“Yeah, you should have known that. You’re right. But right now, I’m standing in the living room of a man who has been dead for less than two hours. I’ve got a killer rubbing my face in it. And he’s also in a hurry and scared because I nearly nabbed him this morning. It’s the closest I’ve ever been, even from ten years back when I was originally after him. If you take me off of this now—”

  “There’s no if, Cross. I’m taking you off. Now, we can talk about you coming back in on a full-time basis in a few weeks. You have to get acclimated to normal life first.”

  “You’re serious about this?”

  “I am.”

  The rage that built up in her was unlike any she’d ever felt before. She felt used and unwanted. She felt as if she’d been manipulated. There was so much she wanted to say. But none of it would be productive. It would only make things worse.

  “Cross? Are you there?”

  Instead of responding, Morgan let some of the anger out. She raised her hand over her head and slammed the phone down onto Leonard Seabry’s hardwood floor. It shattered upon impact, and Morgan was making her way to the front door before all of the little pieces were done skittering and clattering along the hardwood.

  With her heart slamming and the rage still pushing her forward, Morgan knew she couldn’t stop. She’d risk being arrested or even killed if that’s what it took to bring this bastard in. One thing she did know, though, was that she needed to get away from the Seabry residence as fast as possible. Mueller knew that’s where she was so the farther away she could get right away, the better.

  She got back into the bureau sedan and instantly cranked it, shifting into reverse. She figured she’d go back to the hospital and tell Derik what had happened. Whether or not she would tell him that she intended to keep looking for Samson despite being yanked from the case, she wasn’t sure.

  She thought once more about how badly she wanted to find Samson, to either bring him in or even kill him. It was her driving force right now. Hell, it had been one of the only things that kept her going while in prison. She’d opened up to a few women about it, inmates who seemed to have a level head on their shoulders.

  Kimmy Byers had told her that Samson, the Seven Signs Killer, had become her little god. The thing she looked to in order to feel alive. Kimmy had said lots of people had little gods that were bad gods…people wanting to get out only to go back to an old addiction, or to a toxic spouse.

  But Kimmy had been a little wacky. She’d been…

  Morgan’s sudden realization was so shocking and sudden that she nearly ran through the red light at the intersection near the northern end of Dutton Road. She hit the brakes, thinking of Kimmy Byers, and wondering if the answer had been staring her right in the face all along.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Morgan thought of Kimmy Byers as she hurried back to the hospital. Kimmy had been quiet and reserved during her first few months. She’d come in roughly four years into Morgan’s sentence and eventually, the two had grown to be on speaking terms. They’d never really been friends (those were incredibly hard to make in prison, no matter what Hollywood movies claimed) but they’d often shared conversations in the cafeteria, in the gym, or during recreation time.

  Kimmy had been arrested for her involvement in a cult. She wasn’t sure, but she thought the name of the cult was the Rising Sun of Zion. A lot of what they were involved in was, at its core, based on Christian beliefs. But they took it to the extreme. For instance, Kimmy had been arrested at a rally near an abortion clinic where she’d dumped cow blood on five people and pelted rocks and bricks at police officers who tried to break up the protest. Two of the bricks she threw struck people. She’d knocked one officer unconscious and shattered the elbow of a rival protestor.

  While Morgan didn’t agree with any of Kimmy’s tactics or beliefs, she’d been a fascinating woman to speak to. She’d often make deep dives on what it was like to be in a cult, a topic that Morgan had always found fascinating.

  Kimmy always had interesting stories about the Rising Sun of Zion, as well as other cults she’d come into contact with during what she referred to as “her transcendent years.” In prison, she’d made a habit of attending Bible studies put on by local churches and completely berating the instructors, bemoaning that Christianity was nothing more than a cult in and of itself.

  This wasn’t exactly something Morgan believed, but she’d always respected Kimmy for her boldness in the face of her…well, her unique approach to things.

  Kimmy had described how the cult’s rituals were centered around the worship of a supposed messiah who would lead them to a promised land. They saw themselves as the chosen people, and anyone who opposed them was an enemy of the Lord.

  Morgan had never understood how someone could become so deluded, so entrenched in their beliefs that they’d be willing to hurt others for it. It was a mystery to her, one that she’d often pondered during her long nights in prison.

  Yet somehow, for some reason, she’d never stopped to consider that Samson may be involved in a cult. For all intents and purposes, it seemed like he worked alone. But who was to say he wasn’t being sent out as part of a group? And if that was indeed the case, might there be more like Samson also at work elsewhere in the country?

  Or, and this was a thought that chilled her to the core, what if the man she was after now wasn’t Samson at all? After all, ten years was a hell of a long time to wait. What if this was some other cult member or extremist who had been inspired by Samson’s work and was now just finishing it up?

  It was an intriguing idea, even if it did feel farfetched. But she wasn’t about to ignore any possible answers.

  With these new ideas locked in, she regretted the outburst that had destroyed her phone. She could have called Mueller and told him her theory, to convince him to allow her to stay on the case. She felt foolish over the outburst as she parked her car and raced back inside the hospital.

  As she took the elevator up to Derik’s floor, she did her best to remember some of the names of the other cults Kimmy had mentioned—cults that operated silently and almost unseen in the city and surrounding counties. A few raced through her mind but she wasn’t even sure if they were accurate or not.

  When she got to Derik’s room, she was relieved to see him sitting on the edge of the cushioned table he’d been lying on earlier. A nurse was with him, and he was signing a paper. His discharge papers, Morgan assumed.

  “Ma’am,” the nurse said, “you can’t be in here.”

  “It’s okay,” Derik said with a smile. “She’s my ride.” He handed the nurse the clipboard with the form on it and said, “We good here?”

  “Yes, Agent Greene. You’re good to go. Don’t forget to fill that prescription if you need it. And concussion protocol says you should stay off your feet for a few days.”

  “I know. Thanks.”

  “Nurse,” Morgan said, “do you think we could have the room for a bit? Maybe five minutes?”

  She looked at them skeptically but then shrugged. “Five minutes. But then I’ll have to kick you out.”

  “Thanks.”

  The nurse left, closing the door behind them. Derik looked at Morgan with curiosity, tilting his head. “What? What’s happened?”

  “Oh, a lot has happened in the last hour and a half,” she said. She then took a deep breath and did her best to summarize it all.

  She started with calling Mueller and then the call he’d gotten to inform him of the eleventh victim. She walked him through her visit to Leonard Seabry’s residence, and wrapped it up with the destruction of her cell phone. The last thing she told him was about the small epiphany she’d had concerning Kimmy Byers and how she wondered if Samson might be part of a cult.

  “Jesus, he worked quick on that last one, huh?”

  “We scared him,” Morgan said. “I don’t think he had a choice.”

  “I just don’t…I don’t know why Mueller would do that to you. I guarantee the rest of his little team pushed him to do it.”

  “You’re part of that little team, are you not?”

  “Notice I’ve been here in the time someone made that decision.” He sighed, but Morgan could tell he was growing irritated with the situation. “Let me call him. Let me talk to him. I bet I could sway him.”

  “No, don’t do th—”

  “How sure are you about this cult theory?”

  “I don’t know yet, but it feels right,” Morgan said. “What about you? What do you think about it?”

  Derik leaned back against the wall, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “It’s definitely possible. Cults always seem to operate under the radar until something big happens. And if Samson is part of a group, then there could be more out there just like him.”

  “Exactly my thoughts.”

  Cults have been known to operate like that, with one person acting as the ‘chosen one’ or whatever they call it, and others following blindly in his footsteps.”

  “So how do we find them?” Morgan asked.

  “Well, there’s always the internet,” Derik said with a smirk.

  Morgan rolled her eyes. “I don’t have time to sift through conspiracy theories and crackpot websites. And I hate that I can’t recall any of the names Kimmy talked about.”

  “Well, if you’d get out of here and let me call Mueller, I think he can patch me through to records. Someone can hop on the database and give us a few names within minutes.”

  “Fine,” she said. “But if I find out you called and gave him some sob story about me…”

  “Nope, I intend to tell him how much of a pain in my ass you’re already being. I’m hoping it’ll trigger some nostalgia for him.”

  The smile that came to her face was genuine and took her by surprise. “You won’t call him in front of me?”

  “Can you keep quiet and not interject or correct me while I talk?”

  She shook her head. “Probably not.”

  “Exactly,” Derik said, pointing to the door. “I’ll meet you in the downstairs waiting area when I’m done.”

  Morgan smirked, once again feeling a strange delight that she and Derik were slowly starting to find their footing again. They truly had been a great duo, and it made her embarrassed to realize how badly she’d handled the situation when Mueller had called to take her off of the case.

  To bide her time after leaving the room, she took the stairs to the waiting area and grabbed a snack cake from a vending machine. She took a seat on the far side of the room, away from the other three people who sat, tired and anxious to hear about their family members or loved ones. Morgan once again found the comfort of her past, bringing to mind memories of waiting rooms when her mother had been sick.

  She also thought of Kimmy Byers again, doing her best to think of some of the other cults she’d mentioned. In Morgan’s defense, she sometimes didn’t pay much attention to what Kimmy said because once she got going, she started to sound nuts.

  She’d nearly finished off her snack when Derik came around the corner and entered the waiting room. He walked over and plopped himself down almost comically into the chair beside her. The wrapping was gone from his head, now replaced with a simple but very bulky bandage that took up most of the left side of his brow.

  “Well,” he said, “I’ll say this. Mueller is pissed off about you hanging up on him. I didn’t tell him you trashed the phone, though.”

  “Thanks, I guess.”

  “I told him your theory and also told him I thought it would be a smart play to keep you on the case. I got him to agree but I think it’s only because he knows you have the badge and the gun. If someone higher up got wind of how quickly he’d pulled you after making the decision to put you on the case, it would look bad for him.”

  “Makes sense.”

  “He did say he’s not comfortable with you having a sidearm, though. So I’ve been tasked with keeping a close eye on you.”

  Morgan nodded, biting back a smile. “And there you go again…believing in me when no one else does.”

  “I know. I’m pretty great. Anyway, Mueller also has Records and Research assembling a collection of known, active cults in the area. While we wait for that to come through, I’d like to grab something to eat. And maybe switch out this ridiculous bandage. This thing itches like crazy.”

  “Mueller was okay with you heading out with the injury?”

  Derik shrugged and said, “I may have downplayed it a bit.”

  “But are you actually okay?”

  “I think so,” he said, getting to his feet. He gestured for her to follow him. “Come on. Let’s see.”

  Morgan was slightly uncomfortable with this but got up anyway. She knew Derik wouldn’t put a case in jeopardy. If he was really hurt, there was no way he’d keep going.

  So she followed him out of the waiting room and out into the parking lot. Morgan felt like she was stuck in a loop, as she’d walked through the same doors, out into the same parking lot, less than two hours earlier. The day was coming to a close and she somehow felt that if they didn’t catch their killer before the next day started, he’d get away. She had no facts or actual clues on which this was based; it was just a gut feeling that she couldn’t ignore.

  But with her and Derik starting to recapture some of that old camaraderie that had once existed between them, she thought they had a pretty good chance of capturing Samson even if he was done with his work.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Because of Derik’s head injury, Morgan elected to drive. She was surprised at how much she enjoyed it after having been locked away for a decade. There was an immense freedom in the act that she’d always overlooked and taken for granted—a much larger freedom than the one she’d felt while sitting in the passenger seat earlier.

  She drove to Derik’s fast-food restaurant of choice and they both grabbed burgers and sodas. As they waited for the man at the drive-thru window to hand them their late lunch, Derik spoke up from the passenger seat.

  “Wow…that was fast. Mueller must really want this thing knocked out.”

  “What is it?” Morgan asked as she took the bag of food. She glanced over to Derik and saw that he was looking at something on his phone.

  “A complete list of all known cults in the area and the crimes they’ve committed or been linked to.” He frowned as he thumbed through the email. “It’s surprisingly brief.”

  “How many?”

  “Just four. And one is indeed the one you mentioned to me. The Rising Sun of Zion. But the only crimes I see them connected with are little acts of violence at the occasional protests and outside of churches.”

  “Okay,” Morgan said as she pulled out of the drive-thru lane and into the first available parking space she could find. “What else is on the list?”

  Derik scrolled down on his phone, his face furrowed in concentration. “The second one is the Children of the Serpent. They’re a small group that’s mainly focused on spreading their beliefs through social media. They haven’t been linked to any crimes, but they do have a history of harassment and cyberbullying.”

  “What’s their belief system?” Morgan asked, taking a bite of her burger.

  “From what I can tell, they seem to be a mix of new age spirituality and conspiracy theories. They believe in things like reptilian overlords and the Illuminati controlling the world.”

  Morgan rolled her eyes. “Sounds like a bunch of winners. Who else?”

  “Just two more. This one is a bit of a wildcard. They call themselves the Children of Orpheus. They’re a musical cult, believe it or not. They claim to be devoted to the Greek god of music and poetry, but they’ve been known to do some pretty bizarre things during their shows.”

  “Like what?” Morgan asked, intrigued.

  “Um…it says here, orgies on stage. So the few dings with the police have all been related to public indecency. But here…this last one…this one sounds more like what we’re looking for. The Order of the Black Star. They’re a bit more elusive but they’ve been tied to a few cases of arson and vandalism. There are also three cases of assault and one case of attempted murder.”

  “Do we have a name for the murder attempt?” Morgan asked. She was a bit distracted by her burger, too, though. God, she’d missed a good burger.

  “We do. Randall Easterly. And because this is a list for just the cults, I don’t have an address for him.”

  “Do you have one for where the group meets?”

  “I do.”

  He wolfed down the last of his burger as he plugged the address into his phone. Using the maps app, he directed Morgan to the address. Morgan could tell within the first few turns that they were being led to the outskirts of the city, on the opposite side of the river and the mines they’d explored earlier in the day.

  “Hey,” Derik said. “Remember earlier when you made me tell you about one of my most exciting work moments while you were out?”

  “Yes, but I believe I referred to it as a case…not a work moment.”

  “Whatever. Would you do that for me?”

  “Do what?”

  “Tell me something about prison…but not anything bad. Tell me one thing that you actually enjoyed.”

  She almost told him this was a stupid idea but she also understood what he was doing. He was trying to center her, to ground her. He wanted her to face the ten years that hung over their heads like an anvil, but in a way that was positive.

  So she thought about it for a moment and then, with a smile on her face, gave her best answer.

  “The library.”

  Derik raised an eyebrow. “The library?”

  Morgan nodded. “Yeah. I mean, of course it wasn’t as big or as varied as a public library, but it was still a place where I could lose myself in a book. And it was quiet. There was no yelling or fighting or anything. Just me, a book, and peace and quiet.”

 

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