+18 eps. 17-21 - After a hard case that takes the team to DC in order to catch a blackhat and prevent a bombing, all hell breaks loose on their return to Boston , when the ghost of the Libra killer comes back to torture Brock seven years after the m...
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**picture: Boston PD District 1-A parking slots
Banks waited for Gillian at the parking lot. It was a sensitive moment for her in every way, and he wanted to be there, with her, from the very beginning. Not only was it the first time she would walk into the Historic District police station since she resigned, after the Orlando's hostage crisis. They were about to meet with Cook and King Gillian at the fourth floor. About a possible Libra copycat.
She parked on a free spot at the visitors section, and that alone was proof enough of how hard this promised to be. Banks' smile helped her not to feel so estranged as they crossed the parking lot together, to the side entrance she'd used every day for so many years. Only this time they had to stop at the front desk, so she could check in, go through the metal detector and receive the visitor badge to hang from her neck. The officer joked with them about it, and made the formality as quick and easy as he could.
She had to greet many people on the elevator, and their way from it to Cook's office was seasoned by smiles and teases. Everybody wanted to know if she was back because she missed her rows with Cook.
Her smile disappeared when Cook's aide told them to go into his office, because the captain was waiting for them.
Not only Cook, of course. King Gillian was already there as well. Both men turned to the door when it opened to let Gillian and Banks in.
There were no handshakes, and she only nodded at her father before focusing on Cook, which thickened the air in a split second. She and Banks sat at the captain's desk. King Gillian stood by it, folded arms and a formal frown on his face, to disguise that her cold attitude had upset him.
She kept silent while Banks told the other two about the messages. Then she had to speak, to tell them about her interview with Somerville.
Cook leaned back in his chair, narrowed eyes down on the messages. "So you think we should expect more news from this sicko by Sunday."
Gillian nodded.
"We're blind, and our hands tied," Banks said. "There's no way we can figure out now where the Libra stayed here in 2006, or who he met back then, to get any idea about who's behind this."
"I asked my techs to run a search through companies' tax forms and payrolls from 2004 to 2006," Gillian said.
She avoided eye contact with King Gillian, whose frown bordered the expectable annoyed scowl—'my' techs?
"What do you expect to find?" asked Cook, wishing those two would have a private round to clean their slate or kill each other, and let him be.
"If it's true that he always used his real name, maybe we can find where he worked, and track him back from there, along with his associates," said Banks. "It's a long shot, but it may work."
"What is it, Reg?"
She swallowed a sigh. She had no choice but facing King Gillian. So she did. "A bad feeling? This far, the messages were sent on meaningful dates for the Libra—his birthday, his family's death. But this Sunday is a different anniversary."
"His first murder," he said, with a slow nod.
Banks breathed in by her side. She wished she could take his hand and press it. Seeing him this upset was killing her, and there was absolutely nothing she could do about it.
"You think it won't be just a message this time," King Gillian added. Statement, not question.
Oh, so now we feel like paying attention to what I think. She shrugged with a quick grimace.
Cook glanced up at him. "I'll send word to let us know of any murder this weekend." King Gillian nodded. Cook turned to her again. "D'you think it'll fit the Libra's type or MO?"
"If some old friend of the Libra's suddenly decided to honor his memory, it'd be strange if he doesn't follow at least one of them. I think it'll be a woman, for sure. And she'll be stabbed to death. That would cover the basics."
"We should issue a public alert."
King Gillian shook his head at Cook's idea. "No way. We can't warn all the women in Boston to stay home on Sunday, because maybe there's a weirdo on the loose with a knife, looking for somebody to kill. Then we should warn the whole city to stay home for good, because there are a lot of weirdos that might attack them at any time."
Gillian hated to agree with him. "All we can do is sit and wait."
"And pray we don't wake up on Monday with a Libra-like murder on the morning news," Cook grunted.
Banks nodded.
She tried to smooth their gloomy forecast. "But if anything happens, we'll have something to follow on, other than these messages."
King Gillian narrowed his eyes. "We?"
She expected his reaction, and almost enjoyed meeting his eyes to nod. Of course he would focus on that, of the whole situation. The lack of any animosity in her voice was calculated to make him feel insulted. "Yes, we. The FBI. The Libra was a federal case, and any event related to it in any way will be considered as an extension of the original case. Therefore, federal."
King Gillian's dark blue eyes were a deathly laser glaring at her. "You expect us to hand it over just because."
Gillian stood up, her eyes locked with his. The other two traded a glance at the way her lips pursed in a patronizing little smirk. That alone made King Gillian clench his teeth and fists.
She spoke as if addressing a slow boy. "Hand over? It wouldn't be yours to begin with. I'm not asking for your permission. I'm only here as a professional courtesy, to keep the PD on the loop so you don't lose face. If any case comes out of this, it's mine. With Sergeant Banks as my local liaison with your Department." She turned to Cook with a tight smile. "We'll keep you up, sir."
"Thanks."
Banks stood up too, nodded at the two men and followed her to the door.
King Gillian's furious hiss reached them there. "Don't make the mistake of thinking you can come here and tell us what to do, child."
She signaled Banks to go out, then turned around to face King Gillian with a very legit death glare. Her voice was now hard and cold. "It's Agent Gillian for you, sir. You already shut us out from the Libra back in 2006. And all you got was three victims, an excellent officer dead and a serial killer in the wind. Well, not this time. If you want the PD to have any part in this, it's gonna be through Sergeant Banks. Or you can go tell the press, and the public, that you're not in the case 'cause you're still the same incompetent jerks you were ten years ago."
