Chasing Morgan

by Jennifer Ryan

  “Tyler, can you tell if she’s still with you at all?” Sam asked the odd question, and yet they were both getting used to Morgan and her ways.

  Tyler had to calm down, try to clear his mind, and sense whether she was with him or not. Angry she was gone. Unsure what to do next. Scared to death that bastard would kill her like all the others. He couldn’t lose her now—before they’d ever had a real chance to live their lives together.

  He sat down on the step, took a deep breath, let it out, and did it again. His eyes went up to the darkening night sky. He felt the breeze on his face, closed his eyes, and tried to empty his mind of everything but Morgan.

  Morgan, where are you?

  A splitting headache throbbed at the back of his head. He rubbed at the back of his neck to try to ease the tension and got a vision of Morgan curled up holding the back of her head.

  “Shit! She’s in the trunk of a car. He bashed her over the head, and she’s hurting bad.”

  “She told you that?” Sam asked.

  “No. I saw her. I don’t know. It’s like she sent me a picture. I could see her in the dark trunk curled up with her hands covering her head. Hell, the back of my head started hurting, but I lost the picture, and my head doesn’t hurt anymore.”

  “Okay. This is good. She can communicate with us.”

  “Sam, she’s wiped out, and she’s hurt. For a few seconds, I could feel her. I actually felt what she feels. I don’t know how to explain to you how empty she is. It’s like every ounce of energy has been drained from her. Holding her head was like asking her to dig a six-foot hole.”

  “Bad analogy, buddy.” Sam looked off in the distance, thinking things through, and turned back. “Okay, so we know who he is, we know he has her, and they’re in a car. Did you see what kind of car?”

  “No. I saw her as if I hovered a few inches above her.” He considered the dark space. “She’s not tall, maybe five-seven. She lay cramped in the trunk, so we’re looking for a compact car, definitely not an SUV. No spare tire beside her, so there’s either a compartment for it in the trunk space, or under the car. It’s not a hatchback, but it’s small.”

  Tyler’s cell phone rang. He didn’t want to deal with anything right now. He needed to concentrate on the picture she’d sent to him. Maybe he could come up with something else. He checked the caller ID, realized he couldn’t ignore the tech at the FBI.

  “Reed.” He listened while the tech ran down the information he’d dug up.

  “Shit!” He hung up and wanted to throw the damn thing across the street. Instead, he squeezed the phone until his knuckles ached.

  “Is that your new favorite word?”

  Sam didn’t like seeing Tyler out of control and not thinking straight. It reminded him of what he was like when Elizabeth was in danger. Personal involvement made it hard to make the right decision. “Who was that?”

  “The tech guy doing the background check on Mr. Tall. He checked the credit card used on Morgan’s website. In the last two days, he’s purchased things at a hardware store, a drug store, grocery store, and used a car rental agency, in addition to the various other charges that all looked like regular purchases.”

  They both knew what this meant. No telling what he’d purchased at a hardware store and drugstore. Nothing good if he planned a kidnapping. He had food and a vehicle and Morgan. He could go anywhere and do anything to her before they found her.

  Tyler calmly walked back into the police precinct. Time to do some digging. He’d start with the rental car agency. He’d get the make, model, and license plate number. They’d scour the city for the vehicle. He wouldn’t stop until he found her.

  He walked into the conference room and stared at the wall of photos. Every single woman’s face became Morgan. Every photo of their death became a photo of Morgan’s death. He closed his eyes. He didn’t want to see it. He didn’t want to think it.

  The ache in his chest intensified. He couldn’t breathe. He needed to find her. Now.

  When he opened his eyes he saw the map. She’d stood in front of it and pointed out the street where M. Tall lived. By that time, she could barely stand. She’d put her left hand on the street and had to use her right to support herself.

  Or had she? The vision came with a blast of pain that nearly sent him to his knees.

  “Sam, what does this mean to you? I see the two bags of money. The cash is pouring out. Instead of a strap from one end of the bag to the other, there’s a bridge.”

  “Are you seeing the duffel bags with the million dollars?”

  “Yeah.” Tyler didn’t know why she’d show him a picture of the money. They’d already arrested her father. The money was safely back in the bank. The bridge seemed pretty obvious. Maybe she crossed one of the bridges. But which one?

  “I wish I had a million bucks. I’d be rich,” one of the officers said.

  “Richmond Bridge,” both Tyler and Sam said at the same time.

  “Pretty good interpretation,” Sam boasted. “No wonder she has a hard time figuring out those images. She did a good job of sending a picture we could understand. Is she still in the trunk?”

  “I can’t see her, or feel her.” He didn’t care if they all thought he was nuts. As excruciating as the vision felt, at least he knew she was still alive. And counting on him to find her.

  Sam walked over to the map. “Okay, let’s go with the Richmond Bridge. He’s only had her for, what, a half hour at most. That’s enough time to get across the bridge and into Richmond. We know this guy hasn’t rented an apartment or hotel room, yet. His credit card would have shown it.”

  “Unless he paid cash,” someone called out.

  Sam shook his head, discounting the suggestion. “I don’t think our guy wants to be anywhere with Morgan someone can see or hear them together. Besides, this guy doesn’t have the kind of cash it would take to rent a place. He wouldn’t take her to a hotel. Too many people. I think he’s taking her someplace secluded, where he can keep her for a while and no one will see or hear them.”

  “A warehouse,” Tyler said and grabbed the back of his head. “She’s at a warehouse.” He grabbed his shoulder. “She’s out of the trunk. Oh God, he’s dragging her by one arm across the pavement and her other arm and shoulder are getting chewed up. Her hair keeps getting stuck under her.” He grabbed his head with both hands. “It’s ripping right out of her scalp.” He felt the pop as much as he heard it in his mind. Bone against bone, her arm came out of the socket in her shoulder. He grabbed his own shoulder and bellowed, “Shit!”

  Sam had a hard time watching Tyler and the way this whole mess tore him apart. Everyone stood silent watching him, the pain in his face and wracking his body. They all knew it was nothing compared to what Morgan must be going through.

  “Tyler, come on, man. Sit down.”

  “He pulled her arm out of the socket when he yanked her up a step. He didn’t even stop. He’s dragging her. She’s in agony, and she can’t do anything to stop him. She’s completely worn out.”

  He took the seat Sam shoved him into and put his head in his hands and rested his elbows on his knees. He focused on his tenuous connection to Morgan. As much as he didn’t want to feel or see what was happening to her, he had to. It was the only way he’d find her.

  “Ask her where she is?”

  It’s the only thing he kept asking her. Over and over again, Where are you?

  Three words she didn’t have the strength to answer. He could feel her slipping away again. Then, when he thought he’d lose her, she opened her eyes and he saw through them. About to be dragged through a doorway into the warehouse, she looked down the length of her body at the surrounding buildings. In that moment, he could see everything she saw around her. She focused on the sign in front of an adjacent warehouse. Dragged into the building, he lost her.

  “Contact Cantrell Commercial Real Estate. They have a sign in front of a warehouse that offers over twenty thousand square feet of space for lease or sale. Sh
e’s across the street and over one building from that warehouse and sign. There are several warehouses around her. None of them have lights on. The street is empty, except for a single white truck, probably from a construction crew, across the street. The warehouses we’re looking for are under renovation and are being newly leased out. The one she’s gone into hasn’t been renovated yet. She’s being dragged across glass and other debris.”

  He didn’t want to think about her being cut, or scratched up. The shoulder was bad. Her head was in agony, and she was fading fast. He couldn’t imagine what it was doing to her to be with a man evil enough to want to kill her.

  One thought nearly sent him to his grave.

  “Sam, we have a big problem. This guy doesn’t know Morgan. He doesn’t know anger and hate and other strong emotions hurt her. He doesn’t know she’s already used up her energy trying to find him.”

  Sam narrowed his eyes and nodded his agreement to Tyler’s devastating revelation. “He could kill her without touching her.”

  Everyone in the room scrambled to get organized for the short trip to Richmond. At Sam’s words, a quiet urgency settled on the group. This guy took the lives of five women. Morgan had helped the FBI on several cases, including the prostitution and abduction ring that sparked this whole mess. She’d saved Leslie from her abusive father. No one wanted her to be the Psychic Slayer’s next victim.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  * * *

  EVERYTHING HURT, BUT Morgan’s head and shoulder were the worst. Dumped unceremoniously in the middle of the floor, she’d lost consciousness. For how long, she didn’t know. Regaining her focus, she caught a glimpse of the supplies spread out around them. A chair, a couple bags of groceries, a suitcase, and a sleeping bag. She didn’t delude herself into believing she’d survive long enough for a good night’s sleep. This man killed five women, and he liked it. She had no illusions she’d make it out of this alive.

  A strange mix of happiness and elation mixed with a tremendous urge to feel the life drain from her when he strangled her like the others radiated from this man. The anger and rage she anticipated remained eerily restrained, like he had it locked behind a door. It pulsed, pushing against his restraint, giving her glimpses of its power around the edges. At any moment, he’d unleash it on her. The ebb and flow told her he didn’t quite have control over it.

  He remained conflicted as to what to do with her. A piece of him held her in reverence. She hoped that side of him won. Unfortunately, he had a taste for killing, and a growing hunger demanding to be fed. That side of him scared her to death.

  “Wake up, angel,” he whispered close to her ear. “Tell me my fortune.”

  He pushed her shoulder to wake her and her head rolled. Searing pain rushed through her shoulder and down her arm and back. She moaned and tried to remain still and minimize the agony.

  She prayed for Tyler to save her. She’d done her best to connect to him. She had no way to know if it worked or not.

  “Wake up, angel. Tell me my fortune. Remember, I asked you before about a job. You were right. I got it.”

  Then he remembered she’d also seen him end his mother’s life. He’d been so careful, and only wanted to live his own life. She always demanded he be better, and in her next breath detailed how he didn’t measure up. He couldn’t take it anymore. When she’d become ill, she demanded he take care of her. After years of listening to her never achievable expectations and belittling remarks, it was even more demeaning to have to bathe her and change her clothes. He’d taken her back and forth to doctors. Every time they said she was well on her way out of this world, and still she’d linger.

  She wouldn’t just die, so he’d made sure she did after the last visit to the doctor. They’d put her on a morphine drip with computerized dosing. Drugged up, she could barely speak or move.

  She’d accused him so many times of being inferior and incapable of finishing anything. Well, he’d well and truly followed through on his threat. He told her if she wouldn’t go on her own, he’d make her. He wouldn’t spoon-feed her soup or change her bedpan anymore. He’d show her he was strong and powerful, not the weakling she’d always called him. He was a man, not a boy like she’d treated him his whole life.

  “Wake up,” he screamed and kicked Morgan in the side. He felt the thrill of satisfaction when she moaned and rolled over.

  “Stop,” she pleaded. “Just stop.” She hurt. Awake enough to really see her surroundings, she was scared. What if Tyler didn’t see where she’d been taken? What if he couldn’t figure it out? What if they were too late?

  “What’s the matter with you? I saw you the other day. You were lit from within, an angel sent to help me. That’s when I knew you were special. You can see things others can’t. You can see the fakes, the impostors.”

  “Is that what you want? You want me to see if someone is an impostor. Because I can tell you right now, the only impostor I see is you.”

  She managed to sit up, but the backhanded slap across her face sent her backwards onto the floor again. She leaned to the side and spit the blood out of her mouth. She’d bitten her cheek and it made her mad. Tired of people hitting her, the anger gave her just the little bit of strength she needed. She struggled up to her feet and stood in front of M. Tall. Two inches taller than him, it didn’t give her any extra confidence. He’d killed five women. His deceptive strength came from his rage in the moment he killed them.

  “I know what you did. I told you before to go to the police. Now it’s too late. The FBI is coming for you.” She swayed on her feet. Bad idea to stand. She held her arm to her stomach, and still her shoulder felt like someone had set it on fire.

  She closed her eyes and sent the scene to Tyler. Time to end this once and for all. She wouldn’t let this man hurt anyone else. She’d be the last.

  “DRIVE FASTER,” TYLER demanded for the fifth time.

  Sam drove as fast as he could. They all were, but traffic on the bridge made things difficult, even with the lights and sirens. It wasn’t safe to excessively speed. If they got into an accident, they could be stuck on the bridge for hours at best, and at worst they could be killed, or kill someone else. Tyler understood that, but his need to get to Morgan overrode his good judgment.

  “We’ll get to her.”

  Tyler hadn’t heard or felt anything from Morgan in the last twenty-five minutes.

  They sped down the highway in silence and entered the industrial district close to the water and docks. Richmond Police had already been dispatched to the warehouse and surrounded the building. They couldn’t see inside or get close enough to enter. Surrounded by windows, anyone inside would see them coming.

  They listened to the police radio, the back-and-forth as officers gave out information on the scene and snipers took positions on the surrounding buildings.

  Every radio call made Tyler more anxious. Almost there, he had his bulletproof vest on and his FBI jacket. Dressed and ready to do his job, only this time it wasn’t just any person he needed to save. The woman he loved was hurt and dying. He could feel it. Somewhere inside of him, he knew she was dying.

  It hit him all at once like being hit by a car. Her pain overwhelmed him.

  Sam pulled in behind several police cruisers, but waited for him to get out. Unable to move, Tyler held himself completely rigid.

  “What is it?”

  “She’s awake,” he muttered. Difficult to talk with everything she was sending to him, she tried to keep the pain at bay, but didn’t have the strength.

  “He killed his mother. That’s what she knew. That’s what he’s trying to hide.” He waited. He could still feel her, trying to hold on to him.

  Come on, baby. You can do this. I’m coming for you. I’m right outside. Tell me where you are.

  He leaned back in his seat and the vision hit him like a sledgehammer. He saw the whole warehouse. He saw her, standing in front of him with her back to the front of the building. They were in the center of the open space
with only a small camp light. She stood with her legs wide to keep her balance. She had to hold her arm to keep the pain under control. She might be standing now, but judging by the sway of her body, she wouldn’t be on her feet much longer.

  He could go in through the south side of the building, and they wouldn’t be seen. They could take out the man and get to Morgan. She needed them to get to her.

  “Is the ambulance standing by?”

  Sam hated that he had to ask. “Yeah, they’re on the next block.”

  “Tell them to come in on the south side slow and easy. No lights. She needs them. Her shoulder is out of the socket, her ribs might be broken, and she might have a concussion. Her jaw is just throbbing. He must have hit her. It pissed her off. That’s twice today she’s been smacked in the face, and she didn’t like it.”

  He tried to continue seeing the scene, but it faded as he watched her struggle to get back up after falling. Her bad arm hung limp at her side. She stumbled and cried out a few times, making an effort to rise. Then she seemed to look up at him before she stood up with conviction.

  Tyler jumped out of the car, gun in hand. “We have to go now. South Side. He won’t see us coming. There’s only a small light. It’s just him and her. He’s losing it. He’s going to kill her,” he said on the run.

  At that point, he didn’t care who followed him, or didn’t. He needed to get to Morgan.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  * * *

  “THOSE WOMEN COULDN’T see like you can see!”

  “Then, why would you kill them, and do those horrible things to them? They didn’t know about your mother. They couldn’t tell what they didn’t know.”

  “They wouldn’t tell me where you were.”

  “They couldn’t,” she yelled back.