Mo Grá| Derek Morgan

chapter six

"Last night, the La Plata County police received a call from a fifteen-year-old girl claiming she had been sexually assaulted by her church pastor, along with several others," Garcia announced as she entered the briefing room. She pulled up the phone call, and we listened to the terrified voice of the young girl, her fear palpable.

"What do they want us to do?" Rossi asked, concern etched on his face.

"Investigate," Hotch replied, his hands clasped on the tabletop. "We need to verify the allegations and put an end to the abuse. Reid, Prentiss, and Sloan, you'll go undercover in La Plata. The rest of us will remain here until needed. Wheels up in 20," he concluded, striding out of the room.

< 𝑀𝑜 𝒢𝓇𝒶 >

Stepping into the warm Colorado sun, I felt more exposed than usual, I despised the heat. I preferred the rain over this horrible heat.

In front of me stood a large complex adorned with American flags and solar panels mingling with scrubs and weeds. On the steps sat a man in his thirties, exuding an unsettling confidence. He sported a brown horseshoe mustache and rugged hair, clearly cut by someone lacking professional skill. He wore round sunglasses that perched on his nose, as if he had been eagerly awaiting our arrival.

"I'm looking for Benjamin Cyrus," Nancy, the police officer leading us, announced, following our instructions diligently.

I stood between Emily and Reid as they approached the man. Something felt off about him; I couldn't quite place it, but instinct told me I couldn't trust him. "You found him," he said, rising to greet us.

"I'm Nancy Lunde," she introduced herself, gripping her briefcase tightly, her posture betraying her anxiety. "We spoke on the phone regarding the allegation." As she spoke, he removed his glasses and sauntered toward us.

"Savages call us because our manners differ from theirs," he remarked, to which Nancy nodded, clearly taken aback.

"We didn't come here to hear your version of scripture," she shot back, and he rolled his eyes, glancing our way. "This is Emily Prentiss, Spencer Reid, and Leah Sloan, child victim experts," she added, and I noticed him studying us closely.

"How far from God's word must we have strayed for child victim experts to come all the way out here?" he asked.

"I think we can all agree we'd rather not be here," I replied, squinting against the sun, and Emily nodded in agreement.

"So do we," he responded. "But you are welcome nonetheless, the children are in the school, as I indicated." He turned and started walking toward the school.

"You're using solar power?" Reid asked, his curiosity piqued.

"Yes, we're completely self-sufficient," Cyrus answered, his tone matter-of-fact. Emily and Nancy advanced toward the school while I lingered back with Reid.

"You look surprised," Cyrus said, his brow furrowing in confusion.

"No... impressed, actually," Reid replied, shaking his head.

"Thank you," Cyrus said, although he didn't smile.

"For what?" Reid asked, intrigued.

"For admitting that," Cyrus replied, moving on to follow Emily and Nancy. I couldn't shake the feeling that something was deeply wrong. The fear in the eyes of the children and women in the community, juxtaposed with their unwavering devotion to Cyrus, sent shivers down my spine. I could see that Reid and Emily were equally uneasy.

Jessica, one of the teenage girls, answered Emily's questions easily. "We go to school and do our chores," she said, but I sensed she was holding back.