Page 25 of For Vengeance

"Thomas Parker," Morgan said as they approached the porch. "It's been a while. Morgan Cross, FBI." She didn't mention their previous professional encounters, curious whether he would acknowledge them himself.

Recognition flickered in Parker's eyes, followed immediately by surprise. "Agent Cross. I heard you were back with the Bureau after... everything." His careful phrasing acknowledged her wrongful imprisonment without directly referencing it—diplomatic, like a prosecutor accustomed to navigating sensitive subjects. His gaze shifted to Derik. "Agent Greene. We worked the Wilson trafficking case together last year, if I remember correctly."

Derik nodded his confirmation as Parker invited them onto the porch, gesturing toward stacked lumber that could serve as makeshift seating. The prosecutor seemed unsurprised by FBI presence in Santiago Heights, though curiosity edged his tone when he asked, "What brings federal agents to this neighborhood at this hour? Something I should know about?"

"We're investigating the recent homicides," Morgan explained, studying Parker's reaction. "Rodriguez, Rivera, and now James Murray. Three execution-style killings with similar signatures."

Parker's expression revealed nothing beyond professional interest—the practiced neutrality of someone who had spent years controlling his reactions in courtrooms where emotional displays could undermine cases. "Serial vigilante," he said, the assessment immediate and accurate. "I heard about Murray this morning. Same MO as the others?"

"Similar enough to confirm pattern," Morgan acknowledged without providing specific details. "What brings an assistant DA to Santiago Heights for late-night renovation work? Not exactly the neighborhood I'd expect to find you investing in property."

Parker glanced around at the partially completed renovation, pride evident in his posture despite the project's unfinished state. "Been working on this place for eight months now. My grandfather grew up in this house, raised my father here when Santiago Heights was still a working-class neighborhood, before the decline." Something like defiance entered his voice. "Most of my colleagues thought I was crazy buying property here, but I believe in this community's potential. Too many people abandoned it over the years."

The explanation sounded reasonable on the surface—a personal connection to the neighborhood, a desire to preserve family history. But Morgan's investigative instincts noted the convenient timing of Parker's investment compared to their vigilante's emergence. Was it possible the prosecutor had purchased property in Santiago Heights not from nostalgia but with a calculated plan to "clean up" the neighborhood by eliminating its criminal elements, thereby increasing property values?

"How often are you here?" she asked, keeping her tone conversational, though her scrutiny was anything but casual. "Seems like a lot of work for someone with your caseload."

"Evenings when I can manage it. Weekends." Parker gestured toward the partially completed work. "It's therapeutic, honestly. In court, cases drag on for months with uncertain outcomes. Here, I can see immediate results from my efforts." His self-deprecating smile seemed genuine. "My wife thinks it's a midlife crisis. Cheaper than a sports car, at least."

Derik picked up the questioning seamlessly, maintaining the conversational approach that might lower Parker's guard. "You must know the neighborhood well after eight months of working here. Ever encounter any of the victims? Rodriguez was dealing just a few blocks from here."

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."

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