The End - Blackbird book 7

5. threads

Kurt and Tanya refused to stay any longer at the office and went to the hospital. Now they worked at a furious speed, their computers on frail balance on their laps. Across the coffee table, Ron was sunk in his armchair, elbows on his knees and his hands covering his face. Connor paced up and down the waiting room under Aldana's attentive watch. Fred stood by the door, shoulder against the doorframe, folded arms, eyes fixed on the nurse station down the hall.

He straightened up and glanced at Aldana. Hank walked in a moment later and nodded at her.

"Call Russell," he said.

Ron dropped his hands from his face and sat up, turning to them. Aldana stood by his armchair, her back to the hall as she dialed Russell on speaker.

"Hang on," he said when he picked up. "Brock!" he called. "Let me put you on speaker, babe. What d'you have?"

It was Hank who replied, keeping his voice low not to catch Connor's attention. "One shot to her chest with a twenty-two. It was a miracle they missed her heart."

"D'you know anything about the shooting?" asked Brock. He sounded drier than usual, but no one was about to comment or ask why.

"Not much," said Aldana. "Connor didn't get to see anything. He didn't even hear the shot. We only have the video."

Tanya materialized by them. "I'm tracking the uploader, but it's got me bouncing over Eastern Europe and Asia. Sooner or later it'll come up with a local IP."

"Send us the video, Lawrence."

The girl looked up at Aldana, begging for help. "Sir...?"

"Send it to me, T," said Russell. "Tell us about it, guys."

"It's called Shut a Cup," said Hank.

"Beg your pardon?" asked Brock.

"Shoot a cop," Aldana replied. "And we're damn sure these boys are on a hit list."

"Why would you say that, Miles?"

"It's not the first incident," replied Fred, his voice low and sharp as if he had the scope of his rifle to his face. "A week ago, a detective from the gangs task force was shot too, only a street away from his house. Reg and I worked with him."

"And there's a video of it too," said Kurt from his seat.

All of them turned to him with questioning scowls.

"I just found comments about it in that deep-web forum. I'm trying to find it."

"What about the King?" asked Russell.

"He's in California with his new girlfriend," replied Ron, oozing bitterness. "I left him the message, but I don't expect him to disturb his vacations to catch a plane and come over."

"Yeah, well..."

Brock forced himself to ask, "How long has she been in the OR?"

"Two hours, and they still have another couple to go," replied Hank. "The bullet bounced, so they have a good deal to patch and stitch up."

"We'll call you back," said Brock, and nodded at Russell to disconnect. "Play the video, Coleman."

Russell shook his head. "C'mon, man. Don't do this to yourself."

"We need to watch it and start working on it!" Brock snarled.

Russell sighed his disagreement and played the video on his phone. They watched it in a thick silence.

Time seemed to stop when Brock saw Gillian on the small screen. Her smile at Connor, coming from the corner to meet her. It triggered a whirl of memories that swirled to wrap around him.

He met her bright blue eyes one unexpected noon at Boloco. He held her up as they made their way slowly down an unsteady pile of debris. She cried her heart out against his chest as he held her tight in a restroom. Her lips caressed his in a stormy night. She showed him a daring piece of red lingerie with that smartass smirk of hers. She stood by him before the reflecting pool in a smooth summer night. Her hands rested on one of his manuals as she absorbed his every word as usual, this time over tea at his apartment in DC. She yelled, furious, about her love for him and Wednesday breakfast. She kept him alive in her arms on a frozen hill. She cuddled in his suit coat, asleep by his side in the SUV, dreaming of him. She kneeled by his couch when he grabbed her face to kiss her.

Time flowed again. A boy stretched out his arm at her and sprinted away. She crumbled down, still trying to understand what had just happened.

It'd taken only a second.

And that second might have stolen her away from him forever.

Russell noticed the wet spark in Brock's eyes and stopped the video. He stood up and slid his phone in his pocket.

"I'm getting a coffee," he muttered, brushing past Brock to the coffeemaker near the cockpit.

Brock drew in a shakybreath and looked out the window, at the patches of land through the threads ofclouds.