IRENE - BLACKBIRD book 6

4. a piece of mind

"I wish my team was here to do this."

Brock glanced at her as he drove across town. "You don't trust our local agents."

"I don't trust anybody about this." She sighed. "Especially after my little round with Cassidy this morning."

He looked ahead again, nodding. She was right, of course. He had to fight back a smile as he turned left. They were tight on time.

"How far to Dawson's home?" she asked.

"Another ten minutes."

"The Cyber techs will be waiting for us there?"

The traffic allowed Brock to skip her question. A moment later he stopped at a red light and faced her.

"You should talk to Cassidy, Gillian," he said softly.

She met his eyes as if he'd just slapped her. "Come again?"

Brock drove on. "He only knows what the Deputy Director tells him. And the Deputy Director only knows what Graff tells him."

Gillian was too outraged to watch her tone. "And that's enough to be such a bitch? When did I ever let'im down? I've been nothing but his damn lap dog!"

Brock expected her reaction, so he didn't mind her harsh words, knowing they weren't meant for him. "He can't be sure about you right now, Gillian. Not until you two sit down and talk about all this." He paused to give her a chance to snort, which she did. "Not even Cooper is sure about you this time. And she saw you quit the PD over the Palmer incident."

Gillian turned to him with a hurt scowl that almost made him scoff. He kept his gentle, reasonable tone.

"They can tell you've taken this in a different way from what they're used to see. So much personal. But you've also been on the defensive too much. That's a first for them, which doesn't exactly help you when the Deputy Director is on their necks to shut you down and out of this case."

"Cooper doesn't know the whole case. And Cassidy only lied and tried to stand in my way."

Brock flashed a tight smile. "I know, Gillian. But I still think he was only following orders. He has no idea what's really going on, what we're dealing with."

She looked out, huffing her disagreement.

"Let's search Dawson's place and talk to Niki Thompson," he said, always gentle. "We'll hear what she has to say and you'll know what to do next."

She shot a sideways look at him.

Brock had to fight himself to keep from smiling again and patting her hand. "Talk to Cassidy and Cooper before Monday. Off the record. They need to know what's coming."

"Need," she repeated, skeptic.

"Yes, Gillian, need. So they can back you up when the brass comes down on you to demand an explanation."

"Like they would ever back me up," she grunted.

"They've always done it before. So I think they deserve a chance to prove you right or wrong."

Gillian was about to reply when she registered they were entering the airport. "What's this? What're we doing here?"

"We need to make a stop here before going to Dawson's."

She turned to him, eyes narrowed as to drill a hole in his skull with her stare. Brock didn't even blink. He kept his eyes on the street. A moment later he stopped outside the arrivals wing. Gillian forgot her glare to gawk at the sidewalk, where Russell waved his hand high at them. And around him, the rest of the team.

Brock got out of the car and circled it toward them. Gillian reacted enough to get out too. Ron laughed at her utter surprise.

"Cooper suggested you could use some help with procedures and interrogations," Russell said, patting her arm.

Gillian glanced at Brock with an accusing scowl. He arched his eyebrows.

"She might have consulted me this morning."

"So we just had to drop the seminar and catch a plane, you know," said Ron.

"Who are we arresting?" asked Fred.

Gillian punched Ron's arm, shaking her head and not fighting her grin. Brock knew she was too surprised to give any order, so he turned to Tanya.

"Lawrence, you have the address of Gillian's apartment. You go set up shop there," he said.

"Yessir!"

"I'm going with her to lend a hand," said Russell. "And find us accommodation."

Gillian was able to control her giddy grin and pointed at Aldana. "Al, you and Hank go downtown and interview Dawson. He lawyered up. I don't care. Get'im to write and sign down everything."

"With pleasure."

"Can I suggest we may take the case to Virginia or Florida jurisdiction?" asked Hank.

"Where there's death penalty? Wicked Doctor Schwarz, I—"

"Don't."

"Then go. Ron, Fred, Kurt, you lads come with us. We're on our way to search Dawson's place and impound any electronic device where he might have porn."

Kurt frowned, pointing at Brock's car. "The five of us in there?"

"You can jog by the car all the way," Gillian replied.

"Yeah, you could use some exercise," said Fred.

Five minutes later, Brock's car and two taxis left the airport together and spread out toward different parts of the city. Brock wore his sunglasses as he kept his eyes ahead, lips pressed together. Not to smile. Gillian sat by him, turned in her seat to talk to the punks stuffed in the backseat. They shot their questions and gave her hardly any chance to answer all of them. But she knew how to update them despite their excitement. It felt a lot like those times when Andrea was still in elementary and he had to take her and a bunch of her little friends to a birthday party. And he was surprised to realize he didn't mind. He was already used to the punks' banter. And Gillian's grin was worthy it.