#youlikeit - BLACKBIRD book 1

9. master & grasshopper

When she finally walked into Boloco, she found Brock sitting alone at a table with lunch for the three of them. Russell hadn't arrived yet.

Brock watched the door, and waved her over discreetly as soon as she came in. He studied her as she approached the table. They'd met before? He remembered Henderson saying she'd had his writings for over ten years, so it had been before Georgia's death, when he was still a profiler traveling all over the country, wherever law enforcement requested the BAU's assistance.

"Mediterranean? Great!" She smiled at the tray Brock slid to her when she sat down. She inspected the third tray. "And Classic Mexican for Russell, perfect—oh, of course you know what he likes, you share most of your meals with him now." 'Cause you're the Mulder to his inner Scully.

Brock just nodded, still studying her as he rummaged his mind for any kind of memory of a younger version of her.

She noticed and gifted him with an ironic smile. "Still fishing. Not polite, Agent Brockner."

"I'm sorry," he replied, very serious, but Gillian could tell he wasn't as stiff as the other times they'd met. And it felt good, seeing him lower his guard half an inch.

Before even trying her salad, she met his eyes with an expectant little smile. Brock raised his eyebrows—yes?

"Collectors?"

"Oh, yes, collectors." He spoke as they unwrapped their meals and started to eat. "It's an antisocial disorder with obsessive-compulsive tendencies. Basically, an extreme case of hoarding. Collectors have suffered damage to the prefrontal cortex, which inhibits inappropriate behavior, allows social empathy, and enables the making of correct or socially appropriate decisions and plans. The problem with collectors is that they collect unordinary things—like body parts. And since they have no social empathy to stop them, they're willing to go to extreme extents to get what they crave." He paused to take a good bite of his salad and saw Gillian narrow her eyes, looking down. He nodded for her to speak up. He didn't want her to think it was some kind of lecture or monologue.

Gillian commanded herself to keep her cool. It was the first time in her life that she would discuss any of this with anybody at all. After so many years just reading and getting to her own conclusions, it was both exciting and scary. Especially when no less than Brock waited to hear her thoughts. What if she'd gotten it all awfully wrong?

"People suffering antisocial disorders tend to be extremely introverted, and they're always very picky about details, right? Hoarders are."

He nodded again, still chewing, but noticed her hesitation. "So?" he said softly.

"Such an introverted person with a job involving social interaction? And handling four captives at the same time?" Brock was about to object when she objected herself, rolling her eyes. "He keeps them sedated. And this kind of disorder can stand some basic social interaction. But that combined with sexual sadism? Is it even possible?"

"I didn't say this subject has both pathologies combined."

Gillian narrowed her eyes again, then she nodded, grinning. "You're right! You said a sexual sadist acting out a collector's fantasy! Of course, sexual sadists are all about their fantasies!"

Plain to see his signed manual hadn't gone to the trash bin. "Exactly. However, we should take a closer look at the timeframes. Keeping four prisoners alive demands both time and a secluded location. We think the subject keeps a day job, and he also takes care of his prisoners, abuses them—"

"Plus driving every day to the appointed towns and back, eating, sleeping, taking a bath now and then. That's a lot to do for only one man with the usual twenty-four hours a day."

Brock nodded yet again, eating mostly to hide a grin. Russell still remembered the basics from the profiling seminars he'd taken, but when they worked a case, he just let Brock do his thing, trusting his profile would be accurate. It was the first time he had someone to brainstorm with like this since his old years as a profiler. Gillian knew more than he expected, and she was sharp and intelligent enough to keep up with him.

As to prove him right, Gillian did her math and whispered, "You're suggesting a team!"

Brock tilted his head a little, still chewing—maybe.

Gillian stared at him, eyes wide open at the possibility. Gosh, this man. She wanted lunch to last forever. How did he do it? How come he only needed to say a few words to get her mind started like this? As if he pulled her eyelids up, for her to look and really see.

"Crap. I don't have anything on team dynamics," she muttered. "I mean, I found some crappy book once, but—"She shrugged. They both knew she meant nothing written by him.