CHAPTER FIFTEEN

They burst through the back door, emerging into a maze of narrow alleys that snaked behind the pawn shop. Trevino was already halfway down the alley, his feet pounding against the pavement as he ran.

Morgan and Derik surged forward, their hearts racing, adrenaline pumping through their veins. The alleys were a labyrinth, twisting and turning, lined with dumpsters and fire escapes. Trevino darted around a corner, and they followed, refusing to let him out of their sight.

He's fast, Morgan thought, her breath coming in short, sharp bursts. But we're faster.

They navigated the urban obstacle course, leaping over discarded boxes, dodging around corners, never losing sight of their target. Trevino was quick, desperation fueling his flight, but Morgan and Derik were relentless.

At one point, Trevino veered onto a busy street, dodging between moving cars as he sprinted across. Horns blared, tires screeched, but he didn't slow. Morgan and Derik followed, their badges glinting in the sunlight as they wove through the traffic.

"FBI! Move!" Derik shouted, his voice cutting through the chaos.

They reached the other side, plunging back into the alleys. Trevino was tiring, his pace beginning to falter. Morgan could see it in the hitch of his stride, the heaving of his shoulders.

Just a little further, she urged silently, pushing herself harder, faster.

Ahead, Trevino made a sharp turn, disappearing from view. Morgan and Derik rounded the corner, ready for anything.

Except the sudden dead end. Their target was gone. The blind alley stretched out in front of them, a towering brick wall looming at the end.

Morgan skidded to a halt, her eyes scanning the surroundings. "Where the hell--"

Above them, the rickety fire escape rattled, pieces of rusted metal clattering onto the pavement below.

"Up!" Derik pointed, already backing up for a running start. He jumped, his fingers closing over the lowest rung of the fire escape ladder. With a grunt of effort, he pulled himself up and began to ascend.

Morgan was on his heels in seconds, her prison-hardened muscles powering her upward with ease. Up they went, the rusty steps protesting under their weight.

She could see Trevino now, two stories above them, clambering onto the rooftop with the desperation of a cornered animal. His panic echoed hers from ten years ago, when she'd been trapped in a frame and left to rot in prison by an enemy she hadn’t even known she had.

With that thought fueling her determination, Morgan pushed herself harder.

Trevino reached the rooftop just as Derik hauled himself over the top rung of the ladder. He took off running again across the rooftop, but Derik was close behind.

Morgan reached the rooftop a few seconds later, her lungs burning as she broke into a sprint. The wind whipped against her face, whistling through the surrounding skyscrapers, the city stretching out below them in a dizzying panorama of steel and glass.

Derik was gaining on Trevino, his longer strides eating up the distance between them. Morgan followed, her gaze riveted on their fleeing quarry.

"There's nowhere to run!" Derik shouted, his voice carrying over the rush of the wind.

Trevino's desperation was palpable as he darted around an air vent, stumbling towards the edge of the rooftop. He skidded to a stop at the last moment, teetering on the brink as he looked down at the dizzying drop below.

"You're done running, Marcus," Morgan called out as she came up behind Derik. "We just want to talk."

She could see Trevino trembling from where she stood, his chest heaving as he wrestled with his options. There was a wild glint in his eyes that sent a jolt of apprehension through her.

"Marcus," Derik started slowly, inching forward with his hands outstretched in a placating gesture. "Don't do anything stupid."

Trevino's gaze flicked between Morgan and Derik, his brow drenched in sweat. "You don't understand," he said, his voice choked with fear, "They'll kill me."

"Who'll kill you, Marcus?" Morgan demanded, her voice sharp despite the swirling sense of unease threatening to unbalance her.

“T-the ones who sent you,” Trevino stammered.

“We’re FBI agents, Marcus,” Morgan said. “We don’t know what you’re talking about. Please, just come with us and we can get this all sorted out.”

Trevino's eyes narrowed, a mixture of paranoia and fear etched on his face. He watched as both Morgan and Derik took another step forward, the wind whipping around them. The all too familiar glow in their eyes- an unwavering determination to finish the chase mirrored his own resolve. But it wasn't the end he'd hoped for, no, not with his back against the edge.

She could see him considering her words. His eyes flickered to the badge she held out - her testament to truth, to justice - then back to her eyes again. There was a silent plea for trust in them, one that Marcus seemed to weigh against his fear.

“Okay,” Marcus said, stepping toward them. “Okay.”

***

At the FBI building, they led Trevino inside, ignoring the curious glances from their colleagues. Morgan could feel the weight of their expectations, the pressure to solve this case.

In the interrogation room, Trevino sat across from them, his hands cuffed to the table. The harsh fluorescent light cast shadows across his face, making him look older, more haggard.

"Why did you run, Marcus?" Morgan asked, leaning forward. "What are you afraid of?"

Trevino's eyes darted between them, his jaw clenched. "I didn't do anything," he insisted, his voice rough. "I swear."

"Then why run?" Derik pressed, his tone sharp. "Innocent men don't flee from the FBI."

Trevino's shoulders slumped, his head bowing. "I...I can't," he whispered, his voice cracking. "They'll kill me."

Morgan's pulse quickened. "Who, Marcus? Who are you afraid of?"

But Trevino just shook his head, his lips pressed into a thin line. "I can't," he repeated, his eyes pleading. "Please, you don't understand..."

Morgan exchanged a glance with Derik, her mind racing. Someone had Trevino terrified, and they needed to find out who.

She leaned in closer, her voice low and intense. "Marcus, listen to me. We can protect you, but only if you talk to us. Tell us what you know."

Trevino hesitated, his eyes searching hers. For a moment, Morgan thought he might break, might spill everything.

But then his jaw tightened, his gaze hardening. "I want a lawyer," he said flatly, his voice devoid of emotion. "I'm not saying anything else."

Morgan sat back, frustration surging through her. They'd been so close, but now Trevino was shutting down, retreating behind a wall of silence.

The silence in the interrogation room was suffocating. Morgan paced the floor, her mind whirring, trying to piece together the fragments of information they had. Trevino sat hunched in his chair, his eyes fixed on the table, his face a mask of fear and defiance.

Derik leaned against the wall, his arms crossed, his expression thoughtful. "We need to dig deeper," he said quietly, his gaze meeting Morgan's. "There has to be something we're missing."

Morgan nodded, her jaw tight. She knew Derik was right, but the frustration was eating at her. They were so close, yet every lead seemed to slip through their fingers like smoke.

She turned back to Trevino, her voice sharp. "Your lawyer's on the way," she said, her tone making it clear she wasn't happy about it. "But you need to think long and hard about what you're doing. If you know something, if you're protecting someone, it's only a matter of time before we find out."

Trevino's gaze flickered to hers, a flash of uncertainty in his eyes. But then he looked away, his mouth set in a stubborn line.

Morgan sighed, rubbing a hand over her face. She could feel the exhaustion tugging at her, the long hours and endless dead ends taking their toll.

She glanced at Derik, seeing the same weariness in his eyes, the same grim determination. They were in this together, no matter what.

A knock at the door broke the silence. An officer poked his head in, his expression apologetic. "Trevino's lawyer is here," he said, stepping aside to let a sharp-eyed woman in a crisp suit enter the room.

Morgan's heart sank. With the lawyer present, their chances of getting anything out of Trevino had just plummeted.

But she wasn't ready to admit defeat. Not yet.

She met the lawyer's gaze, her own eyes hard. "Your client is involved in a murder investigation," she said bluntly, her voice brooking no argument. "If he has information that could help us find the killer, he needs to come forward. Now."

The lawyer's expression didn't waver. "My client has nothing to say," she said coolly, placing a hand on Trevino's shoulder. "And unless you have evidence linking him to these crimes, this interrogation is over."

Morgan opened her mouth to argue, but Derik's hand on her arm stopped her. She glanced at him, saw the warning in his eyes.

She took a deep breath, forcing herself to step back. "This isn't over," she said, her voice low and intense. "We will find out the truth, one way or another."

Then she turned on her heel and strode out of the room, Derik following close behind.

As the door closed behind them, Morgan leaned against the wall, her eyes closing briefly. "What now?" she asked, her voice tight with frustration. "We're back to square one."

As they walked out of the FBI building, the crisp autumn air hit Morgan's face, a stark contrast to the stuffy interrogation room. She took a deep breath, trying to clear her head. The tattoos on her arms seemed to itch, a constant reminder of the years she'd lost, the injustice she'd suffered.

"I just don't get it," she said, frustration seeping into her voice. "If Trevino isn't our guy, then who is? And what's the connection to his pawn shop?"

Derik shrugged, his hands in his pockets. "I don't know. But we'll figure it out. We always do."

Morgan wished she could share his confidence. But after so many dead ends, so many false leads, it was getting harder and harder to keep the faith.

“I say we go back to Evan Rhodes’s apartment,” Morgan said. “Maybe there’s something we missed there.”