+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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Gillian found Banks in the staff kitchen of the precinct he ran. It was such a nice déjà vu, pausing there with him to get a coffee and chat about how they'd spent the holidays. She'd never regretted leaving Homicide for Vice, and she loved her team and being part of the SCU. But she would always miss Banks by her side. And even though he'd never admit it, he missed her too. That was why both of them took every chance they got to work together.
"So how's the air at the top?" he asked, sarcastic.
"Stinks of paperwork. How about here, down on earth?"
"Nothing to steal your breath. Wanna see it?"
On their way to his office, Banks noticed Gillian's glance around and smirked. "Taylor's not here, old cougar. Unlike you, he's working."
"You sent him out 'cause you knew I was coming, you bitter killjoy."
"I'm hurt, Reg."
"Need a hug?"
Banks invited her in and handed her a folder from his desk, which was even more stuffed with paperwork than hers.
"Okay, give me the short tour," she said, taking a look at the crime scene pictures.
"Told ya, nothing fancy. Two junkies killed each other last night over a bag of meth."
Gillian glanced up at him, raising her eyebrows—really. Banks shrugged. Then she looked down at the pictures again and frowned.
"Did you identify them?"
"Still running their prints. Sure they had a record, so it shouldn't take long." Banks narrowed his eyes at the way Gillian stared at the picture of one of the dead junkies. "What. You know him?"
"Rings a bell, but I'm not sure," she muttered, producing her phone. She took a picture of the victim's photograph and dialed. "Hey, T, remember the case we handled with the DEA last month, before the gala?" she asked. "Yeah, that one. I'm sending you a picture now, check if this man showed up there. Thanks."
Banks looked at her, arms folded. "A DEA case?" he repeated.
"Actually Vice, we just invited the DEA in to piss off my father and Cook. An E distribution net. This man looks a lot like one of the street dealers that Vice let go, to keep an eye on the new players taking over."
"Meaning this junkie was a snitch?"
"Sort of."
They traded a look and hurried out of the office together.
