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"Afacelift?"
"That's allI know," Derik said. "You should go see Mueller, and he’ll give youthe low-down. I'm on the case too, but I need you to be my legs."
Morgan knew shehad the skills and experience to help bring the killer to justice, but thethought of returning to the Bureau filled her with dread. The walls she hadbuilt to protect herself threatened to crumble under the weight of herdecision.
Can I eventrust you, Derik? she thought, her eyes flicking tohis face. It was a question she couldn't voice aloud, not without revealing theevidence she had found in his house. But it gnawed at her like a hungry beast,consuming her from the inside out.
"Look, Iwish I could be there myself," Derik said, wincing as he tried to sit up alittle straighter in the hospital bed. His face was still pale, and the darkcircles under his green eyes revealed the extent of his exhaustion. "ButI'm not well enough yet to leave the hospital. It's only been a couple of dayssince that bastard nearly bled me out."
Morgan felt afamiliar pang of guilt as she remembered Derik in that movie theater, nearlydead on their last case. It had been her quick thinking that saved Derik'slife, tying a makeshift tourniquet around his wound before he lost too muchblood. The memory of that night, with its crushing weight of fear andhelplessness, still haunted her.
"Can youtake on this case?" Derik pleaded, his voice hoarse from pain and fatigue."At least for now, until I can join you? I wouldn't ask you if it wasn'timportant, Morgan. You know that."
He paused,swallowing hard as he sought the right words. "Please, consider it apersonal favor. And try to forgive Mueller for now. We need to focus oncatching this psychopath."
As much as Morgandidn't trust Derik at the moment, she also knew it was in her best interest tostay close to the FBI and gather as much information as possible. Her heartraced with anxiety, but she took a deep breath and met his pleading gaze. Atthe very least, she could talk to Mueller and get more details.
"Alright,"she said hesitantly, her hands trembling in her lap. "Look, I’ll meet withMueller and get the details about the case from him. Then maybe I can take thecase if he really wants me on it.”
Derik's eyeswidened before he nodded, a ghost of a smile on his lips. "Thanks, Cross.Mueller’s at HQ. I’ll let him know you’re coming.”
"Get somerest," she told him, her voice firm but gentle. "I'll handle this fornow."
As she walked outof the hospital room, her mind was a whirlwind of conflicting thoughts andemotions. She dreaded seeing Mueller again, but if he really wanted her back onthe case, then she was willing to hear him out. Something about keeping herenemies closer rang in the back of her mind.
CHAPTERTWO
The harsh lightsof the FBI headquarters in Dallas flickered overhead as Morgan stepped into thesterile lobby, her heart heavy with dread. She couldn't believe she was backhere again after her suspension, but it seemed fate had a twisted sense ofhumor.
She walked pastthe reception desk, her footsteps echoing on the cold linoleum floor. The airconditioning sent a chill down her spine, reminding her of the icy cell whereshe'd spent a decade for a crime she didn't commit. Even though she was free,the scars of her time in prison never faded.
"Special AgentCross," a familiar voice called out from behind her. She turned to see oneof her colleagues, Agent Daniels, approaching with an awkward smile."Haven't seen you around in a few days.”
"Good to seeyou too, Daniels," she replied, forcing a smile of her own before turningaway and continuing down the hallway. More faces appeared like phantoms fromher past, some offering cordial nods, others avoiding eye contact altogether.She acknowledged them briefly, her jaw clenched and her eyes fixed ahead.
Morgan's thoughtsraced back to the rumors and whispers that had circulated during hersuspension. She knew many still doubted her innocence despite her exoneration,but she couldn't blame them. After all, she had been a respected agent once –until the world turned against her. She’d managed to salvage much of her reputationsince she’d gotten out, but with her recent suspension, she could tell rumorswere circulating—no thanks to Mueller. She begrudged herself for agreeing toeven come meet him but had to remind herself why she was in this. It wasn’t forDerik, or Mueller, or the FBI, but for the victims of this apparent murderer.
She navigated themaze-like corridors, each turn bringing her closer to Mueller's office. Shecould feel the weight of her colleagues' stares, their thinly veiled curiosity,and judgment pressing down on her like a vise. But she refused to let them seeher falter. She had survived far worse.
Finally, shereached the door marked "Assistant Director Mueller" and paused,taking a deep breath to steady herself.
As Morgan stoodbefore Mueller's door, her mind wandered to the years she had spent building areputation as a top-notch FBI agent. The late nights spent poring over casefiles and the adrenaline-fueled chases through dark alleys were all distantmemories now, swallowed by the decade she'd lost to false accusations andimprisonment. She had clawed her way back into the public's good graces, butthe damage was done. Her colleagues' whispers and sidelong glances reminded herthat her once-pristine image would never be fully restored.
It doesn't matter, she thought to herself, steeling herself for what lay beyond thedoor. You don't need their approval to do your job.
With that finalthought, she knocked firmly on the door, the sound echoing through the hallwaylike a gunshot. A moment later, Mueller's voice came from within, cool anddetached. "Come in."
Morgan took adeep breath and opened the door, stepping into the familiar office. The air wasthick with the scent of stale coffee and old leather, a smell she both loathedand longed for during her suspension. She avoided looking directly at Mueller,focusing instead on the rows of case files lining the shelves behind him andthe framed commendations that hung proudly on the walls.
"Cross,"Mueller greeted her, his tone strictly professional. "Please, have aseat."
"All right,”she replied curtly, not bothering with professionalism as she took theproffered chair, feeling its worn upholstery beneath her fingertips. She sensedthe tension in the room, an invisible barrier between them, and found herselfwishing she could just get this over with.
"Let's getstraight to the point," Mueller said, clasping his hands together on thedesk. "I’m sure Greene mentioned that we need you back at work.”
Morgan's eyes methis briefly, a flicker of defiance in her gaze. "I didn't ask for this,Mueller. You know that."
"Regardless,"he continued, undeterred by her interjection, "you're here now. And wecould really use your help. Judging by the fact that you came, I can tell somepart of you is interested.”
