Page 11

The flickering porch light cast an eerie glow across the overgrown yard as Morgan and Derik approached Sarah Winters' dilapidated house. Weeds choked the cracked driveway, their shadows dancing in the faint, uneven light. Morgan's heart raced, acutely aware of the late hour and the urgency of their mission. Sarah was one of the few remaining witnesses, and with each passing minute, the danger to her life increased.

Morgan glanced at her watch—1:58 a.m. She hesitated for a moment, her hand poised to knock. "We can't wait until morning," she murmured to Derik, her voice barely audible above the chirping crickets.

Derik nodded grimly. "I know. Let's hope she's home and willing to talk."

Morgan rapped sharply on the worn wooden door, the sound echoing in the quiet cul-de-sac. Seconds stretched into minutes as they waited, the silence broken only by the faint rustling of leaves in the night breeze.

Just as Morgan was about to knock again, she heard movement inside. The porch creaked as someone approached, and Morgan instinctively straightened her posture, preparing for the encounter.

The door opened a crack, revealing a thin, pale face framed by disheveled hair. Sarah Winters peered out warily, her eyes darting between Morgan and Derik.

"Sarah Winters?" Morgan asked, keeping her voice low and calm. "I'm Special Agent Morgan Cross, and this is my partner, Special Agent Derik Mueller. We're with the FBI. May we come in? It's urgent."

Sarah's eyes narrowed, her body language radiating suspicion and exhaustion. She was wrapped in a threadbare cardigan that had seen better days, and the lines etched on her face spoke of years of worry and sleepless nights.

After a long, tense moment, Sarah reluctantly stepped back, allowing them entry. As Morgan crossed the threshold, she couldn't help but notice how Sarah kept her arms tightly crossed, maintaining a careful distance from them.

"What do you want?" Sarah asked, her voice rough with sleep and wariness. "It's the middle of the night."

Morgan met Sarah's gaze, her mind racing to find the right words. How do you tell someone their life might be in danger? How do you dredge up two-decade-old wounds without causing more pain?

"Ms. Winters, I apologize for the late hour," Morgan began, her tone gentle but firm. "We wouldn't be here if it wasn't absolutely necessary. We're investigating a series of recent murders that we believe are connected to cases from twenty years ago, including—" She paused, bracing herself for Sarah's reaction. "—including your sister Sadie's murder."

Sarah's face drained of what little color it had, her eyes widening in a mix of shock and barely contained anguish. For a moment, Morgan thought she might collapse, but Sarah's spine stiffened, her jaw clenching as she visibly steeled herself.

"Why now?" Sarah demanded, her voice trembling slightly. "After all these years, why are you here in the middle of the night talking about Sadie?"

Morgan took a deep breath, weighing her next words carefully. "Because we have reason to believe that you might be in danger, Ms. Winters. Other witnesses from that time have been killed, and we're here to offer you protection."

Sarah let out a bitter laugh, the sound harsh and devoid of humor. "Protection? Where was that protection twenty years ago when my sister needed it?"

The raw pain in Sarah's voice hit Morgan like a physical blow. She'd seen this before—the lingering trauma, the anger at a system that had failed to deliver justice. But there was something more here, a depth of bitterness that hinted at a story yet untold.

"I understand your frustration, Ms. Winters," Morgan said softly, taking a cautious step closer. "But right now, our priority is keeping you safe. Can you tell us about that night? Anything you remember, no matter how small, could be crucial."

Sarah's eyes flashed with a mix of emotions—grief, anger, and something that looked almost like guilt. She opened her mouth to speak, then closed it again, as if wrestling with herself over what to say.

Sarah's breath hitched, a barely perceptible flinch that Morgan's trained eye caught immediately. The woman's knuckles whitened as she gripped her own arms tighter.

Morgan felt a pang of empathy. How many times had she encountered this – the raw wounds of injustice that never truly healed? She took a breath, choosing her next words carefully.

"I can't change what happened in the past, Ms. Winters," Morgan said softly. "But I can try to prevent more tragedy now. Other witnesses have already been killed. We want to make sure you're safe."

Sarah's gaze darted between Morgan and Derik, her expression a battlefield of conflicting emotions. Morgan could almost see the gears turning in the woman's mind, weighing decades of pain and distrust against the very real threat they were presenting.

"Safe," Sarah repeated, the word dripping with bitterness. “I haven’t felt safe in twenty years.”

Morgan's heart ached at the implication. She held Sarah's gaze, trying to convey her sincerity through sheer force of will.

"Tell us what you remember about that night," Morgan urged gently. "Any detail, no matter how small, could be crucial now."

The ticking of an unseen clock seemed to grow louder in the ensuing silence, a reminder of the urgency that had brought them here in the dead of night. Morgan held her breath, hoping that Sarah would choose to trust them, to share whatever burden she'd been carrying for all these years.

Sarah's fingers tightened on her worn cardigan, her knuckles turning white. The mention of Sadie's name had hit her like a physical blow, and Morgan could see the woman's carefully constructed walls beginning to crumble.

"You want to know what I remember?" Sarah's voice was low, trembling with barely contained rage. "I remember lies. I remember cowards. People who saw what happened and chose to stay silent."

She took a shaky step forward, her eyes blazing with a fury that seemed to have been simmering for two decades. "You talk about protecting me, but where was that protection when Sadie needed it? Where was justice when her killer walked free?"

Morgan felt a chill run down her spine, recognizing the depth of Sarah's pain. She glanced at Derik, seeing her own concern mirrored in his eyes.

"Sarah," Morgan said softly, "I know it's been a long time, but if you could tell us anything about that night—"

"I'll tell you exactly what happened that night," Sarah cut her off, her voice rising. "I saw him. Andrew Keller. Standing over my sister's body, his hands..." She trailed off, swallowing hard before continuing. "I told the police everything. Every detail. But Keller, he had the nerve to say I was confused, hysterical."

Sarah's laugh was hollow, devoid of any real mirth. "As if I could ever forget the face of the man who destroyed my family."

Morgan's mind raced, processing this new information. "You're certain it was Keller?" she pressed gently.

Sarah's eyes flashed dangerously. "Do you think I'd forget? That I haven't relived that moment every single day for twenty years?" She shook her head, her voice breaking. "I saw him clearly. I told them everything. And still, no charges. Nothing."

The weight of Sarah's words hung heavy in the air. Morgan felt a surge of determination mixed with a deep sadness for the suffering this woman had endured.

"Sarah," Morgan said, her voice firm but compassionate, "I promise you, we're going to look into everything. We won't let this go, not this time."

Sarah's bitter laugh cut through the tense silence. "Oh, but that's not even the whole story," she said, her eyes glinting with a mix of anger and pain. "My dear friend Vanessa Shaw was there that night too. She saw everything, just like I did."

Morgan leaned forward, her interest piqued. "Vanessa Shaw?" she repeated, committing the name to memory.

Sarah nodded, her lips curling into a sneer. "My best friend since childhood. We were inseparable, until that night." She paused, her fingers twisting the hem of her worn cardigan. "When the police questioned her, she gave them nothing. A vague, useless statement that might as well have been blank."

Morgan watched as Sarah's face contorted with a fresh wave of anger. "She lied," Sarah spat. "She lied to protect herself, to stay out of it. While I was fighting for justice for Sadie, she was covering her own ass."

The bitterness in Sarah's voice was palpable, and Morgan could almost taste it in the air. She glanced at Derik, who was scribbling notes furiously.

"Have you spoken to Vanessa since then?" Morgan asked gently.

Sarah shook her head, a humorless smile playing on her lips. "Not a word in years. Some best friend, huh?" She turned away, staring out the window at the overgrown yard. "She couldn't handle the guilt, I guess. Packed up and moved away about two years after it happened."

Morgan's instincts flared. This could be their next lead. "Do you know where she went?"

Sarah hesitated, and Morgan could see the internal struggle playing out on her face. Finally, she sighed. "Yeah, I know. She's about two hours from here, in a little town called Millbrook."

Morgan's eyebrows rose in surprise. "You've kept tabs on her?"

"Call it morbid curiosity," Sarah shrugged, but her eyes betrayed a deeper emotion. "Or maybe I just wanted to make sure she never forgot what she did."

As Sarah spoke, Morgan made a mental note. Vanessa Shaw in Millbrook. Their next stop. She felt a surge of anticipation, mixed with a touch of dread. What would they find when they tracked down this elusive witness? And more importantly, would she still be alive when they got there?

Morgan took a deep breath, her gaze fixed on Sarah's haggard face. The weight of two decades of grief and anger hung heavy in the air between them.

"Sarah," Morgan began, her voice gentle but firm, "I strongly recommend we set up police protection outside your house. Given what's happening, you could be at risk."

Sarah's bitter laugh cut through the room like a knife. "Police protection? Now?" She shook her head, arms crossed tightly over her chest. "Where was this concern twenty years ago when my sister needed it?"

Morgan felt a pang of empathy, recognizing the pain behind Sarah's words. She took a step closer, careful not to invade the woman's space. "I understand your frustration, but this is different. We have reason to believe the killer is targeting witnesses from the old cases."

Sarah's eyes flashed with a mix of fear and defiance. "And you think a couple of cops parked outside can stop him? If he wants me dead, he'll find a way."

Morgan's mind raced, searching for the right words to convince her. She could feel Derik's presence beside her, silently backing her up. "It's not perfect, but it's better than nothing. We can't change the past, Sarah, but we can try to protect you now."

Sarah's shoulders sagged slightly, the fight seeming to drain out of her. She turned away, staring at a faded photograph of Sadie on the mantle. "No one protected her," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "She was just a kid, and no one kept her safe."

Morgan's heart clenched. She wanted to reach out, to offer some comfort, but she knew it wasn't her place. Instead, she said softly, "Let us try to do better this time. Please."

After a long moment, Sarah nodded, her movements stiff and reluctant. "Fine," she muttered. "But don't expect me to feel grateful."

As Morgan moved to make the call, she caught sight of Sarah's trembling hands. Despite her bravado, the woman was terrified. And Morgan couldn't shake the feeling that they were running out of time.