+18 - FEATURED - #1 Thriller
A unique city. A unique police team led by a unique woman. And an uptight fed set on a collision course.
Declan Brockner is a sullen FBI agent. Once an outstanding profiler, now fallen from grace and office, his...
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Gillian and her team shocked four pairs of parents seriously lacking parental instinct. They also got the four kids to show the BEB group on their phones and computers, enabling the team to legally refer to it as a source of information from then on. A while later they met at the school, startling the TV crew again.
Ron secured the device dear Ben Tindermann carried in his backpack, which was twice the size than those they'd found earlier. He and Fred headed to the police station the boy had been taken to, where his parents would be already waiting for them.
Hank stayed at the school just in case, considering they were one cruiser down. Gillian was about to follow Ron when Aldana signaled her to wait, and took a large brown envelope from her car.
"I almost forgot. We met Henderson on our way outta the office, and he asked me to give you this."
Gillian took the envelope, frowning.
"He asked me to tell you this was the special thing he had for you."
"Thanks," she muttered, still a little puzzled. "Go home now, Al. We're gonna need somebody awake and sharp tomorrow morning."
"Don't you want me to swing by your place and pick up Kurt and T?"
"What? No, no need. They already know where to crash, if they're not all lost in some online campaign."
She got in her car and threw the envelope to the passenger seat, without even checking what was in it. It looked like papers. Whatever, she had too many things to wrap up before making time for Henderson's silly things.
But the envelope fell from the seat when she took a hurried turn before the light turned red, and at the next traffic light she leaned to pick it up and saw the manual. She pulled over, halfway to the station. She took the manual from the envelope and exposed it to the light, reading the title: Sexual Sadist Offenders. And below, the obvious name of the author, Declan Brockner.
Oh, my, she didn't have this one.
She stared down at it until she noticed the little smile curling up her lips. "Stupid fangirl," she grunted, shaking her head.
Then she spotted the handwriting on the upper right corner of the cover. Neat, elegant, classy. It read, "To LT. R. Gillian" and Brock's signature was right below.
She knew she would hate herself for ages, every single time she recalled the stupid giggle that escaped her lips. But she would loathe herself more for the way her fingertips moved over those few words as she muttered, "Stupid man."
Next minute, without any rational thought or decision, she called Ron.
"Hey, can you lads handle it without me for another twenty minutes?" she asked, surprised at hearing her own words. "I gotta make a stop on my way."
"Sure. The parents lawyered up, so we haven't even started yet."
"Good. I'll be there as soon as I can."
"Everything okay at home?" asked Ron—that was the family man kicking in.
"Yeah, I just gotta drop something off."
"If it's a body, pick a deep ditch."
She disconnected with a chuckle and geared in, stepping on the gas.
Ron saw Fred's questioning frown and shook his head. "It was Reg. It's gonna take'er a little longer to get here."
"Everything okay?"
"Yeah, it didn't sound like trouble." Ron tilted his head, thinking. "She sounded like happy."
"Sure Tanya found her some more to nail these damned brats."
