Chasing Morgan

by Jennifer Ryan

  After the FBI office and bank, they met Sam at the police precinct for the task force meeting to go over the Psychic Slayer case and the latest results from the lab.

  Sam waved them into a conference room. “What do you think, Morgan? We’ve got photos of each of the victims up on the walls along with a timeline and descriptions of evidence found at the scenes and the phonebook pages. Next to each dead woman’s ad or listing, we’ve put a red sticker.”

  Morgan shivered. They stood out like drops of blood on the pages. An eerie reminder those women lost their lives to a man who wanted to silence and blind them. They died because they couldn’t tell him how to find her.

  She sat staring at those pages thinking about the murdered women and the ones who could be killed because a man ultimately wanted her. He thought she knew something about him. He wanted to make sure she didn’t tell. And to make sure no psychic ever told.

  Morgan listened to them talking about the case. Where they were with different pieces of evidence, what they thought about the man committing the murders, and when they thought he would strike next. No one wanted to say they all knew he was after her.

  She must have had contact with the killer through her website. Living in Colorado isolated her from people. Sure, she saw people in town when she did her shopping, but the murders were happening here in San Francisco. There weren’t too many psychic shops in the small towns close to where she lived, and she’d only visited Denver once.

  “Tyler, have you heard from the guys at the FBI about my computer files?” she asked.

  “Not yet. I checked in with them when we stopped by earlier. They didn’t have anything conclusive. Why? Did you think of something?”

  “Can you ask them to search the files in the last”—she paused to think about how far back they should go—“two years. They should look in my responses. If I saw something illegal this man did, I would have told him to turn himself into the police. Tell them to search the file for keywords like police, or turn yourself in. That might get us something.”

  “Do you have a lot of responses where you’d say that to someone?” Tyler asked.

  “I can think of a few. There’s something bugging me. I keep thinking I should know which one I’m looking for.”

  Everyone focused on Morgan, although they tried to hide it.

  Tired all the way to her bones, being in the city and in the precinct gradually drained her. Keeping up her guard against the people in the station wore on her. She wanted this over. Only one way to do that. She’d have to find the man killing the psychics. Enough stalling, she knew what had to be done. She needed to find him her way.

  “I’ll call the office and have them search your files for the keywords you said. I’ll be back in a few minutes.” Tyler kissed the top of her head and walked by, his hand brushed across her shoulder and back as he passed. He’d make the call and get her out of here. Fading fast, he didn’t want to see her blank out for hours again. She couldn’t keep this up. He knew it, and Sam had already commented on it too.

  He hated to admit she needed to go back home to Colorado. He didn’t want to be separated from her, but he wanted her safe and healthy.

  They had a lot to work out before they shared their lives. He wondered if she’d live with him in California. Not in the city or even the suburbs, but maybe they could find something more isolated. Someplace like where her father had been living. She’d done okay up in the hills. He’d have to start looking around for a piece of property. He had some money put away. Real estate and property were expensive in California, and especially in the Bay Area. It didn’t matter. He’d find a place for him and Morgan, whatever it took to keep her safe and with him. They could use the property in Colorado throughout the year, or if she needed to get away. They’d work it out. He couldn’t lose her. Not now. Not ever.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  * * *

  SHE WAITED FOR Tyler to leave, then stood, and with all eyes on her she went to the wall of pictures and details about the murders. She walked by each one and touched some of the pictures. Then she stood with her back to the group of men discussing the case and opened herself to the man who killed these women.

  She tried to put herself in his home at the coffee table in his apartment looking at the open phonebook, looking through his eyes. A different experience for her; normally she saw her visions as if they were on a movie screen in her mind. In this case, she was the man sitting on the old sofa looking at the phonebook.

  Once she had herself in that place, she mentally told herself to move away from him and walk around the room. It took all her focus and energy to make herself an active participant in the vision.

  As soon as Sam saw her blank out, he silently signaled for everyone to leave. She needed her space. All of them focusing on her would only drain her faster. He’d watched her wilt when she shared a vision with Emma. This time, she looked like a leaf in fall withering away to a crisp death. He wanted to shake her out of whatever vision held her, but he feared what might happen if he touched her. He wished Tyler would come back. With his connection to her, maybe he’d know what to do.

  She stood before the wall of pictures, not really seeing them at all. Her shoulders slumped with her hands and arms hanging at her sides. Her lively hair went as slack as her arms. The golden mass of waves now lay limp and lifeless. The golden glow of her hair tarnished and dulled. When she swayed slightly, he moved toward her and stood behind her within reach. If she collapsed, he’d catch her.

  Morgan moved around the dingy room. From the small sitting area, she looked into an even smaller kitchen with scarred and battered cupboards. Many of the drawers hung at odd angles, unable to slide into place properly. Outdated, avocado-green refrigerator and countertops in a faded white-with-gold-flecks pattern.

  Nothing in the space told her where this apartment was located. She glided to the door with the peephole, hoping to avoid getting trapped in a closet. She’d never done this before and relied solely on instinct. She floated through the door and almost laughed at the thought of Tyler being right. In this way, she could be considered a ghost. She found herself in a hallway with dark paneled walls and a threadbare, cigarette-burned, deep burgundy and navy carpet that long ago needed replacing. She didn’t even want to consider the many stains. She turned and stared back at the door she’d just spirited through. Apartment 6D.

  Tyler walked into the room. Sam stood behind Morgan. Although she stared at the gruesome wall of photos and evidence, she wasn’t seeing any of it. She’d gone somewhere else. He quietly walked over to Sam and whispered into his ear, “Why is she smiling when she looks like she’s fading?”

  “I don’t know,” Sam whispered back. “She just said, ‘Apartment 6D.’ I’m guessing she’s tracking down our guy using some kind of psychic spider sense.”

  “She isn’t Spider-Girl. She doesn’t have superpowers.” Worried about her, she didn’t look good, and seeing her this way ate away at his heart.

  “I’m not so sure about that. She’s got an apartment number. Let’s see if she can get anything else.”

  “She’s turning gray. We aren’t talking pale here. Gray.” He took a step toward her. He couldn’t feel her with him. He couldn’t hear her, even when he called to her in his mind. This wasn’t like in the hills. This was different, like she’d gone somewhere he couldn’t go.

  Sam grabbed Tyler’s arm before he touched Morgan. “Give her a chance. She went into this trance on her own. We didn’t ask her to try and find out where the guy is. I think she wants to end this.”

  “Of course she wants to end it. People are dying.”

  “Yes. And she feels responsible because this started with her. She said this would end with her. Maybe this is it. Maybe she’ll come out of this with the guy’s name and where we can find him.”

  If she were anyone but the woman he loved, he would wait it out. So he stepped back and gave her some space. The smile had long since faded from her lips. They turned as pa
le as her skin. Her eyes were as dark as he’d ever seen them. He and Sam stood behind her just in case she collapsed. God, he hoped she didn’t.

  Morgan’s sight was clearer, sharper than it had ever been. This is important.

  Life and death.

  She went to the window at the end of the hall and spirited her way through it and down the side of the building. The building and the neighborhood were in a state of decay. She found the front door along with a bank of mailboxes. She scanned them, found 6D, and read the red plastic label: M. Tall.

  “That’s a name you could never live up to. You were never tall in stature or in your life, but you’ve found a way to make yourself larger than life. You take it away. You’ve found a thrill in those women’s deaths. Although you seek me, you’ll continue to kill because you like it. You’ve been anonymous your whole life, and now you’ve found a way to make that anonymity work for you, so you can be hidden and seen.

  “Everyone knows the Psychic Slayer, yet no one knows M. Tall.

  “I know you, Mr. Tall.

  “I’m coming for you.”

  Her words, haunting and whispered like a secret confessed in the dead of night, sent a chill down Tyler’s back.

  “Please tell me she isn’t talking to him,” Sam pleaded.

  She’d given them his name. Now all they needed was an address and they’d get him. Progress. Finally.

  She moved over to a map hanging on the other wall. She held up both hands and ran them over the map. Her right finger stopped and pointed to a spot. Sam and Tyler both looked over her shoulder.

  “Twenty-three Windsor Street,” she whispered.

  Her finger rested on the street. The red dots indicating the murder locations spread out in an odd circle around the street she indicated. He’d picked the women, or the ads, based on the proximity to his own home. Close enough to walk to, most of them within twenty minutes from his apartment. Not so unusual for a serial killer to hunt in a familiar area.

  Morgan leaned against the wall, hands spread wide. She knew who he is, knew where he lived, now all she had to do was find him and stop him.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  * * *

  SHE DISAPPEARED INTO the police station over an hour ago. He watched, waited, hid behind a dumpster in the back of the parking lot across the street, keeping the entrance and their car in sight. The anticipation made his gut tighten. He wiped his damp hands down his thighs.

  Overwhelmed with excitement, she’d finally arrived, and he couldn’t wait to get his hands on her. He’d waited outside the shop where he’d killed that woman, Rose. She’d known about him. She’d known about Morgan. Things she couldn’t have known unless she was like Morgan.

  The others were actors in a costume playing to their audience. He wished he’d kept Rose longer. He wished he’d had his special place ready, so he could explore the depths of what made her special.

  Rose wasn’t the one. He wanted Morgan.

  At first, he’d thought her a witch out to destroy him. He knew better now. She was the catalyst to his discovering his own power. Invisible his whole life, now he was somebody. People feared him, and others admired him for eradicating the imposters.

  Ethereal and golden even in the night, she glowed like he imagined angels glowed with an inner light that shined through. Just thinking about her and the powers she possessed and controlled excited him.

  Yes, she’s his angel, sent to show the world who he really is.

  The chill in the air seeped through his coat and goose flesh rose on his skin. The fog had rolled in with the setting sun and cast an eerie glow on the streets.

  She’ll come out soon, he told himself over and over again. He’d get his chance and she’d be his.

  The wind blew, swirling the fog.

  Someone tapped his shoulder.

  He turned quickly, afraid he’d been discovered. No one.

  Nothing behind him but trash and darkness. He thought he saw a transparent light blink out. Chills ran up his spine and a cold sweat broke out over his skin.

  Scared to death, someone had just walked over his grave.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  * * *

  EVERYONE SCRAMBLED TO gather whatever information they could on M. Tall at 23 Windsor Street, apartment 6D.

  Tyler led Morgan to a chair at the far side of the room and made her sit down. She’d done it. She’d gotten the information they needed. The fact that she looked like the walking dead didn’t do much to make him happy about how they got the information. Eyes sunken, cheeks hollow, she’d shriveled before his eyes. Torn, he needed to get her out of there and back to the ship, but he also had to do his job and catch the bastard killing women and hunting Morgan.

  “If she’d done whatever she did weeks ago, we could have saved time and lives,” Stewart remarked.

  Morgan didn’t respond to Stewart, but sat as if she’d turned to stone, or fragile porcelain. Tyler lost it. He grabbed Stewart by the front of his shirt and propelled him across the room and as far away from Morgan as he could get the asshole. He shoved him against the wall of gruesome photos.

  “She’s done everything she can to help on this case and it’s taking everything she has to do it. Do what you should have done at the press conference and shut the fuck up. If you don’t, I’ll see that you do. Got it?”

  “Man, relax, I was only saying . . .”

  Tyler slammed him against the wall again. “Not another word.”

  Stewart got his message and slipped free and left the room. Maybe now Morgan could have the space she needed to recover from all she’d done.

  Tyler sucked in a deep breath and let it out on a ragged sigh, trying to pull himself together before he faced Morgan again. He didn’t want to bombard her with his emotions.

  He turned to her, but found nothing but her empty chair as everyone around him scrambled to do their job and not piss him off.

  A spurt of adrenaline and fear rushed through his system. “Where did Morgan go?” Tyler asked, inwardly trying to sense her, but feeling nothing.

  One of the officers getting ready to go serve the search warrant on the apartment spoke first. “The lady? She left a few minutes ago while we were going over the building layout. She didn’t look so good. I think maybe she’s sick.”

  Tyler and Sam looked at each other.

  “I’m sure she’s fine,” Sam said. “She probably just needed to get away. Everyone is anxious and worried about the operation, she probably couldn’t handle all the emotions.”

  Tyler wasn’t convinced. “I wanted to take her back to the ship. She needs the isolation after everything that’s happened. I thought maybe Captain Finn could come and get her and I’d meet her back there later.”

  “You want me to go look for her while you coordinate the teams?”

  Distracted by his ringing phone, Tyler didn’t answer Sam, who turned to answer a question from one of the officers.

  “Reed.”

  “Got the information you requested.”

  “You found it.”

  “Two years ago. Martin Tall. He asked about getting a job, and she responded that he’d get it. She also told him she knew what he’d done, and he should turn himself into the police.”

  “Did she say what she knew?”

  “No such luck there.”

  “Shit. Did he say the name of the company?”

  “Mimitech.”

  “Perfect. Contact them and get his records. Dig up whatever you can on him. Start with the credit card he used to pay for the response and the business. I want this guy’s history.”

  The noise in the room grew louder with all the officers talking and planning for the operation to find and take down the Psychic Slayer, aka Martin Tall.

  Sam waited beside him for further explanation.

  “You heard the bit about his request through her website about whether he’d get a job with a place called Mimitech. It’s a copier repair service. Tech is doing the background now.”
r />   He turned around. Turned around again. Puzzled, he rubbed the base of his neck.

  Sam grabbed his arm to stop him from turning again. “Who are you looking for?”

  Morgan screamed in his mind. Tyler! The pain knifed through his brain, like the time she yelled No! during the press conference. He grabbed his head and grit his teeth.

  Sam shoved Tyler into a chair. “What’s the matter?”

  “Mor-gan,” he answered between clenched teeth, barely able to get her name out.

  Tyler jumped up and ran from the conference room, Sam on his heels. They busted through the front door on the run like they were fleeing a fire. Officers and civilians stared after them. They searched the immediate area, but didn’t find Morgan.

  “You take the parking lot. I’ll go around the other side of the building. Maybe she took a short walk.” Even Sam didn’t believe that, but said it in hopes Tyler would think it sounded good.

  “She could barely walk ten minutes ago. I had to make her sit in the chair. She still seemed out of it, like she was still in a vision.”

  It hit him all at once. “Shit! She was still searching him out. She found him. He took her from right under our noses.” He looked around again. “She came out here, stood right outside the police station, and he took her.”

  “You don’t know that. She might have just gone for a walk to clear her head. Maybe she’s too tired to get back here, and that’s why she called out to you.”

  He shook his head. “No. She screamed my name because she’s scared. Our connection broke again. I had her, but now she’s gone again.” He ran his hand through his hair and pulled on it in frustration.

  They knew the guy’s name and where he lived, but they didn’t know anything else. They’d only had the information for half an hour, at most. The task force team worked diligently putting information together. Undercover officers remained posted outside the building, surrounding it. No one had spotted the suspect, and he wasn’t at home. Now, it seemed, he had Morgan.