Something was wrong. No, that wasn't quite accurate... not wrong, really, just... odd. Unusual. Blair's half-awake brain ambled along for once instead of sprinting. It was sure that the body that carried it around wasn't in danger -- for once -- so it wasn't in any tearing hurry to analyze the sensory data that made their way headward with increasing frequency. Nice big soft bed, the one at home. Good. Nice big hard body in close proximity. Better. Messages from the optic nerves came in a rush as an eyeball cracked open and quickly shut. Big hard Jim-body... even better. Best. So what was the problem... "Hey, Jim, you won't believe this -- it's sunny again!" "No shit, Einstein." Jim stretched luxuriantly and traded the pleasures of watching Blair sleep for those of watching him rev up for the day. "Daydreaming in those astronomy classes, were you? Sun comes up every morning. That's more or less the definition of morning." "Not in Cascade, it isn't. Not at this time of year. The average number of clear days this whole month is five, do you know that? And this makes the fourth in a row. It's weird. And the sun doesn't come up in the morning, the Earth rotates." "Picky, picky." Jim started sucking his partner's ear lobe. "Can I help it if your presence drives me to figurative language? Next thing you know, I'll be spouting poetry." "Oh sure... something along the lines of, There once was a Guide from Nantucket..." Jim laughed and gathered Blair into his arms. "Don't tempt me. I know a few that will curl your hair even more than it is already." "Yeah, but I know them in at least three languages. Not counting English." "I know a few in languages even you probably haven't heard of... but if I taught them to you, I'd have to kill you." "Uh-huh. Like there are limericks in Quechua." Deciding that meteorological and/or literary discussion could wait until later, Blair concentrated on kissing the man beside him until his hair, such as it was, curled. "Morning, love." "And a very good morning it is, my amorous linguist. But much as I'd like to carry this further, we'd better get moving if we're going to get all the way out to Ravenhill to interview Mr. Vanderbeek." "Why, what time is it?" Blair answered his own question by lifting his head over the mountainous landscape of his bedmate's chest to squint at the clock on the nightstand. "Shit!" He sat up abruptly and swung his legs over the side of the bed, groping for socks. "Why didn't you wake me up sooner? We're never going to have time to check in at the station and get all the way out to Ravenhill on time. That's as far as you can go and still be in Cascade. Simon will have a cow." Jim reached out, rubbing Blair's shoulder as he rose to join the younger man. "Relax. You were up way too late last night working on your diss; you needed the extra sleep. I already took my shower, then called Simon and told him we'd go out to Ravenhill first thing and check in at the PD after the interview. If we get moving, we'll have plenty of time to get out there and even grab breakfast on the way." Blair twisted his hair up high on the back of his head, almost simultaneously wrapping a band around it with the ease of long practice. "We are not going to Wonderburger so you can get that thing with a fried egg on it. That's obscene, man. Food porn." "Oh ye of little faith," Jim intoned solemnly. "I was thinking of lemon honey pancakes and turkey sausages at Raven's Roost. It's on the way." "Ah, that's more like it! In that case, I'll forgive you for trying to chastise me using the New Testament. Pretty pointless, that." Blair headed down the stairs at a trot. Jim called after him, "Babe, chastising you is pretty pointless no matter what text I use. Doesn't stop you for a minute." Blair reached the bathroom door and said quietly, "Not when I'm protecting my Sentinel from his own worst instincts it doesn't." No use hollering when it wasn't necessary -- having a Sentinel as your life partner was easy on the vocal cords. As he turned on the water and adjusted the temperature, Blair began mentally cataloguing all the other advantages. Never worrying if the smoke alarm or CO2 detector had a dead battery. Being able to concentrate on your work while the TV was on, too low for normal human hearing. Having someone with you at the Farmers' Market who always knew which fruits were exactly ripe and which had passed their peak. Having a lover who knew every button to press, and just how hard to press it, and when... Oops. Better not go there. An offering to the porcelain god had taken care of his morning erection, but he'd better derail his train of thought right now or the Little Anthropologist would be back with a vengeance. He showered quickly, careful to keep his hair away from the spray. Living with a Sentinel had always had its moments, but the past year or so with this particular Sentinel had become the best of his life. That memorable night, the night he had walked in on Jim's declaration of love to his videotaped image, everything had changed. Although... in some ways nothing had changed. He was still juggling Rainier, and the PD, and being Jim's Guide. Granted, there weren't quite so many balls in the air as there used to be. Not teaching on a regular basis was a relief, time-wise, but strange. It kept him from getting to know the new TAs that well, and most of those he had known had graduated and scattered all over in search of jobs. He was still working on his diss, and he thought it would be a decent piece of research... but somehow, it would never be the real diss. He was still working with Jim at the PD, in his familiar but irregular, "you're-not-a-cop-Sandburg" way. At least he was getting paid now. On the surface, business as usual. But what about... nope, don't go there. Sufficient to the day is the evil thereof. Oops, New Testament. What the heck, what Jim didn't know wouldn't hurt him. Half an hour later they were on the road, heading west, two commuter cups of coffee warming Blair's hands. He didn't mind being a human cup holder, and given their luck while in motor vehicles, Blair wanted both of Jim's hands on the wheel. Besides, every time Jim wanted a drink, the cup holder in question got a smile, and a caress or two along his fingers, as the coffee was taken from his hand and replaced. Not a bad way to spend a morning, even a rainy one -- and this one was bright and sunny, with a promise of a high temp creeping into the seventies. Bizarre. Not unheard of, though. Blair remembered a time -- several years before he'd met Jim -- one fall day that even hit the eighties and tied some decades-old record. It wasn't that warm now, but it seemed unnatural all the same. Naomi Sandburg's boy seemed to attract cold and wet, despite his preference for warm and dry. He knew he'd pay for this; it was probably the misleading harbinger of a winter that would look familiar to Noah. Well, what the hey, he'd enjoy it while he could. It was a nice change not to be spending time in the depths of a library, or hunched over his laptop at home, or hunched over Jim's computer in the bullpen. Wonder if the man still remembered how to write a report? In between turning his head to return the smile every time he felt the touch of his lover's hand, Blair enjoyed the view. Crowded city blocks gave way to wider suburban streets, houses getting farther apart as they moved outward like stars in an expanding universe. Eventually they pulled into the parking area of a log building with a beautifully crafted totem pole in the front yard and a Haida carving of Raven above the door. Over the promised pancakes and sausage, Blair and Jim reviewed the case, discussing what they hoped to find out from Mr. Vanderbeek and how best to go about asking. "Now that," Blair said with satisfaction, "was a productive interview." "Sure was," Jim agreed, as he meandered slowly down the long driveway, back to the road. "I knew that bastard Forrest was lying about his past history with the victim, and Vanderbeek just confirmed it. You did a good job getting him to relax and trust us." "It's my non-threatening exterior. That, and years of practice with a certain Sentinel. If you get shot again and need blood, I could probably get some out of a turnip for you." "Very funny." "Do you think he'll have to testify? I can see now why we came all the way out here to talk to the guy instead of having him come to the station." "Yeah, it must be hard to travel with the wheelchair and the oxygen tank. I bet when Forrest's lawyer finds out about this, he'll talk his client into a plea bargain -- although I hate to see that slimeball convicted under a lesser charge." "Yeah, well, this is too nice a day to think about slimeballs. Wish we could play hooky and spend it outdoors. I just know as soon as this good weather is over it's gonna rain for forty days and nights straight." Jim leaned back into the seat, relaxed, one arm resting on the window opening. "Yeah, it's nice out here. Hard to believe we're still in Cascade. We don't get called out here too often -- sometimes I forget Ravenhill's even in our jurisdiction. It's almost too bad the crime rate's so low. By Cascade standards, anyway." "Yeah it beats crack houses and alleys that smell like pissoirs. It's days like this that make me wish we could get paid to spend more time outdoors in nice places. I wonder, could you still be an effective Sentinel if you were a landscape architect, say? Or a mailman? Or a..." The bray of Jim's cell phone ended Blair's litany of alternate career paths. "Ellison here... no, Captain, we're still in the Ravenhill district. Just finished the interview a couple of minutes ago." Long silence. "Got it. We're almost at the turnoff, it shouldn't take more than five minutes to get there. Very good, sir." Jim turned to his partner, then brought his gaze back to the road as he made a quick left. "Well, Chief... be careful what you wish for. Looks like we're going to be spending quite a long time outdoors today after all." "Something tells me we're not going to be getting fresh cider or picking out our pumpkins." "Afraid not. Seems as though one of these lovely little patches of woods has a dead body in it. Since we were lucky enough to be so close, I get to be in charge of the crime scene." Blair groaned. "Dead bodies, outdoors -- one of my favorites. Did Simon say how dead?" Jim shook his head. "Doesn't know. But the woman who found it didn't have to get too close to know it was dead." "Oh, goody. Well, I guess I don't really need to tell you --" "Dial it down. Way down." Following Simon's directions, Jim took a right onto a narrow, winding road that ran through alternating patches of sunlight and wooded canopy. The mixture of dark evergreens and autumn-bright leaves was beautiful, but Blair found it difficult to appreciate the beauties of nature when he knew what lay at the end of their journey. "That must be her." Jim nodded to a turnout on the side of the road, where Blair could barely make out a splash of bright purple. As they got closer, he could see it was an athletic-looking fortyish woman in a bright jacket. A dark brown dog sat next to her -- it looked like some kind of Lab to Blair, although dog breed identification was not one of his specialties. They pulled into the space, and Jim pulled out his ID and held it up to her. "Detective Ellison, Cascade PD." He gestured in Blair's direction. "And my partner, Blair Sandburg. You're Mrs. Flegel?" The woman nodded. "Yes. Barbara Flegel. I live on Paddock Lane, about a mile west of here. You passed it on your way." "I remember. And you discovered the body?" The woman patted the dog's head. "Well, technically, Cocoa here found it. There are paths through these woods made by walkers, but it wasn't near enough to one of them to be seen, and the wind wasn't blowing our way." Blair looked at Cocoa. "But your dog smelled it?" The woman smiled and nodded. "Cocoa's not just a dog, she's a retired professional. She's a trained cadaver dog who worked with the Pierce County Sheriff's Department for years." Jim relaxed a bit and patted the dog's head. "So she knows better than to mess up a potential crime scene, thank God. You told the 911 operator you thought it was a homicide -- what made you say that? I assume you knew not to get too close to the body yourself." Mrs. Flegel nodded. "Cocoa and I were partners in the Sheriff's department; we retired together. I'm a casual birder, so I had binocs with me. I got a good look from a distance. The guy was dressed only in his underwear. Not the usual attire for a stroll in the woods." "Not usually, no," Jim agreed. "You said 'he.'" "Well, I couldn't tell for sure, but it seemed to be guy-type underwear. Not that it's easy to tell these days, but it didn't look much like Jockey for Her." Blair was missing their recent canine houseguest, so he proceeded to make friends with Cocoa while keeping one ear on Jim's conversation with Mrs. Flegel. She was giving suggestions for how the Crime Scene Unit and the ME's van should best approach the spot where the body lay, since it would involve some off-road driving. Jim was relaying this via cell phone to the CSU, interjecting little of his own. He seemed to be treating the woman as a fellow law enforcement professional. No doubt there'd be a background check on her, but she had that no-nonsense cop manner that Blair had come to recognize over the years. His diss even had a chapter devoted to it. Few people could really fake it for long, although he even found himself slipping into it sometimes without realizing it. Maybe a person could pick it up by osmosis. Hmm... that would be an interesting study. Wonder if there were enough civilians who worked closely enough with law enforcement for long enough to provide a decent subject pool... "Chief?" Blair tore his attention from the half-written grant proposal in his head and back to Jim. "I'm leaving the truck here to mark the spot. The body's about a half-mile in. Maybe you should..." "Jim, if you're even thinking of saying 'stay in the truck' you'd better put a mental sock in it." He looked meaningfully at his partner. "With a scene like that you may need my help. It's hardly my first corpse." "No, but this one could be pretty..." "Disgusting? Worse than the guy who was dumped out of a plane?" Jim turned to Mrs. Flegel, who was watching the byplay with interest, and motioned her forward into the woods. "Smellier, at least." Blair fell into step beside him. "All the more reason to have me around to hold your nose." They'd followed a well-traveled trail for about five minutes when Cocoa suddenly sat down, her sensitive nose twitching, and pointed toward a spot by the side of the trail where the vegetation was disturbed and a white bandana fluttered from a sapling. "I presume this the path you took?" Jim asked, staring into the mass of weeds and grasses. Blair almost grinned at the similarity of the detective's stance and the dog's. Both were too well trained to bolt, but it was obvious that both were straining at the leash -- figuratively if not literally. "Yes," the woman nodded. "I marked the spot -- not that I really needed it with Cocoa around, but it will help the rest of your people when they get here. We have to go off-road now, so to speak, but it's not heavy brush or anything. The body's in a sort of clearing, about a quarter mile in." She motioned to the dog, who rose and began moving along the barely visible path at a fast walk. It was a nice day for a hike -- sunny, clear, warming up but not oppressively hot, especially under the trees. Blair was too busy monitoring his Sentinel to notice any of it, except the potential allergen load exacerbated by their passage. After another few minutes, Jim's walking rhythm suddenly faltered for a fraction of a second and his nostrils flared. Blair reached out immediately, lightly stroking the broad back in front of him. He kept the hand there as they moved along, his voice a whisper that only a Sentinel could hear. "Dial down smell, a bit below normal if you have to. Taste, too, they're closely related. Jack up sight and hearing to compensate if you need to, but watch for the change in light... if there's a clearing ahead it might brighten up suddenly..." A minute or two later the capricious wind shifted. "Shit!" Blair recoiled in an atavistic reflex from unmistakable scent of death, but forced himself to keep walking and keep his hand on Jim's back. The leader of their little expedition turned back to the two men, her own face a mask of distaste. "Wasn't this bad earlier, even when I got close enough to see it. The wind's stronger now, and blowing in our direction." "It's warming up," Jim added, "which doesn't help any." "Still, it could be a lot worse. As somebody way too familiar with human remains, I'm guessing that he hasn't been there too long. Looked fairly intact from what I could tell. Very little bloating." Blair closed his eyes briefly, breathing through his mouth. Oh, goody. Another minute or two, and they stood at the edge of a clearing. On the opposite side, a vaguely human shape lay near the trees. Blair realized that the static-y sound that he'd begun to conclude was either an out-of-sight power line or his imagination, was in reality the drone of buzzing flies. A lot of flies. He decided watching Jim was a better idea than watching the clearing. Jim was staring intently at the body and its immediate surroundings. Both of them twitched a little as Barbara Flegel's voice broke their concentration. "Sorry, I wasn't thinking," she apologized, handing her binoculars to Jim. "You'll need these." "Uh -- thanks." He took them and held them up to his eyes. Blair stepped closer to Mrs. Flegel. "So, did you notice anything significant about the scene? You must have had training in crime scene analysis, right?" The woman turned to Blair, drawn, as most were, to his genuine interest in people. Jim surreptitiously lowered the binoculars so he could see over instead of through them. "Sure. I was a Deputy, went to the Academy, the whole works. I've always been good with animals, though, grew up around them. My mother's a vet; my father breeds and trains Labs. I got into working with dogs as soon as I could, as part of a Search and Rescue unit. When Pierce County decided to establish an HRD Team I was one of the first ones with my hand in the air." "HRD?" "Human Remains Detection. An all-too-necessary specialty, I'm afraid." Blair nodded. "But a valuable one. The sooner a body gets found, the more evidence that survives... and the more families who get closure. I can think of few things more painful than having someone you love disappear and never knowing for sure what happened to them. Never having the comfort of the proper rituals, at least. I know a forensic anthropologist who does a lot of work in South America and Eastern Europe, identifying people who were killed in some political pogrom or 'ethnic cleansing.' It really gets to her sometimes, but it's important work -- finding and identifying victims." Barbara Flegel nodded. "You're right, it is. I retired when my husband got a job offer he couldn't refuse and we moved to Cascade. But now that we've gotten settled in I'm getting restless, thinking of going back to it... either with Cascade PD or the State Police. But back to your question. I suggested coming this way because I'm pretty sure whoever dumped the body didn't. There was no evidence of recent disturbance on this side of the clearing, but I thought the vegetation on the opposite side of the body looked mashed down and broken." Jim lowered the unnecessary binoculars before he spoke. "I think you're right. Looks that way to me too." "It would make sense," the woman continued. "There's a road only a few hundred yards from the clearing on that side, and several places in the trees where you could easily pull in a car so it couldn't be seen by anyone driving by." "Any possibility of tire tracks?" Blair asked. "I doubt it. The area is pretty well covered with vegetation, hardly any bare ground. And with it being unusually warm and dry lately, your chances of finding a decent impression aren't good." Blair sighed. "Let's hope somebody managed to drop a monogrammed cigarette case, or a gasoline receipt with a credit card number on it, or something." "Might as well wish for a signed confession while you're at it," Jim suggested. "Hey, where's the challenge in that?" Jim opened his mouth to answer, then closed it and cocked his head. Before he could say anything, Blair said quickly, "The rest of the team ought to be here pretty soon, don't you think?" Jim's mouth twitched. "Any minute now, I'll bet." Conversation ceased for a moment. Jim was clearly trying to act like he couldn't actually hear the CSU approach. All Blair could hear were the buzzing flies. He turned to Jim suddenly. "Do you think we should call Sadakian in on this one?" "Serena already asked me that, and I said yes. Good thing, too. This is right up his alley. I hope he's not out of town or something, or this scene will take forever to process." "Who's Sadakian?" Barbara asked. "He's an entomologist," Blair explained. "Dr. Deran Sadakian. He teaches at Cascade State and he's certified in forensic entomology. Does a lot of work for police departments on this end of the state." The ex-Sheriff's deputy nodded. "Sounds like a good idea. It's amazing sometimes what those guys can do." After another brief silence, she turned back the way they'd come. "Sounds like your team is almost here." "Why, so it does," Jim agreed. "You have good ears." Blair's glance at his partner said 'wise-ass' as well as any words could have. "I'll go meet them." The peaceful woodland was quickly transformed into a hub of activity, and many innocent saplings gave their lives so various police vehicles could get to the site. A couple of uniformed officers were first on the scene, bearing large rolls of tape imprinted with "Police Line: Do Not Cross" and signs that commanded "Stop: Crime Scene Search Area." Jim used Barbara Flegel's advice, backed up by the evidence of his own senses, to decide just what constituted that crime scene. At his direction, the officers taped off most of the clearing and part of the wood beyond. Rafe and H were next to arrive, the former muttering and brushing burrs and bits of dried grass off his elegant suit before ducking under the tape. Taking pity, Jim set Rafe to taking Mrs. Flegel's official statement, and H to wait for the CSU. Then, with Blair close behind, he continued to search the area on the other side of the body where the vegetation was disturbed. He gave the actual corpse a wide berth, not in deference to his partner's sensibilities but to avoid disturbing the insects. By the time he returned to the clearing, a wide path had been taped off all the way to the road. The officers drove their unit around to guard that side. Forensics had managed to drive their van all the way to the edge of the clearing, following the trail first blazed by Mrs. Flegel. The tech in charge approached Jim. She was a petite woman, almost as energetic as Blair, who was clearly dying to get started. "I take it Sadakian isn't here yet?" Jim shook his head. "Sorry, Miyoko, not yet. Obviously you managed to reach him." "Fortunately. He said he had to meet his eleven o'clock class to let them know, but that he'd be here ASAP." "Well, there's not much we can do here until he does. If we can search and document a path toward the body first it will make things easier for him and Dan." Jim turned to another of the techs who was laden with cameras. "Jeff, you can start taking shots from the perimeter, but not too close to the body." "Sure thing. I know Sadakian has a cow if you disturb his bugs." He grinned. "Not sure if that's a mixed metaphor or not." Blair snorted. Jim gave him a mock-disgusted look and turned back to the chief tech. "Have you got enough people to work two scenes? There's a line to the road that looks like it was made by dragging a body, and a spot with some oil drips. Possibly where a vehicle was parked." Miyoko jumped at the chance to do more. "Sure, we could start a full-scale search there. Between Sadakian and the ME, we can't do much near the victim for a while. If we start some people at the outside and work them inward, it'll be a more effective use of personnel." "Great. Go for it. I don't think there's a whole lot to be found, but it's a lot of space to cover. " Rafe approached with Mrs. Flegel and Cocoa. "Jim, I got a statement. Anything else you want from Mrs. Flegel or can we let her go home?" "We've got all we need for now." "Thanks for all your help," Blair added. "If it hadn't been for Cocoa, this body might not have been found for a long time. And you both know how to treat a crime scene. We'll have a lot more evidence to work with than we might have otherwise." Jim handed her a card. "If you think of anything else..." She took the card with a little smile. "Right. I know the drill." She looked wistfully at the activity behind the yellow tape, then back at Jim and Blair. "I'm beginning to realize how much I missed this -- it gets in your blood. When we get home, Cocoa gets more liver treats, and I may just start downloading some job application forms." She gave them a little wave as she headed back to finish her interrupted loop toward her house. "Nice lady," Blair remarked. "I was gonna say 'nice dog,' Romeo." Jim retorted. "Get cute, Ellison, and I'll whack you with a table leg." "No time, Junior. We've got company." Rafe cupped a hand to his ear, then shook his head. Blair shrugged. A few moments later, the rumbling of another large vehicle was obvious to everyone. The ME's van came into view, lurching over the uneven ground. It came to a halt next to the CSU van, and Dan Wolf emerged into a small cloud of settling dust. Trying hard not to sneeze, Jim addressed him. "Sounds like another vehicle behind you. Is that our bug guy, I hope?" Dan nodded. "He came roaring up behind us at the turnoff. The way that man drives, he's going to be one of my customers sooner instead of later." He looked over at the body surrounded by its cloud of insects. "It's only a preliminary conclusion without a closer examination -- but I'd say he's dead, Jim." A chorus of groans erupted from all personnel without earshot as Jim rolled his eyes skyward. "You never get tired of that one, do you, Dan?" "Nope. It's my one constant in an ever-changing world." Yet another van could now be heard, clanking and rattling up the widened path. Unlike the staid but well-maintained police vehicles, this one was a motley of colors in various shades of primer and rust, apparently held together largely by bumper stickers. These were unfortunately not confined to the bumpers but scattered all over the body, bearing such legends as "Subvert the Dominant Paradigm" and "Entomologists Do It With a Buzz On." It clattered to a halt and started disgorging people. A lot of people. Foremost among them was a spry man in his fifties. Jim tried to look stern, but Dr. Sadakian's wild mane of hair always made him wonder if Blair's would look like that in twenty years. The thought of spending the next twenty years watching Blair Sandburg's hair turn gray -- preferably from an adjacent pillow -- tended to send Detective Ellison's brain off on tangents and seriously erode his resolve. The rest of the entomologist looked nothing at all like Blair Sandburg. He was taller, and thinner, and darker. The energy level was frighteningly familiar, however. "Greetings, all!" The good doctor rubbed his hands together in apparent glee. "Hear you've got a job for me." Jim held onto the shreds of his best professional manner. "Looks that way. I'm glad you were available so quickly, Dr. Sadakian. I thought you had a class to meet." "Oh, I did. I do. And here they are." He waved his arm expansively at the group of six boys and girls who huddled in a cluster near the van. They looked nervous, and more than a few had a slightly greenish tinge. That could be a result of what was presumably their first exposure to a decaying corpse -- or it could just as easily be a normal reaction to Sadakian's driving. Still, what was the man thinking, bringing a bunch of freshmen to a crime scene like this? Sadakian waved the group over. "Allow me to introduce my Senior Honors Seminar in Forensic Entomology. This is a wonderful opportunity for them." Jim started at the approaching group. Jesus... seniors? Despite his best intentions, Jim still thought of Blair as 'the kid,' but his lover looked like a senior citizen next to this bunch. Blair kept telling Jim he was far from a kid anymore. Jim was beginning to think Sandburg had a point. "Class, this is Detective Jim Ellison, the officer in charge of this crime scene. You recall from my lecture that it's his job to delegate assignments and give directions. He also has overall responsibility for..." Jim decided to let the man natter on a bit while he regained his equilibrium. He leaned down to whisper in Blair's ear. "You've talked to Sadakian a lot about his teaching in the past. Do you think these kids know what they're doing?" Blair nodded. "If they're in this seminar, they're the cream of the entomology crop, and thinking pretty seriously about forensics as a career focus. They've also had some pretty significant training in collection of insect evidence, although usually they only get to do it on pigs." Jim winced. "Please, not pigs again." Blair patted his partner's arm. "Sorry, but you know pigs are the best experimental animals to use in decomposition studies. The data are the most closely applicable to humans." "But pigs, Sandburg." "It's OK, Jim. I won't tell Beaufort if you won't." The officer in charge glared at his partner and then decided it was time to rein in the other academic in the ointment. The lecturer seemed to be running out of steam, or at least stopping for breath. "Doctor, I trust your students are well trained in crime scene protocol?" "Most definitely, Detective. They'll be most useful in the evidence collection stage." "Well, I'd appreciate it if you could complete your observation of the insects in situ as soon as possible. We've kept away from the body so as not to disturb them. We've also photographed and examined the ground between the red flags, so if you stick to that path you won't be disturbing evidence." "Thank you, Detective." He led his class to the edge of the tape and they all ducked under, carefully keeping within the confines of the marked path. "Now the good detective has kept his people away to avoid disturbing any flying insects before they can be identified and collected. Which species do you recognize?" "Looks like Cynomyopsis cadaverina, Professor." "And Phaenicia sericata." "Excellent. Both commonly found on corpses in the State of Washington. What else?" Jim listened to the entomologist go on, and watched as he and his students used insect nets to capture the flying insects and carefully put them in little marked containers, with a forensic tech taking detailed notes. It didn't need Sentinel hearing to follow his account of the procedure; the man was used to reaching the back seats of a large lecture hall. Dan also knew the drill as well as anyone, and knew when they had reached the point at which it was safe to approach. The remaining flies rose in a cloud as Dan got close enough to bend down and examine the body. He was followed by Jim, who could sense Blair's presence right behind him. He turned around. "Chief, are you sure you want to..." "Jim," Blair whispered, "do you really want to risk zoning in front of Sadakian? He'd have you collected and pinned to a board faster than you could say 'Cynomyopsis cadaverina'." "I'm not sure I could say that at all, but I take your point." "Hey, you did pretty well with in situ. I was impressed." "I'll impress your ass, genius." "You always do." Jim squatted down next to Dan, beside the body. It wasn't the worst crime scene he'd ever encountered, but it wasn't pretty. He dialed up sight as Blair stood close, one leg touching his shoulder. Close up, he could now see that the body was definitely male. He was dressed in nothing but serviceable white briefs and a sleeveless undershirt. There were plenty of bruises on the body, some much more prominent than others. Most of the fainter ones were associated with scratches; Jim could see small seeds and bits of vegetation embedded in some. There were a few orange fibers on the body that appeared synthetic -- a little too bright even for autumn color. He pulled out an evidence bag and tweezers. "Any ideas on cause or time of death, Dan?" "Nothing obvious on the body for cause, but I won't be able to tell about head or neck injuries until we get him de-bugged and autopsied." Both men glanced over to their right, where Sadakian was gleefully removing squirming insect larvae, giving his students the benefit of his vast knowledge of such pleasant topics as maggot masses, instars, pupae, and other exciting chapters in the life cycle of the blowfly. Jim wondered fleetingly just how little Jimmy Ellison had grown up to be a man whose everyday vocabulary included a term like "maggot mass." He looked up at Blair, who appeared none too happy, but resolute. Hard to remember sometimes that this was the same innocent grad student who'd been so disturbed by the comparatively presentable remains of a young woman in a bathtub. Now he was standing next to a corpse that had been an all-you-can eat buffet for the local fauna for... "As for the time, several days at least... that would put it during this past weekend. Can't be more precise without an autopsy. Maybe even with one, given the state of decomposition." "The entomological evidence should pin it down quite nicely," the entomologist interjected. "Blowflies and flesh flies are extremely precise indicators of the postmortem interval within the first two weeks. Very reliable." "Thank you for sharing," Blair muttered, only loud enough for Jim to hear. Wishing he could stroke his lover's leg in sympathy, Jim settled for leaning against it, and was rewarded with a subtle return of pressure. "Hands are in pretty good shape," Dan pointed out as he bagged them. "I'm pretty sure we can get fingerprints." "Good," Jim replied, "because I don't see any sign of ID. No wallet, no jewelry, nothing." "Unless it's under the body," Dan countered. "We can turn him over soon." "We should be so lucky," Blair added. "Dumping a guy in the woods in nothing but his underwear does suggest somebody was none too eager to have him identified." "Hey, Sandburg, look on the bright side." "There's a bright side?" "Yeah -- it could be raining." Blair awoke with a start, the tatters of his dream in danger of being washed away by the insistent barrage of rain against the bedroom windows. Now that was weird, he thought as he struggled to remember it. Some kind of B-movie nightmare about alien maggots taking over the world would have made sense, given how he'd spent most of what had turned out to be a really long day. It hadn't been a Guide dream, or a Shaman thing either... nothing close to a vision. It felt closer to one of those ridiculous nightmares where you suddenly realize at the end of a semester there was a class you'd signed up for but forgot to even attend, let alone study for. Yeah, like that could happen. He always assumed those would go away when he finally stopped being a student -- until one of his favorite Rainier librarians told him she still had them, twenty years after finishing her last degree. Did Jim have dreams like that? Or did he dream about forgetting to attend basic training or parachute class or some military/cop equivalent? "Babe -- you OK?" Blair shifted around to face the man next to him, not that he could see much in the dark. "Sorry, love. I had a dream that woke me up. Did I make a sound or what?" "No. Your heart rate isn't that much faster than normal, even. Probably just the difference between you being awake and asleep... a 'Guide awake at three in the morning' yellow alert." The Guide in question snuggled in closer to his Sentinel and began a gentle stroking of the broad chest. "Sorry I woke you up too. It's no big deal." "Told you to stay in the truck. Well, tried to anyway." The caress turned into a playful slap. "It had nothing to do with today. No bugs, no corpses. Not even any entomologists. I think it was a diss anxiety dream." Jim started some caressing of his own. "I thought you were happy with the way that was going. Making good progress." "I am. Diss anxiety has nothing to do with rationality, man. It's a virulent disease peculiar to grad students. It'll go away when the friggin' defense is over, but there's no known treatment for the symptoms." "Wanna bet?" Jim's hand slid down along Blair's stomach and between his legs. The Little Anthropologist was waking up and eager to study mating behavior. "Oh, that feels soooo good... maybe I was hasty... try an experimental treatment... owe it to mankind..." "Fuck mankind," Jim growled as he rolled over, pulling Blair on top of him. "No can do." Blair began licking Jim's neck. "Don't have time. Besides, I'm spoken for." "Damn straight. So to speak." Conversation deteriorated from that point on as mouths concentrated on other things, like kissing and tasting; like traveling along the swell of muscle, ridge of bone, softness of lips. Their movements were slow and sensuous at first; languorous rather than frenzied. They let the tension build, hands wandering while their trapped cocks rubbed against hard bellies and each other. But all too soon rubbing turned into thrusting, and slow exploration into frantic need. Blair heard himself crying out Jim's name over and over as he came with a force that left him a boneless, semi-conscious pool of total satisfaction. He was glad that Jim seemed to be alert enough to clean the both up, because he wasn't sure he still had the strength to open his eyes, let alone lift a finger. He settled down on his side, Jim spooned up behind him. "How's the patient?" He mumbled softly into Blair's ear. "S'a miracle," came the sleepy reply.
"Good." Blair felt Jim relax behind him, slipping with him into sleep. Just before awareness left him, he remembered the dream. He was in a forest, a jungle -- but not the jungle of Sentinels and Guides. He stood in a clearing, looking for away out. There were many paths leading away, but somehow he knew that danger or death lay at the end of many. Others would leave him lost forever, wandering aimlessly among the gnarled trees, slowly dying. Only one would take him where he needed to go -- but he didn't know which one.