Page 17 of For Blood

Then came the next: a woman posed on her couch, hands folded in prayer.And another: a victim in what looked like a child's pose.Each image burned itself into Morgan's mind, a grim gallery of horror and mystery.

As she stared at the photos, a nagging feeling began to grow in the pit of her stomach.There was something here, something just beyond her grasp.Morgan's mind raced, trying to connect the dots, to see the larger picture that these gruesome puzzle pieces formed.She could feel Derik's eyes on her, waiting, sensing that she was on the verge of...something.

Morgan's stomach tightened as the realization hit her.The patterns weren't obvious at first glance, but something about the way the victims were posed tugged at her subconscious.It felt deliberate, like a puzzle she hadn't yet solved.

"The posing," she murmured, almost to herself."Maybe it’s not so much about what they say individually, but what they say as a whole."

Derik leaned forward, his brow furrowing."You think the poses mean something, like a sentence being strung together?"

Morgan met his gaze, her eyes alight with the spark of a potential breakthrough."They have to," she said, her voice firm now, the gears in her mind turning faster.

She began spreading the photos out on the table, arranging them side by side.The X.The fetal position.Child's pose.Prayer.Each one is unique, specific, and yet somehow connected.But connected how?

"Look at this," Morgan said, gesturing to the gruesome display."Each victim is positioned in a distinct way.It's like...like the killer is trying to tell us something through their bodies."

Derik stood up, moving around the table to get a better view."What could it mean?Some kind of symbolic language?"

Morgan's fingers hovered over the photos, tracing the lines of the posed bodies without touching them."Maybe.Or maybe it's more personal than that.What if each pose represents something about the victim?Or about the killer's relationship to them?"

She stared at the arrangement, her thoughts racing.The X-shaped pose of Maria Santos seemed to scream of exposure, vulnerability.The fetal position of Thomas Burke spoke of regression, of retreat.The prayer pose and child's pose...protection?Innocence?

"It's like he's categorizing them," Morgan muttered, more to herself than to Derik."But into what?And why?"

She could feel the answer hovering just out of reach, tantalizing and terrifying in equal measure.The killer wasn't just taking lives; he was crafting a message, a twisted work of art.And Morgan knew that if they could decipher it, they might just find the key to stopping him before he struck again.

Morgan's phone buzzed on the table, shattering her concentration.She glanced at the screen, her brow furrowing as she saw the caller ID.James Whitaker.Her heart rate quickened as she snatched up the device.

"Whitaker?What's going on?"Her voice was sharp with curiosity and a hint of trepidation.

On the other end of the line, Whitaker's voice was tense, his words clipped."Morgan, I know I'm retired, but I've still got friends in the department.They keep me in the loop on the cases I care about."

Morgan's gaze flickered to Derik, who was already watching her closely, sensing the shift in tone.His eyebrows raised in silent question, and she gave a small shake of her head.Not yet.She needed more information.

"What are you saying?"she asked, her free hand curling into a fist on the table.

As Whitaker spoke, Morgan felt a chill creep up her spine.Her mind raced, connecting dots she hadn't even realized were there.The poses, the timing, the location - it was all falling into place with sickening clarity.

She swallowed hard, trying to keep her voice steady."Are you absolutely certain about this, Whitaker?"

Derik leaned forward, his eyes never leaving Morgan's face.She could see the concern etched in the lines around his eyes, the way his jaw clenched in anticipation of bad news.

Morgan listened intently, her heart pounding in her ears.This changed everything.The case they thought they were working on had just expanded, morphing into something far more sinister and complex.

"We'll be there as soon as we can," she said finally, her voice barely above a whisper."Thank you for letting us know."

As she ended the call, Morgan stared at the phone in her hand, her mind reeling.How had they missed this?How had they not seen the pattern forming right before their eyes?

She looked up at Derik, her expression grim."We need to go.Now."

CHAPTER EIGHT

The flashing red and blue lights strobed across Morgan's face as she stepped out of the car, her eyes scanning the chaotic scene before her.Reverchon Park, usually a tranquil oasis in the heart of Dallas, now swarmed with police officers and crime scene technicians.The damp night air carried the scent of trampled grass and mud, mingling with the sharp tang of fear and the metallic odor of blood.

Morgan's jaw tightened as she took in the floodlights casting long, eerie shadows across the park's winding pathways.Yellow crime scene tape fluttered in the breeze, cordoning off a section of the park where photographers crouched, their cameras flashing as they documented the grim discovery.

"This is worse than I imagined," Derik muttered beside her, his usual jovial demeanor replaced by a grim determination.

Morgan nodded, her mind already racing through possibilities."Let's get closer.We need to see what we're dealing with."

---