For Once, page 5
Maybe I can finally prove to Morgan that she can trust me again, he mused, flicking ashes onto the ground. And maybe we can find some peace.
Derik took another drag from his cigarette, watching the smoke rise and dissipate above him. In his heart, he knew he would do anything to regain Morgan's trust and protect those he loved – even if it meant facing the ghosts of his own past and confronting the darkness that still haunted him.
The vibrant colors of exotic birds through glass caught Derik's eye, drawing him towards a pet store on the street, only two blocks from where Melissa's body had been found. It was a small shop nestled between a bakery and a boutique, but the display in the front window was impossible to miss. A sudden memory flickered in his mind – the feather Morgan had found on Melissa's body. If it was a clue, it might have come from a bird like these.
He hesitated for a moment before pushing open the door, which jingled softly as he entered. The store was filled with the cacophony of birdsong, and rows of cages lined the walls, each one housing a different species. Bags of seed and other supplies were neatly stacked on shelves, giving the space an organized feel despite the chaos of color and sound.
"Can I help you?" came a voice from behind the counter. A portly man with a nametag that read "Sam" looked at him, his eyes darting nervously around the room.
"Hi, Sam," Derik said, trying to appear casual. "I'm looking for a bird with a distinct orangey-red color. You got anything like that?"
Sam's eyes widened when Derik flashed his FBI badge. "Uh, no, I don't think we have any at the moment," he stammered, glancing around the store as if searching for an escape route.
"Really?" Derik raised an eyebrow, studying Sam's face. He could see beads of sweat forming on the man's forehead, betraying his unease. "You seem to have a wide variety of birds here. Are you sure there's nothing with that particular color?"
"Positive," Sam replied, his voice shaky. "We haven't had any in stock recently."
Derik frowned, considering his next move. If the feather was indeed connected to the case, they needed to find the source. And something about Sam's nervous behavior made him think there was more to the story.
"Can I take a look in the back, then?" Derik asked casually, trying to keep his tone light. He could sense Sam's growing anxiety and didn't want to push him too far. It was best if he had Morgan here with him, he figured.
"Uh, now's not a good time," Sam stammered, wiping his sweaty palms on his pants. "I just got a big shipment of animals, you see, and it's dangerous to go in there and freak them out. Can you come back later?"
Derik nodded, sensing that he wouldn't get any further without raising suspicion. He didn't want to deal with it without backup--without Morgan. Trouble always had a way of finding him, and he'd rather have her support. "Sure, I understand. I'll come back another time," he said, turning to leave. "Thanks, Sam."
With that, Derik walked away, feeling Sam's anxious eyes burning a hole in the back of his head. But Derik had no intentions of actually leaving. As he stepped out onto the busy street, he knew he couldn't leave the matter unresolved. He pulled out his phone and dialed Morgan's number.
"Cross," Morgan said through the phone. It was always good to hear her voice, even when she was unhappy with him.
"Hey, it's me," Derik said. "I need backup at a pet store two blocks from the crime scene. I think we might have a lead."
***
Morgan pulled up to the pet store, her heart pounding with anticipation. She spotted Derik waiting by the entrance, his eyes scanning the street for any signs of trouble. She jogged over to him, her FBI badge bouncing against her chest.
"Fill me in," she panted, her breaths short and sharp.
"Sam, the owner, seems pretty nervous," Derik explained, keeping his voice low. "He claims they don't have any orange-colored birds, but something tells me he's not being entirely truthful. When I asked to check the back, he told me to come back later because they just received a large shipment of animals. I thought it'd be best to call you in since that feather was your find."
Morgan nodded, her instincts telling her that Derik was right. The feather was the one thing from the crime scene that stood out to her, that made her believe they were dealing with a serial killer--someone who'd left a calling card behind, taunting Morgan to discover who they really were.
"Thanks for calling me," Morgan said, her voice steady and determined as they entered the pet store side by side. The bell above the door chimed softly, echoing through the quiet interior. Rows of pet supplies and cages lined the walls, but there was no sign of Sam or any other employees.
"Sam!" Derik called out, his voice firm yet cautious. Silence answered him, amplifying the sense of unease that crept up Morgan's spine. She could feel her pulse quicken at the prospect of confronting the man who might hold the key to solving Melissa's murder.
"Let's check the back," she whispered, gesturing towards a dimly lit hallway. Together, they moved cautiously down the narrow corridor, their eyes scanning for any signs of danger. As they neared the end of the hallway, an open door revealed an empty storage room, its shelves devoid of the expected shipment of animals.
"Looks like our guy made a run for it," Derik muttered, frustration evident in his tone.
"Come on, he can't be far," Morgan urged, her instincts pushing her forward. They stepped through the open doorway and into the back alley behind the store.
The sun beat down on the cracked asphalt as they spotted Sam, sweat pouring down his face as he frantically loaded bird cages into the back of a large white van. The screeching calls of the frightened birds filled the air, their colorful feathers a stark contrast against the dull exterior of the vehicle.
"Sam!" Derik shouted, anger lacing his voice as he strode towards the panicked man. At the sound of his name, Sam's head whipped around, his eyes wide with fear. Without a second thought, he jumped into the driver's seat and slammed the door shut, gunning the engine as he pulled away from the loading dock.
"Dammit!" Morgan cursed under her breath, adrenaline surging through her veins. "Derik, follow me! My car's parked just around the corner!"
The two agents sprinted towards Morgan's vehicle, their hearts pounding in unison as they prepared to give chase. A sense of urgency gripped them both as the van disappeared from sight, knowing that catching Sam could be the key to unraveling the mystery surrounding Melissa's death.
"Let's go!" Morgan shouted as they reached her car, determination etched on her face. She slid behind the wheel with ease, Derik hopping into the passenger side.
Morgan's grip tightened on the steering wheel as she slammed her foot onto the gas pedal, her undercover car roaring to life beneath her. Beside her, Derik braced himself against the dashboard, his green eyes fixed on the van ahead. The urgency of the chase was palpable, and Morgan could feel the weight of its importance pressing down on her.
"Come on, come on," she muttered under her breath, flicking on her police lights. As they flashed blue and red, the cars in front of them moved aside, giving her a clear path to pursue her target. She whipped around a corner with precision, tires screeching against the asphalt.
"There!" Derik shouted, pointing to the white van weaving through traffic up ahead. "He's trying to lose us!"
"Like hell he will," Morgan growled, determination driving her forward.
The chase continued through the busy city streets, the white van swerving dangerously through traffic in an attempt to shake off their pursuers. Morgan's car kept close behind, the blaring sirens of the police car alerting the other drivers to get out of the way.
As they closed in on the van, it became apparent that Sam had noticed their pursuit. In a desperate attempt to shake them off, the van careened around another corner at breakneck speed. But the maneuver proved too reckless; the vehicle tipped onto its side, crashing with a cacophony of shattering glass and twisting metal.
"Got you now," Morgan whispered, her voice laced with triumph.
She brought her car to a halt just behind the toppled van, and both agents leaped out into the chaos that had erupted on the street. Broken cages lay strewn across the pavement, vibrant feathers swirling in the air as the frightened birds flapped and squawked in a frenzy of panic.
"Sam!" Derik bellowed over the cacophony, his gaze locked on the van's driver's side window. "Give it up! You're not getting away!"
Morgan's heart thundered in her chest as she surveyed the scene, her mind racing with questions. What did this man know about Melissa's murder? Why the sudden desperation to escape?
With her gun drawn, Morgan stalked towards the driver's side window of the toppled-over van, shards of glass crunched underfoot as she moved. She caught a glimpse of Sam's fearful eyes, darting around frantically through the shattered glass. She could practically smell his desperation as he tried in vain to escape from the mangled wreck.
"Hands up!" she yelled, her voice cutting through the cacophony of squawking birds and flapping wings. "Now!"
Sam froze, seemingly realizing that there was no way out. His face flushed red with anxiety, he raised his trembling hands above his head in surrender. Morgan approached cautiously, her fingers wrapping around the handcuffs clipped to her belt. She couldn't afford any surprises – not now.
"Sam," she said firmly, snapping the cuffs onto his wrists, “you're under arrest."
"Please," he stammered, his voice barely audible over the din of the escaped birds. "You've got this all wrong. I didn't do anything!"
"Save it for the interrogation room," Derik interjected, appearing at Morgan's side. He shot a glance at the chaos surrounding them – the once-captive birds now taking flight into the sky, leaving a trail of feathers in their wake. "We've got some questions for you."
CHAPTER SEVEN
The interrogation room was stark and sterile, its walls painted an oppressive shade of gray. Morgan sat across from Sam, her dark eyes fixed on the portly man as he sweated and fidgeted in his seat. Derik stood in the corner, arms crossed, watching the scene unfold before him.
Morgan took a deep breath, studying Sam carefully. Could this anxious, unassuming man really be the killer? It seemed almost too easy – but the connection to exotic birds and his desperate attempt to flee were impossible to ignore.
"Tell me about your dealings with exotic birds, Sam," Morgan began, her voice icy and composed. "Why were you so desperate to get away from us?"
"I-I can explain," Sam stammered, wringing his hands nervously. "It's not what you think..."
"Then enlighten us," Derik interjected, his voice cold and hard.
Sam took a deep breath, his eyes darting nervously around the room. "I was just trying to make a living," he said finally. "I've been in the bird business for years, but it's not exactly a lucrative field. I was just trying to keep my head above water, you know? I thought... I thought you were there to take them away from me."
"And why did you think we'd do that?" Morgan inquired, not buying Sam's innocent act at all.
Sam’s eyes darted around the room nervously as he shifted uneasily in his seat. He licked his lips before finally speaking. "I...I didn't want any trouble," he said, his voice shaky. "I was just scared. You have to believe me."
Morgan leaned forward, her gaze fixed on Sam's face. "We'll believe you when you tell us the truth," she said firmly. "Now tell me about your connection to exotic birds."
Sam's eyes flickered nervously as he took a deep breath. "I just… I have some birds that… well, they're not exactly legal."
"Go on," Derik prompted, his expression steely.
Sam shifted in his seat, his eyes downcast. "I import them. From South America. They're rare and highly sought after by collectors, but... they're not exactly legal."
Morgan raised an eyebrow, her interest piqued. "What kind of birds?"
"Macaws," Sam said, his voice barely above a whisper. "They're beautiful, you know? And people will pay top dollar to have them in their collection."
Morgan exchanged a look with Derik. His story was almost too ridiculous to be fake.
"Look, I know it was wrong," Sam continued, sweat beading on his brow. "I just sell the birds to collectors who pay a good price for them. That's all, I swear."
Morgan exchanged a glance with Derik, her mind racing. If Sam was telling the truth, then what did this mean for their investigation? And if he wasn't, what other secrets was he hiding?
Morgan leaned in closer, her eyes fixed on Sam's panicked expression as beads of sweat rolled down his temples. He squirmed uncomfortably in the dimly lit interrogation room, avoiding her intense gaze.
"Sam," Morgan said softly but firmly, "I need you to take a good look at this photo." She slid a picture of Melissa across the table and tapped it with her index finger.
Sam hesitated for a moment, then glanced down at the image. His eyes widened briefly before he shook his head. "I don't know who that is," he stammered, looking back up at Morgan.
"Her name was Melissa Grayson," Morgan replied, her voice steady. "And she's dead."
"Wha- I've never seen her before!" Sam protested, his voice cracking with desperation as he met Morgan's unwavering stare. The poor lighting cast shadows across his face, adding to his already disheveled appearance.
Morgan wasn't convinced. She pulled out another photograph, this one showing the red feather found tangled in Melissa's hair. She held it up, making sure Sam got a clear view of the evidence. "Do you recognize this?"
He swallowed hard, examining the photograph closely before shaking his head again. "I... I don't know," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "Like I told your partner, we haven't had any red birds in a while."
Morgan studied Sam's face, trying to decipher whether he was lying or genuinely ignorant. She knew his connection to exotic birds couldn't be a coincidence, yet something about his demeanor suggested he might not have been involved in Melissa's death. But if not him, then who? And what did the red feather mean?
The silence in the interrogation room grew heavy as Morgan weighed her options. Though Sam seemed sincere in his claims, she couldn't afford to let a potential lead slip away. She had to press further, dig deeper into Sam's world, and uncover the truth behind Melissa's murder – no matter what it took.
Derik came over to the table and leaned his palms on it, a furrow forming between his brows as he studied Sam's face. "If you didn't kill Melissa, then why did you run when we showed up at your store?"
Sam shifted in his seat, avoiding Derik's gaze. "I... I told you, I thought you were gonna take my birds away. They're worth a lot of money!"
"Is that so?" Morgan interjected, her voice dripping with skepticism. She crossed her arms and leaned back in her chair, scrutinizing Sam's every move.
"Y-yes," Sam stammered, sweat trickling down the sides of his face. "I get a good price for them from collectors. I know it's wrong, but I needed the money."
Morgan considered his words for a moment before asking, "What's your alibi for last night? Where were you when Melissa was killed?"
"Home," Sam insisted, his voice firming up with conviction. "I was home all night with my wife. She doesn't know about the illegal bird sales or the extra cash I've been making. I wanted to surprise her with a vacation once I had enough money." He looked pleadingly at Morgan, desperation shining in his beady brown eyes.
Morgan pursed her lips, her thoughts racing. While she couldn't shake the feeling that Sam knew more than he was letting on, she also knew that Sam having a bird collection didn't make him a killer. "Perhaps you should find a more honest way to make money," she suggested icily. "Something tells me your wife won't be too keen on a vacation funded by criminal activity."
Sam nodded vigorously, his face a mix of relief and shame. "You're right. I'll do better. I promise."
As Morgan stared into Sam's eyes, she knew that while he might not be completely innocent, it was becoming increasingly doubtful that he was Melissa's killer. The connection to the red feather remained a mystery, one that she and Derik would need to unravel together.
"Alright, Sam," Morgan said, her voice softening slightly. "We're going to look into your alibi. But if you're lying... well, I suggest you don't." She rose from her seat, leaving the interrogation room with Derik close behind.
As they walked down the sterile hallway, Morgan's thoughts were consumed by the unanswered questions surrounding Melissa's murder. And though she knew the case was far from over, she couldn't help but feel a sense of unease creeping in – an unsettling feeling that the truth might be even more twisted than she could imagine.
Just as Morgan was about to ask Derik what he thought of all this, her phone buzzed in her pocket. She glanced at the screen and saw that it was a call from the lab. Excusing herself, she stepped up the quiet hallway to answer.
"Agent Cross speaking," she said, her voice low and guarded.
"Agent Cross, this is Marsha from the lab," the caller identified herself. "I've got some results for you on that feather analysis you requested."
"Great, I'll come down right away." Morgan hung up and turned to Derik. "Can you handle things here while I go check on those lab results?"
"Of course," Derik nodded, understanding the urgency. "I'll confirm Sam's alibi and keep an eye on him."
"Thanks." With that, Morgan hurried away, her mind already racing with anticipation.
***
The lab at FBI headquarters was a sterile, white-tiled space filled with high-tech equipment and the soft hum of machinery. As Morgan walked in, she spotted Marsha sitting at a computer, peering intently at the screen. The lab tech looked up when she heard the door open, offering Morgan a tight-lipped smile.
"Agent Cross, glad you could make it so quickly," Marsha greeted her.
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