+18 - eps 6-11 - A unique city. A unique police team led by a unique woman. And an uptight fed set on a collision course.
On the second installment of the Blackbird Series, new cases push Brock and Gillian to work closer together, even in order t...
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They had hardly set foot in her office when Gillian fell in Connor's arms. Holding her son tight as she whispered it was okay, she was alright, feeling his fear for her, drove her furious. It was the last push she needed to snap out of the shock for good. She strode to the toilet, not giving Tanya and Kurt a chance to ask anything. She shot her orders as she went.
"Kurt, eyes on the Memorial, backwards. T, go through the list again and leave out anyone with any kind of commendation from the department. Agent Brockner can give you more details. Connor, call Russ and find out how the lads are."
She changed her ripped and stained clothes, washed her face and got out of the toilet in only a couple of minutes, heading straight to the coffee machine. Brock was not in sight, but before she could ask about him, Connor handed her his phone, grimacing.
She turned her back to the others to speak. "Russ...?"
"Reg, listen, Al and Hank got only a few bruises, and they're already on their way back to your office. They're patching up Fred, and I think they're letting him go in a couple of hours."
"What about Ron?" she asked, a bad feeling squeezing her belly.
"He got the worst part of it, Reg. Right now he's in the OR. Doctors are treating his burns and removing splinters from his wounds."
"How bad is it?" Gillian closed her eyes at Russell's deep breath. "Russ, please tell me."
"I don't know, and they wouldn't say. But he was completely out when they brought him in, and it doesn't look good."
"D'you think he...?" she trailed off again. She just couldn't bring herself to say it. No, there was no way he... No, please. Not Ron. "Is he gonna make it?"
"I don't know, Reg," repeated Russell, his voice oozing concern and impotence about his friend. "Gotta go now. I'll keep you up. Tell Brock I'm staying, okay? I wanna be here when Laura arrives."
At the same time, around the corner from the police station, at One Centre Plaza, Brock explained the situation to Cooper the best he could.
"The preliminary report from the Bomb Squad is C-4 with some homemade container full of iron nails, to hurt whoever survived the blast."
Cooper breathed in, just like he'd done when Brandon gave him the information.
"It was meant to cause a disaster. It's Downtown Crossing: the Freedom Trail, department stores and retailers, restaurants, institutes, banks—you name it. Thousands of people pass by that corner every morning."
"How is Lieutenant Gillian?"
"Bruised, but holding up."
Cooper paced about her office. She stopped to look at Brock straight in the eye. "What about her team?"
Brock knew what she was asking: if the SCU couldn't stay on the case, she would take it over and shut the locals out.
"As far as I know, only one of them is in grave condition. Ron Bellison, the explosives expert who removed the first bomb. The rest of them are still on the case."
Cooper nodded, lips pressed together in a tight line. "Okay, then keep them in, Brockner. And keep me up."
"Yes, ma'am."
On his way back to the SCU office, Cook cut him off when he came out of the elevator. The captain tried to apologize for his attitude a while earlier. It was so obvious word had gotten to somebody above Cook, and he'd been ordered to do this. Brock interrupted him, saying it wasn't necessary at all, not in the mood for the man's hypocrisy. Yet Cook had mentioned the department was willing to provide all the backup the SCU would need. Well, maybe it was time to hold Cook to his word.
When he finally made it to the SCU office, he was surprised to see Aldana and Hank there. They were all at their desks, working on their computers, going through street feeds from the night before or files from the list. He noticed Gillian's clean white shirt covered the bandage around her arm. Her usual bun was gone, so her dark hair framed her pale face, and her readers hid some of the scratches on her cheeks and forehead. She shared her desk with Connor, and looked up when he walked in. But her eyes didn't meet his. She stood up and scowled at the door behind him. He glanced back and saw Cook coming with a dozen detectives. Alright, that was fast.
Her eyes scanned the faces. Damned Cook, he hadn't called Banks, nor anyone from her former colleagues in Homicide. These were all obedient pets from his own nursery.
Brock noticed her glare and went to her side. "Captain Cook selected them to help us find the subject. I'm about to give them the profile, and they're gonna need a copy of the list we're working on."
Gillian nodded at Connor, who typed on his computer and set the printer to work. Her voice oozed bitter irony. "Well, good luck, Agent Brockner. I know all of them, and they can hardly tie their own shoes without help."
