For Once, page 8
"Maybe he needed help?" Derik suggested, leaning against the desk to get a better look at the monitor.
"Could be," Morgan agreed, her gaze narrowing as she scrolled through the information on Steven Kirk. "But according to this, Steven had no official record of employment in the past year. He was never registered as a worker on Robert's farm."
"Under the table, then?" Derik asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Looks like it." Morgan pursed her lips, feeling a pang of sympathy for the young man who'd lost his life. She continued scrolling, her heart catching in her chest as she came across another detail. "Steven has a wife, Francine Kirk. She lives here in Dallas."
"Damn," Derik breathed, his green eyes clouded with concern. "Think we should talk to her?"
Morgan nodded, her mind already racing with questions. What could have driven Robert to hire Steven under the table? And what was their connection to Melissa's murder? She logged off the computer and stood up, determination etched in every line of her face.
"Let's pay Francine a visit," she said, her voice resolute. "Maybe she can shed some light on this whole mess."
As they left the precinct, Morgan couldn't help but feel that they were one step closer to unraveling the twisted threads of the case. But with each new revelation, the darkness seemed to grow deeper, wrapping itself around her like the shadows that haunted her past. And as much as she wanted to bring justice for those who had suffered, she couldn't shake the feeling that there was still so much more to uncover.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
The sun dipped low in the sky, casting long shadows across the quaint suburban neighborhood. Morgan and Derik pulled up in front of Steven Kirk's house, the white picket fence and well-tended garden giving off an air of domestic bliss that seemed almost jarring in light of recent events.
As Morgan stepped out of the car, she couldn't help but feel a pang of longing as she surveyed the scene before her. This was the kind of life she had once dreamed of – a loving partner, a home to call her own, perhaps even children. But those dreams had been shattered by her time in prison, and the harsh reality of her career as an FBI agent left little room for such fantasies.
"Ready?" Derik asked, his gaze steady and supportive. Morgan nodded, pushing her personal thoughts aside as they approached the front door.
She knocked firmly, and after a moment, the door swung open to reveal a beautiful blonde woman in a flowing dress. Her tear-streaked face and swollen belly made it clear that she was pregnant, and Morgan felt a surge of protectiveness for this woman who would now have to raise her child alone.
"Mrs. Kirk?" Morgan asked gently, flashing her badge. "I'm Special Agent Cross, and this is my partner, Special Agent Greene. We're here to discuss your husband's case."
Francine Kirk wiped away her tears with the back of her hand and swallowed hard. "Of course," she said, her voice cracking with emotion. "Please, come in."
As they entered the warm, inviting home, Morgan couldn't help but be struck by the contrast between this cozy environment and the cold, sterile world of law enforcement that she inhabited. Every detail – from the family photos on the wall to the soft scent of vanilla candles – spoke of love and stability, things that Morgan had learned to live without.
The living room held a warm, comforting atmosphere, the soft glow of lamps casting a gentle light over the space. Francine gestured toward a polished wooden tray adorned with teacups and a steaming pot. "Would you like some tea?" she asked, her voice wavering.
Morgan and Derik exchanged a glance before shaking their heads in unison. "No, thank you," Morgan replied, her voice gentle but firm. "We won't be staying long."
"Please, have a seat," Francine urged, motioning to the plush couch adorned with colorful throw pillows. As they settled into the cushions, she took her place across from them in a matching armchair. She dabbed at her eyes with a tissue, her tear-streaked face reflecting the pain she was trying to hold back. "I'm sorry for crying so much," she apologized, her voice barely more than a whisper.
"Please don't apologize," Derik said, his tone soft and empathetic. "We're so sorry for your loss, Francine."
"Thank you," she murmured, her fingers fidgeting with the tissue in her lap.
"Steven must have meant a great deal to you," Morgan observed, studying the woman's sorrowful expression.
"More than words can say," Francine replied, her voice thick with emotion. "He was such a good man. He was working so hard to provide for us, especially with our baby on the way."
"Steven worked for Robert Tuck, correct?" Morgan asked, her mind already turning over potential leads.
"Yes, on his farm," Francine confirmed, nodding slowly. "He offered Steven the job, but he refused to put him on record."
"Did you know that he was working under the table?" Morgan probed, watching for any signs of deception.
Francine hesitated for a moment before nodding. "Yes, I knew," she admitted, her gaze dropping to the floor. "But Steven needed the money, and he didn't have many other options."
Morgan could sense the deep regret in Francine's voice, the unspoken wish that things had been different for her and her husband. As they continued their conversation, Morgan knew that unraveling the truth was more important than ever – for Steven, for Francine, and for the family they'd never have the chance to become.
"Steven had been trying to get Robert to put him on the books," Francine continued, her voice barely above a whisper. "He wanted higher pay, especially with our baby coming soon. Robert was even behind on paying Steven for some overtime he’d done."
Morgan and Derik exchanged a knowing glance, the same thought crossing both their minds. If Robert didn't want to pay Steven what he was owed, perhaps he'd taken drastic measures. But how would that explain Melissa's murder? Morgan frowned, aware that there were still many unanswered questions.
"Did Steven have any other issues with Robert, aside from the issues of payment?" Morgan asked, her gaze fixed on Francine.
"Not really," Francine replied, shaking her head. "But I always found Robert... off-putting. He's an angry man. I'd heard rumors that he used to beat his wife before she left him."
Morgan could see the concern in Francine's eyes, the fear that her husband had been working for someone so volatile. She sensed Francine's guilt at not having done more to protect Steven from the dangerous situation he'd found himself in.
Morgan placed a hand on Francine's knee, offering her a small measure of comfort. "You couldn't have known, Francine," she said softly. "Sometimes, people like Robert are very good at hiding their true selves."
"I just wish I had done something," Francine whispered, tears welling up in her eyes once again. "Maybe if I had spoken up sooner, Steven would still be alive."
Morgan felt a pang of sympathy for Francine as she struggled with guilt and grief. She understood all too well the weight of regret that could accompany such tragic events. But dwelling on the past wouldn't bring Steven back; finding justice was the only way to honor his memory.
"We're going to do everything we can to find out what happened to Steven and bring whoever is responsible to justice," Derik assured Francine, his voice filled with determination.
"I just wish I'd stopped him from taking that job," Francine admitted, her voice thick.
Morgan could feel the weight of Francine's sadness, the grief she held for her husband and the life they could have had. She knew that so much of this case revolved around the choices people made and the consequences that followed. But as she looked at Francine, Morgan couldn't help but wonder if sometimes, life dealt people a hand they could never hope to win.
"You couldn't have known what would happen," Derik said, breaking into Morgan's thoughts. "You thought you were doing what was best for your family."
Francine nodded, her body trembling slightly with a deep, emotional pain. "I know," she whispered, her voice barely audible. Francine's eyes met Morgan’s, and Morgan could see the flicker of hope in them. Hope for justice, for closure, for something to hold onto in the midst of the chaos that had become her life.
"Thank you," Francine said, her voice hoarse with emotion. Morgan nodded, her heart heavy with the weight of responsibility. "We'll do everything we can," she promised, before turning to leave.
As they walked back to the car, Morgan's mind raced with the possibilities.
Robert Tuck was clearly capable of violence, and with the secrets surrounding Steven's employment, there was no telling what he might be hiding.
***
Back at the precinct, Morgan and Derik escorted Robert into the sterile interrogation room. The harsh fluorescent lights above cast an unforgiving glare on his rough features as he sat down, his jaw clenched in defiance. Morgan didn't have time for any bullshit. Especially after meeting Steven's pregnant wife, Morgan couldn't stomach the idea that Robert had senselessly killed him.
"Let's get this straight, Robert," Morgan began, her eyes narrowing as she assessed him. "You claim you never hurt Steven, but you didn't want to pay your employee what he was worth, even with a baby on the way?”
Robert scoffed, his voice dripping with contempt. "That's none of your damn business. Steven knew what he was getting into when he took the job."
Morgan leaned forward, her gaze piercing through him. "Oh, I think it is my business when a man ends up dead under suspicious circumstances," she retorted, her voice laced with steel. "You thought you could take advantage of him, didn't you? Pay him under the table, make him work overtime without compensation. But things got messy, didn't they?"
Robert's fists clenched, his face turning red with anger. "I didn't kill him," he growled through gritted teeth.
Morgan's eyes narrowed even further, her tone unwavering. "We have evidence that Steven confronted you about the unpaid overtime. Did things escalate? Did you resort to violence?"
But Robert remained defiant, his face contorted with rage. "You can't prove anything," he spat.
"I have ways of getting the truth out," Morgan replied calmly, a glint of determination in her eyes. She reached down and pulled a folder from the table, opening it to reveal photographs of bruised and battered bodies from past cases. "I've dealt with men like you before, Robert. They always slip up eventually."
A flicker of fear crossed Robert's eyes, but he quickly masked it with a defiant smirk. "You think you scare me? You don't know what I'm capable of," he taunted.
Morgan leaned back in her chair, her expression unfazed. "Maybe not. But I do know that justice will prevail in the end."
Derik, who had been observing silently from the corner of the room, stepped forward. His voice was calm yet stern as he added, "Robert, the evidence against you is mounting. We have witnesses who heard Steven confront you about the unpaid overtime. We have records of your consistent pattern of under-the-table employment. And we also have reason to believe that there might be something more sinister at play here."
Robert's smug demeanor faltered for a moment, but he quickly regained his composure. "Sinister? You've got nothing on me," he sneered.
Morgan leaned forward again, her eyes narrowing into icy slits. "Funny you should say that. Because we've uncovered some interesting information about your past, Robert," she said, her voice dripping with accusation.
The room fell silent as Morgan continued to stare at Robert, waiting for his reaction. She knew she had hit a nerve. She could almost see the fear bubbling beneath the surface of his confident facade.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Robert's smirk faltered. His eyes darted around the room, searching for an escape route, but finding none. Morgan could see the panic in his eyes, a glimmer of self-doubt creeping through the cracks in his bravado.
"Tell me, Robert," Morgan pressed, her voice steady and relentless. "What happened to your wife? The woman you used to beat?"
Robert's face contorted in anger, his fists clenched even tighter. "That's none of your goddamn business!" he spat, his voice laced with venom.
He was showing his true colors at last.
Morgan felt her anger and frustration rise within her as she recalled Francine's tear-streaked face, the pain of losing her husband so palpable. She couldn't let this man slip through their fingers if he was guilty. Her voice grew more aggressive as she addressed Robert again.
"Listen, Steven had a kid on the way. His wife is pregnant, and now she's going to be all alone because of what happened to him," she snapped. "If you murdered him just to avoid paying him, you better fess up, because we will find out."
Robert bristled at her tone, his eyes finally meeting hers. "I didn't have anything to do with it," he maintained stubbornly. "I was inside when it happened. Didn't even know what was going on until the cops showed up. Like I've said, you have nothing on me!"
Morgan's suspicions deepened as she considered this information. A passerby had called in the death, not Robert. Why hadn't he been the one to discover Steven's body?
Was he simply trying to distance himself from the crime?
Morgan's eyes bored into Robert's, her jaw set with determination. She needed to find a crack in his story, something that would give them the lead they so desperately needed. With a swift motion, she reached into her folder and pulled out a photograph. It was an image of Melissa Grayson, her red hair cascading down her shoulders.
"Have you ever seen this woman before?" Morgan asked, her voice cold and unyielding as she placed the photo on the table between them.
Robert glanced at the picture briefly before shaking his head. "No," he said simply, his face devoid of any reaction.
Morgan could feel frustration bubbling up within her but didn't let it show. Instead, she leaned in closer, trying to read any hint of deception in his eyes. The dim light from the overhead lamp glinted off the dark ink of her tattoos as she moved.
"Her name is Melissa Grayson," Morgan said, her tone steady. "She was found murdered a few days ago, a red feather left on her body. Now we have another victim, your employee Steven, found dead with two feathers clutched in his hands. Do you see a connection, Robert?"
Robert's gaze flickered between Morgan and the photo, his expression remaining stubbornly impassive. "I don't know anything about that other woman or any connection," he insisted, folding his arms across his chest defensively.
Morgan could sense that Robert was holding something back. His body language, the way his eyes shifted, it all screamed guilt. She leaned back in her chair, studying him intently, determined to break through his facade.
"Robert, you need to understand the gravity of the situation here," Morgan said sharply. "Two people are dead, and there's a pattern emerging. The feathers, the brutality of the murders... It's not a coincidence."
Robert's jaw tightened, his eyes narrowing. "I already told you, I don't know anything about that woman," he growled.
Morgan stopped, studying the man before her. While the connection between Robert and Steven was obvious, his connection to Melissa was not so much. Morgan had to admit, in her research, she'd found nothing linking Melissa Grayson to Robert Tuck at all.
The thought made her pause. Robert was definitely a piece of shit, and abusive. He may have had motive to kill Steven, but... Morgan saw no motive to kill Melissa, especially not first, unless he was some sort of criminal mastermind who had murdered someone else in order to create a fake serial killer, and get away with Steven's murder.
Was she expected to believe this aggressive farmer was capable of that? That he was some criminal mastermind?
She hated to admit it, but she needed to get more evidence, something to draw Robert to Melissa. For now, she had nothing, but she couldn't let him know that.
Morgan leaned forward, her voice dripping with a mix of frustration and determination. "You know, Robert, we have ways of finding the truth. And if you think we won't dig deeper into your life to find any connections or evidence, you're sorely mistaken. We'll uncover every dark secret you have."
Robert's smug facade faltered, a flicker of unease crossing his eyes. Morgan had hit a nerve. She could see the fear creeping over him, a crack forming in the wall of his confidence.
With a voice as cold as ice, Robert replied, "You can dig all you want, but you won't find anything connecting me to that woman."
Morgan clenched her fists, feeling the heat of anger rising in her chest. As she stormed out of the interrogation room, Derik followed closely behind her. They needed to regroup and strategize their next steps, but Morgan knew one thing for certain: they were far from done with Robert Tuck. And until they found the truth, she wouldn't rest – not while there was a killer on the loose, leaving a trail of feathers and broken lives in their wake.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Morgan sat in her dimly lit office, alone in the stillness of the FBI headquarters. The door was closed, but she could hear the faint hum of the air conditioning system. Her gaze drifted to the clock on the wall; it read 11:47 PM. She sighed and leaned back in her chair, rubbing her tired eyes. Tonight, she wasn't going home. Not when Skunk was missing, and she still had so much work to do.
She glanced at the file on her desk, which contained information about Robert Tuck, the farmer currently in custody. He might be the killer, but something didn't add up. A nagging thought in the back of her mind made her hesitate, as she couldn't see a clear connection between him and Melissa, the first victim. Morgan's dark, tattooed arms folded across her chest, deep in thought.
"Robert, why would you target Melissa?" she murmured to herself, letting out an exasperated sigh. Morgan knew that the answer wouldn't just magically appear, so she turned her attention to her computer, opening a new tab and diving into Melissa's social media presence.
Fingers flew across the keyboard as she browsed through Melissa's online following, searching for any hint of a connection to Robert Tuck. But the deeper she delved, the more she became convinced that the old farmer had no place in the digital world. It just didn't make sense for him to target someone like Melissa.
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