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"Uh, sure," he replied hesitantly. "What do you need?"
"Your opinion," Morgan said bluntly, pulling up images of the gloves from the crime scenes on her phone. "These were found at both murder sites. White gloves and mittens. They seem to be significant somehow, but we just can't figure out why."
"Interesting," Alan mused, examining the images closely. His eyes narrowed in concentration, a faint furrow creasing his brow. "I'm no expert on serial killers or anything, but from an artistic perspective, I can tell you that white often symbolizes purity or innocence. Perhaps the gloves are meant to represent the victims' souls, untainted by the violence inflicted upon them?"
"Or maybe they're meant to mock the victims," Morgan suggested, her mind racing with possibilities. "To imply that they were anything but innocent."
"Could be," Alan conceded, handing the phone back to her. "But without more information, it's impossible to say for sure. Look at this," Alan said, pointing to the photos of gloves on Morgan's phone. "All these gloves are new and never worn before. See how pristine they look? That means they didn't belong to the victims."
Morgan leaned in closer, her brow furrowing as she took in his observation. He was right; each glove appeared untouched by human hands, a stark contrast to the brutalized bodies they'd been found with.
"An empty glove usually symbolizes the void of human presence," Alan continued, his eyes clouded with a mix of fascination and unease. "I think your killer is a lonesome person, potentially depressed, seeking to make a connection with others. He's trying to fill the empty space in the gloves with what's been missing from his life: companionship, women."
Morgan considered the implications of his words, her mind racing with possibilities. It made sense, but it also complicated things. How could they possibly track down a suspect who so desperately clung to the shadows?
"Any idea how we might catch someone like that?" she asked, her voice tinged with frustration.
Alan shook his head, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, as if he admired the killer's twisted artistry. "Probably not. He's learned to live in the shadows, blend into the background. And that's where he'll remain."
"Dammit," Morgan muttered under her breath, her fingers clenching around her phone. She knew they were running out of time, and the thought of another victim suffering at the hands of this sadistic killer made her blood boil.
"Every bit of information helps," Derik said, placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "We'll keep digging, and sooner or later, we'll find him."
As they left the artist's house, Morgan couldn't shake the image of those pristine gloves, the eerie emptiness they represented. She knew they were dealing with a phantom, a man who lurked in the darkest corners of society, and she couldn't help but wonder if they'd ever be able to drag him into the light.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Morgan's thoughts were still consumed by the chilling conversation with Alan Steinberg when she and Derik returned to the precinct. She couldn't help but feel a sense of dread creeping up her spine, knowing that they were dealing with a killer who was a master at hiding in plain sight. As they walked through the bustling office, she noticed Thomas leaning against a desk, a triumphant glint in his eyes.
"Hey, you two," he called out, motioning for them to come over. "Got some good news for a change. Managed to salvage some footage from that ruined drive we found."
"Really?" Morgan said, her interest piqued. "What does it show?"
"Let's head to the tech room and find out," Thomas replied, leading the way.
The dimly lit tech room smelled faintly of coffee and stale air, a familiar scent that never failed to make Morgan feel like she was at home. They gathered around a large monitor, anticipation building as Thomas prepared to play the footage.
"Alright, this is from the last time the camera was functional at Alexa Fischer's house," he explained. "It's from about three months ago."
As the grainy video started playing, Morgan felt her heart pounding in her chest. Could this be the breakthrough they needed? The image on the screen showed a seemingly ordinary day at the victim's house: people coming and going, birds chirping in the trees. But then, something caught her eye.
"Wait," she said, her voice barely more than a whisper. "Pause it there."
Thomas obliged, freezing the frame as Morgan leaned in closer, her pulse racing. She could feel the weight of Derik's gaze on her, his curiosity palpable.
"See that?" she asked, pointing at a figure in the background, partially obscured by the shadows. "That's our guy. He's been watching her for months."
"Damn," Derik muttered, his eyes widening with surprise. "Nice catch, Morgan."
"Thanks," she replied, her mind already racing ahead, trying to piece together the puzzle. How had he managed to stay hidden for so long? Was he watching their every move, waiting for the perfect moment to strike?
"Let's keep digging," Thomas said, sensing her determination. "There has to be more we can find."
The footage continued to play, revealing a man entering Alexa's home, his face hidden by the brim of his hat. Their body language spoke volumes, and Morgan felt a sinking feeling in her gut as she realized what she was witnessing.
Alexa Fischer had been having an affair.
Another victim with a secret life, just like Amy Sanderson. And Lizzie Meadows's secret past, how her bullying had led to another person's suicide--it seemed all of these women had something to hide, even if there were stark differences between them.
