+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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Kurt disconnected and all of them kept silent, digesting the information. Brock stepped slowly away from the tent toward the coffee shop across the street. Gillian spotted him at the same time he spoke to her.
"Gillian, listen to me: don't let his background cloud your mind."
He paused until she nodded, then he went on in his calm, slow way, looking straight at Gillian. And even from across the street, he felt the intense stare of those blue eyes fixed on him. And he stared back at her, demanding her complete focus. It was him, talking to her, and he erased the world around them with nothing but his words.
"He's an injustice collector, like many school shooters. Now that his younger brother is dead, he feels he has no more reasons to live. So he set on a quest to get back at those who abused them. And he's taking down anybody who tries to stop him, like he did to Cook."
Gillian let him act on her, calm her down, focus her mind. And it was wonderful in a scary way, that he knew how to do it. The way he made her face that this seemingly nice young man was no longer a boy mistreated to no end, but a psychotic killer out of control. Exactly as she needed to see him.
"He's suicidal, Gillian, and Strafford is his end game. You know what it means: he's not planning to leaving here alive, 'cause he feels he doesn't have anything left to live for."
It was physical. He was grabbing her arms, holding her up as she opened her eyes to see. And both of them felt it with a dreadful clarity, still looking straight into each other's eyes.
"We have to get the hostages out before he snaps, Gillian, and we need your help to do it. Can we count on you?"
Brock felt a chill down his spine when she breathed deep and nodded. He could see how she had literally fed on him to get the perspective she was lacking, and now she pushed him away with that simple nod.
She was armoring up for battle, just like he wanted her to. And she was a frontline fighter. But all of a sudden she was so alone, all the way across the street, locked up in the coffee shop with Palmer. Maybe Brock was the only one who really knew how far she dared to go. And he was outside.
From the tent, Fred saw King Gillian end a call and wave at Thompson. Russell frowned when he spotted the SWAT group readying their weapons again. King Gillian strode past the tent toward Brock and Fred stepped back to whisper in his radio, "Heads up, Reg!"
Gillian heard Fred and watched her father confront Brock, while the SWAT agents gathered near the tent. And she knew too well that look in her father's eyes.
"Phil!" she called out loud.
On the street, Brock deployed all his heavy weaponry of intimidation to try to stop King Gillian, who was yelling in his face to try to shut him up. Orlando's door opened and both men dropped their quarrel when Phil showed up, pushing Gillian before him as a shield, his arm across her chest and his gun to her temple.
At the tent, everybody took a step forward.
Brock breathed in. It was Carl Bailey all over, but this time they were facing a suicidal murderer instead of a crippled sexual sadist, and that could make all the difference. Not to mention Fred wasn't ambushed around with his rifle to take him down.
Phil faced King Gillian and Brock felt the cold burning his chest when she sank her head between her shoulders. No hidden signs, no whispers on the radio. She only met Brock's eyes for a heartbeat before shutting hers, as if expecting the shot. Phil cocked his gun.
