For Now, page 6
She couldn't just leave Amos up there, alone and abandoned. It didn't sit right with her, and she suspected that he still knew more than he was letting on. He was clearly unwell, and if he could be of any use in solving Mary's murder, they'd need him alive.
She pulled out her phone and dialing the number for backup. She listened to the ringing on the other end, her mind racing with possibilities and potential leads. What if Amos was lying? What if he had an accomplice?
"Agent Cross requesting backup at my location," she said tersely when someone picked up. "Suspect is wheelchair-bound but may have valuable information. We'll need medical assistance and a team to raid the house."
As she waited for her colleagues to arrive, she couldn't help but replay Amos's words in her mind. Mary's "nice" teeth, all natural even in her old age. Why would someone want to tamper with them? And what did it have to do with the larger picture?
Morgan knew she was only scratching the surface of this case. But she was determined to see it through, no matter how dark and twisted the path became.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Morgan stared out the window of her car as she pulled into the FBI headquarters parking lot. It was late afternoon now, and the day was slipping away. The weight of failure hung heavy on her shoulders. She had been so sure that Amos Lorenzo was their man, but he could barely move, let alone commit murder.
The police had come in and taken him to a local hospital, so Morgan knew she would be able to talk to him again if she needed. But it didn't shake away the shame she felt in wasting time on this lead.
On top of that, she'd checked the old clinic again before she'd dropped Skunk off at home, and Skipper had been nowhere in sight. Whoever he was, he was long gone and probably wouldn't return.
Morgan realized that she had probably been chasing shadows anyway.
As the car came to a stop, she took a deep breath and steeled herself for the inevitable walk of shame through the office. Another dead end, she thought, slamming the car door behind her. Her eyes narrowed at the thought of returning empty-handed, her pride battered. How many more suspects would it take before they found Mary Jenkins's killer? Morgan didn't want to wait around for another body to drop.
Inside, she crossed the bustling office and entered the briefing room where Derik was waiting, his brow furrowed as he studied the case files spread out on the table. He glanced up when she entered, offering her a small, sympathetic smile.
"Hey, don't beat yourself up over it," he said, motioning for her to sit down. "Your lead was good, but sometimes they just don't pan out."
Morgan sighed, her jaw clenched as she sank into the chair opposite him. "I know, but I can't help feeling like we're running out of time."
"Well, you're gonna wanna see this," Derik said, tapping a finger on one of the files. "The dental analysis on the teeth found in Mary's mouth came back. Cross, it's the strangest thing. Those teeth don't match Mary's dental records."
Morgan frowned in confusion. "What are you saying? That those teeth weren't even Mary's?"
Derik nodded, lips tight.
"Then whose were they?"
"We currently have no idea."
Morgan's mind raced as she absorbed the information. If the teeth weren't Mary's, then who did they belong to? Was it possible that there was another victim involved in this case?
"We need to find out whose teeth they were," Morgan said firmly, her eyes locked onto Derik's. "We need to expand our search and see if there were any missing persons cases around the time of Mary's murder that could be linked to this."
Derik nodded, his expression serious. "I already have the team looking into it. No hits yet."
Morgan's heart rate spiked as she tried to process the implications of this revelation. If the teeth didn't match Mary's, then it meant that the killer had taken Mary's teeth out and crudely shoved someone else's teeth back into her gums.
And if this was a pattern, then that meant that maybe next time they found a body, it would be Mary's teeth in someone else's gums.
Morgan felt a sense of frustration and anger building inside her. This case was getting more and more complicated by the second, and they seemed to be no closer to finding the killer than they were when they first started.
"What about Mary's autopsy report?" she asked, hoping for some new lead. "Anything else jump out at the ME?"
Derik shrugged his shoulders. "Not really. The cause of death was asphyxiation, and there were signs of struggle. But honestly, it's the teeth that have us all stumped."
Morgan drummed her fingers on the table, her mind churning. She needed to come up with a new angle, a new way to approach this case. This new information only made the case more complex – and dangerous. It was bad enough that they were hunting a killer who had mutilated Mary Jenkins, but now there was a possibility that he had killed others to obtain those teeth. And they had no idea who those victims might be. The thought sent a shiver down her spine.
"Damn it," she muttered, rubbing her temples. "What kind of monster are we dealing with here?"
"Someone who knows how to cover their tracks," Derik replied grimly. "But we'll find them, Morgan. We always do."
She looked at him, his unwavering determination a small comfort amidst the chaos of the case. Despite everything they had been through – her imprisonment, the lies, and the blackmail – he was still her partner. As much as her trust in him had been destroyed, in that moment, she felt strangely grateful to have him there.
Morgan mentally chastised herself for even having the thought. She couldn't trust Derik again.
She wouldn't let herself.
***
Some time later, Morgan paced the briefing room, her mind racing with the implications of the untraceable teeth. The fluorescent lights above cast a sterile glow over the scattered files and half-empty coffee cups that littered the table. She clenched her fists and tried to focus on the task at hand, but they'd been brainstorming for the last hour, and still hadn't come up with any concrete leads.
"Okay, let's assume for a moment that our killer did murder someone else to get those teeth," Morgan said, stopping in her tracks and turning to face Derik. "But without dental records, we have no way of identifying who that other victim could be."
Derik leaned back in his chair, pushing his reading glasses up the bridge of his nose. Morgan rarely saw Derik with his glasses on, but they gave him a more calm look than what he usually had, masking the bags under his green eyes. "The team still hasn't found any reports of suspicious elderly deaths or deaths in general where people's teeth have gone missing."
Morgan's mind continued to race. There must have been another answer. Then, it hit her: "Maybe we're looking at this wrong. Maybe he didn't kill someone else yet, but got the teeth somewhere else."
"Well, there isn't exactly a human tooth shop you can stop at," Derik said. "What are you thinking?"
Morgan furrowed her brow as she considered this. "Let's think about it for a second," she suggested, pressing her palms down on the table. "Who would have access to human teeth? Dentists, oral surgeons... maybe morticians?"
"True," Derik agreed, his eyes narrowing in thought. "But Dallas is a big city. There are countless professionals who could fit that profile."
Morgan paused and sighed deeply. "Yeah. Maybe we're grasping at straws here."
"Maybe so," Derik admitted, "but it's a start. And right now, it's all we've got."
Morgan nodded, her determination returning. "Alright, let's split the list. You take dentists and oral surgeons, I'll look into the morticians. We need to dig deep into their backgrounds, see if anything stands out."
"Sounds like a plan," Derik replied, already pulling up a list of local dental professionals on his laptop. "Let's get to work."
As they dove into their research, Morgan couldn't shake the feeling that they were running out of time. The killer was still out there, and with every passing moment, the likelihood of another gruesome murder grew. But even in the face of such darkness, she knew they had no choice but to press on – for Mary, for the unknown victims, and for the people who still had a chance at being saved.
***
Morgan's fingers hovered over her laptop's keyboard, her eyes locked on the blinking cursor as a sudden thought interrupted her. So far, she had a long list of people in professions who could have access to human teeth, but none going through and checking them for criminal records or other suspicious activity would be a whole other task. But as Morgan was working, another thought struck her; there was something else odd about Mary's death, aside from the teeth. And that was where the killer had chosen to move her body.
A sandbox. He could have left her in bed or taken her literally anywhere else... and yet he'd chosen a sandbox. Morgan realized that she hadn't asked nearly enough about that.
She glanced up at Derik, who was already absorbed in his search for dentists and oral surgeons.
"Derik," she said, her voice low and uncertain. "There's something else that's been bothering me about this case."
He looked up from his computer screen, raising an eyebrow. "What is it?"
"Why did the killer put Mary's body in a sandbox? Why not just leave her at home? It's like he wanted us to find her... and maybe that means he'll strike again."
Derik considered her words, his brow furrowing in thought. Finally, he nodded slowly. "You might be onto something. That could be part of his MO – leaving the bodies in public places, almost like a twisted calling card."
"But why a sandbox, specifically? Could it be some sort of commentary? Mary was elderly, but sandboxes are associated with youth... childhood, specifically."
Derik leaned back in his chair, his expression thoughtful. "Perhaps it's a statement on the fleeting nature of life. Childhood memories are often seen as the happiest times of one's life, and yet they are so brief. Maybe the killer is trying to say something about how all of our lives, no matter how long, are ultimately just fleeting moments in the grand scheme of things."
Morgan felt a shiver run down her spine. "That's... disturbingly philosophical. But it could be a clue. A hint about who we're looking for."
The problem was, Morgan didn't know what to do with that information. It didn't exactly help her narrow down her list of suspects.
"Alright," Derik said, his voice steady despite the gravity of their conversation. "Let's stay focused and keep digging into these leads. We'll find him, Morgan."
Silently, they turned back to their laptops, each diving into their respective searches. Morgan began pulling up information on morticians in the Dallas area. Her heart pounded in her chest as she scrolled through endless lists of names, trying to discern any sign of a connection to the gruesome murders.
The room seemed to close in around her, the weight of the case pressing down on her shoulders. She tried to focus on the task at hand, but her thoughts kept returning to the chilling image of Mary's lifeless body, her mouth filled with those ghastly, mismatched teeth.
Morgan's fingers flew across the keyboard, her focus solely on the screen as she combed through mortician profiles. She was so engrossed in her work that she didn't notice Derik staring at her until he cleared his throat.
"Hey," he said with a hint of concern in his voice. "Are you alright?"
"Fine," Morgan replied tersely, unwilling to break her concentration. "Why?"
Derik hesitated before speaking. "I just wanted to say that I wish you hadn't gone after Lorenzo alone earlier. It was dangerous. I wanted to come with you."
Morgan clenched her jaw, feeling a flash of irritation at his comment. But as she looked into his eyes, she saw genuine worry there, and her anger softened, against her better judgement. "I just... I had to follow that lead. And it didn't exactly pan out, did it?"
"Doesn't matter," he insisted. "We're a team, remember? We've got each other's backs."
Morgan paused, her thoughts drifting back to their long history together. They'd been partners before her life had been ripped apart by that false conviction, even sharing a heated kiss one night when they were both vulnerable. When she was finally released from prison, Derik had been there for her, helping her pick up the pieces. They'd reconnected romantically, only for Morgan to discover the dark secret he'd been carrying – the blackmail by the very people who'd framed her.
She knew about the threats against Derik's son, understood why he'd kept things from her. But that knowledge didn't make the hurt any less real. Now, she wasn't even sure if Derik knew who those men were himself. Every time she felt herself soften around him again, maybe even consider forgiving him, she had to remind herself of what he'd done. His lies and betrayal... she just couldn't get past it.
"Derik," she began, her voice wavering. "I... just—forget it. I’m getting a coffee.”
She stood abruptly, leaving Derik to continue his research as she headed down the hall toward the break room. The sterile FBI headquarters seemed to close in around her, each step echoing off the linoleum floors. She needed a moment alone to gather herself, to remind herself why she was here – to bring justice to those who had been wronged, like she had been all those years ago.
The break room door swung open with a creak, revealing none other than Thomas Grady leaning against the counter, phone pressed to his ear. He spoke in hushed tones, his brow furrowed with concern. At the sound of the door, he looked up and met Morgan's gaze, his expression shifting to one of surprise.
"Hey, Morgan," he said, hanging up the call and slipping the phone into his pocket. "What brings you here?"
"Needed some coffee," she replied tersely, avoiding eye contact as she poured herself a mug from the industrial-sized coffeemaker. The bitter aroma filled the air, momentarily grounding her in the present. In truth, Morgan wanted nothing to do with Thomas anymore. He had been playing too many games and dangling information over her head, and she regretted asking him to find information on the men who'd framed her.
"Everything okay?" Thomas asked, genuinely concerned. "You seem... tense."
"Nothing I can't handle," she muttered, taking a long sip of the scalding liquid, welcoming the burn as it slid down her throat. "Just another day in paradise."
"Tell me about it," he said with a wry smile, trying to lighten the mood. "These cases don't get any easier, do they?"
"Unfortunately not," she admitted, her thoughts drifting back to the investigation at hand. The killer was still out there, and they were no closer to solving the mystery of the teeth.
She glanced over at Thomas, his easy smile a stark contrast to the weight that seemed to be pressing down on her own chest. For a moment, she envied him – his ability to compartmentalize, to keep his emotions in check even in the face of such darkness.
Morgan took a sip of her black coffee, the bitterness mirroring her current mood. She eyed Thomas, who leaned casually against the counter, his boyish charm evident even in this setting. Though he was an asset to their team, Morgan couldn't shake the nagging feeling that she'd made a mistake by asking for his help when it came to the men who framed her. It was time to end this game.
"Thomas," she said, her voice steady but cold. "I've been thinking about our arrangement, and I want you to stop looking for those names."
Thomas raised his eyebrows, his flirty grin faltering for a moment. "What do you mean? We had a deal, remember?"
"I know we did," Morgan admitted, her grip tightening around her coffee mug. "But it's clear that there's no room in my life for anything other than this case right now. I need to focus on finding the person responsible for the murder."
"Come on," Thomas protested, straightening up and taking a step closer. "It's not as simple as you think. I've spent a lot of time on this already, and I'm close to a breakthrough. And, besides" – he flashed her another smile – "we had a deal. You go on a date with me, a real one, and I'll get you those names. You still owe me that date."
Morgan clenched her jaw. She knew he meant well, but the stakes were too high for her to entertain any distractions.
"Thomas, I appreciate your efforts, but I’m not in the right place for that.”
Thomas sighed, his flirty demeanor replaced by a genuine expression of concern. "Morgan, I really like you, and I want to help you. Can't you see that?"
She hesitated, her annoyance softening as she took in his earnest eyes. She couldn't deny that Thomas was attractive, if not a bit young for her. But was this what she needed right now? Morgan's heart clenched at the thought of letting herself be vulnerable.
"Thomas, I –" she began, but was interrupted by the shrill ring of her phone. Snatching it from her pocket, she glanced at the screen and saw it was an officer from the crime scene.
"Agent Cross," she answered, her voice clipped and professional as she turned away from Thomas.
"Agent Cross, we've found another body," the officer said urgently, and Morgan's blood ran cold. "You need to get down here right away."
"Understood," she replied, the weight of the case settling back onto her shoulders. Hanging up, she looked back at Thomas, her eyes hardening. "We'll discuss this later," she told him, before swiftly exiting the break room.
As she hurried down the hallway, her mind couldn't help but drift back to Thomas and the potential consequences of their deal. But with another victim on her hands, she knew she had to focus on the task at hand, any personal conflicts shoved aside for now. The killer had to be stopped, and Morgan was determined to bring them down.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Morgan's knuckles turned white as she gripped the steering wheel, her eyes locked on the road ahead. Derik glanced over at her from the passenger seat, concern etched across his face, but he said nothing. He knew better than to interrupt her when she was in this state.
They sped through the city streets, and soon Morgan pulled up to a zoo on the outskirts of the city. The parking lot was full of police cars, their lights flashing blue and red, casting an eerie glow on the scene. Staff were busy escorting guests out of the park, their faces pale and anxious.
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