The Phantom Ritual (DCI Morgan Chester: Case One)

Chapter Thirty-Three

The intercom shrieked loudly through her flat and into the bedroom. Morgan groaned as she lifted her head off the pillow. She felt groggy as she had been asleep for no longer than ten minutes. Her joints clicked as Morgan rose from the bed and her bare feet padded against the cold wood floor as she made her way to the front door. She could ignore it and go back to sleep, but what if it was Cole and something had come up.

Morgan picked up the intercom and yawned a hello.

"Morgan, it's Aaron. I need to see you right now, please." He sounded desperate and scared.

She pulled the intercom away from her ear and looked at it with confusion. Was she in a nightmare? She lifted her hand under the t-shirt and pinched at her skin. Nope, fully awake.

"You should not be here, and I do not want you here. Go home to your wife."

"Please, Morgan, she kicked me out when she found out about us. I got mugged, my wallet and phone have been taken off me by some thugs. I have nowhere else to go." He pleaded.

She thumped her forehead with the palm of her hand and leant her body against the door. She had to be stern with him.

"If you wish to make a statement, you will have to go to a police station. There is one not far from here." She replied, hoping he would get the message and leave her alone.

"I am scared, Morgan. I know you hate me, but please, I need your help."

Morgan ground her teeth together, and her eyes locked on the grey button with a key printed on it. Every fibre in her body was screaming to hang up and leave him on the streets.

"You have five minutes; make it quick." She pressed the button and slammed the intercom down.

For fucks sake, what am I doing...? she thought to herself.

He gently tapped his knuckles against her door shortly after she ended the call. She unlocked the door and pulled it open, shocked at the sight of him. He looked awful with his messy hair and clothes covered in dirt. He had one thin but a long scratch on his neck. She moved out of the way to let him enter. Aaron muttered a thank you as he entered over the threshold. Morgan's shoulders sagged as she closed the door behind him but did not lock it. He would be gone soon enough.

"I think I still have a t-shirt and tracksuit bottoms that belong to you in the bedroom. I will grab them, and you can change." She told him and turned towards the bedroom.

"Why do I need to change?"

"I am sure you do not want to stroll into a police station looking like that. Also, I need to bag those clothes as evidence. The muggers may have left fibres or DNA if you are lucky."

Aaron nodded, and she led him into the front room. She grabbed a vacuum sealed bag from one of the cupboards and placed it on the island in the kitchen.

Next, she ventured into the bedroom. She had a pair of grey tracksuit bottoms and a black crew-neck shirt Aaron had left behind one night in her wardrobe. Usually, she would have thrown them out; instead, she washed and stored them for him if he ever needed them. She harshly pulled them off the hangers and brought them into the kitchen.

Her phone vibrated on the coffee table where she left it before going to bed. She walked over to the phone, and her eyebrows creased when she saw Cole's name appear on the screen.

"Take off your clothes and put them in here. Try not to get my place dirty." She muttered to Aaron.

"Are you not going to stay and watch me undress?" he teased.

She looked up at him in disgust.

"I rather watch paint dry." She countered and stalked into the bedroom as she swiped her finger over the screen and placed the phone to her ear.

"Checking in on me already, Dawson?"

"Morgan, I need you to get out of the flat. I will be outside shortly to take you to the station." Cole's voice was urgent. She heard him swear and shout at other drivers.

"Has there been an update in the case?"

"Yes, there has, but I need you to get out there right now."

"You are starting to sound like a crazy person, Dawson. I will see you back at the station in a few hours. Go home and get some rest." She went to hang up when she heard Cole shout down the phone to her.

"Aaron is the killer!"

Her heart launched into her throat, and she almost dropped the phone.

"What did you just say?" she choked.

"He killed Emma Davies because she was pregnant. Then he attacked Olivia because she looked exactly like Emma with her blonde hair and the clothes she wore. Yolanda, we think it may have been an accident. This morning he brutally murdered his wife the same way and left a note saying that you are next. You need to get out of there before he comes to finish the job."

"I cannot do that, Dawson."

"Morgan, please, for once in your life, listen to me for fucks sake. Get dressed and meet me downstairs." He argued.

"No, I really cannot meet you."

"Why the hell not? We don't have time to play games."

Morgan turned around and froze. Aaron stood in the doorway to her bedroom holding a large kitchen knife. An evil smirk played on his lips.

"Because he is right here."

Aaron watched as she turned around to face him with the phone placed securely to her ear. It was a shame, he thought. She was a good person; he enjoyed her company, the sex was mind-blowing, and they had made wonderful memories. But she knew too much, and he refused to lose his reputation by going to prison.

Her eyes bored into him. Morgan had dealt with many evil criminals in the past but never unarmed in her own home. She felt naked and vulnerable under his gaze, and she pushed down the fear that bubbled inside. Fear was that killers like him thrived on. It was the first thing she was taught at The Academy. She was not going to give him that satisfaction. Her brain worked overtime as she planned a way to get past him. If she could get to her study and retrieve her gun, it would give her the upper hand. Gun's overpower knives.

Aaron lunged across the bedroom towards her with the knife raised. Morgan immediately dropped her phone, and a surprised scream escaped her lips as she dodged past him. His hand grabbed the back of her t-shirt and pulled her back towards him. The cuff dug into her neck and caused her to cough.

She spun her body around and kicked her heel into his groin. Aaron fell to his knees, holding his groin with one hand. She wasted no time in running out of the bedroom and to the front door. To her horror, he had locked it and removed the keys. Time was slipping out from under her.

There was a spare set of keys in the kitchen drawer under the microwave. She darted down the hallway, but a hand gripped her hair and pulled violently, causing a few strands to snap off. She let out a yelp as Aaron pushed her away, and she crashed into the kitchen and living room doorframe. The left side of her face exploded in white-hot pain, and her vision started to dance.

She collapsed onto the wood floor. Her hands flayed out in front of her to make the impact somewhat softer. She had to keep moving; otherwise, he would kill her.

Aaron watched as she attempted to crawl further into the kitchen and away from him. Her breathing was heavy, and her temples stung.

He lifted his foot, and with all the force inside him, he stomped mercilessly on her right calf.

An ear-shattering scream erupted from Morgan as the bone cracked in half under the flesh. No tears escaped, even as the white-hot burning pain shot through her leg and into the rest of her body like a bullet.

"I have to say, Morgan," he paused and squatted over her. "Out of all my victims, you will be my favourite to kill."