+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...
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**picture: Flatwoods Park Trail
A distant thunder rolled behind the clouds. The team looked up at the canopy above their heads.
"Did the forecast say what time it's gonna rain?" asked Gillian.
Russell checked his phone. "Err... now?"
"We better hurry," said Ron.
Brock pointed at the thickets to his left. "Come, the footprint's this way."
They followed him to the south and soon stopped before a patch of bare soil, where they saw the clear print on the wet ground.
Ron crouched down before it. "It's deep. Big guy or extra weight?"
"Extra weight," said Fred, and he placed his own foot by the print. "Look, smaller than me. That's not big enough for such a deep print."
"Irene had no abrasions from dragging," said Aldana. "So he must've carried her."
Another thunder forced a pause, until Gillian straightened up.
"Let's roll, lads. Al, you go with Fred." She glanced at Brock's jeans and short-sleeved shirt and made up his mind—too distracting. "Ron, you go with Agent Brockner. Russ, with me."
They spread out from the footprint, moving south. Only a couple of minutes later, Aldana called over the radio.
"We've got more footprints. They look the same and they head to the dumpsite."
"Stay on them," said Gillian, her eyes on the ground around her feet.
"We've got something, too," said Ron. "But these are different."
"Different how?" asked Russell, moving forward a few steps away from Gillian.
"Lighter, maybe even smaller. And they come from the dumpsite."
"Maybe they're not related. Follow them for a hundred yards to see where they lead," said Gillian.
Then Russell grabbed her arm and pointed at the ground ahead. "Look, Reg. A trail!"
They hurried together up to a narrow track running among the trees, from east to west.
"This may connect the main Trail with the Interstate," said Russell.
Gillian looked down both ways and focused on the track before them. "Russ!" she whispered. "There! Tire tracks!"
"This trace's taking us straight to the Interstate," said Ron then.
"And we just came across some kind of trail running across the woods," said Fred. "With fresh tire tracks, from three days ago tops."
Gillian felt the twitch in her belly. "Stop, lads. All of you. Right where you are."
"What did you find?" asked Brock.
"Not sure yet, sir." She turned to her friend. "Russ, follow this track to the east. See if it really leads to the Trail." As he walked away, she said over the radio, "Fred, Al, the footprints stop at the track?"
Fred took a moment to reply. "Not exactly. The tire tracks turn south and run like the footprints... What's that, Al?"
"The footprints are on the tire tracks!" Aldana replied.
"Al, you wait right there. Fred, you go on," Gillian said. "Ron, one of you try to find where your set of footprints ends. The other one, track them back to see where they start."
As she spoke, she pressed on down the track to the west. She'd walked only a hundred yards when she spotted Aldana up ahead.
"I'm at the Flatwoods Trail," said Russell then.
"Okay, now follow it back until you find Al."
Gillian's words made Aldana turn around. When they met, she pointed to the southwest.
"Fred just disappeared there, behind those bushes," she said.
"Got it. You wait for Russ here."
Gillian went on toward the bushes. From a few steps away, she heard Fred grunt and pant, and a low shuffling, as if he were pulling and pushing something heavy.
"Fred...?" she called.
"Here."
She brushed aside the thickets and found him tossing a thick tree branch down from what looked like a pile of wood. Showing underneath the leaves, she saw a spark of metal.
"Is that a bumper?" she asked, helping Fred to remove more branches.
"You bet," he replied.
"Guys," called Ron. "I'm by the Interstate, and I can see marks as if a car had driven off past the shoulder of the road, a few yards into the grass, and then back onto the Interstate."
"Agent Brockner?"
"I'm almost back to the dumpsite," he replied right away.
Gillian froze, the picture suddenly clear in her head. She was about to speak when Fred tossed down more branches and uncovered the hood of a car.
"Anybody remembers what car Irene had?" he asked, still panting.
"A white Gol," replied Russell.
"What's going on, Gillian?" asked Brock, pressing on to the dumpsite.
"We've just found Irene's car."
.
.
Keep reading on the next episode: BLACKBIRD 29 - the spark
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