MO GRÁ | Derek Morgan

chapter five

This morning, I stumbled into the FBI headquarters feeling utterly drained, my energy sapped and my eyes heavy from a lack of sleep. The absence of coffee only amplified my tiredness, making every step feel like a monumental effort. As I followed behind the group, I spotted Morgan waving me into the conference room, his laughter echoing in my ears.

Upon entering the briefing room, I was met with Morgan's teasing grin. "Tired much?" he chuckled, his amusement only adding to my irritation. "Shut up," I shot back, playfully punching his arm before sinking into a chair beside Emily and Rossi. "You okay?" Emily whispered, her concern evident. I nodded, smiling softly.

"Yeah, just didn't get much sleep," I admitted, reaching over to snatch a sip of her coffee. The moment the bitter liquid hit my taste buds, I grimaced. "That's disgusting, what's in that?" I returned the cup to the table, just as Garcia burst in, remote in hand, turning on the TV with a flourish.

"This is Delilah Greenan. She was bludgeoned and raped during the night in her home in Lower Cannon, Ohio," Garcia announced, her voice steady as she clicked through images that filled the screen, each one more harrowing than the last.

"Lower where?" Emily asked, her confusion causing me to laugh, a sound that drew stares from everyone around me.

"Small town forty miles out of Cincinnati," I replied, glancing at her. "One of my friends used to live there." JJ smiled at my words.

"Staging the body face up with the arm across the chest like that..." Reid trailed off, lost in thought as he scrutinized the gruesome image.

"Ritual," Morgan chimed in.

"Nice hair, by the way," I teased, at the boy and haircut.

"Uh, there's more," Garcia interrupted, pulling everyone's focus back to her. With a click, another image filled the screen.

"Small puncture wounds on her stomach. Note the lack of blood," she detailed, and I quickly skimmed the case file in front of me. "So they were done post-mortem?" I inquired, and Garcia nodded, her expression serious. "Exactly."

"Any other victims?" JJ asked, her brow furrowing. "Kind of," Garcia grimaced, drawing our full attention once more.

"Victimology and signature match a serial killer from the same town ten years ago. Six victims spanning over ten months—he called himself—" Garcia began, but Hotch interrupted, his voice steady.

"The Angel Maker. I remember the case," he said, studying the file intently.

"I thought they caught that guy?" I questioned, confusion washing over me. "And executed him." Rossi confirmed, his tone grave. Rossi was like a second father to me, a steady presence in our chaotic world.

"He's right. He was put to death yesterday," JJ added, and a somber silence washed over the room as we processed the weight of her words.

"Yesterday," Emily echoed, her mind clearly racing with the implications.

"So we're looking for a copycat?" Morgan asked, glancing around for confirmation.

"Honoring the anniversary of their hero's death," Garcia stated, her gaze unwavering. "It says they found semen at the crime scene. Perhaps locals will get a match through VICAP?" Spencer suggested.

"That's where it gets weird," Garcia muttered. "They ran it already and got a match too."

"If they already have a name, why'd they call us?" I asked, my brow furrowing in curiosity. Rossi scoffed as he read through the report Garcia handed him. "They've got to be kidding. The match they got back on the DNA is to Cortland Bryce, otherwise known as The Angel Maker."