CHAPTER ELEVEN

The faint light of dawn crept through the blinds, casting long shadows across the mess of papers strewn across the conference table. Morgan's eyes burned from staring at crime scene photos for hours on end. She rubbed her temples, willing away the headache that threatened to derail her focus.

"Three victims, three prodigies, three addicts," she muttered, more to herself than to Derik. "But no goddamn connection."

Derik looked up from the file he was poring over, his green eyes bloodshot from lack of sleep. "Maybe we're looking at this all wrong," he said, running a hand through his usually slicked-back hair. "What if the connection isn't between them, but with the killer?"

Morgan leaned back in her chair, her tattooed arms crossed over her chest. The idea had merit, but it made her skin crawl. "An outsider," she said slowly, the pieces starting to click into place. "Someone watching from afar, obsessed with their potential and their fall."

"Exactly," Derik nodded, a spark of excitement in his tired eyes. "A stalker who chose them for what they represent, not who they were."

Morgan stood up abruptly, pacing the length of the room. Her mind raced, connecting dots that had eluded them for days. "It's sick," she spat out. "This bastard's playing judge, jury, and executioner for people he's never even met."

Morgan's tattooed fingers drummed against the desk, her dark eyes narrowing as she stared at the crime scene photos. The silence in the room was thick, broken only by the faint hum of the air conditioning and the rustling of papers.

"What if," she said, her voice low and gravelly from lack of sleep, "we're looking at this all wrong?" She turned to Derik, who was nursing his third cup of coffee. "What if the killer isn't just some random psycho, but someone who sees themselves in these victims?"

Derik raised an eyebrow, focusing on her. "Go on."

Morgan stood, pacing the length of the room. "Think about it. All these victims were prodigies, right? But they all fell from grace. What if our killer was once like them? A brilliant mind that got lost in addiction?"

She stopped at the board, tapping Lila's photo. "Maybe they see these victims as reflections of themselves. And now they're lashing out, punishing those who couldn't overcome their demons."

Derik nodded slowly, his tired face lighting up with understanding. "It fits. The symbolic calling cards, the meticulous selection of victims. It's like the killer is saying, 'Look what you could have been.'"

"Exactly," Morgan said, a grim smile on her face. "It's twisted, but it makes sense. The killer feels like they're part of this... this club of fallen geniuses. And now they're playing judge, jury, and executioner."

Derik stood up, joining her at the board. "So we're looking for someone who was once at the top of their field, but fell hard. Someone who managed to claw their way back, but is still haunted by their past."

Morgan nodded, her mind racing. "Someone who resents those who couldn't do the same. It's a warped sense of justice, punishing those who, in the killer's eyes, didn't fight hard enough."

As she spoke, Morgan couldn't help but feel a chill run down her spine. The idea of someone passing judgment, deciding who deserved to live or die, hit too close to home. She thought of her own wrongful conviction, of the years stolen from her by someone who decided she was guilty.

Morgan's eyes narrowed as she stared at the case board, the victims' faces staring back at her. "Dr. Reid," she muttered, tapping her finger against Lila and Simon's photos. "He's the common denominator we can't ignore."

Derik leaned in, his brow furrowed. "But his alibi checked out. He couldn't have been directly involved."

"Maybe not directly," Morgan replied, her mind racing. "But what if the killer is connected to him somehow? Another patient, perhaps?"

She turned to Derik, her dark eyes glinting with determination. "We need to go back to Reid's office. Find out if Evan Rhodes was ever a patient there too."

***

The sky was painted in soft hues of pink and orange as they pulled up outside Dr. Reid's office. Morgan killed the engine, her fingers drumming restlessly on the steering wheel.

"If Rhodes was a patient," she mused, "it could explain how the killer chose his victims. Reid might be unknowingly holding the key to this whole mess."

Derik nodded, his green eyes scanning the quiet street. "And if he wasn't?"

Morgan's lips tightened. "Then we're dealing with someone even more meticulous. Someone who's been studying these prodigies from afar, tracking their falls from grace."

They stepped out of the car, the cool morning air nipping at their skin. Morgan crossed her arms, her tattoos peeking out from beneath her sleeves. She felt exposed, standing there in the open, waiting for answers that might not come.

"You know," Derik said softly, breaking the silence, "this case... it's hitting close to home for you, isn't it?"

Morgan tensed, her guard immediately going up. "What do you mean?"

Derik's gaze was gentle, understanding. "Prodigies who lost their way, people passing judgment... it's not exactly unfamiliar territory for you."

She let out a long breath, forcing herself to relax. "Yeah, well, let's just focus on catching this bastard before he decides who else doesn't deserve a second chance."

As they stood outside and waited for Dr. Reid to arrive, Morgan couldn't shake the feeling that they were on the verge of something big. Whether it would lead them to the killer or just more questions, she couldn't say. But one thing was certain – the clock was ticking, and somewhere out there, another fallen star might be in the crosshairs.

The crunch of gravel under tires snapped Morgan's attention to the approaching car. Dr. Reid's silver car slid into a parking spot, its engine cutting off with a soft purr. Morgan's eyes narrowed as the therapist emerged, his usual composed demeanor visibly shaken.

"Well, would you look at that," she muttered to Derik. "Our good doctor seems a bit rattled this morning."

Dr. Reid's gaze locked onto them, a flicker of unease crossing his face before he managed a strained smile. "Agents," he called out, his voice steady but lacking its usual warmth. "What brings you here so early?"

Morgan stepped forward, her stance casual but ready. "Just a few more questions, Doc. Mind if we step inside?"

Dr. Reid hesitated, his hand trembling slightly as he reached for his keys. "Of course, of course. Though I'm not sure what else I can tell you."

As they followed him into the building, Morgan's mind raced. Was his nervousness just the natural reaction of an innocent man faced with persistent law enforcement, or was there something more?

Inside the polished office, the air felt thick with tension. Morgan settled into a chair, her gaze never leaving Dr. Reid as he took his seat behind the desk.

"Dr. Reid," she began, cutting straight to the chase, "have you ever treated a patient named Evan Rhodes?"

The therapist's brow furrowed in concentration. After a moment, he shook his head. "No, I'm afraid that name doesn't ring a bell. May I ask why?"

Morgan studied him carefully, searching for any sign of deception. But there was nothing – no hesitation, no tell-tale fidgeting. Either Dr. Reid was an exceptional liar, or he truly had never heard of Evan Rhodes.

"He's our latest victim," Derik explained, his voice gentle but firm. "We were hoping to find a connection between him and the others."

Dr. Reid's eyes widened. "Another one? That's... that's terrible. I wish I could be of more help."

Morgan leaned back, her mind working furiously. If Evan wasn't connected to Dr. Reid, then their theory about the killer targeting the doctor's patients was falling apart. But something still felt off. Morgan's eyes narrowed, her tattooed fingers drumming against the arm of her chair. Dr. Reid's answer hadn't satisfied her. There was more here, just beyond her grasp.

"Let's approach this from a different angle," she said, her voice carrying an edge honed by years behind bars. "Have you treated any other patients who fit the profile of Lila and Simon? Former prodigies who lost their way?"

Dr. Reid's brow furrowed, the lines on his face deepening. He opened his mouth, then closed it, clearly wrestling with something internal. Morgan leaned forward, her instincts on high alert.

"Doctor," she pressed, "if there's something you're not telling us—"

"No, no," Dr. Reid interrupted, raising a hand. "It's not that. I'm just... considering patient confidentiality." He sighed heavily. "There is one name that comes to mind. Victor Harmon."

Morgan exchanged a quick glance with Derik. "Tell us about him," she urged.

Dr. Reid leaned back in his chair, his eyes distant. "Victor was... exceptional. A writer of immense talent. His novels and essays were critically acclaimed, beloved by readers worldwide."

"Was?" Morgan prompted.

"Yes, well," Dr. Reid continued, "Victor's life took a dark turn. Drugs. His addiction decimated his career, left him spiraling."

Morgan's mind raced, drawing parallels between Victor and their victims. "But he was your patient. Did he recover?"

Dr. Reid nodded slowly. "Unlike Lila and Simon, Victor managed to turn things around. After extensive rehabilitation, he reinvented himself as a public speaker on addiction. He travels the country now, sharing his story of redemption, but mostly is based here in Dallas.”

As Dr. Reid spoke, Morgan couldn't shake a growing unease. A former prodigy, fallen from grace, now preaching about overcoming addiction? It was too perfect, too convenient.

"Do you have any way to contact Victor?" she asked, fighting to keep her voice neutral.

Dr. Reid hesitated. "I... I suppose I could find his information. But surely you don't think—"

"We just want to talk to him," Morgan interrupted, her tone brooking no argument. "He might have insights that could help our investigation."

As Dr. Reid reluctantly reached for his files, Morgan caught Derik's eye. They both knew they had stumbled onto something significant. Whether Victor Harmon was their killer or not, he was undoubtedly a piece of this twisted puzzle.

And Morgan was determined to solve it, no matter where the trail might lead.

Morgan's fingers tapped an impatient rhythm on her thigh as she waited for Dr. Reid to dig up Victor Harmon's contact information. The office suddenly felt claustrophobic, the walls closing in with each passing second. She could feel Derik's eyes on her, knew he was reading the tension in her shoulders.

"Here it is," Dr. Reid said, holding out a slip of paper.

Morgan snatched it, her eyes scanning the information. "Thank you, Dr. Reid. We'll be in touch if we need anything else."

As they stepped out into the crisp morning air, Morgan let out a long breath. "What are you thinking?" Derik asked, his voice low.

She turned to him, her dark eyes glinting with a mix of determination and something darker. "I'm thinking we've got our guy, or at least someone who knows a hell of a lot more than he should."

Derik raised an eyebrow. "You really think a motivational speaker could be our killer?"

"Why not?" Morgan countered, her voice edged with bitterness. "You and I both know how good people can be at hiding their true selves." She didn't need to elaborate; they both knew she was referring to her own past, the betrayal that had landed her in prison.

As they walked to their car, Morgan's mind raced. "Think about it," she continued. "A former addict, once brilliant, now 'redeemed.' What if it's all a facade? What if, deep down, he resents those who couldn't climb out of the hole he did?"

Derik nodded slowly, considering. "It's possible. But we need more than just a hunch."

"I know," Morgan agreed, sliding into the driver's seat. "We need to dig into every aspect of Victor Harmon's life. His speaking engagements, his financials, his social media. Hell, I want to know what brand of toilet paper he uses."

As she started the car, Morgan felt a familiar fire igniting in her gut. It was the same feeling she'd had when she'd started piecing together the conspiracy that had framed her. "We're close, Derik. I can feel it."

Derik reached over, squeezing her hand. "We'll get him, Morgan. Whatever it takes."

She nodded, her jaw set. As they pulled away from Dr. Reid's office, Morgan couldn't shake the feeling that they were on the precipice of something big. Whether Victor Harmon was their killer or not, she was determined to uncover the truth, no matter where it led.