They needed to think like Adam Sallow if they were going to catch him.

  CHAPTER TWENTY THREE

  The man stepped back, admiring his work. The girl was perfectly positioned, her lithe body arched just so against the handcrafted nest. Straps of leather held her in place, allowing no room for struggle. She was the final piece, the crowning jewel that would complete his masterpiece.

  Years he had spent collecting and preparing, honing his skills, biding his time until everything was ready. Now, the moment had arrived. His pulse quickened as he selected his tools, caressing each scalpel and needle with anticipation.

  The girl whimpered, straining against her bonds. "Please, you don't have to do this! Let me go!"

  He slid the sharp blade of the scalpel down the girl's cheek, tracing the line where dark met light. She flinched at the cold metal but did not scream. Not yet.

  He tilted his head, admiring the unique mottling of her skin. Like a rare bird, plucked from its aerie. Her wide eyes were the pale blue of a spring sky. And her hair - cornsilk strands that shone in the dim light of the room. Exquisite.

  He turned away and knelt before the wooden box in the corner. Lifting the lid revealed rows of jars, each containing a single feather. His collection. With reverent hands he selected three - a glossy raven's plume, a dove's downy tuft, and a canary's sunny flare.

  Returning to the girl's side, he held them up before her face. "Aren't they beautiful?" he murmured. She did not reply, only renewed her fruitless struggle against the ropes binding her limbs.

  Ignoring her protests, he crossed the room and unlocked a cabinet along the far wall. Inside, shining implements gleamed. Scalpels, shears, needles. His tools. Now, to begin his work of art.

  The girl's screams echoed through the empty warehouse, but no one was close enough to hear. The man returned to the girl, scalpel in hand. She thrashed against her bindings, pleas spilling from her lips.

  "Please, let me go! I won't tell anyone, I swear!"

  He grabbed her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze. "Hush now. You should feel honored to be part of my collection."

  She wrenched her face from his grip. "You're insane! People are looking for me. My friends, my family-"

  "No one is coming for you," he said coldly. "Not here. This place is remote. Hidden. Just like a bird's nest."

  He trailed the scalpel down her arm, not enough to cut, only threaten. She shivered.

  "The FBI tore my old place apart. But they won't find this one. I'm always one wingbeat ahead."

  "Please, let me go," the girl sobbed, her voice barely audible. She had given up on struggling against her restraints, her body slumped in defeat.

  "Enough!" he barked, his anger flaring up. "Do you not understand how special you are? How carefully I chose you?" He stepped closer, his movements sharp and deliberate. The room seemed to shrink around them as he towered over her. "You should be honored."

  "Please," she whispered again, her voice breaking. "I have a family. Parents. They'll be worried about me."

  He scoffed, rolling his eyes. "It's always the same, isn't it?" He paced around the dimly lit room, the concrete cold under his feet. "Your cries for help are worthless here. This place is far removed from the prying eyes of the world." A bitter laugh escaped him. "The FBI thought they had me when they raided my house. But just like a bird, I am always one step ahead, never lingering in one place for too long."

  Her breath hitched, her eyes widening in horror as she watched him retrieve a leather roll from a nearby shelf, its contents glinting menacingly in the low light. He unrolled it with great care, revealing an assortment of taxidermy tools – needles, thread, scalpels, and more.

  "No, no, please," she whimpered, her voice rising into a scream as he picked up a scalpel and tested its sharpness with his thumb. "You don't have to do this!"

  His gaze flicked back to her. "Oh, but I do," he murmured, a twisted smile curling at the corners of his lips. "You are the key to my masterpiece, the final piece of my grand vision."

  As he approached her, the scalpel glinting in his hand, she squeezed her eyes shut and braced herself for the inevitable pain. But he paused, his breath hot against her skin as he whispered into her ear, "I've waited so long for this moment, my dear. I won't be rushed."

  CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR

  The low hum of computers filled the dimly lit room as Morgan stood at the helm, watching her team's fingers dance across keyboards in a desperate search for clues. The night was creeping in through the blinds of the FBI headquarters, casting long shadows on the faces of the agents hunched over their screens. Morgan's dark hair, streaked with gray, framed her tired but determined face as she addressed the team.

  "Remember, Adam Sallow is targeting people with unique attributes," she reminded them, her voice barely above a whisper. "We need to stay vigilant for any missing person reports that fit that description."

  Derik shared her sense of urgency as he scanned the digital maps on his own computer screen. His green eyes flickered with stress, making the dark circles beneath them even more pronounced. He looked up from his work, catching Morgan's eye.

  "Can I talk to you for a minute?" he asked, gesturing towards a quiet corner of the room.

  "Of course," she replied, following him away from the hive of activity.

  As they stepped into the secluded spot, Morgan leaned against the wall, rubbing her temples. Her tattoos seemed to writhe like living things under her skin, a physical manifestation of her anxiety.

  "Derik, I'm scared we won't find him in time," she confessed, her voice cracking. "He must have seen us raiding his house. He's out there somewhere, hunting again... And when killers feel cornered, they tend to act out."

  "I know, Morgan," Derik said softly, placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "But we're doing everything we can. We've got our best people on this."

  She looked into his eyes, searching for a trace of doubt or uncertainty, but found none. The trust between them was unbreakable, forged through countless cases and life-threatening situations.

  "Thank you, Derik," she said, her voice steadier now. "I just can't shake the feeling that we're running out of time."

  "Let's focus on what we can control," he suggested, squeezing her shoulder before they returned to their team.

  As they re-entered the fray, Morgan steeled herself for the battle ahead, praying that they would find Adam Sallow before another life was lost to his twisted obsession.

  Morgan's gaze swept across the busy room, her heart pounding as she watched her team diligently scouring through endless streams of data. The hum of computer fans and the clacking of keyboards filled the air. Her gut twisted with a nagging sense of urgency; Adam Sallow was still out there, and time was running out.

  Just then, a young agent, sweat beading on his forehead, hurried over to Morgan and Derik. "Agents Cross and Greene," he panted, "we may have something. A woman just called the police about her roommate not coming home on time. She's worried."

  "Show us," Morgan said, her voice sharp and commanding.

  The agent led them to his workstation, where he pulled up a file on the reported missing person: Alexandra Bennett. As Morgan looked at the screen, she felt a chill run down her spine. Alexandra's appearance was strikingly unique; her blonde hair contrasted with patches of light and dark skin caused by a rare pigment condition. Morgan knew in her gut that this woman could very well be the killer's next prey.

  "Derik, look at this," she said, her voice tense. "She's exactly the kind of person Sallow would target."

  "Damn it," Derik muttered, his green eyes narrowing as he studied Alexandra's picture. "We need to find her, fast."

  Morgan turned to the young agent. "I want you to dig into Alexandra Bennett's life. Find out everything you can – where she works, who she knows, any patterns in her daily routine. We need to figure out where Sallow might strike."

  "Understood, Agent Cross," he nodded, already typing furiously.

  As the team delved into the search for Alexandra, Morgan couldn't shake the image of the young woman from her mind. With each passing moment, the knot in her stomach tightened further, the dread of losing another life to Adam Sallow's twisted obsession hanging heavy in the air.

  "Derik," she said quietly, her voice thick with emotion. "We have to find her before it's too late."

  He placed a hand on her shoulder, his eyes filled with determination. "We will, Morgan. We won't let him take another life."

  "Everyone, listen up!" Morgan raised her voice, commanding the attention of the entire team. "We need to find Alexandra Bennett as soon as possible. Pull all available resources – check workplace security footage, traffic cameras, anything that'll give us a lead on her whereabouts. And I want that APB on Adam Sallow spread far and wide. We need to catch this guy, and we need to do it now."

  The room burst into action, agents scrambling to their computers and phones, coordinating with other departments and local law enforcement. Morgan could sense the urgency in the air, the weight of life and death hanging over them all.

  "Derik, hold on," she called out as he began to walk away. Her partner turned back, concern etched on his face.

  "What's up, Morgan?" Derik asked, eyes searching hers for any sign of what was going through her mind.

  "Look, I've been thinking about something," she said, scanning Adam Sallow's file. "His mother still lives here in Dallas. I think I should go talk to her, see if she can provide any insight into his life, maybe even where he is right now."

  "Are you sure that's a good idea? We don't know what she might be like…" Derik hesitated, the worry evident in his tone.

  "Derik, I appreciate your concern, but it's a lead we can't afford to ignore. You stay here and help the team; I'll go talk to Nancy alone." Morgan insisted, determination in her eyes.

  "Alright, just…be careful, okay?" Derik sighed, his concern giving way to the understanding that they had no choice but to pursue every lead. "Call me if you need backup."

  "Will do," she replied, offering him a reassuring smile. With one last look around the buzzing room, Morgan grabbed her jacket and headed out, her thoughts consumed by the hope that talking to Nancy Sallow would finally bring them closer to stopping the killer who had haunted their lives for far too long.

  ***

  The night was heavy with humidity, and Morgan could feel droplets of sweat forming on her brow as she parked her car outside the small, quaint home. It stood out in stark contrast to Adam's dilapidated house from earlier, well-taken care of with charming ornaments scattered throughout the front yard. A soft glow emanated from inside, likely the flicker of a TV screen, indicating that Nancy might still be awake despite the late hour.

  As Morgan sat in her car, she couldn't help but feel a certain heaviness in her chest, a mix of dread and anticipation swirling within her. This was it – the moment where they could finally gain some insight into the mind of a killer, potentially leading them one step closer to stopping him. She took a deep breath, steeling herself for the conversation that was about to take place, and stepped out of the car.

  The gravel crunched under her feet as she approached the front door, each step echoing through the otherwise silent night. Her hand hovered over the doorbell, nerves causing her fingers to tremble ever so slightly. Morgan knew she had to tread carefully here; Nancy Sallow was the mother of a murderer, and there was no telling how she might react to the news.

  "Stay focused, Morgan," she whispered to herself, pushing away any lingering doubts as she rang the doorbell.

  It didn't take long for the door to creak open, revealing an older woman dressed in a nightgown, her eyes narrowed with suspicion. Morgan wasted no time in introducing herself, flashing her FBI badge and asking if she was speaking to Nancy Sallow. The woman hesitated for a brief moment before confirming her identity.

  "Mrs. Sallow, I'm Agent Morgan Cross, and I need to talk to you about your son, Adam." Morgan watched as Nancy's expression shifted from suspicion to concern, clearly sensing that something was amiss.

  "Is... is he in trouble?" Nancy asked, her voice wavering slightly.

  "I'm afraid so. May I come in and talk to you about it?" Morgan requested, her tone gentle yet firm.

  Nancy hesitated for a moment before stepping aside, allowing Morgan to enter her home. As Morgan crossed the threshold, she took note of the immaculate interior and the family photographs adorning the walls, reinforcing her belief that Nancy had no knowledge of her son's sinister activities.

  Morgan stepped into the dimly lit living room, her eyes slowly adjusting to the warm glow of a solitary lamp in the corner. The wallpaper was faded, and the furniture looked worn but comfortable. She couldn't help but notice the heavy silence that seemed to permeate the air, making the small space feel almost suffocating.

  Nancy motioned for Morgan to sit on the couch, and Morgan couldn't help but observe the family photographs adorning the walls and shelves around the room. There were pictures of a much younger Adam with both of his eyes intact, and a man she assumed was his late father, smiling warmly at the camera. Morgan felt a pang of sympathy for Nancy, wondering how such a seemingly ordinary family could have birthed the monster they were hunting.

  "Mrs. Sallow," Morgan began, trying to suppress the anxiety building in her chest. "Have you seen or heard from Adam at all recently? Any indication of his whereabouts at all could be helpful."

  Nancy sighed, her eyes welling up with tears. "No, Agent Cross, I haven't seen or heard from Adam in some time. I'm not sure how long. His visits have become few and far between. He has become a very strange young man." Nancy wiped away a tear with the back of her hand. "I always blamed myself, you know? Thought there was something I could've done differently to prevent the path he's gone down. He was such a sweet boy once."

  "You did the best you could," Morgan reassured her. "Sometimes people make choices that are beyond our control." Morgan's heart sank as she listened to Nancy's words. It was yet another reminder of the darkness that lurked within people, hidden beneath seemingly ordinary facades. Either way, she needed to gather more information about Adam. "Did Adam have any close friends or acquaintances?" Morgan asked,

  Nancy shook her head, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "My son... he's always been a quiet person, very reserved and troubled. He's had a hard time holding down a job, and I think he feels ashamed when he comes to see me because of it. He doesn't even have a cell phone, or if he does, he's never told me about it. I doubt my son has any friends."

  Morgan took a deep breath, her heart heavy with the burden of what she was about to say. She glanced at Derik, who nodded in silent encouragement. Turning her attention back to Nancy, Morgan's voice trembled ever so slightly as she spoke.

  "Mrs. Sallow... we believe Adam is the prime suspect in the murder of three people and the disappearance of another woman."

  Nancy stared at Morgan in disbelief, her eyes wide and filled with confusion. "That's ridiculous," she stammered. "Adam would never hurt anyone. He's just quiet... troubled... misunderstood."

  Morgan felt a pang of empathy for the distraught mother before her, but she had no choice. They needed answers, and they needed them now.

  "I'm sorry, Mrs. Sallow, but we have recovered evidence that proves Adam has been killing these people and leaving feathers on their bodies."

  Nancy gasped, her hand flying to her mouth in shock. "I heard about those murders on the news," she whispered, her voice trembling. "I wanted to reach out to Adam just to see him, but I haven't had the time to drive across the city."

  Her eyes pleaded with Morgan, desperation etched into every line of her face. "Adam can't be the one responsible. He just can't."

  Morgan felt a pang of guilt as she witnessed Nancy's anguish. It was heart-wrenching to see a mother unable to accept the truth about her own child, especially one who had committed such heinous acts. But Morgan knew that she couldn't let her emotions cloud her judgment. She had a duty to bring the killer to justice, no matter how painful it was for those involved.

  "I understand that this is difficult for you to believe," Morgan said, her voice softening. "But we have substantial evidence linking Adam to these crimes. Photographic evidence."

  Nancy shook her head vehemently, tears streaming down her face. "No, no, you're mistaken! My son wouldn't hurt a fly, let alone commit murder. There has to be some mistake. He was always strange, but he was never violent."

  Morgan took a deep breath, trying to find the right words to offer Nancy some semblance of comfort amidst the chaos. She could see the pain etched in every line of the distraught mother's face and knew that this revelation must have shattered her world.

  "I understand that this is difficult to believe," Morgan said softly. "But the proof we have indicates he's involved, at the very least. It's crucial that we find him as soon as possible." Her voice softened, trying to convey both urgency and compassion.

  Nancy's eyes swam with unshed tears, and her hands wrung together anxiously. "But... where do we even start? What can I do to help you?"

  Morgan could see the fierce determination beneath the fear and uncertainty in Nancy's eyes. She knew that despite her own pain, this mother would do everything in her power to help them find the truth.

  "Any information you can provide about Adam's habits, places he frequents, or people he might turn to for support would be invaluable," Morgan explained gently. "We need to get inside his mind and anticipate his next move before it's too late."

  Nancy sighed, her gaze drifting towards the hallway as she spoke. "I have no idea where he could be if he's not at his home. He has no friends that I know of, and no job." She shook her head, her voice wavering. "I don't even know what he does with his time. But he's harmless, a quiet boy. I raised him alone after his father died when he was young. I love him very much, so much that I've kept his childhood bedroom intact."

 

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