+18 - eps 28-32 - On the sixth installment of the Blackbird series, Cassidy sends Gillian and her team with Brock and Russel to Tampa, Florida, to look into the death of a girl while winter storm Jonas beats the East Coast. But this seemingly ordina...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
A uniform showed up from behind a bush, gun in hand, and stopped at seeing them.
"Ramirez."
"Hey, Lonnie. Didn't mean to startle you."
They resumed the walk with the uniform.
"Everything okay over here?" Ramirez asked.
"Yeah, only some peeps a while ago. That's why I was checking this side."
"You alone?"
"Clark's keeping the scene."
They reached the place in a couple of minutes. It was still tapped off, and another uniform sat there on a tree stump, a soda can in hand and a lunch box on his lap. He stood up right away, but Ramirez signaled him to relax.
"Hey, Clark, I brought some visitors. Agents Gillian and Brockner here wanna take a look around."
"My guests. Not much left to see, though," said the man.
Gillian studied the ground around while Brock turned to them. "Anything on the victim's car?" he asked.
Ramirez shook his head. "We issued an APB on it two days ago, but still nothing."
"Did it rain since Irene was found?" asked Gillian, crouching down to touch the ground, alternate patches of grass and bare soil, dead leaves splattered all over.
"No. The scene was as clean as you see it, Agent. Not even a drop of blood. Only the body."
Brock glanced at Gillian. "So this is not the crime scene, but the dumpsite."
She nodded and produced her phone, turning her back on the men to make a call. Brock faced them again, to keep them from eavesdropping on her.
"Any kind of trace?" he asked. "Footprints, dragging marks?"
They shook their heads.
"The ambulance got here before us," explained Clark. "The place looked like a parade by the time we were able to close it. There were even paw prints, from the dog that found the body."
Behind Brock, Gillian whispered on the phone, "Hank, get a hold of any piece of her clothes."
"Anything else before they kick us out?"
"Are there any abrasions on her back or legs?"
"You mean like dragging abrasions? No, nothing like that."
"Did you get the blood?"
"A whole test tube."
"Sometimes I love you."
"Don't. I hate having nightmares."
Brock saw her disconnect and wore a serious scowl. "Mind to give us a minute here?"
"Sure." Ramirez nodded at the uniforms as he said to Brock, "We'll be over there in case you need us. The way we came."
"Thank you."
Brock and Gillian waited for them to disappear. She could swear she heard them mutter something about Mulder and Scully looking for traces of an UFO. Then she traded a look with Brock and they started scanning the ground toward the yellow tape, all around the spot where the body was found—as if looking for traces of an UFO.
"Gillian!" called Brock, crouching some twenty yards south past the tape.
She hurried to him and leaned in by his side. As she did, she caught his cologne and frowned. Because if it smelled great mixed with the sea breeze, the mix with the woods' smell was even better. Not as fresh, but... sultry? Such a ludicrous adjective kicked her back into focus.
He pointed down at a clear footprint on the soil, heading to the scene.
"It's deep," she muttered.
"Deeper than usual for this kind of soil."
"So he's heavy... or he was carrying extra weight."
"That's why there's no signs of dragging."
Gillian produced her phone and took a close-up on the footprint. Then she put one of her feet by it and took another picture.
"That should give us the size," she said.
"We should follow it."
Gillian shook her head and he scowled.
"No need to tell'em we took five minutes to find what they had under their noses for two days and missed."
"You want to keep them friendly." Like pretty Wilson, back in Portland?
She sensed there was something more to his question, but decided to leave it for later. "We may still need them."
Like pretty Wilson, back in Portland? Or the poster boy back home? "But we cannot dismiss it, Gillian."
Once more she sensed that weird edge in his words. What was going on with him? Just in case, she flashed a tight smile.
"Not at all, sir. We can come back later, with the team, after they're gone."
Brock arched his eyebrows, took a moment as if considering her plan, then nodded. Yes, he liked it. Only the punks around and no locals. Just fine.
