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The woman sat quietly, her slender body impossibly still as
cornflower blue eyes stared unseeingly out the small, somewhat
grimy window. Behind her, on a small bed, a young man of about
thirty sat and fidgeted, his thoughts in turmoil.
She was too quiet, too still and for far too long this time. It
was too close to the way he'd first seen her in the hospital. Was
she having a relapse? And was that a bad thing? He gave a nervous
"huff" and wondered if he should try something again.
He'd been routinely attempting to bring her back but so far,
nothing. Should he try something else? Yes, he should.
He got up and took two tentative steps toward the woman. When he
was within reach, he rested a hand on her shoulder and whispered
softly, "alex?" Then a bit louder, "Alex, can you hear me?"
Like all earlier attempts, this one failed.
Damn, he'd tried to remember everything she'd told him but he
must be missing something. He frowned in concentration, then
gripping the soft shoulder hard, digging his fingers into fragile
flesh, he yelled, "ALEX, PAY ATTENTION!"
Not even a flicker of an eyelash. He might as well have been in a
room with the dead.
He racked his brains and searched the small cabin for something
that would trigger an idea. His eyes lit on the battered,
dogeared mystery he was reading. In the hospital, before she'd
come back from whatever world she'd been inhabiting, he'd sat
for hours and read to her. Couldn't hurt now.
He picked up the book, dragged a chair over and sat down close.
Holding the paperback in one hand and stroking her arm with his
other, he began to read...
"I knew the man was evil the moment I caught a glimpse of the
eyes. Cold, distant and dead. He would kill the girl without so
much as blink of those lifeless shark eyes. I couldn't risk
it..."
He continued to read, letting his voice take on an almost
sing-song quality. He read four chapters, then onto the fifth...
"I had him in my sights. In a moment, a flash of time, he'd be
dead. The evil would end and justice would be done. I realized I
was holding my breath and that my hand was trembling slightly.
Which was odd. I'd killed before, too many times to enumerate. Of
course, the difference here was that I was about to take a life
in cold blood. Shoot a man down. No warning, from my perch above
his home. The second he stepped within my sight, within range, I
had every intention of pulling the trigger. One bullet through
the brain. Clean, quick and unfortunately -- painless.
"But he would never have been caught, would never have gone to
trial. He would never experience justice and the families of his
victims would never know peace -- nor would I. So I had no
choice. I had to become all that I found to be an abomination...
I had to beco..."
"shutup..."
The man stopped mid-word. He glanced up quickly and found the
woman staring at him, her eyes wide, cold and -- lifeless.
"I -- you -- you were, what do you call it?" he stammered out.
She cleared her throat and swallowed before answering. "Zoned. I
was zoned. How long?"
He checked his watch. "Over four hours."
Her eyelids dropped, then lifted. If possible, the pale orbs
became even frostier. "Four hours? You couldn't help me for four
hours?"
"I, I -- did everything you told me, everything I could do, but
nothing worked. Finally," he held up the book, "I started reading
to you, like the hospital. That was almost an hour ago."
With difficulty, Alex Barnes stood, one pale hand clenching in
frustration as she waved off the man's assistance. He was
useless.
In the beginning, when she'd first come back to awareness, she'd
believed it was because of him. But now she knew the truth. He
wasn't anyone who could help her and she'd come around because
her mind was stronger than anything the Temple of the Sentinels
could do to her. It was that simple.
But -- she still needed control -- help -- guidance.
And revenge.
God, such a simple word and much overused, but damn, it was
appropriate. Months as a vegetable because of James Ellison.
Any pull or emotion she might have felt for the man was long gone
now. The burning need to bond was dead, the need to possess,
gone. And in its place -- hatred. Pure, unadulterated hatred.
He could have helped her, kept this from happening, but he'd done
nothing, had refused to go back to the pools, to take a chance,
to see what she'd seen...
Alex stepped to the front door and swung it open. She took a
deep, refreshing breath of the cold, bracing air. The man behind
her, Todd Langdon, waited patiently. Alex smiled grimly.
Todd was nothing if not patient. She'd certainly learned that.
And he was completely besotted. God only knew what he'd done to
her while she'd been experiencing the mother of all zone-outs.
And until now, she'd been willing to put up with him because
she'd believed...
But he wasn't the one.
Which was fine, because she knew where the only one lived. The
first step of her plan had failed and in her anger, she'd allowed
herself to zone. Vince was dead and Ellison lived.
God damn them all. But she was smarter and would ultimately
prevail. Had she not survived the Temple?
So it was time to rethink her plan. And to refigure Todd's place
in it. Her grin widened in anticipation. She would leave a
message that would confuse and terrify -- and remind. She took
another step out and raised her face to the bright winter sun.
"You heard the doctor, Ellison. Now stay put and I'll get your
coffee."
"I'm not an invalid, Sandburg."
"No, you're not. Just a garden variety pain in the ass."
Jim smiled smugly. "Yeah, I am."
"God, you're actually proud of being a lousy patient."
Jim had been home from the hospital for twenty-four hours and was
currently comfortably situated in the corner of the couch,
relaxing in sweat pants and one of his old, cropped Cascade PD
tee shirts. His white-socked feet were resting on the coffee
table and he was feeling incredibly lucky, chipper and horny.
As Blair came to stand over him, eyes bright with mirth even as
he tried to scowl, Jim reached up and pulled him down. Sandburg's
body landed awkwardly over Jim's and as the older man wrapped his
arms around a wiggling Blair, he said with a leer, "No, Chief,
I'm proud to be a pain in the ass."
Laughing, Blair said, "I think Dr. Forrester might have
underestimated your recuperative powers, Jim."
With some clever maneuvering Jim had Sandburg positioned to feel
just how recuperative his powers really were.
"Well shit," Sandburg breathed out. "This can't be good for you,
Ellison. Too soon, man."
Jim gave a small thrust and grinned again. "Too soon, eh?"
"I swear you have a one track mind. Alex Barnes is out there
somewhere, you're barely on your feet, still reeling from the flu
and a slight case of poisoning and all you can think about
is..."
"Being a pain in the ass?"
"Yeah, that."
"And you find this upsetting?" He punctuated his question with
another small, well-aimed thrust.
"Ah god, Ellison, who knew sex mattered this much to you?"
Jim buried his face in hair and inhaled sharply as he pulled
Blair's shirt out from under the waistband of his jeans. He slid
his hand up Sandburg's back and smiled against Blair's ear as he
felt the rise of goosebumps and the slight quiver of muscles.
"You matter this much to me, Chief."
Sandburg pulled back just enough to see Jim's face. He trailed
one finger along Ellison's jawline as he said, "We need to make a
pact, man. No more of this near death crap, you know?"
Eyes fixed on Sandburg's lips, Jim whispered, "to quote a wise
woman, i hear that." He rested his lips lightly against Blair's,
then flicked out his tongue. He licked at Blair's lips, then
nudged his way inside.
They kissed long and deep, enjoying the sensation and drawing it
out. Neither man made any move to go further, content to kiss,
stroke and smile. Death had come too close -- hovered too near --
and both felt a desire to reconnect slowly and lovingly.
Blair had taken his kisses down a bit and was busy with Jim's
neck when the phone rang. It was ignored -- until the quiet
authority of their Captain's voice penetrated.
"Ellison, Sandburg, pick up."
No other words were necessary. Blair was off Jim in a split
second and a moment later was answering.
"Simon, what is it?"
"Barnes' accomplice has been found. I need you two here -- now."
"On our way."
Jim was already headed upstairs as Blair put the receiver down.
Simon stared at the report and photos sitting in front of him.
Across his desk sat Joel Taggert, his own hurting brown eyes
fixed on one photo in particular. He was shaking his head in
stunned disbelief.
"Captain?"
Banks glanced up, surprised. He'd been so engrossed in the file,
he'd failed to notice the arrival of his best team.
"Come in and shut the door, gentlemen."
Joel quickly vacated his chair in deference to Jim but the
detective didn't move. He was frozen, eyes fixated on the
paperwork under Simon's hand. Blair started around him but Jim
shot out an arm and blocked his path. Puzzled, Blair stopped and
quizzed, "Jim?"
Pale blue eyes lifted from the same picture that moments before
had so thoroughly captured Joel's attention. Fixing that icy
glare on his captain, he barked out, "What the hell..."
"Jim, sit down."
The words were said with the same quiet authority Simon had used
on the phone.
Ellison blinked a couple of times, then walked over and took the
offered chair. Joel quickly brought two others and he and
Sandburg took their seats.
Simon wondered how he was going to do this. His fingers tapped
lightly on the glossy surface of one of the photos. The truth and
said quickly. Only way.
"The nurse that helped Alex escape has been found -- dead. This
morning at six-forty, at Rainier -- in the -- fountain. Face
down."
Sandburg had been watching Jim closely, worried at the sudden
pallor and shallow breathing; so Simon's words didn't immediately
register, but the sudden clenching of Jim's jaw did. Simon spoke
again and this time the words penetrated.
"There was another note."
"You have it here, Simon?" Jim's voice sounded remarkably cool
and detached. Without a word, Simon handed over a cream colored
piece of paper. Calm fingers took it and Jim read the bold
printing:
THE JUNGLE IS FULL OF BITTERSWEET MEMORIES
Sandburg only had to lean a bit to read over Jim's arm and as he
did, he frowned. Then Simon's earlier words hit him. His head
jerked to Simon's desk as if pulled by a marionette's string.
Eyes searched, found -- and he took in a sudden, shocked breath.
Jim turned at the sound and reached out a hand.
"I'm okay, Jim. I'm okay." Tortured eyes were lifted to Simon as
Blair asked, "Why the fucking fountain? Why there and that way?"
It was Jim who answered, his voice soft but with an undercurrent
of steel. "She's playing with us, Chief."
"Well then, I say we cancel the game. Called on account of rain."
"Somehow I doubt it'll be that easy, Chief."
"I'm afraid you're right, Jim." Blair turned his attention back
to Simon and with a quick jerk of his head, indicated one of the
photos. "May I see that, Simon?"
Banks hesitated, his glance flicking from Jim and back to
Sandburg. In a slightly more firm voice, Blair said, "Simon, this
isn't up to Jim."
The photo was slid over and Blair lifted it slowly.
The fountain, grey and angular, water gently striking a billowing
tan jacket, hair spread out dark against the blue liquid, the
water itself darkening as hands, pale hands seemed to be reaching
out, the body bobbing lightly...
"How, who took..."
"The picture?" Simon finished for him. At Blair's nod, he
answered, "That dark color around the body is blood. He was shot
once in the left eye. He didn't -- drown, Blair. Putting him in
the fountain was just..."
This time it was Blair who finished. "Just window dressing. Just
for fun, because she could."
Simon nodded. "That about says it."
The picture floated out of Blair's hand and he watched it slide a
bit as it landed. He felt ill. Too many sudden emotions, and of
course, the memories Alex had alluded to in her note. He really
could have used a good five-hour meditation session. Or twenty.
But he managed to control his breathing by concentrating on the
man next to him.
They'd never spoken about it, but now -- it was here again, a
specter of their past, of their mistakes, and Simon's words in
the hospital took on even greater meaning: Don't hurt each
other...
Blair tore his gaze from Jim and looked searchingly at Simon. He
was surprised to note the grey tinge around the eyes and lips --
it was obvious how tense Simon was at the moment. But it was the
older man's eyes that really surprised Sandburg. The brown eyes
held anger and something more, something Blair couldn't identify.
"She has to be near."
Blair jerked his attention back to Jim as Simon responded, "But
wouldn't you sense her?"
It was Blair who answered. "Not necessarily. If she's not
actually in Cascade..."
Joel spoke for the first time. "So she could be out there,
anywhere, ready to strike again?" He realized that Simon's
question probably alluded to another facet of Jim's abilities
-- and since they'd all adopted the don't ask, don't tell
credo, he decided to jump in with his own question as if he
already knew why Jim should sense Alex. And he hoped that
someday -- he could ask.
"Yes. The question is," Jim mused, "who is she after? And what
does she want this time?"
There were questions Sandburg wanted to ask his partner, needed
to ask, but not here, not now, not with Simon and Joel present.
But he hadn't counted on Simon.
"Jim, are you -- you know -- feeling anything -- unusual?"
Okay, Blair thought almost humorously, that's getting to the meat
of it.
Jim's fingers gripped the arm of the chair but he answered
quietly, "No Simon, I'm feeling nothing but anger." He didn't
bother to add, and hate. No need to unsettle his boss with this
nagging need to strangle Alex Barnes with his bare hands.
Simon sat back, realizing that going any further with this line
of questioning would serve no purpose -- yet.
"So gentlemen, any ideas?"
"Forensics have the evidence?" Jim asked.
"As soon as he was identified, we took over, Jim. Serena has the
clothing and Dan Wolfe the body. Connor is still working on Shaw.
You might want to check in with both Serena and Dan, Jim. Give us
your own unique spin on the evidence."
Jim stood with Blair following suit. "Guess we'd better get
started then."
"Jim," Simon's voice was soft, concerned. "You okay to go?"
"I'm fine, Simon. And Sandburg here will keep me on the straight
and narrow."
A sudden snort from Joel brought all eyes to him. He shrugged
helplessly, a grin spreading across his features -- and the
absurdity of Jim's words hit the others. The temporary release of
tension was just what the doctor ordered.
Simon chortled a bit and huffed, "Right, you hear that, Sandburg?
You keep Jim on the straight and narrow. Got that?"
"I think that horse has gotten away from us, Simon, but hey," and
he gave an exaggerated shrug. Jim shoved him out the door.
As it shut behind them, Joel looked at his friend, brown eyes
serious once again. "You've never talked about it, Simon. Not
once."
A finger dragged the photo of Todd Langdon back to rest in front
of him. Staring at it, Simon said softly, "Even now, I don't
think I can. He was dead, gone. But I can tell you this -- when
Jim turned at the head of the steps leading up to Hargrove Hall,
when he turned to face the fountain, somehow knowing that Blair
was," his finger tapped the photo, "there, in the water, well, it
was unlike anything I'd ever witnessed. God, the way his body --"
Simon swiped a hand over his eyes as if trying to erase the
vision. He flipped the photo over on its face.
After what seemed an eternity, he gazed up at his friend. "We
never talked about it, none of us, Joel. Not Connor, Rafe, Brown
or I. And I've never said anything to Blair. Just couldn't."
There was a momentary pause, then Joel said, "You said he was
gone, but of course..."
"No, Joel. He was -- gone. The paramedics called it. He was dead
by anyone's standard. Even with the sloppiest math, he had to
have been in that watery -- grave -- for at least twenty
minutes."
Simon blinked, once again trying to dispel the memory. "He was so
pale when we pulled him out and so damn cold -- so... so," but he
couldn't go on.
"Then how the hell...."
"Don't ask, Joel. Just -- don't ask."
"Where do we start, Jim? Forensics or the morgue?"
"Morgue, Chief."
"The body. Swell. I just knew you'd say that."
Dan Wolfe pulled out the drawer housing the body of Todd Langdon
but before removing the sheet, he looked carefully at Sandburg.
"It's not the worst, Sandburg, but he was shot in the left..."
"I know, Dan, I'm fine. Just pull it."
Jim gave Wolfe a small nod and the sheet was unfolded. Once
Langdon's body was revealed Dan left, having enough experience
with Detective Ellison and his partner to know they required
privacy.
Ellison slipped on a pair of gloves retrieved from his pocket and
began his examination.
"He has faint bruising here," he indicated Langdon's left arm. He
slipped off one glove and as he'd done in Sierra Verde, he ran
one finger over the man's lips. There was no vision this time,
but the faint trace of wax told him lipstick. As with Carl, she'd
kissed Langdon just before killing him.
Jim wouldn't need the ballistic report to tell him the caliber of
gun; the small, clean wound told him that. Alex must have been
close, the gun maybe hidden in her hand. Langdon had been tall
and she must have simply brought his head down, kissed him, then
lifted her hand and fired, point blank.
Jim shook his head and a hand settled on his back. "I'm fine,
Chief."
"I know." The statement was simple and full of confidence.
Gratitude welled up within Ellison at the sound of Blair's voice.
No doubt colored his tone, only love and trust.
Jim bent back to his task, lifting first the right hand, then the
left, inspecting the palms and under the fingernails. While there
was no evidence of a struggle, the hands could tell their own
story and Jim wasn't disappointed. He found blisters on both
palms, heavier on the right than the left. His sentinel sight
caught flecks of what appeared to be paint chips, possibly from
the handle of something.
He turned his attention to the fingernails. Dan had already
scraped them, but Jim could see more. He pulled out a plastic
bag, searched the room and spotted a tray of covered instruments.
"Chief, check over there for tweezers."
Blair moved quickly, lifted the blue sheet, spotted a pair and
handed them to Jim. Ellison re-scraped under the nails, letting
the brownish material fall into the bag. The rest of his
examination was swift and yielded nothing significant.
After tearing off the gloves and dropping them into the
wastebasket, Jim pulled the cover back over the body.
"Well?"
"Clothes next."
Blair rolled his eyes. "Jeesh, you can be a closed-mouthed
bastard."
Jim smiled as he opened the door, allowing Blair to precede him.
The tagged bags containing Langdon's clothes lay on a table in
Serena's lab. She, like Dan, had wisely left the two men alone.
Jim started with the shoes.
Blair watched, fascinated, as Jim inspected the soles first, then
with gloved hand used his fingers to flick pieces of what
appeared to Sandburg to be dirt. As Jim picked some up and held
it to his nose, Blair found himself as much in awe of Jim's
abilities now as he'd been over four years ago.
"Pine trees. Spruce and... juniper."
"The mountains then?"
"That would be my guess. His soles are covered with pine needles,
heavily ground in. And it fits with his hands."
"How so?"
"There were brand-new blisters and small chips of paint embedded
in the skin -- like maybe he'd been wielding an..."
"Axe?"
"You got it, Chief. Chopping wood and I'm betting these clothes
will reveal minute traces of shavings."
"I have got to buy you a deerstalker's cap."
"Smart ass."
Minutes later, Jim's suspicions had been confirmed. Bits of wood
shavings, dirt and more pine needles were on the jeans, the shirt
and the jacket. But unfortunately -- the pockets were empty. Not
surprising since Alex would never be so careless as to leave
anything behind that could lead to her.
"Uh, Jim? If Alex is a sentinel again, would she have, I mean..."
"She doesn't care, Chief. She was careful to check his pockets,
but wherever she is, she doesn't believe we can find her. And I
suspect -- she's moved on by now."
"Then what the heck are we doing..."
"No stone unturned, Darwin."
"Yeah, yeah, right. So now what?"
"You tell me."
"Well, she isn't perfect and I think she's insane. She'll make a
mistake so I say we check Langdon's credit card records and check
with Connor to see if Shaw owned any property in the mountains.
Langdon too."
"Who said following me around all these years hasn't paid off?"
Blair glanced pointedly down and around, his gaze landing firmly
on Jim's ass. "Oh, yeah, following you around has offered me a
great view -- of good detective work."
"Putz."
While Jim conferred with Connor, Blair took on the task of
checking Langdon's credit cards. After almost an hour and not a
little of the infamous Sandburg hacking, he'd managed to pull up
the days since Langdon and Alex disappeared from Camarillo. The
nurse had two cards: a Visa and an American Express Gold. Blair
found one fuel purchase on the Visa -- for twenty-six dollars the
day the two had disappeared. The purchase had been made in
Everett.
The Amex revealed even more. Three food purchases, one at a
market in Everett and two at a general store in Woupuckett, a
small, barely-there town north of Everett.
Blair glanced over at Connor's desk and found that Jim was
standing and appeared finished. The two were talking softly as
Megan handed Jim a sheaf of papers. A moment later, Jim was
seated beside Blair.
"Time to compare notes, Chief."
"Right. Well, Langdon is no brain trust, Jim. He used his cards
to purchase fuel and food in Everett and food in Woupuckett."
Jim frowned. "Never heard of it, Sandburg."
"It's a small town in the mountains, just north of Everett."
"That ties in with Connor's information. Shaw had a cabin in the
mountains north of Everett."
Blair took in an exaggerated breath and said, "Um, I could use
some fresh mountain air, couldn't you, Jim?"
"You read my mind. But you're staying here. I'm heading up with
Connor."
Blair sat back, eyes narrowing dangerously. "I don't think so,
Ellison. We're partners or we aren't. Nothing in between."
"Is that a threat?" Jim asked incredulously.
"In a word, yes. We don't separate because of perceived danger to
one of us. We're a team -- and for a damned good reason."
Jim's forehead creased as he thought about Blair's words. He had
a vague idea of what Alex might be up to, an idea he'd chosen not
to divulge earlier in Simon's office. It worried him because if
he were right, what Alex now wanted, no -- needed, was help. A
guide. She hadn't found one in Langdon, but she knew exactly
where she could. Almost as if reading his mind, Blair said
quietly, "It's safer together, Jim. For both of us."
Trust and communication.
Jim nodded and stood. "Let's get going then."
Armed with directions provided by the world wide web, the two men
headed up to a place called Elk Ridge, the site of the late Vince
Shaw's cabin. The drive up was relatively easy, thanks to
Washington weather cooperating for a change.
They drove through Woupuckett and began to search for the obscure
cutoff to Elk Ridge. Jim spotted it and made a quick left onto a
small dirt road. They hadn't traveled far before Jim pulled off
road and cut the engine. It was time to hike in.
Sandburg took out the white noise generator and flipped the
switch. Neither man expected to find Alex at the cabin, but
precautions were in order, nevertheless. And while the white
noise would work against Jim, he did still have his other senses.
With stealth, they hoped that if Alex were here, they'd be able
to sneak up on her. If she didn't sense Jim first. The whole
thing was tricky, but their only option.
The hike to the cabin didn't take long and once within range, Jim
signaled Blair, who turned off the generator. Jim listened and
shook his head. "Nothing. No sound."
"Empty then."
"Yep."
Still, they approached with caution, Sandburg a couple of feet
behind Jim. There was no sign of life as the cabin came into
view. Jim moved forward, gun drawn. He stepped up onto the porch
and flattened himself against the wall next to the door. He
waited, listened again, then with a swift kick, they were inside.
Jim crouched low, gun ready, but as he'd known all along, the
cabin was empty. He holstered his weapon and waved Sandburg
inside.
"She was here, so was Langdon."
"How..."
"I can smell her. And the same aftershave I caught on Langdon's
clothes. Chlorine and Old Spice -- not my favorite."
For a moment, Jim stood in the middle of the small, one room
cabin, eyes closed. Blair watched and felt his heart lurch. Was
it happening now? Those -- needs? Or maybe he was picking up
something? Like another vision of Alex? And what of Alex was he
smelling? Blair desperately wanted to ask, to know, but he held
back, reined in his emotions and waited.
Eyes still closed, Jim said, "I don't know how long it's been
empty."
"Try residual body heat." At Jim's frown, Blair added, "Your
hand, over the furniture."
Jim nodded and slowly started moving, hand outstretched. At an
old, decrepit rocking chair by one of only two windows, he
stopped.
"Heat." He inhaled and nodded. "Alex. She sat here and not more
than -- two or three hours ago."
"Shit. We missed her by so little. She must have come back up
here after leaving... hell, we could have passed her."
"I'd have known, Sandburg. I'd have spotted her."
Blair searched the handsome face and found only calm. There was
no evidence of unease, threat or -- anything else.
"Jim, I don't understand. Sure, you've had your senses dialed
down until Simon called us in this morning, but still, you should
be chomping at the bit. Hell, last time, before your feelings
changed, you were almost crazy with the unrecognized threat to
your territory. You were wigging out, man. And now -- nothing."
Jim faced his partner, trying to read Blair's expression, to
determine if Blair would understand --
"I don't completely get it, but don't think for a minute that I'm
not feeling something here, because -- I am. But it's entirely
different."
"Different how?"
Jim scratched the back of his head and tried to find the words.
"This -- isn't easy to explain, Blair. To give you a concrete
explanation." He paused, then took a deep breath and continued.
"Last time, I didn't know what the danger was. I was reacting,
as you said, out of some territorial imperative to protect my
city, right?"
Blair nodded, uncertain where this was heading and even more
uncertain if he wanted to know. But he said, "Yeah, your city and
your stuff."
Jim smiled wryly. "Well, this time, it's different. It's more
controlled, more -- focused. There is only one danger, only one
thing I have to protect." Suddenly he nodded, "Yeah, that's the
best way to say it. I know I have to protect it."
"Your city?"
"No, Chief. Our city is safe."
"Then what?"
"Now don't go all psuedo-macho on me and don't get insulted, but
everything I am says I must protect -- you."
The hike back to the truck was completed in silence, both men
deep in their own thoughts. The cabin had revealed nothing more
than the knowledge that Alex had been there.
When they arrived at the truck, Blair noticed Jim's pallor.
Without a word, he took the keys from the man's hand. A testament
to Jim's exhaustion was the fact that he let Blair have them.
When they reached Woupuckett, Blair turned the truck into a
parking lot behind a building that said "Chet's Diner". He cut
the engine and before Jim could say anything, Blair answered the
unspoken question. "You need to eat, Jim. Now."
Jim didn't have the energy to argue. Besides, he was hungry.
They entered the dimly lit diner and took a corner booth. There
were a few patrons, all looking hearty and woodsy. Blair smiled,
knowing damn well how he must look to them. Thank God he was at
least wearing flannel.
They ordered burgers and cokes, with Blair adding a salad.
Jim rested his back against the surprisingly comfortable booth
and closed his eyes. Blair watched and accepted that for the
moment at least, he was the guardian.
Ten minutes later the burgers and salad were delivered. The food
looked good and Jim, suddenly revitalized by the tantalizing
odor, sat up and after adding mustard and ketchup, took his first
bite.
"Not bad," he mumbled around a mouthful of juicy burger. "Not bad
at all."
"Neither is the salad. Dressing is good and fresh."
Both men smiled. Unexpected treasures in unexpected places.
Jim wiped his mouth and looked down at his plate. Not so much as
a crumb remained with only the greasy burger wrapper decorating
the dish. He'd even eaten the dill pickle. Jim glanced over at
Sandburg, eyeing the half of a burger on the plate in front of
the younger man. Blair grinned and shoved it over. Jim happily
dug in.
Jim polished off the rest of Sandburg's burger and licked his
fingers. Oh, yeah, he felt much better now.
"Obviously the way to a man's heart is through his stomach,"
Blair teased.
"Sandburg, that is, at best, a temporary route and not
recommended by the American Heart and Lung Association."
"And they would recommend?"
"It will be my pleasure to show you tonight."
"Well, well, aren't we feeling chipper all of a sudden."
"Yep. Hand over the keys, Toto."
Giving Jim an adamant shake of his head, Blair said "I don't
think so. Three minutes after those tires start rolling, you'll
be sound asleep. I'll drive and that way, old man, you just might
have the energy to show me The American Heart and Lung
Association's recommended route to at least this man's heart --
so to speak."
One eyebrow arched at the old man remark, but then Jim grinned
slyly. "I do believe that was a challenge. Consider the gauntlet
accepted."
Laughing, Blair paid the bill. As they walked outside, Jim
grabbed him and hauled him into a dark corner of the building.
Pushing Blair back even deeper into the shade of the building,
Jim attacked Blair's mouth. He pressed into the body with an
urgency he'd never felt before, arms wrapping around Sandburg so
tightly he could feel the slight hiss of discomfort travel from
Blair's mouth to his. But he didn't let go. Couldn't let go.
His original intent had been to show his partner just how much
energy he had, but at the moment his lips had touched Blair's --
everything changed. He was suddenly desperate to climb his way
inside Sandburg. To hold and never relinquish, to become one with
him.
His mind screamed at him, but his body was more insistent and
when Blair began to react by pressing in, by jamming himself
against Jim, by devouring his mouth in turn, small moans of need
telegraphing themselves to Jim, he knew he was lost -- and found.
This need was nothing like anything he'd experienced with Alex.
This was more compelling and much more complete. More than
sexual, and totally sexual. It carried them both away and Jim was
no longer human; he was the jaguar, back in the jungle and racing
toward the wolf.
Once again, both animals leapt up and toward each other and there
was a blinding flash, but this time, when the light dimmed and
the world righted itself, only one animal remained.
An animal that was neither jaguar nor wolf.
Its coat was a shiny black, but down the back ran a white and
grey stripe. The blue eyes were feline shaped but the snout was
canine long. The tail that swished against the jungle floor was
short and bushy. But in the blink of an eye, the animal split and
there on the jungle floor sat the wolf and jaguar, the cat's head
resting against the wolf's side.
A horn honked and Jim's eyes flew open. He pulled away from
Sandburg, who said a simple, heartfelt, "Shit."
Glancing around, Jim was relieved to find that they were still
alone, still out of sight. And Blair was looking up at him, face
flushed, pupils dilated and swollen lips parted in surprise.
"Did you --"
"Yeah, you?"
"Obviously."
"We were back in the --"
"-- jungle and then we were --"
"-- this weird animal, powerful, but --"
"-- but weird, I know. And then --"
"Someone honked."
"I should kill him."
"Could have been a her," Blair teased.
But Jim was no longer paying attention. He grabbed Sandburg's arm
and led him to the truck. He pulled the keys from Blair's pocket
and shoved them into his hand. "Drive. We need to get back."
Blair's teasing mood instantly dissipated as he caught the worry
in Jim's eyes. "What is it?"
"I don't know, but let's get going."
As Blair fitted the key into the ignition, he warned, "We will
talk about this."
"Like I don't know that? Drive."
In spite of Jim's sense of urgency, Blair had been right. They'd
only been back on the road a few minutes before Jim succumbed to
his exhaustion and fell asleep. The trip back to Cascade was made
in silence, other than the occasional soft snore emanating from
the passenger seat.
Blair was just entering the outskirts of Cascade when Jim's cell
phone rang. The detective was awake immediately and slipping the
phone from his pocket before the second ring.
"Ellison."
"Where are you, Jim?"
He glanced around and answered, "Maybe thirty minutes from the
station, Sir."
"Park out front -- you won't be able to get to the underground
garage."
"Simon?"
"We had an explosion here -- Megan's car and no, she wasn't in it
at the time."
"The other shoe, Simon?"
"Another note."
"Fuck."
"My thoughts exactly."
As they approached the station, Blair's only thought was that
suddenly Cascade had become a war zone.
Chester Avenue was completely cordoned off, the street lined with
fire trucks and city vehicles. Uniforms were keeping the curious
at bay while the firemen moved quickly and efficiently through
what was now the clean-up process. Men in suits and wearing hard
hats stood at the garage entrance with rolled up charts in their
hands, phones to their ears, hands waving excitedly.
As Blair swung the truck into a spot on the corner of Chester and
Fifth, Joel spotted them and quickly joined the two men.
"Simon's inside with Connor so I told him I'd keep a look out for
you two."
With a nod toward the garage entrance and the men wearing bright
yellow hard hats, Jim asked, "What's with all the suits?"
"City Inspectors and Engineers. They're worried about the
structural integrity of the garage."
Blair's eyes widened as he asked in surprise, "The blast was that
bad, Joel?"
"Not really, but Connor was parked at the end of row 17, nose in
to the wall that conjoins the cafeteria."
All three men were just passing the wildly gesturing suits and
with a half-hidden grin, Joel added, "Oh yeah, they're real
concerned about the cafeteria."
"Bet they evacuated right away, uh?" Blair asked with feigned
innocence.
"Yep, and the folks eating, well they were just devastated."
The three men approached the garage entrance, having been passed
through by the uniforms, and their humor evaporated.
Megan stood silently next to Simon, both watching as the bomb
squad finished their work. The officers had already combed the
area to ensure that there were no other bombs and were now
completing their investigation on what remained of Connor's Fiat
Spider.
Blair walked over to Megan and put his arm reassuringly around
her waist as Jim, after shooting Megan a sympathetic glance,
stopped beside Banks.
"What do we have, Simon?"
"The bomb was under the car, small but powerful according to
Captain Reynolds. It went off fifteen minutes after shift
change. Any earlier and we'd have had injuries. As it is, only a
few nearby vehicles had windows damaged by the blast."
"The note?" Jim asked quietly.
"Upstairs in my office. I haven't sent it to Serena yet. Thought
you might want a look at it first. Megan found it on her desk."
"Before or after?"
"After. It was what, Connor? Thirty minutes later?"
"About. We all came running down here when the bomb went off.
Officer Peterson told us it was my car but the bomb squad
wouldn't actually let us in until they made sure it was safe.
Once I confirmed," she paused and took a breath, then continued,
her voice softer, "that it was indeed my Spider, I went back up
to call my insurance agent." She looked at Blair for a moment
before continuing.
"It was on my desk. I was immediately suspicious, so I bagged it
and called down to Simon."
"I'd like to take a look at it now, Sir."
"What are we waiting for?"
"You guys go ahead, I'm going to stay here with what's left of my
car."
Blair gave her a quick hug and followed the other three men
upstairs.
As they entered Simon's office, Jim's eyes lit on the bagged
evidence. He and he alone could see the single name on the
outside of the envelope: Blair.
Simon went to his desk as Jim slipped on another pair of gloves.
He handed over the bagged evidence, saying, "You're not going to
like it, Jim." He then shot a quick, concerned glance toward
Sandburg, who was watching his partner.
Ellison slipped the envelope out, held it up, and careful that
the front was facing away from Blair, sniffed it and nodded.
"Same scent -- Alex at least touched this."
He lifted the flap, pulled out the one-page note and unfolded it.
The paper was a cream colored piece of linen stationery and
bordering the left side ran an intricate pattern of green that
was, to Jim's eye, very reminiscent of a jungle. In the middle of
the paper one sentence had been carefully printed:
She was there -- have you ever asked her how it felt
finding your body?
Jim hissed sharply as his gloved fingers clenched around the
note. Slowly he allowed the paper to drift down onto Simon's
desk, the bag and envelope following. Without a word, he turned
and charged into the bullpen, Simon and Joel close on his heels.
He strode over to Megan's desk and circled it several times,
looking for all the world like a cat stalking its prey.
No one immediately noticed that Sandburg had remained in Simon's
office, where for a moment all he could do was stare at the
envelope with his name on it. Then he moved forward, picked up
Simon's pen and using the tip, lifted the corner of the folded
note. Stunned blue eyes took in the words and the pen dropped
from his hand, hit the desk and rolled off to land with a soft
plunk. Sandburg ignored it.
Out in the empty squad room, Simon and Joel watched Jim pace.
"She was here." The words were no sooner out of Jim's mouth than
he froze in place and it seemed to Simon that Jim had zoned --
until the detective cocked his head, sniffed the air and moved
rapidly to Blair's new desk.
"Fuck."
"Jim, what is it?"
No answer as Ellison moved to the other side and rested his hand
on the back of Sandburg's chair.
Joel shot a worried glance at his boss and started to speak, but
Simon shook his head and continued to observe Jim, who'd taken a
seat in Blair's chair.
Ellison reached out a hand and touched the phone, then the framed
picture that stood next to the computer. His hand rested there a
moment, then moved on. He opened a drawer and moved his fingers
over several items. As they closed over one of Blair's ever
present hair ties, Jim's eyes squeezed shut and finally Simon
moved. He stepped behind the detective and placed one hand on
Jim's shoulder.
"Ellison, you still with us?"
Jim's eyes didn't open, but the voice that answered Simon was
cold and deadly.
"She sat here. She touched his stuff. All of it. And she took --
the leather tie that he put in here the other day. She played
with this one." The pale blue eyes finally opened and Jim turned
his head to look up at Simon.
"She was here, in Major Crime, Simon."
Jim's statement was hardly a surprise, Simon had figured as much,
but somehow actually hearing the words and knowing what she'd
done while she was here, hit all three men hard.
The daring act of planting the bomb, followed by the equally
daring move of coming upstairs and leaving a note, seemed mild
compared to the unmitigated gall of actually sitting at
Sandburg's desk. The fact that once there, she'd taken time to
touch, to investigate, to remain long enough to do all of that --
Jim's anger was visible in his flushed face, flaring nostrils and
clenched hands, but he came to long enough to realize that
Sandburg hadn't followed them. His eyes flicked back to Simon's
office and that was all it took to galvanize the man. He was up,
pushing past the two men and moving to Blair's side.
"Chief?"
Sandburg was still staring at the piece of stationary, his
features pinched, skin pale and sweaty. Jim put out a hand and
rubbed it clumsily up and down Blair's back.
"Come on, talk to me, Chief."
"What does she want?" The words were spoken without inflection as
Blair continued his fixation with Alex's note.
"I -- not here, Blair, not now."
Sandburg blinked, Jim's words bringing him sharply back to the
present. He faced his partner, accusation in every line of his
body.
"You know. You know what she's doing!"
Simon and Joel stood in the doorway, unwilling to enter, to
interrupt as Jim stared at his partner.
"Blair, everything's different now. This isn't the same battle,
she's not fighting the same war."
"What are you talking about?"
"I told you, she wants control -- she wants you."
"So she's what, planting bombs and notes? Come on, Jim." His
voice held all the derision of his words.
"How do you feel right now, Blair?"
Sandburg frowned at the question and shrugged his shoulders.
"What kind of question is that? How the fuck do you think I
feel?"
"That's what she wants, Chief. She wants you off balance and
feeling guilty."
"Here's a news flash for you, Ellison -- she's got it."
The station was almost back to normal, the garage re-opened with
only a twenty foot area around stall seventeen still cordoned
off. The engineers had finally determined that the garage was
safe and cosmetic repairs were scheduled to begin Monday morning.
And the cafeteria was once again open for business.
Upstairs in Major Crime a select group of detectives sat at the
conference table in Simon's office and Detective Jim Ellison was
not among them.
On one side of the table sat Detectives Rafe and Brown and
Inspector Connor, while opposite sat Simon and Joel.
Simon took a couple of minutes to marshal his thoughts as he
gazed as his people and he knew he'd made the right decision in
ordering Ellison to take Sandburg home. It was now after five and
he had no wish to make the day any longer for the three
detectives across the table from him. He leaned forward and shot
directly from the hip.
"As you know, we believe Alex Barnes was responsible for the
bombing today. The surveillance cameras revealed only one person
in the immediate vicinity of the car within the three hours
between Connor's return from lunch and the explosion. The
individual was in uniform, but was very careful to keep in the
shadow and keep the face hidden."
His fingers started to tap the tabletop as he continued. "The
video shows this officer dropping something, bending down to
retrieve said object and thus moving out of camera range, then
straightening and moving on. We already know the bomb itself was
small and we've been informed that yes, someone could have easily
concealed it and planted it while bending over."
Joel interceded at this point to add, "What the camera was able
to pick up is that this officer was fairly tall --
approximately five feet nine inches -- and very slender. Female
is a definite possibility."
At this, Megan shifted in her chair and asked, "Wait, you're
saying that not only was Barnes responsible, but that she may
have actually been the one to plant the bomb?"
"We're fairly certain that she not only planted it herself, but
left the note on your desk as well."
Now she leaned in, arms resting on the table, hands clenched
together in front of her. "But Simon, why?"
"Connor, it's possible that you were the target today because you
were in Sierra Verde, you tangled with her..."
"Then why are we here, Simon?" Rafe asked, indicating himself
and his partner.
Banks took a deep breath and answered, "Because it's also
possible that she had a different reason for choosing Connor's
car. You see, all three of you have something else in common, a
shared experience. You were at Rainier," he paused, then
finished, "at the fountain."
Brown spoke for the first time.
"Fuck."
"...and basically, you're on notice. Watch your backs, take
nothing for granted. Not the simplest interview or the most
innocent of calls. Nothing."
The meeting was winding down and at Simon's last words, Rafe gave
a wry smile and added, "And check under your cars every day."
"I still don't get it, Captain," Brown asked, as he gazed at his
co-workers. "Why would she be doing any of this just because we
were -- there -- that morning? It doesn't make sense."
"I don't think we're dealing with someone operating with a full
deck. She's insane and until we've got her under lock and key,
you need to take the appropriate precautions. There's no rule
that says because we believe her intent today was simply to leave
us a message, that tomorrow she won't up the ante by trying to
kill someone."
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