Boston Blues - BLACKBIRD book 2

13. cop dreams

Aldana and Russell were on their way back to Boston, a plastic cover replacing the shattered window and their winter jackets zipped up, when Gillian called her friend to check on them. A few minutes later, Russell got her text: "stupid Mulder shot in vest for covering me, check on him".

"What is it?" asked Aldana, hearing him chuckle under his breath.

But he just shook his head. His hand reached out to hers. Aldana took it without a word and turned to look ahead like him.

Next Gillian called Ron and Fred to check on how they were wrapping up things and tell them to take the day off.

So dear Mr. Nelson shared a cell at the police station with the thug he'd hired and later tried to kill him. Katy was in the hospital, sedated after a total breakdown. Jimmy was with his grandmother and Mr. Parker would be home in the morning, with a warning not to leave town until things were properly cleared up.

Tanya and Andrea were sleeping in Gillian's bed, Kurt on a mat on the floor by Connor's bed, and Brandon had gone home. After checking they were all sound asleep, Gillian grabbed a blanket from the linen cupboard and crashed on the couch downstairs.

Cop dreams, she called them.

As soon as she closed her eyes, the scene at the house in the Heights took over. And there she was again, sneaking along the garage wall, while the man dragged the boy out. She risked a glance and the burning cold of fear crushed her chest, because it wasn't Jimmy: it was Connor—a seven-year-old, scared, crying Connor, gagged and bound.

She tried to run to him, but she tripped and fell on her hands and knees to the muddy snow of the backyard. Only then she realized she was still wearing the long black dress and high heels she'd worn for the gala. And instead of her Glock, what she had in her hand was the velvet case of the medal they'd given her.

The man stuffed Connor into the trunk and jumped behind the wheel. He was about to take him away! She would lose him forever! So she got to her feet and ran to the car. Somebody behind her shot at the man starting the engine. It was Brock. She didn't need to look back to know. He was there. He had her back. And so she was able to get to the car, yank the trunk open and take Connor in her arms, holding him oh so tight to her chest, soothing him, telling him it's okay, Mom's here and everything's okay now, baby, I'm taking you home.

Then Brock's calm, controlled voice, asked, "Is he okay?"

And when she turned around with Connor in her arms, he was there, a few steps away, wearing his impeccable tux and his scowl. And she nodded, yeah, he's fine, thanks, Agent Brockner, thank you for helping me save my son But then a dark red stain appeared on Brock's shirt. She tried to say something, go to him, but her high heels were stuck in the mud, and Connor cried in her arms, and she saw in horror how the blood stain grew bigger. And all of a sudden Brock was not a few steps away, but all the way across the backyard. And she was sloshing in the mud, tripping on her dress, trying to get to him. But she didn't seem to get any closer, and Connor cried and asked her to take him home as she'd just promised. Brock collapsed, his chest covered in blood. And when she finally made it to him, she fell to her knees in the mud, Connor still in her arms, keeping her son's face to her shoulder so he wouldn't see Brock like that. With her other hand she desperately searched for Brock's pulse, but there was none, and she could tell by his face that he was already dead, and there was nothing she could do about it. Yet she called out to him, ignoring the blood, shaking him, trying in vain to wake him up.

She found herself sitting on the couch, panting, tears rolling down her cheeks.

She looked around, giving herself a moment to take in that she was home and it'd been nothing but a dream.