+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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Fred left the SUV around the corner from the old man's house and strolled up to a closed grocery. He took shelter from the rain under the shop's roof and looked across the street. The tow truck was still there. He saw a bunch of teens hanging out at the corner, under the roof of a closed produce. He checked his radio was online with the rest of the team and sank his hands in his pockets, resting his shoulder against the wall.
At the field office, Russell was forced to wait for the SAC. Then he had to explain the situation to the man and convince him to help with flat lies, suggesting his assistance to find a Senator's grandnephew would not go unnoticed.
Meanwhile, Hank went to the lab. There he found Doctor Nowak, the local biochemist, working. The woman was waiting for him.
At the police station, Detective Ramirez issued an emergency call to all available agents to join the search party. He also called the K-Nine unit to bring in the dogs trained to find humans, dead or alive.
Gillian let Ron work with Ramirez, while Aldana made copies of Tanya's grid and kept in touch with Russell. She waited near the coffee machine, drinking one after the next. Brock and Cassidy had tried to reach her over the phone several times, so she'd ended up turning it off. She had her team over the radio, so she didn't need the damn thing buzzing in her pocket all the time.
Aldana joined her to hand out her phone. "It's Hank."
Gillian frowned, another bad feeling twitching her belly. Why didn't Hank just talk to her over the radio? What was it he didn't want the others to hear?
"Hank..." she said, taking Aldana's phone to her ear.
"The blood on the bumper isn't Irene's."
Gillian closed her eyes, fighting her squeezed throat.
"Irene was A positive. This is AB positive."
"Is it possible...?" she murmured.
"That it belongs to her child? Yeah, depending on the father's blood. I'm gonna run a quick DNA test to see if there's any match with hers."
"How long...?"
"Forget it. Three to four hours."
"Shit."
"I'm gonna screen the car myself while we wait."
Gillian disconnected and faced Aldana's questioning look. She just shook her head.
"We're good to go, Reg," said Ron, approaching them. "The dogs and the rest of the men are meeting us there."
They hurried out of the precinct with two dozen local agents, led by Ramirez. A moment later they all drove north toward the Interstate, lights and sirens on, as the cars ahead of them pulled over out of their way.
It took them only twenty minutes to reach the access to the track from the Flatwoods Trail. They found more vehicles there, but no traces of the men they were supposed to meet.
"Where're the dogs?" asked Gillian, jumping out of the SUV to join Ramirez.
The detective had his phone to his ear and a frown on his face. A distant bark reached them from the woods as Ramirez disconnected.
"That's them," he said. "They found the agent you sent to wait for them here, and they're already at the starting point."
Ron and Aldana traded a puzzled look. "What?"
Gillian rolled her eyes. "Brockner," she grunted. "Let's go!"
Russell was on their way with ten agents and two dogs, led by Barnes. So Gillian left a uniform to wait for them at the Trail and took the lead down the track, to the place where they'd found Irene's car. It wasn't pouring anymore, but it still rained, and the humid air in the woods was chilling. She set her jaw at the very idea of a new-born baby abandoned in that place. In case the killer had let him live. What were the baby's chances of surviving three whole days out there?
Soon they met the rest of the group. Of course it was Brock there with them. He was a few yards from where the car was hidden, and talked to a dozen men. Six dogs waited some steps away with their human partners.
"...always a dog per grid square as we move forward, with some men, depending on how many we have," he was saying when Gillian came within earshot.
"That should do," said one of the men, and went toward the K-Nine officers.
Brock turned to Gillian and the others. He saw her death glare and raised only one eyebrow—do you really wanna do it now? She snorted under her breath as she joined him.
"So? How d'you wanna do it, sir?" she asked, Irish poison oozing every word—wanna get kicked out? Fine! Not on me anymore, you stupid bitter man! She also made a mental note to kill Tanya slow and bloody. There was no other way Brock had the grid. The girl was already crossing the line with her liking Brock. She should be reminded who was the only number-one fan around.
He ignored her jagged question and waited for the others to come closer. Then he explained his plan, which was only a basic wise organization for that kind of search. In a few minutes, the search parties were lined up side by side, ready to start canvassing every thread of grass between the Trail and the Interstate, moving south. Brock called Russell and told him he had to canvass from the car site northward, just in case.
"C'mon, people! Let's move!" shouted Ramirez, and they all started at a slow pace under the rain leaking through the canopy, eyes on the ground.
