Page 7 of For Us

"Agreed," Derik nodded. "We'll find him, Morgan. You can count on that."

Morgan's gaze flicked to the bustling forensic team one last time before turning to Derik. "Call me when the coroner's report comes in. I've had too many long drives lately, and Skunk needs to get home."

"Will do, Morgan," Derik said with a nod, his eyes betraying the unease they both felt about this case.

Morgan started walking back to her car, her footsteps echoing through the dim alley. She couldn't shake the feeling of dread that settled in her chest, like icy tendrils wrapping around her heart. This case was different, and she knew it deep in her bones.

"Special Agent Morgan Cross?"

The unfamiliar voice made her pause, and she turned to see a tall, lean man approaching her. His hair was a short and dark blond, but tousled in a way, and his wide blue eyes held an expression of awe that seemed out of place in the grim alleyway. But he was wearing an FBI jacket, so he was obviously one of theirs.

"Can I help you?" Morgan asked, studying him cautiously. He must have been a couple years younger than her--maybe thirty-seven or thirty-eight.

"Uh, yes," he stammered, extending a hand. "I'm Agent Thomas Grady. I specialize in cyber security and software… I just wanted to introduce myself."

"Nice to meet you, Thomas." Morgan shook his hand firmly, noting the firmness of his grip. "Welcome to the team."

"Thank you, Special Agent Cross." Thomas's eyes brightened, and he let out a small, nervous laugh. "I've heard so much about your work. You're something of a legend around here."

Morgan offered a tight smile in response. The weight of her past accomplishments – and the shadows that still haunted her – lay heavy on her shoulders. "Well, I just try to do my job and catch the bad guys. It's what we all signed up for, right?"

"Absolutely," Thomas agreed enthusiastically, though his voice wavered as he glanced back at the crime scene. "It's just… I never thought I'd be working on a case like this."

"None of us ever do," Morgan replied, her voice softening. She knew that the reality of working in the field could be a harsh awakening for new agents. "Listen, Thomas, it's not always going to be easy, but we're all here to support each other. If you ever need anything, don't hesitate to ask."

"Thank you, Special Agent Cross," he said, his gratitude evident in his eyes.

"Call me Morgan," she told him with a slight nod.

Morgan's eyes flicked over to Derik, who was standing a short distance away. His face was tight as he watched her and Thomas converse, his eyes narrowing with what seemed like suspicion--or maybe even jealousy. Morgan wasn't sure what to do with that information, so she ignored it.

"Excuse me," Morgan said politely to Thomas, nodding towards her car. "I have to be somewhere."

"Of course," Thomas replied, stepping back. "It was nice meeting you, Morgan."

"Good luck out here," she said, offering a small smile before heading toward her car. It was late to be starting a case, and until she had more to work with, she needed to get her dog home.

CHAPTER FOUR

For the rest of the night, Derik didn't call. Morgan fell into an uneasy sleep. Her dreams were filled with haunting images of her past life – the prison cell that had housed her for ten years, the bloodied hands of the faceless men who had framed her for murder, and feeling of betrayal.

Morgan's heart raced, her body slick with sweat, as she tried in vain to escape the ghosts of her past. The feeling of helplessness and despair threatened to overwhelm her, but no matter how hard she fought, she couldn't break free from the darkness that enveloped her.

She awoke with a start, gasping for air as she clutched the sheets that tangled around her legs. Her heart pounded in her chest, and she could still feel the phantom weight of the prison bars pressing down on her.

"Damn it," Morgan whispered harshly, running a hand through her damp hair. Another restless night. She knew she wouldn't find any comfort in trying to sleep again – not tonight.

With a heavy heart, Morgan decided that sleep was a luxury she couldn't afford tonight. She swung her legs over the edge of the bed and stood up, feeling the cold hardwood floor beneath her feet. Skunk lifted his head from his own bed in the corner of the room, his ears perked up as he watched her intently.

"Let's go," she whispered to him, her voice barely audible. The loyal dog followed her into the living room, where moonlight seeped through the curtains, casting long shadows across the floor.

Morgan poured herself a glass of scotch and settled down on the couch, case files spread out before her like a dark puzzle waiting to be solved. Skunk lay down beside her, resting his chin on his paws, his eyes never leaving her face.

"Something isn't right about these gloves," she muttered under her breath, sipping her drink. Her fingers traced the outline of Lizzie Meadows's photo, the young beauty queen staring back at her with a smile that hid a thousand secrets.

Who were you, Lizzie?Morgan wondered, searching for answers in the dead girl's eyes.Why did someone want you dead?

As she delved deeper into Lizzie's life, she found a world of cutthroat competition and ruthless ambition. Pageants had been her entire existence, a stage upon which she danced for adoring crowds and judgmental eyes. Her parents had pushed her relentlessly, molding her into their vision of perfection.

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