Page 32

The midnight operation had failed, but failure was simply information—another data point guiding them toward their elusive target.

Morgan wouldn't allow disappointment to overshadow determination.

Every unsuccessful strategy eliminated possibilities, narrowed parameters, brought them incrementally closer to identifying their vigilante before he claimed another victim.

The process felt frustratingly slow, especially with Cordell's deadline approaching, but methodical elimination remained their best hope of finding their killer.

"We'll divide the neighborhood into sectors," she continued, drawing a rough map of Santiago Heights and partitioning it into manageable zones.

"Teams of two agents per sector, conducting intensive interviews focused specifically on potential suspects rather than general canvassing.

Look for anyone with unusual interest in the murders, anyone with alibi inconsistencies, anyone whose behavior has changed noticeably since the killings began. "

As the teams dispersed to begin implementing the revised approach, the energy in the room shifted subtly from defeated to focused.

Morgan had provided direction amid failure, a path forward when the previous route had proved impassable.

The late hour and failed operation still weighed on them, but professional purpose had been restored, giving meaning to the night's disappointment.

Derik remained behind after the others had filed out, his expression troubled in the harsh fluorescent lighting that cast unflattering shadows across his face. He waited until the door closed behind the last agent before speaking, maintaining their privacy.

"You felt someone watching you tonight," he said, not a question but a statement of fact. His years as her partner had taught him to read her subtle cues, to recognize when her instincts had been triggered, even when she maintained an outwardly calm demeanor. "You think it was him? Our vigilante?"

Morgan considered the question, recalling the particular quality of that unseen observation—focused, evaluative, calculating rather than merely threatening.

Not the generalized danger of Santiago Heights after midnight, but something specific, intentional.

"Maybe," she acknowledged, leaning against the edge of the table.

"It felt...professional. Controlled. Not the typical Santiago Heights threat.

Not someone looking for an easy victim or a territorial dealer tracking movements through their area. "

"If it was him, he's now aware we're actively hunting him, not just investigating the murders," Derik pointed out, moving to stand beside her.

"That changes the dynamic. He knows we're setting traps, trying to draw him out.

That knowledge will affect his behavior, his timeline, his method selection. "

The observation hung between them, its implications clear.

Their vigilante now knew federal agents were specifically targeting him, setting traps, attempting to draw him out.

That knowledge would likely change his behavior—perhaps making him more cautious, perhaps driving him underground temporarily, or perhaps—most concerning—accelerating his timeline to complete whatever mission he believed himself to be undertaking.

"We need to identify his next potential target," Morgan concluded, turning back to the evidence board where three dead men stared back at her from crime scene photos.

The harsh overhead lighting illuminated the gruesome details of their deaths—Rodriguez slumped over his own confession, Rivera's blood soaking into the carpet beneath him, Murray's lifeless form trapped in the classic car he'd attempted to steal.

"Rodriguez, Rivera, Murray—he selected them for specific reasons.

If we can understand his selection criteria completely, we might predict who he's hunting next. "

Her fingers traced the connections they'd established between the victims—all criminals operating in Santiago Heights, all having escaped serious consequences for their crimes, all killed in ways that suggested intimate knowledge of their activities.

"He's not choosing randomly. Each victim represents something specific to him—some personal offense against his concept of justice, his vision for Santiago Heights.

If we can understand what drives his selections, we might get ahead of him before he kills again. "

The vigilante's clock and Cordell's ultimatum ticked in terrible synchrony, both deadlines approaching with relentless certainty.

Morgan felt the weight of both pressing against her with each passing hour, each failed strategy, each lost opportunity.

But beneath that pressure, a deeper determination solidified—she would not fail on either front.

She would find this vigilante before he killed again, and she would find a way to protect her father and Derik from Cordell's vengeance.

Failure was not an option she was willing to accept.

Not now. Not with so much at stake. Not when the consequences would be measured in blood and loss and grief.

She had survived ten years of wrongful imprisonment, had rebuilt her life from the ashes Cordell had created, had reclaimed her position and purpose despite everything taken from her.

She would not allow either of these threats to destroy what she had fought so hard to restore.

"We'll find him," she said quietly, as much to herself as to Derik. "Tomorrow we start fresh, with a new approach. He's out there, and he's going to make a mistake. They always do, eventually."

The determination in her voice belied the exhaustion pulling at her limbs, the weight of dual deadlines pressing against her consciousness.

Three days remained until Cordell's ultimatum expired.

Potentially less time before their vigilante selected his next target.

The pressure was mounting from multiple directions, but pressure had always brought out Morgan's greatest resilience—a quality forged during ten years behind bars when survival itself had sometimes seemed impossible.

She would find this killer. She would protect her father and Derik. She would face Cordell on her own terms.

Failure simply wasn't an option she would consider.