The End - Blackbird book 7

11

"Why did they need you there to complete the procedures?" she asked as they sat at each side of the bar to eat. "They were just regular arrests." Talking with Brock was so easy, the conversation flowed so fine, she didn't regret anymore this 'wasting time on dinner'.

Brock shrugged. "They didn't. It's just politics."

"How come?"

"Cincinnati's SAC is an old friend of Burton's, and he doesn't like Cassidy. So he wasn't exactly helpful about the whole thing. He claimed all his agents were too busy to 'spare' more than three men to conduct all the procedures throughout the whole state."

"He thinks Cassidy's achievements work against Burton's reputation as former Section Chief?"

"I think so, yes. Also, he's not in the best terms with some of the local PDs we had to work with for the procedures."

"Bet he wasn't happy when he saw you back with the team."

"Looks like most of his busy agents were suddenly available."

"He tried to get rid of the lads?"

"And me, mostly. SACs answer directly to the Deputy Director, so they sort of outrank Section Chiefs and their Supervisors. But that doesn't mean SACs can boss us around. It's a thin line."

"So his initial lack of cooperation ended up backfiring on him."

"Yes. His office was shut out of the whole operation."

"So all the credit goes to Violent Crimes."

"Exactly. Cassidy needs all the credit he can get. His golden career was very damaged after the Graff case. The only thing that kept him in office was Wright's promotion. This situation is a good example: Cincinnati's SAC complained to Wright and he just told the man off and ordered him to abide."

"Wait. Wright as in EAD Wright? King-of-Sharks Wright? What promotion?"

Brock frowned at her surprise. "Thought you knew. The Deputy Director resigned because of the Graff case, and the Director is training the DC SAC to took his place. Wright is covering for him until he's ready to take the post."

"Over the ADD and all the big shots in between?"

"He's gone too. Rumor has it that's gonna be Wright's new post. Or Chief of Staff."

Gillian's lips shaped a silent, 'oh...' at the news. Brock took a mouthful of greens and tilted his head as he chewed. She knew there was a change of subject coming up. The conversation was about to turn personal. She waited, feeling a concern twitch. She hoped it wouldn't get too personal. At least not yet, because she wasn't ready.

Brock moved his fork with a mild smile. "You know? This is completely new for me." He kept the casual tone, but his voice was warmer.

Please, no. She was so not ready to discuss contract conditions. "Well, I'm not a regular here around."

Brock noticed she'd gotten on the defensive and smiled wider. "I mean talking about work over dinner."

"Oh..." His words defused any suspicion.

He nodded. "I'm used to leaving my job out the door when I'm not alone. Got used to it when I married Andrea's mother."

"Of course, you were already a profiler."

"Yes."

"Yeah, not exactly nice, talking about the sicko of the week to answer the how-was-your-day."

"Especially because Andrea's mother turns pale if she as much as hears the word 'blood'."

"And she married a profiler? Go figure."

"She thought it was just a phase, and I'd drop it as soon as I could get a nine-to-five desk post."

"Tell me you're kidding." Gillian chuckled at his face. "Well, I was expected to quit the force and stay home after Connor was born."

Brock scowled. "What?"

"Yeah. Funny, huh? We made the same mistake when we were young."

Brock nodded again, his smile turning thoughtful. "True. We thought we were marrying people who understood us. The shoemaker's son."

"Totally. So no talking about work at home. Never."

"No, never. Seemed like a healthy habit, as Andrea grew up."

"Ouch. You must've hated my guts when Connor and I exposed her to it."

Brock scoffed. "Yeah, at the beginning. But she turned out to be more than ready to handle it. While I still thought she was too young to even hear about any of it."

"Not easy. They grow up so fast, it's hard to adjust."

Brock realized he'd never even asked about how Gillian had dealt with her son's moving out to college. "It must've been hard for you," he said. "You two are so close."

"It is hard, still. Not only the part about missing him and worrying about him like hell. Y'know what I mean. I wasn't used at all to coming back home to a quiet house, too big for me alone."

"Yeah. It never gets easier," he muttered.

"On the bright side, now I don't have to worry about coming home too late, or leaving town over work. Like I'm doing next week."

"You're leaving town?"

"That's why Cassidy called. I gotta testify on the Graff trial on Monday at ten."

"Meaning you have to go to DC?"

"Yep. I wanna spend the weekend with Connor, so I need a flight very late on Sunday, or Monday at dawn."

Brock flashed that little playful smile that worked like a voltaic discharge on Gillian's hormones.

"I was supposed to go to DC on Friday. Bet Andrea would be thrilled to have you both over for the weekend." And bet she won't have that much to study after all.

"Connor finishes his classes at noon on Fridays," she murmured. "And he can flight back here on Sunday evening, so he won't miss class on Monday."

"I can ask Andrea to check if Mrs. Olson's apartment is available." He enjoyed the way her eyes glimmered at the idea. "Sure your son would like to see Andrea as well," he said, to add more weight on his side of the scale.

To his surprise, she rolled her eyes. "Of course they'll be glad, Connor and Andrea," she grunted. "Those cunning rascals."

"Cunning...?"

"Remind me to tell you later about their scheming."

"Their what?"

"Later."

"Okay..."

"By the way, why the hell did Cassidy call you when I didn't pick up?"

"He usually does, when he cannot reach you about something important."

"You serious?"

He couldn't help a smile when she blushed at the idea. He noticed they were both done eating and tried to take her plate.

"Oh, no, I'll do it," she said right away. "You cooked—and it was delicious—so I'll do the dishes." Alone. Else, all your neat kitchen stuff will end up trashed on the floor when I corner you against the counter.

"Okay," he said. "Let me at least clean all this."