Page 10 of For Mercy (Morgan Cross #16)

Morgan stood motionless in the dimly lit room, her arms crossed tightly over her chest as she watched the cybercrime specialists work.

The glow from multiple computer screens cast an eerie blue light across their focused faces.

The rhythmic clicking of keyboards filled the air, punctuated by occasional muttered curses and frustrated sighs.

She fought to keep her expression neutral, but inside, Morgan's mind was running.

The anonymous email from the landlord's contact was their best lead so far in Judge Hawthorne's murder.

If they could trace it, they might finally have a solid suspect.

But as the minutes ticked by, her hope began to fade.

"Anything yet, Carter?" she asked, unable to keep the edge of impatience from her voice.

The lead tech shook his head, not taking his eyes off the screen. "Nothing concrete. This guy's good. Really good."

Morgan's jaw clenched. She thought of Judge Hawthorne, impaled and bleeding out on that basement floor. Of the elaborate death trap he'd been lured into. Whoever had done this was methodical, patient. A ghost who left no traces.

"Keep trying," she said. "There has to be something."

As another half hour crawled by, Morgan paced the small room. Her mind drifted to her father, hiding out in that remote cabin. To Cordell, the puppet master pulling strings from the shadows. She shook her head, forcing herself to focus on the case at hand. One monster at a time.

"Dammit!" Carter slammed his hand on the desk, making Morgan jump. "I'm sorry, Agent Cross. We've tried every decryption method, every filter we have. There's just... nothing."

Morgan's heart sank. She'd known it was a long shot, but part of her had still hoped. "You're sure?"

Carter nodded grimly. "Whoever sent this knew exactly what they were doing. The email's completely untraceable."

Morgan exhaled slowly, tamping down her frustration. "Alright. Thank you for trying. Send me whatever you did manage to find, even if it seems insignificant."

As she turned to leave, one of the younger techs spoke up. "Agent Cross? I know it's not much, but... the level of encryption, the way it was routed? This wasn't some amateur hacker. Whoever did this has serious skills."

Morgan paused in the doorway, considering. "An engineer, maybe?"

The tech shrugged. "Could be. Someone with a deep understanding of systems, for sure."

Morgan nodded, filing away the information. It wasn't much, but it was something. As she stepped into the hallway, her mind was already racing, formulating a new approach. If they couldn't chase the killer directly, they'd have to come at it from another angle.

She pulled out her phone, dialing Derik's number. "Meet me in the briefing room," she said when he answered. "We need to dig into Hawthorne's case history. Specifically, anyone with the skills to pull this off who might have a grudge."

As she hung up, Morgan felt a familiar determination settle over her. The killer might think he was a ghost, but even ghosts cast shadows. And she was going to find his, no matter what it took.

Morgan's jaw clenched as she stared at the array of monitors, each displaying a complex web of dead ends and false trails. The lead cybercrime specialist, a woman with dark-rimmed glasses and perpetually furrowed brows, turned to face her.

"I'm sorry, Agent Cross. This email is a black hole. We've tried every trick in the book and then some, but it's like chasing smoke."

Morgan leaned in, her eyes scanning the intricate diagrams on the screens. "Walk me through it one more time."

The specialist sighed, pointing to various nodes on the display. "The email was bounced through multiple proxy servers across six continents. Each hop was encrypted with a different algorithm. When we finally thought we had a lead, it turned out to be a dummy server in Antarctica, of all places."

"Antarctica?" Morgan's eyebrow raised. "That's... creative."

"Creative and infuriating," the specialist agreed. "Whoever set this up knew exactly what they were doing. They anticipated every standard tracing method and had a counter for each one."

Morgan felt a chill run down her spine, her investigator's instinct kicking into high gear. This wasn't just another case. This was something else entirely.

"So we're dealing with a pro," she muttered, more to herself than anyone else.

The tech nodded grimly. "A pro with resources and time. This level of obfuscation takes planning. Lots of it."

Morgan straightened, crossing her arms tightly across her chest. The pieces were starting to form a picture in her mind, and it wasn't a pretty one.

"This isn't some heat-of-the-moment killer," she said, her voice low and intense. "We're looking at someone who's been plotting this for a long time. Patient. Meticulous."

She turned to the team, her eyes hard with determination. "I want every detail you can give me about the methods used. Even if it seems insignificant. This guy might be good, but nobody's perfect. There has to be a pattern, a signature, something."

As the techs nodded and turned back to their screens, Morgan felt a cold certainty settle in her chest. This case was going to push her to her limits, force her to think in ways she never had before. But she was ready for the challenge.

She watched as one of the senior techs shook his head, a look of defeat on his face. It confirmed what she'd already suspected – they weren't going to crack this through conventional means.

Morgan was already formulating new approaches. If they couldn't track the killer directly, they'd have to come at it from another angle. She needed to dig deeper into Hawthorne's past, find the connection that the killer had so painstakingly tried to erase.

Morgan's phone buzzed in her pocket, its vibration cutting through the tense atmosphere of the cybercrime unit. She fished it out, her heart sinking as she read the message from the forensics team.

"Damn it," she muttered, her fingers tightening around the device.

One of the techs looked up. "Bad news, Agent Cross?"

Morgan nodded, her jaw clenched. "Forensics came up empty. No DNA, no fingerprints, not even a stray hair." She exhaled sharply, frustration etching lines across her forehead. "This guy isn't just good. He's a damn ghost."

She paced the length of the room, her mind racing. The killer had left no digital footprint, no physical evidence. It was as if he'd never existed at all. Morgan could feel the case slipping through her fingers like sand.

"How do we catch someone who doesn't leave a trace?" she wondered aloud, more to herself than anyone else.

The tech shrugged helplessly. "I don't know, Agent. We've tried everything we can think of."

Morgan stopped pacing, her eyes fixed on the monitors displaying dead-end after dead-end. Then, slowly, a new idea began to form.

"Ghosts might not leave traces," she said softly, "but they do leave shadows."

The tech looked at her, confusion evident on his face. "What do you mean?"

Morgan turned to face him, a spark of determination in her eyes. "We've been so focused on chasing the killer, we haven't been looking at the victim closely enough. If we can't track him directly, we need to flip our approach."

She grabbed her jacket from the back of a chair, already heading for the door. "Instead of chasing the killer, we need to focus on Judge Hawthorne. There has to be a connection there, something that made him a target."

As she reached the doorway, Morgan paused, looking back at the team. "Keep digging into that email. Even if you can't trace it, there might be something in the way it's constructed, the language used. Anything that could give us a clue about who we're dealing with."

With that, she strode out of the room, her mind already racing with new possibilities. The killer might be a ghost, but even ghosts had stories. And Morgan was determined to uncover this one, no matter how deeply it was buried.

***

Morgan burst into the briefing room, her eyes immediately locking onto Derik. He was hunched over the table, surrounded by stacks of files, his brow furrowed in concentration.

"Derik," she said, her voice tight with urgency. "We need to change our approach."

He looked up, his eyes questioning. "What do you mean?"

Morgan strode to the table, her fingers drumming against its surface. "Judge Hawthorne. We need to dig into his past cases. All of them."

Derik leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his hair. "That's a lot of ground to cover, Morgan. The judge had a long career."

"I know," she replied, her gaze sweeping over the scattered files. "But it's our best lead right now. We're looking for cases that might have made him a target for revenge."

She began sorting through the files, her movements quick and purposeful. "Violent offenders, Derik. That's what we need to focus on. Criminals who got the book thrown at them by Hawthorne."

Derik nodded, already reaching for a stack of files. "Makes sense. Someone with a grudge, someone who felt wronged by the system."

Morgan paused, her hand hovering over a particularly thick file. "And there's one more thing we need to pay attention to," she said, her voice low. "Release dates."

Derik's eyes widened in understanding. "You're thinking our killer might be someone who just got out?"

"Exactly," Morgan confirmed, her mind racing. "Someone who's had years to plan, to nurture their resentment. And now they're finally free to act on it."

As they settled into their task, Morgan couldn't shake the feeling that they were racing against time. Somewhere out there, a killer was watching, waiting. And she had a sinking feeling that Judge Hawthorne was just the beginning.

Morgan's eyes burned as she pored over yet another case file, the fluorescent lights of the briefing room casting harsh shadows across the scattered papers. Her fingers traced the edge of a particularly worn folder, pausing as a name caught her attention.

"Derik," she called, her voice cutting through the silence. "I think I've got something here."

Her partner looked up from his own stack of documents, eyebrows raised in question. Morgan slid the file across the table, tapping a finger on the name at the top.

"Marcus Walsh," she said, her tone tight with anticipation. "Take a look at this one."

Derik leaned forward, his eyes scanning the page. "Voluntary manslaughter," he murmured, frowning. "Fifteen years ago. What about it?"

Morgan stood, pacing the length of the table as she spoke. "It was a crime of passion. One moment of violence that spiraled out of control. But look at the sentence Hawthorne handed down."

Derik's eyes widened as he found the information. "Fifteen years? That's..."

"Unusually harsh," Morgan finished for him, her mind racing. "The standard for cases like this is typically five to eight years. Hawthorne went well beyond that."

She stopped pacing, bracing her hands on the back of a chair as she met Derik's gaze. "Can you imagine sitting in a cell for fifteen years, knowing you got more than double the usual sentence? That kind of resentment... it could eat away at a person."

Derik nodded slowly, his expression grim. "It's a strong motive, that's for sure. But is it enough to turn someone into... this?" He gestured vaguely, encompassing the horror of the crime scene they'd witnessed.

Morgan sank into the chair, her exhaustion momentarily forgotten as adrenaline coursed through her veins. "I don't know," she admitted. "But it's the best lead we've got right now. We need to dig deeper into Walsh's background, see if there's anything else that connects him to this case."

She reached for her laptop, fingers flying across the keyboard as she pulled up Walsh's records. "Let's start with his release date. If he's our guy, he would have gotten out recently."

As they delved further into Marcus Walsh's past, Morgan couldn't shake the feeling that they were finally on the right track.

But a nagging voice in the back of her mind whispered a warning: if they were right about Walsh, they weren't dealing with some impulsive killer.

This was a man who had waited fifteen years for his revenge.

A man with patience, determination, and a carefully cultivated rage.

Morgan leaned in closer to the screen, her eyes narrowing as she scanned the details of Marcus Walsh's past. "Engineering," she murmured, her pulse quickening. "Walsh was an engineer before his conviction."

Derik looked up from his own stack of files, raising an eyebrow. "How does that fit in?"

"Think about it," Morgan said, her voice low and intense.

"Engineering requires precision. A mind that understands mechanical systems, cause and effect.

" She paused, the image of the crime scene flashing vividly in her mind.

"That basement... it wasn't just a murder.

It was a carefully designed death trap, a mechanism of perfectly executed timing and physics. "

She could feel the pieces clicking into place, a chilling certainty settling in her gut. Walsh's background in engineering wasn't just a coincidence. It was the missing link they'd been searching for.

Derik nodded slowly, comprehension dawning on his face. "And Walsh would have had the skills to build something like that."

"Exactly," Morgan breathed, pushing back from the desk and running a hand through her hair. The weight of their discovery pressed down on her, a mix of excitement and dread. "We might have just found our prime suspect."

Their eyes met across the table, a silent understanding passing between them. This was the breakthrough they'd been waiting for, but it also meant they were dealing with a killer far more dangerous than they'd initially thought.

Morgan considered their next steps. "We need to track down Walsh's current whereabouts," she said, already reaching for her phone. "And we should look into any properties he might have access to. If he's our guy, he'll need a place to plan and build his... contraptions."

As she dialed, Morgan couldn't shake the image of Walsh, a man who'd spent fifteen years nurturing his resentment, honing his skills, and planning his revenge. A shiver ran down her spine. They were no longer chasing a shadow. They had a name, a face, and a motive.

But would it be enough to catch him before he struck again?