Brock's shaken emotions didn't make him miss the fact that the precinct was deserted. All the desks and posts were vacant. Not even the officer at the front desk was there. The place looked as if an H bomb had just fallen there.

He paused to scowl around. Then he spotted a man hurrying down the stairs to the back side of the precinct. So he followed. The man led him to the small hall outside the interrogation room. And there he found the missing staff. Uniforms and detectives were stuffed before the one-way mirror as if they were watching a movie.

He brushed his way through them to the mirror, where he'd spotted some familiar faces at the front row. Banks and Taylor were there, with Russell, Aldana, Fred and Ron. He turned to look at the interrogation room, not sure at all about how much he wanted to see what was going on in there.

And there she was, who else. Gillian sat at the table across Carson. She looked more like Cooper than like herself, with her black tailored suit, a tight bun and readers. Brock saw Hank there too, standing near the table. He also wore readers, hands in his pockets and a grave look on Carson. The man was cuffed to the table and had tilted his head to study Gillian with a mocking smirk. She had several folders and flicked through them, not facing him yet.

Russell leaned to him with an amused wink. "You're right in time, man. They just walked in, and you sure wanna watch this."

Sure you want, right Brockner? He tried not to keep scowling. And failed. "What does she have in mind?"

"Poking his narcissism with some healthy reversed psychology."

Brock swallowed a sigh and folded his arms. He didn't have much of a choice but enjoy the show with the others, flanked by Russell and Banks.

"Are you gonna tell me who you are, legs?" asked Carson then. "Where's that Agent Brockner?"

Gillian looked up at him, a friendly smile to match her voice. "Supervisory Special Agent Brockner is busy right now, that's why we're here. This is Doctor Schwarz, also with the FBI. And I'm Agent Gillian, SSA Brockner's secretary."

Banks scoffed. "Didn't see that coming."

Brock narrowed his eyes. That was an aggressive approach, a three-word rank for him and two agents to cover for his absence.

"I'm not talking to a secretary and some nerd."

"Oh, it's okay, I'll do the talking, Albert. I can call you that, right?" All that capital letters and Brock's last name against Carson's first name? She didn't know the meaning of going soft—you know she doesn't, Brockner. "I'm here just to check a few facts, you know? And try to get them to release you."

"Really."

Hank spoke from where he was, grave and focused as his face. "We know you didn't commit those murders, Albert."

"Sure. That's why I've been locked up here for hours." Carson smirked wider at Hank. "And it's Mr. Carson for you, nerd."

Gillian smiled instead of shrugging. "Well, they're cops. We're not. And we know what happened is not on you. You've never killed anybody, right?"

Carson held her eyes, always smirking.

She nodded as if he'd answered. "It was all your friend. You just helped him to dump the bodies."

Easy, Gillian, Brock thought.

She looked up at Hank for confirmation. He nodded. She turned again to Carson. "I mean, yes, you're a convicted sexual offender. But you never killed anybody before going to jail. And there you met Ledger... I get it."

Carson frowned. "You get what, legs?"

"We've been talking to the prison guards," said Hank. "We know Ledger protected you."

"Don't worry, Albert," said Gillian. "We can understand that you think you owe him."

Carson scoffed. "Tommy. Protect me."

Gillian produced a pen and opened a folder. "So let's get this done, okay?"

"He never protected me," said Carson, and his mocking smirk faltered.

She moved her hand as to dismiss the issue. "It's okay, Albert. You don't need to talk about it. I know it's hard. That's why we're here to help you."

Carson's smirk turned to a scowl. She knows how to push the right buttons to get anyone started, right, Brockner?

"I said I'm not talking to you. I wanna see your boss."

She kept her light tone. "I'm so sorry, but he's busy. Like you just said: he's the boss. So he doesn't do routine interviews. That's why he has me—paperwork and coffee."

Brock wondered if she actually talked to him. He discarded such a guilty idea. She didn't know he was there. And even so, if she'd meant that for him, she would've said 'tea' instead of 'coffee'.

Carson was about to take offense at her words. "You're saying I'm just paperwork?"

"And that's a good thing for you, Albert. It means what you did is a minor offense."

"Ledger, on the other hand..." said Hank.

Banks took his phone to his ear, noticed Brock's questioning scowl and nodded at the mirror. "See that thing she's doing with her pen? She wants us to make her phone ring."

Gillian's phone buzzed on the table and her smile vanished. She took the call, stood up and walked away from the table. "Agent Brockner, sir..." she muttered, anxious all of a sudden.

At the other side of the mirror, Banks kept silent. Brock noticed the smirks pursing everybody's lips around him.

"Yessir." She lowered her head. "Yessir." She disconnected and returned to the table, trading a glance with Hank.

"Was he mad?" he whispered.

"You know him," she replied in another whisper.

Brock tilted his head. Was she portraying him like that just for Carson's sake?

She sat down with a new friendly smile. "I'm sorry about that. So, where were we? Oh, right. They're officially holding you for declaring a wrong address to your parole officer. So let's give'em what they say they want, so they have no more excuses to keep you." She checked a form from her folder. "Are you back with your mom in Roxbury?"

Carson stared at her, lips pressed tight together.

She went on reading and grimaced. "Oh, I'm sorry! Her house went into foreclosure right before she passed, while you were still in Suffolk... I'm so sorry, didn't mean to be so rude! Then you're back to Mattapan?"

Carson didn't answer.

Gillian kept her eyes on the form. "That little apartment in Fremont and River?"

Carson smirked again, relaxing.

Before Brock could say a word, Russell patted Ron's arm and they hurried out with Taylor.

"Albert...?" said Gillian.

Hank arched his eyebrows. "Look, Albert, we only—"

Carson cut him off with an angry hiss. "It's Mr. Carson, four-eyes!"

Gillian's voice was velvet. "Albert, Doctor Schwarz is here to help you, okay? Just like me. I already told you we know this was all Ledger's idea. Let's work together, so you can spare yourself from doing life for what he did."

"I'm not talking to you! Call your boss!"

"She can't, Albert," said Hank. "Agent Brockner is chasing down Thomas Ledger as we speak."

Gillian lowered her voice to a conspiratorial murmur. "Yeah, and I wouldn't wanna be him when SSA Brockner lays hands on him."

Brock arched his eyebrows. Patronizing Carson like that could make him shut down. Then he noticed the way she moved her pen, and beat Banks to dial her. He felt a twitch at the way she looked down at her buzzing phone. Her frown wasn't faked. And what did you expect, after being such an ass with her?

She picked up, hesitating. "Agent Brockner, sir...?"