It took all of thirty minutes for the house to become a crime scene, and Morgan refused to budge. As far as he was concerned, he was a key witness in the event of Tom’s disappearance, and he didn’t hold back when giving his statement to Gary. Only he wasn’t just Gary at that moment—he was Detective Gary Lee of the Metropolitan Police Department, and this time Morgan was giving him information rather than taking it from him.
As soon as they were done, Gary fell back into the role of best friend. Morgan kept silent while he was led through the house, and together they watched forensics buzz around like flies on a corpse. It was astonishing to Morgan just how quickly somebody’s home could become invaded by the authorities. If that didn’t scream trouble, he didn’t know what did.
“This is where Tom slept,” Gary said, taking the lead into the master bedroom.
“If he slept at all. The guy looked like he worked out twenty-four seven.” Morgan hugged the wall to let a technician slide past, then moved to the window that overlooked the backyard. He twitched the curtain and looked out upon the alley where officers had applied tape to cordon off the area. “What do you think his kidnapper used?”
“Something blunt and hard. There are no traces of wood, so we’re ruling out anything like a baseball bat. Maybe something metal like a hammer or crowbar. That was a lot of blood though, so even if he’s still alive…”
He didn’t need to finish that sentence, and Morgan was glad he didn’t. In this line of work, it only got easier to accept when somebody had bitten the dust, but once you’d met them in person and put some kind of personality to the face or name, it became too real. “He’d be in a lot of pain. But I’ve seen people survive a lot worse.”
Gary came to his side, gazing out of the window with him. “Yeah? Like what?”
“Bones broken. Bodies beaten so hard even their organs bruised.” Morgan sighed at the grim realization of his pessimism. Deep down, he truly wanted to believe that Tom was still alive somewhere. But that was if he’d survived the blunt-force trauma, and if it hadn’t all been staged to give him an easy exit. Morgan didn’t think Tom seemed the guilty type, but at this point he couldn’t take anyone’s innocence for granted.
“Hey, listen…” Gary turned toward him. “Are you okay?”
“I’m good enough. Why?”
“Because I’ve known you for most of my life, and you’ve never looked this bad.”
“I’m just tired.” Morgan gave a big, fake smile, but was he really okay? If he gave himself enough time to be isolated and get his head straight, he’d probably figure out that he wasn’t; not only was the case getting to him, but Rachel kept sliding into his thoughts. It wasn’t a distraction he needed, but maybe his brain was trying to tell him something. Perhaps it was just enough of a distraction to keep him from seeing Dusty’s face every time he closed his eyes.
Whatever it was, it only added to his stress.
They made their way downstairs and ended up in the front yard, far away from the reporters and blinding lights of civilian cell-phone camera flashes. Morgan turned his back to them, not wanting his face all over the internet. Instead, he focused on Gary. “So, where do we go from here?”
Gary used both hands to rake his fingers through his long, graying hair. “Honestly? I don’t know yet. The rest of the team need filling in on what you found, then we’ll need to go over your statement. I’ll interview the neighborhood myself, but the captain’s going to have the final say on how we move forward.”
“How is he reacting to all this?”
“The captain?”
Morgan nodded.
“Not well. He’s as strict as ever.”
“Why am I not surprised?”
“Because you know him too well.” Gary rotated his body toward the road, giving a short nod in the same direction. “Here he comes. If you want to ask him anything personally, then now’s the time. I’ll catch up with you later.”
“Why, where are you going?”
“I have a crime scene to wrap up.”
Gary spread his arms out wide to gesture the width of the house as he walked backward, until he turned and vanished through the front door, pointing at two officers and waving them over. He was in his element now, and Morgan watched him with admiration for a second before turning his attention to the captain, who was storming up the front path with a cold, hard stare that could’ve raised the dead.
“You’re in over your head, Young.”
Morgan paused, his heart pausing with him. “Excuse me?”
“I didn’t hire you for this case, which means you’re interfering with police business.” Captain Bray stopped in front of him, trench coat flapping around in the cold winter wind. “I sympathize with you, but it’s time to stay out of it and let the professionals do their jobs.”
“With all due respect, I’m the one who found the link between Tom and the victims.”
“And how long is it before we find him handcuffed to a wheel?”
A flash of dread hit Morgan. He’d known all along it was a possibility, but there was all too real a chance that this awful thing could actually happen. “You’re talking as if I had a hand in getting him taken, when really I just happened to be on the scene.”
“Isn’t that a coincidence?”
“What are you saying?”
Captain Bray sighed and shifted his weight to the other leg. He stepped up to Morgan’s side and turned to look up at the house before lowering his tone. “I’m not accusing you of anything, and I know you well enough to know you had nothing to do with this, but a court might not see it that way.”
“You think I’ll be in trouble?”
“I think you’re causing it.”
“How so?”
“Every time you make a move, it has to go in a report. You’re involved, whether I allow you to be or not. You know, I dream of going home on time one evening, maybe play with my kids for a few minutes before they get too old. But I can’t, and you know why? Because you’re playing Sherlock Holmes without our consent.”
Morgan supposed he was right. He didn’t have explicit permission, after all. But did he really need it? Technically, he was only asking people questions about his late cousin. Was that not allowed? Did it really matter that the captain had to type a few extra words into his computer when a killer had a chance of being caught? “I’m sorry you have to do that, Captain, but I have to do what I have to do. It’s just the way it is.”
“I was afraid you’d say that.”
“Then where do we go from here?”
“Now? Simple: you go home before I find a reason to arrest you.”
Morgan turned to him, speechless. “You’re serious.”
Captain Bray shrugged. “It’s just the way it is,” he said.
And just like that, he was left alone on the front lawn of a man who’d been taken from right under his nose. Why, exactly, was still a mystery that needed explaining, but there was nobody left to point him in the right direction. Among all the secrets and complications, there was now only one thing left that Morgan could be sure of: things just got a lot harder.
And he was all out of luck.