+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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**picture: Flatwoods Park Trail
Ramirez hadn't lied about the way to the crime scene being confusing. It was actually only half a mile away from the Interstate, but the lack of cross-streets forced them to take a long detour to the north past it, and then back south. When they finally turned onto a dirt road, Gillian saw a nice development on their left and checked their GPS.
"That's Hunter's Green. The couple who found the body lives there."
"We've just been on Downs Boulevard, but I didn't see any gas station," said Brock.
"I think we exited the I-75 before that intersection, and accessed the Boulevard past it. Not sure. I'm pretty lost."
The detective pulled over a minute later and stepped out. Brock stopped behind Ramirez' car. They joined the young man near the first line of trees spreading west up to the Interstate.
"This road is a part of the Flatwoods Park Trail," he explained. "Even though it's not in the regular hiking and biking circuit. The traditional hike is a large circle to the east." He moved his hand to point at the wild area spreading across the road.
They started to the woods as Gillian asked, "Is this area a regular place for joggers?"
"You mean the pair from Hunter's Green? No, not a regular jogging place. Hardly any track through to the Interstate on this particular part of the woods. You can navigate through to the Interstate, no way to get lost. But bikers and hikers usually stay on the Trail." He paused by the first tree and smiled again. "Hope you guys are okay with a little hiking. We're only five minutes away."
Gillian smiled back at him. "Lead the way, Detective."
Brock set his jaw at her tone and her smile. But before his sarcasm could feast on his jealousy, some other part of his mind reminded him that this was just the way she was. He'd seen her talk like this to her team a thousand times. She wasn't hitting on the young man: she was just being nice.
"Is there any reason why people don't come this way?" asked Brock as the three of them walked into the woods.
"Yeah. Too close to the Interstate. There's hardly a mile between this part of the Trail and the road. You'll hear the traffic noise from the crime scene." Ramirez lifted a low branch, enough for Gillian to walk under it without hitting her head. "Hikers seek some quiet. Nature's solitude, if you know what I mean. That's why they like the traditional Trail best. Some bikers use the paved loop, but mostly on weekends." He let go of the branch.
Brock ducked as if he'd been born and raised in the woods. "Any house on this strip of land?"
"No. At least, not that we're aware of. Nothing on the city records or satellite. You've got the loop I told you about, from the 134 and back across the northern half of the woods, two-hundred yards from here or so. But not even a tree house on this side."
They heard twigs cracking ahead, past some bushes, and halted. The three of them took a hand to the holsters hanging from their waists.
