+18 eps. 17-21 - After a hard case that takes the team to DC in order to catch a blackhat and prevent a bombing, all hell breaks loose on their return to Boston , when the ghost of the Libra killer comes back to torture Brock seven years after the m...
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The black SUVs drove down a nice street in the Upham's Corner area, to pull over before a single-family two-story house. Only the porch light was on; it looked like the Singers were already in bed. The team stepped out of their vehicles wearing their FBI Kevlars and gathered at the lawn.
"Fred, take the back," said Gillian. "Al, if we need to breach, you take care of the girl and the wife."
She rang the bell and waited before the front door with Aldana, the court order in hand. Ron stood at the lawn, eyes on the second-floor windows. Nobody came to the door and Gillian rang the bell again. They only heard steps from the inside after Gillian rang for the third time. Somebody looked through the peephole.
"Who is it?" came a muffled voice from behind the door. A man's voice.
"Charles Singer? It's the FBI, sir. Please, open the door," replied Gillian.
They clearly heard him step back and away from the door. Ron saw their hands move to their holstered Glocks and joined them in two strides.
"Mr. Singer, please open the door, sir!" Gillian repeated, a warning in her voice.
Then they heard the man run away from the door. Gillian nodded at Ron.
"Heads up, Fred!" Aldana warned over the radio, while Ron ran around the house.
Gillian's fist banged on the door and her voice thundered the quiet night. "CHARLES SINGER! OPEN THE DOOR!"
There was no answer. Gillian stepped back and kicked the knob with all her strength. It slammed open for her and Aldana to storm into the dark house, Glocks drawn.
"Kitchen!" said Fred on the radio.
Gillian pointed the stairs to Aldana and moved forward, her Glock leveled with her face as she scanned around. "C'mon in, lads," she whispered.
Aldana hurried up the stairs, keeping her Glock down in case the daughter or the wife showed up. Ron forced the backdoor open, for him and Fred to breach together.
They had hardly set foot in the house when a shadow jumped out of the dark behind the counter, punched Ron in the face, throwing him against Fred, and ran out of the kitchen. Fred pointed his gun as soon as Ron got his balance back, but the man was but a blurry shadow running straight to Gillian.
"Stop!" shouted Gillian, aiming and finding Fred in her line of fire.
Before she could move, Singer was on her. He sank his elbow in her chest, pushing her roughly down, and sprinted on to the stairs.
"Al!" Gillian panted, staggering to keep her balance.
Ron and Fred were already with her, and the three of them rushed to the stairs.
Aldana was halfway down the hall, past the closed door to the child's room, and she spun around at hearing the noises from the ground floor. But before she could reach the stairs, the child's door opened and a little girl showed up.
"Daddy?" she asked, sleepy, dragging a teddy bear.
The little girl was still talking when Singer came out of the stairs and literally jumped on her. And to Aldana's horror, he grabbed his daughter and yanked her to him, putting a kitchen knife to her throat.
"Back!" he yelled. The little girl squirmed, scared, and he tightened his grip on her. "Stay put, Lily!"
"You're hurting me, Daddy!" she cried.
Aldana froze, watching in disbelief how Singer crouched to use his own daughter as a shield. At the end of the hall, behind Aldana, his wife came out of the master bedroom.
"Charlie? What's going on?" she asked. Then she saw the knife against the little girl's throat, let out a scream and ran to them.
Aldana caught the woman in her arms and stopped her. "Stay back, ma'am!"
At the same time, Gillian, Ron and Fred reached the second floor. Singer retreated toward the girl's room, keeping his daughter to cover his chest.
"Drop your guns and leave!" he yelled.
They all saw the mad spark in his eyes, and heard the hysterical echo in his voice. Aldana tightened her arms around the woman, keeping her away. Gillian raised her hands in a slow move, showing Singer how she holstered her Glock. As she took a step closer to him, behind her, Fred sneaked down the stairs.
"Easy, Charles," she said, slow and firm. "Let the child go and we're outta here."
"No! You're leaving now! Or I swear I'll kill her!"
The little girl squirmed again when the big knife came closer to her skin, as tears rolled down her face without a sound.
"Charlie! Stop it!" cried the wife, struggling to get rid of Aldana.
Gillian glanced at them and Aldana dragged the woman down the hall and into the master bedroom. There she locked the door and grabbed the woman's arms.
"Let me out! Lil!" the woman cried.
Aldana kept her where she was. "Calm down, Mrs. Singer. Your child needs you to calm down," she said, looking the woman straight in the eye.
"Let me out!"
Aldana swallowed a sigh and a curse, and forced the crying woman to hold her look. "Mrs. Singer, please, calm down. We cannot save Lily if we have to take care of you."
At the hall, Singer lifted his daughter in his arm, the knife back to her throat. The little girl kept crying with suffocated sobs, too afraid to even try to move.
"Out of my way!" he yelled. "Let me out or I'll kill her!"
"I cannot do that, Charles," Gillian replied, calm but cautious. "Let your daughter go, that's all we want."
Singer moved to the middle of the hall and found Ron, Glock aiming at his head.
"Let your baby girl go, Charles," Gillian insisted.
She tried a step and Singer took it back. She saw the master-bedroom door opening slowly, without a noise. So she pressed, to keep the man distracted. "C'mon, Charles, you don't wanna hurt your child," she said, and took another step.
"Stay back!" Singer yelled, retreating away from her. And closer to Aldana, who tiptoed out of the master bedroom behind him.
"I'm on," they heard Fred on the radio. "Clear my line."
Gillian could picture the sniper hanging from a tree across the street in some weird position, or on top of some steep, slippery roof, right about to break his neck. She didn't care. The point was he'd found where to shoot from. She moved but an inch to the wall, her eyes fixed on Singer's. Aldana did the same, as she approached the man from behind, her steps muffled by the thick carpet.
"Got'im," whispered Fred.
Gillian kept her hands a little up, for Singer to see she wasn't about to draw her gun again. Ron saw the slight flicker of her fingers.
"Go," he breathed on the radio.
A thin beam of red light flashed through the window at the other end of the corridor, straight to Singer's eye. The man blinked, and his face reflected the realization as he understood what that light meant. He gasped, holding the knife to the girl's throat yet again.
"If you shoot, she dies!"
"Daddy, please!" the girl begged.
He tried another step back and tripped. That saved his life, because Fred's shot only scratched his temple. At the same time, Aldana jumped onto him from behind, grabbing his hair and the arm holding the knife to push it down, away from the girl. Gillian punched him in the nose, throwing his head further back. Out of instinct, Singer dropped his daughter to try to cover his face. Ron caught the little girl in his arms as Aldana twisted the man's wrist to make him drop the knife as well.
