For Once, page 3
"Dad..." she whispered, images from the dream still vivid in her mind. Were you really in the FBI? Why didn't you tell me?
As questions swirled in her head, her phone continued to vibrate, persistent and demanding her attention. But Morgan couldn't shake the lingering tendrils of the nightmare, the haunting image of her father in an FBI uniform, and the cold, calculating look in his eyes.
What did it all mean? And how could she possibly untangle this twisted web that seemed to ensnare her at every turn?
With a shuddering breath, Morgan steeled herself for whatever lay ahead. She would uncover the truth – about Thomas, her father, and the darkness threatening to consume her life. No matter the cost.
Drawing her focus away from the vivid images of her nightmare, Morgan reached for her phone, her fingers hesitating briefly before she picked it up. Derik Greene's name flashed on the screen, and a familiar mix of wariness and relief washed over her. He had betrayed her once, blackmailed by the very people who had framed her for murder, but she knew now that Derik was just as much in the dark about their true intentions as she was. They had history together, and though she hadn't fully opened herself up to trusting him again, she could feel the old connection between them slowly rebuilding.
"Derik?" she answered, her voice still rough with sleep and lingering fear.
"Hey, Morgan," he replied, his tone somber. "Bad news. We've got a new case. I need you to meet me at the crime scene. It's... not pretty."
Morgan's heart sank. The last thing she needed was more work right now, but then again, if she didn't have a case, then she'd just be sitting there, waiting for Thomas to toy with her. That was exactly what Thomas wanted: to get into her head and make her suffer.
She had to get to work.
"Alright," Morgan agreed, her mind shifting gears from the disturbing remnants of her nightmare to the reality of another gruesome crime scene. As she pocketed her phone, she couldn't help but glance around her living room one last time, the unease from her dream stubbornly clinging to her thoughts like cobwebs in the corners of her mind.
CHAPTER THREE
The first light of dawn was beginning to wash over the city, casting a warm glow on the buildings that surrounded Morgan as she made her way through downtown Dallas. The air was crisp but comforting, a gentle reminder that summer would soon give way to autumn. She pulled her jacket tighter around herself, her mind still reeling from the nightmare and the lingering unease it had left behind.
Entering the alleyway, Morgan found herself surrounded by uniformed officers and forensic technicians who were already busy processing the scene. Her eyes scanned the area, seeking out her partner among the chaos. She spotted Derik, his tall, lean frame unmistakable, standing near the body of a young woman with vibrant red hair that seemed to defy the dim lighting of the shadowy alley.
"Derik," Morgan called out, picking up her pace as she approached him.
"Hey, Morgan," he replied, jogging over to meet her halfway. "Glad you could make it."
"Tell me what happened," she demanded, her eyes already surveying the scene before her. There was no blood, but the lifeless form of the redhead made it clear that she was dead.
"Garbage man found her about an hour ago," Derik explained, his voice tinged with sadness. "We've ID'd her as Melissa Grayson, twenty-four years old. She was a photographer, known for posting macabre images online."
"Macabre?" Morgan questioned, one eyebrow raised in mild curiosity.
"Taxidermy, dead animals, that sort of thing," Derik clarified, watching Morgan's expression shift from interest to something more solemn.
As they stood there, Morgan couldn't help but feel a pang of sympathy for the young woman whose life had been so brutally cut short. She knew all too well the darkness that could be lurking just beneath the surface of someone's seemingly ordinary existence. And now, faced with this grim reminder, she knew that she had to do whatever it took to bring Melissa's killer to justice - even if it meant putting her own fears and doubts aside.
"Well then, I better get to work," Morgan said quietly, her voice resolute.
"Right behind you," Derik agreed.
With latex gloves snapped into place, Morgan crouched down beside the lifeless body of Melissa Grayson, her eyes scanning every inch of the young woman as she sought to piece together the tragic puzzle before her. The dim light in the alleyway made it difficult to see, but Morgan was undeterred, her years of experience allowing her to focus on the details that mattered most.
"Derik," she called out over her shoulder, "bring me a flashlight."
"Got it," Derik replied, quickly retrieving a flashlight from their nearby equipment and handing it to Morgan.
As the beam of light illuminated the scene, Morgan couldn't help but notice how strikingly beautiful Melissa was, her porcelain skin contrasting sharply against the vibrant red of her hair. It wasn't just the color that caught Morgan's attention, but also the fact that it was clearly natural. Her eyebrows and eyelashes matched perfectly, giving her an ethereal and unique appearance.
"A damn tragedy," Morgan muttered under her breath, her heart heavy with the knowledge that this young woman's life had been stolen from her.
Morgan carefully examined the back of her head, noting the clumps of matted hair soaked in blood. It appeared to be blunt force trauma, but the absence of blood on the pavement suggested that the young woman had been killed elsewhere and then dumped in the alleyway.
"Looks like our girl didn't die here," Morgan concluded, her mind racing as she tried to fit the pieces together. "She was killed somewhere else and brought here."
"Damn," Derik murmured, running a hand through his hair in frustration.
Her gaze fell upon the shattered remains of an old school film camera lying beside the body. Even in its broken state, Morgan could tell it was an expensive piece of equipment. "The camera--is it hers?" Morgan asked.
"We think so," Derik said. "The witness said he didn't touch the scene, left it exactly as he found it."
"We'll need to find out what's on it," Morgan said. She turned and waved over a forensic tech, who eagerly joined her. "Hey, can you take a look at this?" Morgan asked, gesturing toward the shattered camera. "See if anything can be salvaged from it."
The tech nodded and made his way over as Morgan prepared to step back. As she did so, something caught her eye.
A single red feather, almost invisible against the victim's vibrant hair, was tangled in the strands.
"Derik, check this out," she said, pointing to the feather.
He leaned in closer, brow furrowed. "Could just be an accessory," he suggested, shrugging it off.
"I don't think so," Morgan said. "It looks... out of place."
Morgan leaned down and plucked the feather from the girl's hair with care. "It's real," she insisted, examining it for a moment before slipping it into an evidence bag. She handed it to the forensic tech who had joined them. "Keep this with the evidence. I want to know exactly what kind of bird it came from."
Derik nodded in agreement, his expression transforming into one of deep focus. As Morgan returned her attention to the body before her, she couldn't help but feel that there was something off about the crime scene. With each passing moment, this feeling only intensified, until finally she couldn't hold back any longer.
"Derik, I don't like this," she said, her voice low and urgent. "Something isn't right."
"What do you mean?" he asked, looking at her with concern.
"It's just... it doesn't feel like the killer left us everything," Morgan said, her eyes scanning the area as she spoke. She shook her head, unsure where she was going with that. She signaled for the techs to come over and said, "All right, everyone, let's get this scene cleaned up. We need every inch of this alleyway scoured for DNA, especially near the body. Understood?"
The techs nodded in agreement, quickly moving into action. Morgan remained crouched beside the body, her mind churning as she tried to make sense of the nagging feeling that something was off.
Morgan watched them work for a moment longer before turning back to Derik. They exchanged an understanding nod as though they could read each other's minds; they needed to step away for a moment. Morgan had known Derik for long enough to read him well, which was why it had unsettled her so much when she'd found out he'd been lying to her about such major events. With that, Morgan and Derik moved away from the body, allowing the rest of the team to get to work photographing the scene and gathering any potential DNA evidence. As they stood side by side, Derik's green eyes bore into her with concern.
"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice gentle.
Morgan couldn't bring herself to meet his gaze, knowing she couldn't tell him the truth about Thomas and Skunk. Instead, she settled on a half-truth. "I slept poorly."
"Another nightmare?" Derik prompted, searching her face for any sign of deeper distress.
"Something like that," Morgan muttered, her mind racing with thoughts of Thomas's threats, Skunk's safety, and now this new case adding to her already heavy burden. It took all her strength not to crumble under the weight of it all.
"Maybe you should talk to someone," Derik suggested softly, placing a hand on her shoulder.
"Maybe," Morgan replied noncommittally, her eyes drifting back to the spot where the young woman's body had been discovered. She knew she couldn't open up to Derik, not yet, but that didn't mean she could ignore the fact that something was very wrong.
"Seriously, Morgan," Derik pressed, his green eyes narrowing with concern. "You're not yourself. What's going on?"
Morgan opened her mouth to deflect, but was interrupted by the sight of someone over Derik's shoulder. A man stood at the mouth of the alleyway, camera in hand, lifting it as though to take a photo. Before she could get a better look, a group of policemen walked past, obstructing her view.
"Dammit," she muttered, shoving Derik aside and sprinting toward the street. Her heart pounded in her chest, her senses sharpened by adrenaline.
"Hey!" Derik called after her, but Morgan didn't stop.
When she reached the street, the cameraman was gone. She scanned the area, her breaths coming in short gasps, but there was no sign of him.
"Who were you chasing?" Derik jogged up beside her, confusion etched across his face.
"I... I thought I saw a man taking a photo," Morgan admitted, feeling foolish. "But he's gone now."
"Maybe he was just a passerby," Derik offered, scanning the bustling street himself. "You know how pedestrians are when there are cops around."
"Maybe," Morgan agreed, though doubt gnawed at her insides. After the nightmares and Thomas' manipulations, she couldn't trust her own mind anymore. Was she seeing things that weren't there? And why couldn't she shake the feeling that the cameraman wasn't just a mere pedestrian?
"Are you sure you're okay?" Derik asked again, his gaze filled with genuine concern. Morgan forced a tight smile, trying to reassure him despite the turmoil churning beneath her stoic exterior.
"I'm fine," she insisted, brushing off the remnants of her disquiet. "I'm gonna go look into Melissa's life, see if I can talk with whoever she lived with." She needed something concrete to focus on, and Melissa Grayson's loved ones might provide some answers.
"Hold on, let me come with you," Derik said.
Morgan turned to him, keeping her walls high. "No, Derik, you stay here. Lead the team. Make sure we didn't miss anything. I can do this on my own. And for the record, I really am fine."
Derik hesitated, clearly unsure about leaving Morgan alone. But eventually, he nodded in consent. "All right. But be careful, all right? You know how trouble seems to follow us."
Morgan just smiled at him, the ghost of her unease still haunting her eyes. "I know. I'll be careful."
With that, Morgan made her way back to her car, her mind still churning with thoughts of the crime scene and the mysterious cameraman. She needed to focus on Melissa Grayson's life, talk to those closest to her, and put the rest out of her mind.
But her mind kept circling back to the red feather and the nagging feeling that something was off about the crime scene.
CHAPTER FOUR
Morgan took a deep breath, preparing herself for what she had to do next. She stood on the doorstep of a quaint townhouse in suburban Dallas, her senses tingling as she observed the neatly trimmed hedges and blooming flowers adorning the front yard. She knew that this picturesque scene hid a darker truth – it was here where Melissa Grayson, the murder victim, had lived with her roommate.
If anyone knew what Melissa would have been up to in the days before her death, it would be Tessa.
In her research, Morgan had discovered that Melissa's family lived far from Dallas. She was a transplant from Ohio, but had been living here with Tessa for years now. On paper, Tessa was the closest person in Melissa's life.
Steeling herself, she knocked on the door. Moments later, it swung open to reveal a pretty young woman with flawless makeup, dressed in fashionable clothes. Morgan couldn't help but think of an 'influencer' as she took in the girl's appearance. Yet, the most telling detail was the girl's clueless expression; clearly, she didn't know about her roommate's fate just yet.
"Hi," the girl said, offering a half-smile. "Can I help you?"
"Good morning." Morgan raised her FBI badge, the weight of it heavy in her hand. "I'm Special Agent Morgan Cross with the FBI. Are you Tessa Rosen, Melissa Grayson's roommate?"
Tessa's eyes widened, her perfectly manicured hand covering her mouth. "Yes, that's me. What... what is this about? Is something wrong?"
"I need to talk to you about Melissa," Morgan replied, her voice firm but gentle. "May I come in?"
Tessa was hesitant, taking in Morgan's appearance. "Are you... are you really in the FBI?" she asked, cocking an eyebrow. "You're not another one of those super fans, are you?"
Morgan lifted a brow. It wasn't often that her credibility as an agent was questioned, but Tessa's comment about "superfans" intrigued her. "Unfortunately, I'm not a 'superfan' of anything, Ms. Rosen." Morgan pushed her FBI badge closer to Tessa's face so she could get a closer look. "Again, Special Agent Cross. This is important."
Tessa's eyes flickered from the badge to Morgan's face and back again, finally seeming to accept the truth of the situation. She stepped back and gestured for Morgan to enter.
"Of course, come in," she said, leading the way to a cozy living room furnished with overstuffed sofas and an enormous flat-screen TV. "I'm sorry if I seemed skeptical, it's just... Melissa's not here right now, so..."
Morgan nodded. Her eyes scanned the interior of the house, taking in the modern and feminine decor.
"Please, have a seat," Tessa gestured towards the living room, her voice trembling.
The living room was awash in soft pastels and warm lighting, creating a cozy atmosphere that contrasted sharply with the news Morgan had come to deliver. Tessa hurriedly removed her tripod and camera setup from the center of the room, trying to regain some semblance of control over her environment.
"And sorry about this," Tessa said, "I was just filming a video for my social media."
"Not a problem," Morgan cordially replied, settling into the plush couch. She patiently waited for Tessa to finish putting her stuff away before she came and sat down on the loveseat near Morgan. "Tessa, I'm sorry to tell you this," Morgan said, "but Melissa has been found dead."
Tessa gasped and covered her mouth with her delicate hand, tears instantly flooding her eyes. "What? Oh my god," she choked out, "no, no, no... how? When? No, that can't be right. She's... she was fine just yesterday. You're joking, right?"
Morgan shook her head slowly. "I wish it were a joke, Tessa. But I assure you, it isn't. Melissa was murdered, and we need your help to find out why."
For a moment, Tessa seemed unable to process the information. Her hands shook, and she blinked rapidly as if trying to hold back the tears threatening to fall. Morgan felt a pang of empathy for the young woman – losing a friend was never easy, but the suddenness and brutality of Melissa's death made it all the more difficult to bear.
"No... no, there's just no way," Tessa said.
But as the weight of the news sunk in, the denial was replaced by a raw and frantic grief. She began to hyperventilate, her chest heaving as she broke down into sobs.
Morgan moved closer, placing a hand on Tessa's shoulder. "I'm so sorry, Tessa. We'll do everything in our power to find out who did this to Melissa. But we need your help. Do you know of anyone who might have wanted to harm her?"
Tessa shook her head, her voice muffled by her hands. "No, no... Melissa was always so nice to everyone. She didn't have any enemies. Why would someone do this to her?"
"We don't know yet," Morgan said, her tone gentle. "That's what we're trying to find out. But we need to know everything you can tell us about Melissa – her activities, her routines, her friends. Anything that might help us piece together what happened."
Tessa nodded, slowly regaining some control over her emotions. "Okay, I'll tell you everything I know."
"Can you tell me when you last saw Melissa?" Morgan asked.
"Last night," Tessa whispered, fighting to maintain her composure. "She said she was going out to take photos for some project she was working on."
"What project?"
"I don't know the details. I didn't ask her a lot about her work. She was such a sweet person, just a little...odd sometimes, but who isn't? She was into some strange things, though. Her photography could be downright creepy."
"Creepy, how?" Morgan probed, leaning forward slightly.
"Dark stuff," Tessa replied, shuddering involuntarily. "She loved capturing morbid images – abandoned places, taxidermy animals, that sort of thing. It freaked me out, to be honest."
Right. Derik had mentioned that.
"Can you show me some of her photography?" Morgan asked, curiosity piqued by Tessa's description.
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