Brock snapped out of it enough to get in the booth with her. She pressed the button and fixed her glare on the door.

"Sorry, Lieutenant, I didn't recognize you," he said, looking ahead like her.

"You never do."

Just like he thought, she wasn't exactly in the mood for logic, but rather for a wrestling match. And his failure recognizing her didn't exactly help his cause.

She stalked out of the elevator at the lobby and headed to her team. They were about to comment on her looks, but her glare persuaded them not to. She just glanced at them on her way out.

Russell waited for Brock, who came two steps behind Gillian. "So you're in?"

Brock nodded. Russell patted his arm softly and preceded him to the doors. Gillian talked with Ron and Fred by the SUV. When she saw the other two coming, she pointed at Aldana's car.

"Russ, you go with Al," she said.

Ron and Fred went to Ron's car, where Hank waited. She turned to Brock, who swallowed his surprise when he realized she was waiting for him to get in the SUV. He unlocked it from a few steps away and she climbed in before he could open the door for her.

Gillian still wondered why she was about to explain herself to him, when she felt like punching his lights out instead. But it pissed her off so much, knowing the stupid bitter man was convinced that she was completely nuts—not to mention a frigging rookie—and she was dragging along not only her bunch of carefree jerks, but also Russell, who was supposed to have some fed common sense left. And she wasn't to suffer any of it.

Brock started the engine, noticing that her sweet perfume filled the SUV. Soon the three vehicles left the hotel. They had twenty minutes to Quaboag Pond, and Brock decided to make the best of that time. He cleared his throat, about to speak, but she raised a hand between them to keep him silent.

"They discarded a blonde and a ginger this week," she said, and her voice was still cold and dry. "We've been monitoring the missing person reports and there's nothing new on girls matching those types over the last two days, so chances are their collection isn't complete right now. That's why we're bringing Carl Bailey a blonde and a ginger delivered right at his doorstep. The flashy outfits are to balance that we're way older than his usual prey."

Brock would've shaken his head. The logic was perfect. It was profiling 101: profile the subject and use it to anticipate his actions and reactions, in order to prevent him from doing more harm. And that only annoyed him even more. How could she be capable of such a clear deduction, and then apply it to such an insane plan?

Gillian kept looking ahead with a focused scowl. Saying all that helped her to gear up inside. "We're splitting them apart. Aldana is luring Rupert out. I'm going into their house to try to trick Carl into showing himself, but I don't think he will. He'll most likely try some kind of blitz attack to take me out, so I'm giving him a chance to. Russell and Fred are covering Aldana, Ron and Hank are covering me. I'm wired so they can know when to move."

He noticed she hadn't included him in the plan, so he asked, in his most neutral tone, "And what do you want me to do?"

Gillian allowed herself to scoff. Great. Now he was kidding her. "Are you expecting me to tell you what to do, Agent Brockner?"

"It's your plan, Lieutenant, so yes, it's up to you."

She would've gladly said to him: you're of no use to me, you bitter loner, 'cause you don't trust us, so we can't trust you. Yet there was something he could do. "The troopers will be waiting for us at the end of Sturbridge Road, at the north end of the Pond," she said. "You can go meet them, and make sure they don't swarm over the cabin ahead of schedule."

"You're sure you don't want an extra backup, going into the house?"

"Then why the hell d'you ask?" she replied harshly. "Do whatever you want, sir. Just stay out of my way."