+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: takeoff from Logan Airport, Boston
"So you confirmed our accommodation."
"Yes, Reg," Tanya replied, not for the first time. "I texted you and Connor the address."
Gillian glanced at her son and looked ahead again, fighting her urge to honk at the thousand cars before her.
Connor checked his phone and nodded.
"What's the name of the hotel?" she asked, her mind actually searching for a faster way to the airport.
"It's not a hotel, Reg. Told you it's an apartment. Cheaper and nicer. And you'll be five minutes away from everything."
"Okay. Laters." Gillian nodded at Connor and he disconnected. "Dial Al, please."
"I could drive so you can make all these calls," the boy grumbled, dialing.
"Over my dead body. You're not driving my car. Like, never."
"You let Agent Brockner do it..."
Gillian set her jaw. "Fine. I'll let you drive my car the day you're my senior."
"Cheater."
"Bigmouth."
"Reg?"
"Hey, Al, how're things going over there?"
"Let's see. The spares company did exist at that address, but closed four years ago, when Tymek Bilik got sick. So Russ and the lads found only tons of dust and nothingness."
"I know. I watched the stream of the procedure. Well, we expected it to be a dead end. Did Kurt get anything?"
Aldana scoffed. "You should see'im, bossing around the local techs. He's having the time of his life. Anyway, they retrieved footage from the ATM where the last withdrawal was made and got a face. No match on VICAP, so Kurt had his minions search the state database of driving licenses. And he did get a match. Tymek Bilik junior, twenty-five, unemployed since his old man closed the spares shop. He lives just around the corner from the old shop, so we're waiting for the orders to pay him a visit."
"Go figure. D'you have any idea what time are you going?"
"In a couple of hours. Where are you? Thought you'd be on your flight to DC by now."
"We're on our way to Logan."
"Traffic jam."
"Don't say. Text me after the procedure. Don't wanna call you in the middle of it."
"Have a nice flight."
"If we ever make it in time," grunted Connor, disconnecting.
"You're not driving."
"Heard you the first time."
And Connor was almost right. They had to sprint across the hall to reach their boarding gate before they closed it. On the plane, Gillian took the aisle seat to let Connor have the window—As if he were still a child! Jeez, I'm old!—and they hardly had time to fasten their seatbelts before the plane rolled to the runway.
As soon as they took off, Gillian put on her readers, turned on her tablet and searched her phone inbox for Tanya's text with their accommodation details.
Connor struggled to untangle his earphones when he heard her let out a sound halfway between giggle and scoff. He looked up, but Gillian ignored him.
She typed the address in a DC map, feeling the ultimate idiot on earth. Because when reading the address, she'd misread the neighborhood, 'Brockland' instead of 'Brookland'. Which would've been very funny if Connor hadn't been there, waiting for her to share with the class.
A flight attendant pushed the catering cart down the aisle, offering a hot drink and a sweet bite to passengers. Gillian googled the distance between their apartment and Dawson's office when her nose caught a smell that startled her. She looked up, frowning—Brock's cologne? On the plane?—and found the attendant's smile.
"Tea, coffee, chocolate?"
"Two lattes, please."
The attendant came closer to Gillian's seat to give way to a man passing behind her toward the rear restroom, then gave Gillian what she'd asked. Gillian allowed herself a discreet sniff. No, no trace of the smell. The attendant resumed her way, and Gillian gave Connor his coffee and turned to the map again.
To prove they had a genetic immunity to caffeine, Gillian and Connor snoozed through most of the flight. Her last conscious thought was about her son. She knew Connor and Andrea had already made plans together, but she still hadn't ask him about it. They woke up for a fast, clean landing, and soon they were in line to exit the plane.
Gillian waited behind an old lady, Connor behind her, when she thought she'd smelled Brock's cologne again. She rolled her eyes at herself. Couldn't she just give it a break?
