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Ella swallowedhard, her throat tight with fear. "You're...you're young andh-handsome," she stammered, trying to keep the tremor out of her voice.But even as the words left her lips, she knew they rang hollow - and so did he.
"Liars don'tfare well in my company," he hissed, his eyes narrowing dangerously."Why would you lie to me?"
"I-I'msorry," she cried, tears streaming down her face. "I didn't mean to. Please,I'll tell the truth, I swear."
"Too latefor that now," he replied coldly, raising the scalpel high above his head."Time to find out what happens to liars."
"No!"Ella yelled, but it was too late.
The masked man'sritual had begun.
CHAPTERTHIRTEEN
Morgan pulled upto a sleek, modern house on the outskirts of Dallas. The sun glinted off theglass façade, a stark contrast to the traditional mansions she had visitedearlier in her investigation. The house was smaller but still radiated wealthand power. She took a deep breath and stepped out of her car, feeling theweight of her past in every step.
Another victimhad been claimed.
As much as Morganhad tried to find answers, she had been too late, too off. And now someone elsewas dead.
She cursed herselffor not acting fast enough.
"AgentCross," a uniformed officer greeted her as she approached the entrance."I'm Officer Reynolds. Let me show you inside."
"Thank you,Officer," Morgan replied, tucking a strand of dark hair behind her ear asshe followed him through the front door.
The interior ofthe house was as different from the previous victims' homes as its exterior.Soaring ceilings and floor-to-ceiling windows filled the space with naturallight, highlighting the bold, modern art adorning the walls. Morgan's eyes weredrawn to a giant photograph dominating one wall; it depicted a young woman withan intense, piercing gaze.
"Who'sthat?" Morgan asked, subtly gesturing towards the photo.
"Ah, thatwould be Ella Van Sant, our victim." Officer Reynolds paused, taking amoment to study the self-portrait before continuing. "She was quite theinfluencer. She had a large following online and was known for her artistictalents."
Morgan studiedthe photo, trying to connect the vibrant young woman staring back at her withthe lifeless body she would soon examine. Despite having seen countless crimescenes over the years, the thought still sent a shiver down her spine. Shecouldn't help but wonder what could have possibly led someone to target such ayoung woman like Ella. Was this really the same killer? Both Sheryl and Bethanyhad been over forty. Ella was wealthy, but she was still a deviation from theprofile.
"Let's seethe body," she said, steeling herself for the gruesome scene that awaitedher. As she followed Officer Reynolds deeper into the house, her mind racedwith possibilities, but she knew better than to let her imagination run wild.Facts and evidence would lead her to the truth – even if the path was a darkand twisted one.
Officer Reynoldsled Morgan into the living room, where Ella's lifeless body lay sprawled acrossthe floor. Even with years of experience under her belt, Morgan couldn't helpbut flinch at the sight before her. Ella's once-beautiful face was twisted andmutilated, pulled into a grotesque, makeshift facelift that bore an eerieresemblance to the previous victims.
"Jesus,"Morgan breathed, swallowing the bile that threatened to rise in her throat. Shecrouched down beside Ella's body, careful not to disturb any evidence as sheexamined the horrifying scene. "This is definitely our guy – same MO asthe other two. Except for her age."
"That'sright," Officer Reynolds said, his voice tight with tension. "Fromwhat I understand, Ella Van Sant was only twenty-three. The other two victimswere over forty."
Morgan frowned,her mind racing with questions. Why would the killer change targets sodrastically? Did they know Ella personally, or was this simply a matter ofopportunity?
"Did Ellaever get plastic surgery?" Morgan asked, hoping to find a connectionbetween her and the other victims.
"Accordingto our records, no," Reynolds replied, shaking his head. "We lookedinto it, based on your running theory, but there's no indication she ever hadany work done."
"Then whyher?" Morgan mused aloud, her brow furrowing in frustration. The piecesweren't fitting together. She glanced around the room, taking in the lavishsurroundings and expensive art that adorned the walls – none of which seemed tooffer any answers.
"Maybe it'sa message," suggested Officer Reynolds hesitantly. "You know, likehe's trying to tell us something."
"Or maybeit's just random," Morgan countered, her voice edged with bitterness.She'd seen enough senseless violence in her time to know that sometimes, therewas no rhyme or reason behind a killer's actions. But these killings were notrandom crimes of passion. They were deliberate, staged. There was definitely amessage here, something to do with women's faces, but Morgan failed to see whatit was. Both Sheryl and Bethany had work done, but if Ella didn't... then whyher? The change in MO made Morgan's head spin.
As she stared atElla's mutilated face, Morgan felt an unshakable sense of dread wash over her.She could almost see the killer's twisted grin as he cut into his victim,savoring every moment of her pain and terror. Whoever this monster was, heclearly wouldn't stop until he was caught.
"Let's getthis crime scene wrapped up," Morgan said, pushing herself to her feet."I want to find this bastard before he strikes again."
***
