely for any reaction.

"I... I wentout with my friends," Amelia answered, her voice barely above a whisper."We went to a movie and then hung out at a friend's house. I didn't comehome."

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