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The question was pointed but delivered casually.

Parker removed his glasses, cleaning them with the edge of his t-shirt—a gesture that could indicate thoughtfulness or a moment taken to formulate a careful answer.

"I knew of Rodriguez," he admitted, replacing his glasses.

"Hard not to in this neighborhood. I prosecuted him twice for distribution charges, but both cases ended in plea deals for minimal sentences.

Budget constraints at the DA's office meant nonviolent drug offenses weren't priorities.

" Frustration colored his tone. "As for Rivera, his case never made it to my desk, but his reputation was well-known. "

The prosecutor's legal background provided both knowledge of criminals who had escaped serious consequences and potential access to non-public information about their activities—two key elements in their unsub profile.

His professional position would have exposed him repeatedly to the system's failures, potentially triggering disillusionment severe enough to justify vigilante action in his mind.

"These murders," Morgan said, watching Parker's face closely, "they seem almost... professional. Methodical. The work of someone with knowledge of police procedures, someone careful about evidence."

Parker met her gaze steadily, no defensiveness in his expression. "I've prosecuted enough murders to know how they're typically investigated," he acknowledged. "Most of the criminals I've put away weren't nearly so careful. These killings suggest someone with either training or extensive research."

His candid response could indicate innocence or the confidence of someone who understood precisely how much could be proven against him—which, at present, was nothing.

Morgan found herself struggling to reconcile the respected prosecutor with their vigilante profile, though the potential connections were undeniable.

"Your renovation project," she continued, changing direction slightly. "Must be difficult, working here after dark. Santiago Heights doesn't have a great reputation for nighttime safety."

"I've never had trouble," Parker replied with a shrug.

"Perhaps I benefit from my size, or perhaps the community is beginning to recognize my commitment to the neighborhood.

" He gestured toward the surrounding properties.

"Contrary to its reputation, Santiago Heights has more decent, hardworking people than criminals.

The problem has always been that the criminals operated with near impunity while the system failed to protect the innocent. "

The sentiment aligned perfectly with their vigilante's likely worldview, and coming from a prosecutor who had witnessed that system's failures firsthand, it carried additional weight.

Morgan exchanged a glance with Derik, reading the same cautious assessment in his eyes that she herself was making.

Parker had means, motive, and opportunity.

His legal background gave him knowledge of criminals who had escaped consequences, his position provided access to non-public information about offenders, and his professional disappointments could have triggered vigilante tendencies.

As they prepared to leave, promising to follow up with additional questions if necessary, Morgan took a final assessment of Parker's renovation project.

The quality materials, the meticulous workmanship, the ambitious scope—all spoke to someone who planned methodically and executed precisely, unwilling to compromise standards despite challenging circumstances.

The same characteristics their vigilante had demonstrated in his killings.

"One more question," Morgan said, pausing at the bottom of the steps. "Where were you last night between midnight and two AM?"

Parker didn't hesitate. "At home with my wife in Highland Park. We watched a movie and were in bed by eleven." The alibi was simple, verifiable, and delivered without defensiveness. "She's a light sleeper—would have noticed if I'd gone out."

Morgan nodded, neither accepting nor challenging the statement. "We may need to speak with her to confirm."

"Of course," Parker agreed readily. "She'll tell you the same thing.

Though I understand why you need to ask.

" His expression turned somber. "For what it's worth, while I can't condone vigilante justice professionally, I understand the frustration that might drive someone to it.

I've watched too many repeat offenders walk free on technicalities, only to create more victims."

The remark lingered in Morgan's mind as she and Derik walked back to their vehicles.

Parker's willingness to express sympathy for vigilantism while simultaneously providing an alibi created an uncomfortable ambiguity.

Was he demonstrating the compartmentalization that might allow a prosecutor to become an executioner after hours?

Or simply acknowledging the complexity of justice from his unique professional perspective?

"What do you think?" she asked Derik once they were out of earshot. The street remained quiet except for the distant sounds of traffic and the occasional dog barking behind chain-link fences.

Derik sighed, running a hand through his already disheveled hair.

"Means, motive, opportunity—all present.

Legal background gives him knowledge of criminals who escaped serious consequences.

Position in the DA's office provides access to non-public information.

" He hesitated. "But I've worked with Parker on cases. Hard to imagine him as our killer."

"People can compartmentalize," Morgan reminded him, echoing his earlier observation about Harrison. "Lead double lives. We've both seen it enough times."

"True. And his renovation project here makes more sense if he's trying to increase property values by eliminating criminal elements.

" Derik glanced back toward Parker's property, where work lights still illuminated the ongoing construction.

"The timing fits too. Started renovating eight months ago, killings began two weeks ago.

Could have been watching, planning, selecting targets while working on the house. "

Morgan nodded, adding Parker to their mental list of viable suspects alongside Harrison. "We'll need to verify his alibi, check his movements during the previous killings. Track both him and Harrison, see if either leads us somewhere useful."

As they coordinated a surveillance plan for the remainder of the night, Morgan felt the weight of Cordell's deadline pressing more insistently against her consciousness.

Three days remained to resolve his ultimatum.

Three days to find a solution that would protect her father and Derik from Cordell's reach.

While Santiago Heights's vigilante demanded her professional attention, Cordell's threat remained a constant undertone to every decision.

"We should split up," she decided. "You take Harrison, I'll observe Parker after he leaves here. See where they go, what they do during their supposed routine evenings."

Derik hesitated, concern evident in his eyes. "You sure about splitting up? After Cordell's visit..."

"We'll cover more ground this way," Morgan insisted, though she appreciated his concern. "Besides, I doubt our vigilante is targeting FBI agents. We don't fit his victim profile."

The skepticism in Derik's expression suggested he wasn't entirely convinced, but he nodded his agreement. "Check in every thirty minutes. Any hint of trouble, we regroup immediately."

As they parted ways to begin their separate surveillance assignments, Morgan tried to focus exclusively on the vigilante case, on the methodology they were tracking, on the profile they were developing.

But beneath that professional concentration, Cordell's ultimatum continued its relentless countdown, a parallel threat she couldn't ignore much longer.

Three days until she would be forced to choose between surrendering her father to Cordell's vengeance or watching Derik and potentially others she cared about suffer the consequences of her refusal.

Three days to find a solution to an impossible choice, while simultaneously hunting a killer who had appointed himself judge, jury, and executioner in a neighborhood the justice system had largely abandoned.

The irony wasn't lost on her—searching for someone who had taken justice into his own hands while contemplating what her own limits might be when official channels failed.

The line between justice and vengeance had never felt quite so precarious, the boundary between righteous and wrongful action never quite so blurred.

Santiago Heights stretched before her, its contradictions visible in every block—working families trying to build decent lives alongside criminals who preyed upon them, honest struggle alongside predatory opportunism, hope persisting despite generations of neglect.

Somewhere in this complex ecosystem, their vigilante moved with lethal purpose, convinced of his moral authority to eliminate those he deemed threats to the community.