Page 12 of Forever

"Of course," Annie replied, her voice quivering. "I... I don't know how this happened or who that girl is, but I'll help however I can. What do you need?"

"Tell me everything you know about the people who use this marina," Morgan said, her voice firm but not unkind. She knew that Annie held the key to unlocking this mystery, and she needed her to understand the gravity of the situation.

Annie hesitated for a moment before nervously twirling a strand of hair around her finger. "Well, there are a few regulars who keep their boats here year-round. And then there are some people who just rent the boats for a day or two," she said, her eyes darting around the room as if searching for an escape route.

Morgan leaned forward, her eyes locking onto Annie's. "Do any of them stand out to you? Anyone who gives you a bad feeling?"

Annie chewed on her bottom lip, her eyes narrowing in concentration. "I don't know. I really can't say."

Morgan sighed. There was a good chance Annie hadn't seen anything, and talking to her, trying to pry her brain for information when she didn't even witness the crime, could be a waste of time. Morgan would rather just get the investigation done herself.

"Annie, I need a list of everyone with a license to use the marina," Morgan said. "Anything you can give me," she added quickly, seeing the fear creeping back into the girl's eyes. "It's important that we cover all our bases."

Annie nodded quickly, reaching for a clipboard from beneath the counter. "I can print it out for you," she said, her fingers flying over the keyboard.

A few moments later, the printer whirred to life, spitting out pages upon pages of names. Morgan glanced at the stack that was quickly piling up on the counter, her heart sinking as she realized the enormity of the task ahead of her. She'd have to review each person on this list, searching for any red flags or connections to the case.

It was going to be a long night. Back to the office, it was.

CHAPTER EIGHT

The first rays of sunlight seeped through the blinds of Morgan's office, casting a soft, golden glow across the room. Her head throbbed, weighed down by exhaustion and the relentless pursuit of justice. The stack of papers from the marina lay strewn across her desk, the names and details of each boater blurring together into an indecipherable mass.

As Morgan stirred, the scent of freshly brewed coffee wafted through the air, coaxing her back to consciousness. Her mind sifted through the foggy memories of the previous night. She must have fallen asleep at her desk while researching the list of people using the marina. The crumpled papers beneath her cheek and the lingering stiffness in her neck were evidence enough of that.

She lifted her head, blinking against the harsh morning light, only to find Derik standing over her with a steaming cup in his hand.

"Here," Derik said, setting a cup of coffee on the edge of the desk as he slid into the chair across from her. "You look like you could use it."

"Thanks," Morgan muttered, taking the cup and inhaling the rich aroma. The steaming liquid served as both a balm for her fatigue and a reminder of the long day ahead. She wasn't thrilled to be seeing Derik first thing in the morning, but he was still her partner.

"Did you find anything?" Derik asked, his eyes scanning the disarray of documents covering her workspace.

Morgan hesitated, recalling the countless names and faces she'd combed through last night. "Not yet," she admitted, disappointment heavy in her voice. "None of the names I looked into so far had a criminal record."

Derik leaned back in his chair, his expression thoughtful. "But you're not giving up, are you?"

"Of course not," Morgan said, determination flaring within her. "There has to be something we're missing, some connection between these people and the killer."

"Well, here," Derik said, interrupting Morgan's thoughts as he handed her a file. "It's the full autopsy report on the second victim."

Morgan took the folder from him, steeling herself for the gruesome details she knew would be contained within. As she opened it, she was confronted with an image of Martha McTavish, her face bloated and discolored from her time in the water.

"Thirty-one years old," Morgan murmured, scanning the text beneath the photograph. "Drowned at least a week ago." The confirmation of her suspicions settled heavily in her chest. They were dealing with a serial killer, and Stacy had not been the first victim.

"Martha was single and an addict," Derik added, watching Morgan's reaction closely. He knew how personal this case had become for her, and he wanted her to feel supported, even if their partnership was far from perfect.

"Addict?" Morgan questioned, the word catching her attention. She recalled Stacy's history of alcoholism and wondered if there might be a connection between the two women. Was their vulnerability to addiction somehow tied to their deaths?

"Maybe there's a pattern here," she mused aloud, her eyes still fixed on Martha's lifeless face. "Stacy was an alcoholic, Martha was an addict... Could the killer be targeting vulnerable women?"

"Could be," Derik agreed, nodding thoughtfully. "We'll need to look into their backgrounds further, see if there are any other points of intersection."

"Right," Morgan replied, her gaze shifting to meet his. For a brief moment, their eyes locked, and she could see the determination reflected in his own. It was a determination that matched her own, born from the desire to bring justice to the victims of this monstrous killer.

But Morgan couldn't simply forget what Derik had done. She wasn't ready to sit and work with him. Maybe she never would be.

"Anyway, I'll see you later," she said, turning away. Derik took the hint, nodding as he left.

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