Mo Grá| Derek Morgan

chapter fourteen

I arrived at the BAU just as the team was exiting the roundtable room, which meant I had missed the case briefing. I watched as Hotch stepped into his office, followed closely by Rossi, who vanished into his own.

Before I could settle in, Ashley approached my desk.

"Everything okay?" she asked, her blonde hair catching the light as I set my bag down on the chair and shrugged off my coat.

That question was becoming increasingly irksome with each repetition.

"Yeah, my alarm just didn't go off," I replied, avoiding her gaze as I pulled my phone from my bag and slipped it into my pocket.

"It's 11 AM," Ashley pointed out, raising an eyebrow.

"Sure, but remember, Blondie, your alarm has failed before, and you still made it here before nine," Morgan chimed in, and I stifled the urge to roll my eyes.

"Well, it's been a rough week. I didn't sleep well last night," I continued, trying to deflect their probing.

"You know," Derek started but I shot him a look and he shut up.

"Now I know I can't have a bad week, Derek," I retorted, making my way toward Hotch's office for a briefing on the case. As I walked away, I caught snippets of the whispered conversation between Ashley and Derek, their suspicion palpable. But there was little I could do to change that.

The case the team had received was local, which was a relief. I didn't have the mental strength to detach myself from the city while Killian was still out there.
Hotch informed me that two families in D.C. had died, presumably victims of a house fire or a murder-suicide. The proximity and timing of the deaths had warranted the BAU's involvement.

I was assigned to stay at the BAU with Reid, Seaver, and Garcia to compile the evidence boards while the others investigated the crime scenes and the morgue.
As I sat with Garcia, we searched for connections between the two sets of victims. The only link we could find was that two of the five victims were European, but that felt insufficient to suggest they were targeted.

I hadn't heard from Jason in a week and with each passing moment, it felt that he was inching closer and closer to her. When the group hit another dead end, Ashley stepped out for coffee, while Spencer returned to his desk.

When the rest of the team returned, Garcia approached Hotch while the others gathered in the BAU room, excluding Spencer, who remained at his desk, engaged in conversation with Emily.

I settled into my seat at the table, my leg bouncing rhythmically as I wrestled with both the case and the personal turmoil I was facing. Everyone else appeared relatively at ease, as if their burdens were lighter than mine. I couldn't mask my anxiety any better than a shallow grave could hide a body after heavy rainfall.

Hotch entered the room, Garcia trailing behind him, explaining her desire to pursue her own lead before mentioning the only other connection she and I had found between the victims.

"What's the connection?" Hotch inquired.

"It's a small one. Both families coach soccer on the Hill," Penelope replied.

"The Fagans didn't have children," Ashley interjected.

"No, but Kerry Fagan coached her godson's team," I added.

"The two victims from Europe were soccer coaches," Morgan noted.

"It makes sense, doesn't it?" Garcia commented just as Spencer entered the room, files in hand.

"I'm beginning to think they've crossed paths before," Morgan continued.

"I ran the victims' phone numbers. They never contacted each other, but there is a common number between them," Reid announced, drawing our attention.