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"What do you want, Derik?" she asked tersely, her fingers gripping the edge of the car door as if seeking an anchor.
"I just... I wanted to see how you're holding up. This case has been rough on all of us," he said, stopping a few feet from her. He glanced around the near-empty parking lot, then back at her, his eyes filled with genuine concern.
Morgan stared at him for a moment, caught off guard by his sudden show of empathy. She considered brushing him off, but something inside her craved that connection. She sighed, her shoulders sagging as she gave in to the weariness that weighed her down.
"Joe Dancer's alibi seems to have checked out. He's not our guy," she admitted, her voice barely audible. "It feels like we're chasing ghosts."
Derik nodded, his gaze locked on hers. "I know, Morgan. But we'll find him. We always do."
"Will we?" she half-whispered, the doubt seeping into her thoughts like poison. It was getting harder to believe they'd ever catch this killer, and the thought terrified her.
"Hey," Derik said more softly, stepping closer. "We're a team, remember? We'll figure this out together."
Morgan looked at him, her resolve wavering. She wanted to trust him, to lean on him as she had in the past, but the memory of his betrayal still stung. For now, though, she allowed herself a moment of vulnerability, nodding in agreement.
"Alright," she said finally, forcing a small smile.
Derik paused, avoiding her eyes for a moment. Morgan went to go into her car when he said, "Hey, can I buy you dinner?"
Morgan froze, her hand hovering above the car door handle. She turned to face him, her eyebrows knitting together in confusion. "What? Why?"
"Because you look like you could use a break," he replied, his tone gentle.
The temptation of a meal and momentary escape from the case tugged at her, but she shook her head. "I can't, Derik. I just want some alone time right now."
Derik's face fell for a moment before hardening in frustration. "We need to talk about Thomas."
"Thomas? Why? What does he have to do with anything? Don't tell me you're jealous again."
"Seriously?" Derik asked, throwing his hands up in the air. "Morgan, come on... is this your way of getting back at me or something?"
"First of all, I never agreed to go on a date with him," Morgan retorted, anger sparking in her chest. "Secondly, it's none of your business who I spend my time with."
"Of course it's my business!" Derik shouted, taking a step forward. "You're my partner, and I care about you!"
"Really?" Morgan scoffed, shaking her head. "You didn't seem to care when you betrayed me."
"Damn it, Morgan," Derik muttered, running a hand through his hair. "You know that was a mistake. I never wanted to hurt you."
"Yet, here we are," she said, her voice cold and detached.
Derik stared at her for a moment, his jaw clenched in frustration. With a resigned sigh, he took a step back. "Fine, have your alone time. But don't say I didn't warn you about Thomas."
As Derik walked away, Morgan stood by her car, her heart thumping wildly in her chest. The mention of Thomas had thrown her off guard, but she couldn't shake the feeling that there was something she could use him for - something that would help crack the case wide open. With a deep breath, she unlocked her car door and slid into the driver's seat, her mind racing with possibilities.
As Derik disappeared into the building, Morgan let out a breath. She closed her eyes, taking deep breaths to calm her racing heart. It wasn't like her to get so worked up over an argument, but the wounds left by Derik's betrayal were still too fresh, too raw.
She couldn't help but wonder if he was right about Thomas, though. Did she really know him well enough to trust him? But then again, Derik had proven that even those closest to her could betray her. With a sigh, Morgan decided to keep both men at arm's length, focusing on the case and finding the answers she so desperately sought.
CHAPTER TWENTY ONE
The streetlight above flickered like a dying firefly, casting erratic shadows on the man's face as he leaned against the cold brick wall. From his vantage point, he could see her through the window, her back to him as she worked tirelessly at her desk. She was alone in the dimly lit room, her silhouette framed by the pale glow of the computer screen.
He clenched his jaw and dug his fingers into his coat pocket, feeling the tension roll off his shoulders in waves. He didn't know her name - it didn't matter. It was the mask she wore that infuriated him, the carefully constructed persona designed to blend in with the rest of the world.
"Pathetic," he muttered under his breath, barely audible over the distant hum of city life. "Just another wolf trying to hide amongst the sheep.”
His eyes narrowed, scrutinizing her every movement. Every time she smiled at her screen, he felt bile rise in his throat. The way she pretended to be so normal, so innocent, was almost enough to make him lose control right there on the street corner. But he kept himself in check, knowing that patience would yield a greater reward.
