Forever, page 4
"Derik, I need you to start canvassing the area for witnesses," she said, turning to face her partner. "Anyone who might have seen or heard something last night."
"Sure thing," Derik replied, hesitating for a moment as if he wanted to say more. But he simply gave her a nod and walked away, leaving her alone with her thoughts.
Closing her eyes, Morgan took a deep breath and tried to center herself. The weight of the past pressed down on her like an anchor, threatening to drag her under. She needed answers – not only for Stacy but for herself as well.
Alright, Morgan, she thought to herself. Focus. You've got a job to do.
With renewed determination, Morgan opened her eyes and scanned the area, taking in every detail. The sun was beginning to cast long shadows across the ground, but she refused to let the darkness win.
CHAPTER FIVE
Morgan's eyes flicked between the laptop screen and her surroundings as she sat in her car, parked just outside of Orca World. She took a deep breath, trying to block out the noise in her head and focus on the details she had uncovered about Stacy Cox, the girl whose lifeless body had been found submerged in the shark tank.
"Stacy Cox," Morgan muttered under her breath as she scanned the information before her. "Nineteen years old, orphan." She sighed, feeling a pang of sympathy for the young woman. She knew firsthand how cruel life could be, but this girl had faced more than her fair share of adversity. Morgan moved her cursor over Stacy's medical records, confirming what Stew had mentioned earlier about the girl's struggle with alcoholism.
Rehab at seventeen, she noted. She'd attended AA meetings regularly. It seemed that Stacy had been fighting to better herself, but there was one thing that still nagged at Morgan – her relationship with Evan. The two came from very different backgrounds. While Evan grew up in a world of wealth and privilege, it appeared that Stacy had been barely scraping by.
Opposites attract, I guess, Morgan mused, rubbing her temples. But were their differences enough to drive Evan to hurt Stacy? She shook her head, unsure of where to go next in her investigation. Evan had seemed sincere in his care for her, but maybe it was all an act.
Determined to learn more about Stacy's personal life, Morgan turned her attention to social media. She navigated to the young couple's profiles, her fingers tapping quickly on her laptop's touchpad. Scrolling through their timelines, she found pictures of Evan and Stacy together, smiling happily as they posed by the ocean or shared intimate moments over dinner.
"Happy times," Morgan muttered, scrutinizing the images for any signs of underlying tension between them. But all she could see were two people seemingly in love, enjoying each other's company.
She continued scrolling until she came across a post from Evan, declaring his love for Stacy and how proud he was of her progress in overcoming alcoholism. It didn't seem like the words of someone who would want to hurt his partner. As she read the comments, she saw that friends and family had chimed in with supportive messages.
Nothing out of the ordinary. She sighed, feeling frustrated. Her instincts told her there was more to this story, but so far, everything seemed to be pointing towards a happy, loving relationship.
Just then, a sharp knock on the car window pulled Morgan from her thoughts. Looking up, she saw Derik standing outside, one hand resting on the roof of her vehicle as he peered inside. With a sigh of annoyance, Morgan rolled down the window.
"You talk to any witnesses?" she asked.
"Haven't gotten any hits yet, no. Seems like no one saw anything."
Morgan sighed. Then why was he here? "Derik, what do you want?" she asked tersely, trying to keep her frustration in check. She was eager to find a lead in the case, and Derik's presence felt like an unnecessary distraction.
"Hey, I just wanted to see if you'd found anything useful," Derik replied defensively, his hands raised placatingly. "We're supposed to be working together, remember?"
Morgan clenched her jaw, biting back a harsh retort. She knew she needed to focus on the task at hand, not petty arguments with her colleague. Taking a deep breath, she replied, "I'm looking into their relationship. So far, everything seems fine, but I have a feeling there's more to it."
Derik leaned in closer, his eyes softening with genuine concern. "Morgan, if we're going to work this case together, then we need to actually work together." He paused, studying her guarded expression. "We're a team. We can't afford to let any personal issues get in the way of solving this."
Morgan's jaw tightened, but she knew he was right. Their dynamic had become strained over time, and she couldn't deny that it was affecting their ability to work with him. Hell, she didn't even want to work with him. She took a slow, measured breath before replying.
"Alright," Morgan conceded. "You want to help? Look deeper into Evan and his relationship with Stacy. See if you can confirm both of their alibis from last night. I'm going to dig deeper into Stacy's life." Her gaze locked onto Derik's, making her intentions clear. "I want to work alone on that part."
Derik hesitated for a moment, clearly not thrilled with the arrangement. But ultimately, he nodded in understanding. "Fine. Just... keep me updated, alright?"
"Of course," Morgan agreed, forcing a tight smile. As Derik stepped back from the car and walked away, she rolled up the window and refocused on her laptop screen.
Her fingers flew across the keyboard as she delved further into Stacy's past. The more she uncovered, the more determined she became to bring justice to the young woman whose life had been tragically cut short. And if working closely with Derik was what it took to achieve that, then Morgan would put aside her reservations and do just that—for Stacy's sake, and for the integrity of the investigation.
She turned her attention to her next destination: the church where Stacy attended AA meetings. It was time to dig deeper into the life of the young victim.
***
The sun hung low in the sky, casting long shadows over the cityscape. As Morgan drove through the city, her thoughts kept returning to Stacy—so young, so desperate to turn her life around. And now, all those dreams had been snuffed out like a candle in the wind.
A heaviness settled in Morgan's chest as she navigated her way to the church. The neighborhood grew poorer, the buildings more run-down, the streets narrower and more cluttered with debris. This was where Stacy had grown up, where she had fought to survive against all odds.
As she pulled up outside the church, Morgan took a moment to gather herself. The building was old, its bricks weathered and worn, its once-bright paint chipped and faded. A rusted metal fence encircled the property, a single gate creaking in the breeze. Despite its state of disrepair, the church stood tall and proud, a beacon of hope in an otherwise bleak landscape.
Morgan stepped out of her car, her footsteps crunching on the gravel as she approached the entrance. Her eyes scanned the area, taking note of the people who milled about or sat huddled on the church steps. They were a mix of ages and backgrounds, all united by their struggles with addiction.
"Excuse me," she said to a middle-aged man leaning against the fence. "I'm looking for the AA meetings that take place here. Can you point me in the right direction?"
The man looked her up and down, his gaze lingering on the badge clipped to her belt. He hesitated for a moment before nodding toward the church's side entrance. "Through there," he mumbled, turning away as if to distance himself from her authority.
"Thank you," Morgan replied, her voice softening. She knew how intimidating her presence could be, especially in a place like this. But she wasn't here to judge or condemn—she was here to uncover the truth. And if that meant ruffling a few feathers along the way, then so be it.
With renewed determination, Morgan crossed the church courtyard and entered through the side door, leaving the fading light of the sun behind her. Inside, the air was heavy with history and the quiet murmurings of prayer. Morgan followed the sound of voices down a dimly lit hallway, stopping outside a door where she could hear a woman speaking. She knocked lightly and waited for a pause in the conversation before pushing the door open.
"Sorry to interrupt," she said, stepping into the room. "I'm Special Agent Morgan Cross with the FBI. I'm here to speak with the person in charge of the AA meetings."
A hushed silence fell over the small group, and all eyes turned toward a kind-faced woman seated at the front of the room. She looked to be in her fifties, with graying hair pulled back into a neat bun and a warm smile that seemed to invite trust. As she stood, Morgan noted the subtle authority in her posture—the way she commanded respect without demanding it.
"Hello, Agent Cross. My name is Belinda," the woman said, extending her hand. "I'm the one you're looking for. How can I help you?"
"Can we talk in private?" Morgan asked.
Belinda's eyes crinkled with concern, but she nodded and led Morgan back into the hallway, where they found a quiet corner to speak.
Morgan took a breath. "Thank you, Belinda. I'm afraid I have some bad news." She hesitated, gauging the reactions around the room. "Stacy Cox, one of your attendees, was found dead this morning."
Belinda's hand flew to her mouth, and her eyes filled with tears. "Oh my God... poor Stacy. She was just nineteen years old..."
Morgan nodded solemnly. "I'm sorry for your loss. I was hoping you could tell me more about Stacy, what she was like, and if anything seemed off about her recently."
"Of course," Belinda said, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. "Stacy was a good girl. Troubled, yes, but she truly wanted to get better. She had been attending AA meetings for a while, determined to overcome her alcoholism and save her relationship with her boyfriend, Evan."
"Did she talk about any issues they might have been having?" Morgan asked, her mind already spinning with possibilities.
"Nothing specific," Belinda replied. "Just the usual struggles that come with loving someone who doesn't understand addiction. But she was committed to making it work. And Evan was committed to helping her."
Morgan took a deep breath, trying to keep her emotions in check. Stacy had been fighting for her future, a chance to break free from the chains of her past. And now, because of some unknown monster, that future had been stolen from her.
The overhead lights cast a warm glow on the worn wooden pews, casting long shadows that seemed to reach out towards Morgan. She glanced back at Belinda, whose expression was downcast.
"Belinda," Morgan began, her voice firm yet gentle, "was there anything different about Stacy recently? Anything out of the ordinary?"
Belinda hesitated, her brow furrowing as she searched her memory. "Well, there was one thing," she finally admitted. "A few days ago, I saw her leave with a man I didn't recognize. He was new to our meetings, and I never got his name."
Morgan felt a chill run down her spine, her instincts screaming that this detail was important. "Can you describe him?"
"Sure," Belinda replied, wringing her hands nervously. "He was in his forties, I'd say. Short black hair, glasses... nothing really distinctive about his appearance. Just an average-looking guy. I suppose some might consider him good-looking."
"Did you see them together after that?" Morgan asked, her mind racing with the possibilities.
"No," Belinda shook her head sadly. "That was the last time I saw Stacy. And he never came back for another meeting either."
Morgan's thoughts raced, analyzing every word and trying to fit the pieces together. Could this mysterious stranger be connected to Stacy's death? Or was it just a coincidence?
"Thank you, Belinda," Morgan said, her tone appreciative but tense. "You've been incredibly helpful."
"Anything I can do to help find justice for Stacy." Belinda's voice trembled with a mix of hope and fear.
"Please call me right away if that man shows up again," Morgan urged Belinda, handing her a business card with her direct line. "I appreciate your help."
"Of course, Agent Cross," Belinda replied, clasping the card between her fingers as if it were some lifeline to justice. "I want Stacy's killer found as much as you do."
Morgan nodded, sensing the woman's determination, despite the fear that lurked beneath her eyes. With that, Morgan turned to leave the church. She had a lot more work to do before the day was over. Somewhere out there, Stacy's killer was lurking--maybe even looking for his next target.
First, she had to understand what exactly had killed Stacy, starting with the coroner’s reports.
CHAPTER SIX
The sterile fluorescent lights of the FBI office flickered overhead as Morgan sat at her desk, poring over the coroner's report that had just arrived. It was later in the day now, and the sun was dipping deeper into the horizon.
As she flipped through the crisp pages of the file, autopsy photos stared back at her, forcing her to confront the brutal reality of Stacy's death. The images were gruesome – the young woman's body bloated and discolored from her time in the water, hands bound behind her back in a cruel show of control.
"God, Stacy," Morgan whispered under her breath, her stomach churning at the sight. She forced herself to focus on the coroner's notes instead, searching for any clues that might lead her to the killer.
"Subject was found submerged in water, with hands tied behind back..." she read aloud, her voice barely audible. "Cause of death confirmed as drowning. No signs of intoxication or other substances present in the system."
Morgan's thoughts raced. She needed answers, and she needed them now. She rubbed her temples, feeling the weight of the unsolved case pressing down on her. If Stacy was sober when she died, then her alcoholism wasn't a direct factor in her murder. It was a piece of the puzzle that kept growing more complex with each new discovery.
"Could he be connected?" Morgan muttered, her thoughts drifting to the mysterious man Belinda had mentioned earlier. The man who had left the AA meeting with Stacy just days before her body was found. She leaned back in her chair, staring at the ceiling as she tried to fit the pieces together.
The steady hum of the office printer filled Morgan's ears as she paced back and forth, her thoughts occupied with the mysterious man from Stacy's AA meeting. She couldn't shake the feeling that he was somehow connected to the case, but without any solid leads or evidence, it was nothing more than a hunch.
Morgan's phone buzzed in her pocket, breaking her concentration. Glancing at the screen, she saw Derik's name flash across the display. With a sigh, she answered the call. "What did you find out?"
"Stew and Evan were both at home last night," Derik reported. "A neighbor’s security camera faces their house, and their cars never left. Stew's wife even backed them up."
"Okay," Morgan said, making a mental note of this new information. It eliminated two potential suspects, but still left plenty of questions unanswered. "Anything else?"
"Not about the case, no.'
"Okay, then I'll talk to you later."
"Actually, I wanted to—"
"Thanks, Derik," she interrupted, hanging up before he could continue. She could sense that he had something more to ask, but she didn't have the patience for a drawn-out conversation, especially with him. Time was of the essence, and she needed to stay focused on finding the truth behind Stacy's murder.
Morgan continued her pacing, her shoes clicking against the tiled floor as her mind raced. Every new piece of information seemed to lead her further away from a concrete answer, and it frustrated her to no end. As an experienced agent, she knew that solving cases like this often took time—time she wasn't sure they had.
She stopped and leaned over her desk, eyes locked on the autopsy photos again. They were gruesome images, a stark contrast to the warm afternoon sun filtering through the blinds. She could feel the weight of Stacy's lifeless body pressing against her thoughts, urging her to find justice and uncover the truth.
A sudden knock at her door startled her, and she looked up to see Mueller standing in the doorway. Her jaw tightened; she didn't trust him or want to see him, but she couldn't exactly turn him away either. Morgan reluctantly met his gaze, noting the barely-concealed curiosity in his eyes.
"Agent Cross," he began, stepping into her office. "How is the case going?"
"Still in the early stages," Morgan replied, doing her best to keep her voice neutral. "I'm working on it."
"Good to hear," Mueller said, leaning against the edge of her desk. "And how are you getting along with Derik?"
"Fine," Morgan lied, gritting her teeth. "We're both professionals, after all."
"Still, I've never seen you so turned off of Greene before." Mueller raised an eyebrow, clearly not convinced. "I thought you two used to be close friends. What changed?"
Morgan sighed, forcing herself to confront the question she'd been trying to avoid. "Look, it's not about Derik specifically. I just... I prefer working alone these days." It wasn't true, of course, but she didn't trust Mueller either.
"Is that really what's best for the case, though?" Mueller asked, pushing further. "Two heads are better than one, especially when dealing with something as complex as this."
Frustration bubbled inside Morgan, threatening to spill over. She didn't need Mueller questioning her methods, especially considering everything she'd been through. But instead of snapping at him, she turned her focus inward, wrestling with her stubbornness and the nagging feeling that maybe—just maybe—he might be right.
"Your concern is noted," she replied tersely. "But I can handle this case, with or without a partner."
Mueller held her gaze for a moment longer before nodding. "Very well, Cross. Just remember that we're all here to help. Don't let your pride get in the way of doing what's best for the investigation."
Morgan could still feel the weight of Mueller's gaze on her as she forced herself to focus back on her files. The temperature in her office seemed to have dropped a few degrees since his arrival, and she shivered involuntarily, rubbing her hands together for warmth.
_preview.jpg)
