Page 9 of For Us

"Mr. Walter," Morgan acknowledged tersely, not taking her eyes off the body. "You say you know this woman?"

"Yes," he replied, his face pale but composed. "Her name is Amy Sanderson. She was here for a limited engagement, performing several concerts." He hesitated for a moment, swallowing hard before continuing. "She was incredibly talented… it's such a tragedy."

"Did you notice anything unusual or suspicious lately?" Morgan asked, studying Roger's face for any sign of deceit.

"Nothing that comes to mind," he said, shaking his head. "She seemed… happy, focused on her performances."

Morgan frowned, her instincts telling her that there was more to the story than what Roger was revealing. She cataloged his reaction in her mind, another piece of the puzzle to explore later.

"Mr. Walter," Morgan said, her eyes narrowing as she regarded the chairman. "I need a list of names. Everyone who was in this concert hall last night. We'll need to talk to them all."

Roger's expression shifted from composed to mildly agitated, his gaze darting around the room for a moment before settling back on Morgan. "Agent Cross, that might be… difficult."

"Difficult?" Morgan echoed, disbelief creeping into her tone. "Why?"

"Because there were two large concerts held here last night," Roger explained, gesturing with a sweep of his hand towards the grand stage. "The halls were fully booked, filled with attendees, staff, and performers. It could have been anyone."

Morgan clenched her fists, frustration simmering beneath the surface. She knew that time was of the essence in cases like these, and every obstacle only increased the chances of the killer slipping through their fingers.

"Fine," she bit out, her voice sharp and controlled. "Then we start with the obvious. The performers, the staff members working last night, the people who had keys or access codes to restricted areas. We'll work our way out from there."

"Very well," Roger acquiesced, though Morgan could tell he wasn't thrilled about the prospect. "I'll have my staff compile the information you requested."

"Good," Morgan replied, her gaze drifting back to Amy's lifeless form on the piano. "Roger, when was the last time you saw Amy?" Morgan asked, her eyes flicking from the body to the concert hall chairman.

"Ah, well... I believe it was the day before yesterday," Roger hesitated, wiping his sweaty palms on his pants. "She preferred to rehearse in total isolation, so I didn't see her at all yesterday before her show."

Morgan raised an eyebrow, taking note of the slight tremor in his voice. She filed away the information, knowing that even the smallest detail could prove crucial later on. Despite her frustration with Roger's lack of knowledge, she couldn't help but empathize with the man. They were all on edge, and he was no exception.

"Alright, thank you," Morgan said curtly, her gaze scanning the room for any other potential leads.

That was when she spotted him – a figure lingering in the shadows by the stage door, observing the proceedings with keen interest. He wore a gray jumpsuit.

The janitor.

He must have been the one to find the body.

"Get that list to us now," she told Roger, not waiting for a reply before striding towards the janitor.

Maybe he knew more than he had been letting on.

CHAPTER SIX

"Can I have a word with you?" Morgan asked the janitor, her tone firm yet respectful. The janitor nodded, his eyes darting nervously between Morgan and the crime scene. He was a gaunt-faced man, tall and thin, with gray stubble lining his chin.

"Oh--of course," he replied shakily, swallowing hard as if trying to keep his composure. "What can I do for you? I already told the police everything I know, and I talked to that other guy... the agent."

"That would be my partner, Special Agent Derik Greene," Morgan said. She flashed her FBI badge. "My name is Special Agent Morgan Cross. Tell me about the night of the concerts," Morgan began, her mind racing with questions. "Did you notice anything unusual or out of place? Did you see anyone you didn't recognize or anyone acting suspicious?"

"Well... I don't know."

The janitor's eyes flicked over Morgan's shoulder in the direction where she'd just been talking to Roger. Morgan looked back to see Roger was gone--hopefully, compiling that damn list she'd asked for.

"Over here," the janitor said.

As they moved into the seclusion of the dimly lit corner, Morgan studied the lines etched into the janitor's face – a roadmap of years spent cleaning up after others and keeping this place running smoothly. She felt a pang of sympathy for him; finding a body like this was likely something he'd never forget.

"Can you tell me about when you found the body?" she asked.

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