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She sensed that if there were memories of prison on thatother side, surely there must be other memories.
As if summoned by the mere thought of such memories, Morgancaught the flicking image of her father. He was helping her into a smallaluminum boat as she held a fishing rod. Morgan knew the day she was remembering,and her heart filled with a little flood of joy as she allowed herself to peekin at that memory.
She’d never been good at fishing. She’d never really hadthe patience. But that day out on the river had been perfect. Nothing of anyreal significance had happened, but it was one of the happiest days of herlife. And in that dark, disconnected place, she let herself sink into it.
As she was lost in that memory, Morgan felt a warmthenvelop her. But it wasn’t the warmth of the sun or the feeling of a summerbreeze. It was a warmth that came from something else—someone else. It was areminder that in the real world, she wasn’t alone in the cave. But she didn’twant to face that. She did everything she could to bring back the memory ofthat little fishing trip with her father.
But that memory shifted, as memories often do. She was ina hospital room, holding her mother’s hand. There were tubes and machinesbeeping around them and her mother’s face was pale and drawn. Morgan could feelthe sadness and the grief like a physical weight on her chest.
And then the memory shifted again, quick and jarring. Shewas in a cemetery, standing over a small gravestone. The sun was shining downon her, and the grass was green, but Morgan couldn’t shake off the feeling ofsadness that washed over her like a wave.
But that train of memory was soon interrupted as she felta sharp stinging pain in her left wrist. Her eyes shot open, and she gasped, tryingto sit up. She just barely saw Samson, a murky shape in the darkness.
“What…what are you doing?” she asked, her voice hoarseand weak. She started using her right hand to feel around for her Glock, hopingit was within her reach.
Samson leaned in, his face almost touching hers. “It’stime, Agent Cross,” he said, his voice low and intense.
She looked into his face and saw the last ten years. Shesaw his features, the worn down, crazy look of him. But his blue eyes weresincere somehow. He had no idea that what he was doing was insane. She wasalmost let down by how normal he looked.
Morgan tried to pull away from him, but her body stillfelt sluggish from the attack. “Time for what?” she asked, her eyes narrowingas she locked onto his gaze.
Samson didn’t answer. Instead he reached out and brusheda stray strand of hair from her face. Morgan shuddered at his touch, but at thesame time, she couldn’t help but feel almost drawn to him…not in any romanticor respectful way. No, there was something else. Some sort of connection shefelt between them. This was the man she’d been chasing for so long, the manthat had felt like a failure hanging over her head during her decade in prison.There was something about the way he looked at her, as if he knew her betterthan anyone else ever could.
Morgan’s heart raced as she looked down at her wrist, seeingthe open wound and the blood staining the floor. Dimly, she had an idea of whatthis meant…she knew what Samson was planning to do. She guessed he had plansfor her to somehow be part of the closing of his ritual.
“You have to know this is insanity,” she said. “You’re nomessiah. You’re a murderer, plain and simple.”
But Samson only laughed. He made no move to come to her,apparently feeling confident that she wasn’t interested in fighting him in thatmoment. “I’ve never claimed to be a messiah, Agent Cross. I’m a prophet. And I’mhere to bring about the end of this world and the start of a much better one.”
Morgan’s heart sank as she realized the full extent ofSamson’s delusion. He truly believed he was doing the right thing…that he wasplaying a part in some sort of divine plan.
And now, he was about to sacrifice her for it.
Of course, she had no intention of allowing that tohappen. Even if she couldn’t find the Glock, she had no problem imaginingherself beating the hell out of him. She’d felt his strength when he’d grabbed herfrom behind and choked her out. But this time, he wouldn’t take her bysurprise. And face-to-face, with no real advantage other than whatever he’d cuther with, she liked her chances.
“Before this happens, I’d like to tell you why you endedup in prison.”
That simple comment disarmed her.
She moved slightly, propping herself on her rightforearm. She tested her left arm while doing it, not sure how deep the cut was.There was still a stinging pain there, but she had function of the limb, atthat was the important thing.
“You made it look like I was helping you,” she said. “Youmade it—”
“Oh, no, no…not me. No, Agent Cross. I did indeed murderthat fourth victim. I will gladly and proudly admit to that. But here’s alittle secret. The night I enacted the fourth sign, there was someone elsethere that night, in her house. I thought I was going to have to kill them,too. But they simply stepped out of my way and let me continue my work.”
“Bullshit. I don’t believe you.”
“Oh, I don’t care one way or the other. But if you thinkvery hard about it…I needed you to make sure I had a driving force. You made mebetter at what I did. You made me want to ensure I gave this work everything.Without you on my trail, I had no real push. I’d be just another maniac outthere killing people.” It was dim in the chamber, but she managed to see hissmile when he added: “Think about it, Agent Cross. Why do you think I stoppedmy work when you were away? I needed you. The last thing I would have ever wantedwas for you to go to prison. While you waited, I waited. We need one another,you and I. For this work to be finished, we have to work together.”
Morgan felt momentarily sick. He was right. While shedidn’t buy a single aspect of what Samson considered “his work,” it did alwaysstrike her as odd that he’d stopped when she was in prison. It made her wonderhow early into his series of murders he had decided he wanted her to be thefinal act.
“Who was it?”
“Oh, I don’t know that. They were gone when I was done.”
“And how did you make it look like I did it? Why was Iframed?”
“I just told you,” he said. “I don’t know. It wasn’t me.I never did it. I neverwouldhave. Did you not hear what I said justnow? Ineededyou.”
