+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...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
"What makes you think something's off?" he asked. She would know he was interested, not judging her.
"That we've got the case."
He narrowed his eyes. "What's bothering you, Gillian?"
That I'm the worst chicken and I don't dare to be with you? She sighed. "All the tiny things not adding up here, sir."
"Wanna tell me about it?"
About the things not adding up or about the despicable coward I am? "Sure..." she muttered, and sipped her coffee again, trying to give some order to her gut feelings. "I'm willing to buy Uncle-Of-The-Year Graff learned his niece was murdered and called his old friend—the Deputy Director—to see if he could make sure her death was investigated. But that's all. Anyway, let's say Graff has enough connections to make a call and have the case taken from Tampa police and handed over to the feds. Why not our field office?"
"A serial is BAU's turf. There are no trained profilers assigned to field offices outside DC."
"Excellent point, sir. Now, you have the file in your hands. Have you seen Cassidy's notes?"
"Yes."
"Then let's play naïve for a moment. Irene was found dead yesterday, Thursday morning. Let's say she was identified and her family notified by noon. So Graff calls the Deputy Director, who calls Cassidy to give him the case and tells him to put 'his best men on it', to quote Cooper's words from a while ago."
She waited for Brock to nod. It was hard to believe. An hour ago she was terrified at the simple idea of seeing him again. And now there she was, talking to him—like nothing had happened, which wasn't quite right, but still... It was so easy, and it felt so right. He was the one to talk about this, and she couldn't wait to see what he thought about it.
He nodded and she went on. "Now let's say I'm buying Cassidy rolled up his sleeves and played runt, to conduct the phone interview with Irene's mother himself—because there's no other agent mentioned in the report. When did he do it? Yesterday afternoon? And when did he got word of the similar kill in the area a few weeks ago? Not this morning, because he sent the whole file to Cooper before I got to the office at eight."
Brock leaned back in his seat, as if to get a better view of the whole picture. "So if this is really a serial killer, meaning a BAU case, they must've known it in DC by yesterday afternoon," he said.
"Airports were still open to ship the BAU to Tampa last night. And Cassidy would've mentioned it if Grubber's boys are out of town when I asked about them."
He looked away and scowled. She had not one but several points.
"What is it, sir?" she asked, because his face told her he'd noticed something she'd missed. Something he didn't like.
Brock breathed deep and met her eyes. "I was in DC last night. I took the nine p.m. flight to Boston."
She could only held his piercing stare, trying to fit that bit of information in what she'd figured about the situation. But it only made everything muddier.
"Did Cassidy tell you why he was sending you, instead of giving the case to our people in Tampa?"
Brock's question distracted her and she frowned, but replied at once. She knew he was making his own way around it, so she followed. "Cooper said it: the Deputy Director wanted Cassidy's best and that's us." She tilted her head and lowered her voice, as if thinking aloud. "But it was Cassidy's last words that got me wondering. He said, 'Do it your way, Gillian. Fast and quiet.'"
Brock noticed he'd tilted his head too, mirroring her. "Why would he say that?"
"It's what Medley always says about us, that we do things fast and quiet. Meaning we dismiss or neutralize threats before people even know about them."
"Fast and quiet..." Brock repeated, thoughtful. "You're right. There's something here they want to keep a secret. But is it about Irene's death or about her life?"
Gillian would've kissed him right there and then, feeling the thrill of their minds working together. It was so exciting! The only problem was that if she kissed him--now that she knew what it was like--she wouldn't be able to stop at that. And they still hadn't concluded anything.
So she shrugged, mostly to shake off the bugging flashback of his kiss playing in a loop in the back of her mind. "My money is on some skeleton in the family's closet. Something that would stain Graff's all-American Tea-Party poster."
Brock pursed his lips. "So by 'best men', maybe the Deputy Director meant assets Cassidy trusts he can handle if they find out Graff's secret, whatever it is."
Gillian nodded. "Fast and quiet. Arrest the first scumbag you find, close the case, don't let anybody know what really happened."
She met his eyes with that mild frown Brock had always enjoyed. He wondered what dots she'd connected this time.
