Part 3

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***

Blair watched his lover go down the stairs, and then looked down at the comforter he'd moved to cover himself. He'd been naked with women before, but usually in a dark bedroom, or under the covers. This was the first time he'd thought of his body as any sort of asset in the dating game. Mostly he'd viewed it as too short and unimpressive. Something he had to seduce women in spite of. Pushing the comforter down, he worked at getting used to lying there naked, exposed...and he could almost believe that Jim was right, that maybe he was something special.

After all, wasn't Jim Ellison turning his whole sexual orientation on its ear to be with him?

"I can almost hear your brain working, Chief. Almost as noisy as the computer at the office when it's processing something." Jim arrived at the head of the stairs with a tray. There was a large covered roasting pot, a couple of washcloths and towels, and a few different lotions and tubes of stuff Blair couldn't immediately inventory as Jim set the tray on the floor by the bed. "I brought up some warm water. I figured we might need a clean up...later."

"You thought of everything."

"I tried." Jim retrieved the tube of Vaseline and stretched out on the bed, pulling Blair into his arms and kissing him slowly. "Why don't we try it with you on your side? It'll be more comfortable for us to take our time that way, and we can get closer."

"Sounds nice." Blair smiled and turned over, his back to Jim. He drew his knees up a bit, and Jim kissed his cheek, running a gentle hand down his side, over the slight curve of his hip.

"Try to relax, baby. I'm going to go real slow. We don't have to do anything that doesn't feel good."

"It's been a long time since it was...the first time, you know? It's kind of scary."

"I know. It's scary for me, too, baby. I don't want to hurt you...or spoil this for you. You don't have to go first, Chief. We can do this the other way around."

"I want to go first. Maybe it's kind of selfish, really. I mean, I want to go first because it's our first time, and... I can't explain it."

"You don't have to." Jim kissed Blair's shoulder, then pulled him close. "Just relax and enjoy it. If you ever don't feel good or comfortable, you just let me know."

"You'll know, anyway," Blair said, sighing and relaxing now. Jim felt warmed by that complete show of trust. "You'd never hurt me."

Jim lifted the mass of curls aside and started kissing Blair's cheek, down to his neck and then finally buried his face in the soft hair, kissing and nuzzling the back of Blair's neck as he ran his hand gently over Blair's hip, then slid it around to cup and stroke the firm mound of his left buttock, before letting his fingers trail down to the dark cleft there.

"Love you, sweetheart. Relax for me, baby," he whispered against Blair's ear, fumbling with the cap on the tube, coating his finger. He slipped it between the firm cheeks and stroked the hidden pucker there. Blair made a little sound that could only be interpreted as pleasure, and moved his left leg up a bit farther to give Jim better access.

Taking the positive signs as permission to progress a bit, Jim teased his fingertip just inside the tight ring of muscle and wiggled it, drawing forth another appreciative moan.

"Mm, I think I like that," Blair opined languidly, pressing back against Jim. "Try more." Slowly, Jim slid the well-greased digit into Blair's body up to the second knuckle, and wiggled it. "Ooh, yeah. More."

Jim soon found himself with his hand flush against the beautiful rear, the buttocks sliding against his palm as Blair's hips moved, increasing his own stimulation. He carefully slid the finger out again and added a heavy amount of the lube to his first two fingers.

"Hey--"

"Shhh. He's coming back and bringing a friend," Jim explained, kissing Blair's ear. Slowly, he eased the two fingers into the tight passage, freezing about halfway inside when Blair grunted with something that sounded like discomfort mixed with effort.

"Don't stop." The muscles became more tense then, and Jim did stop, leaving his fingers where they were and kissing Blair's cheek.

"Try to relax, baby. I won't stop trying, but we're going to have to go real slow the first time. I don't want you to be hurt."

"Just...don't give up on me, okay? I want to do this."

"I know. So do I. Just relax. Try some of that deep breathing you're always telling me about, huh?" Blair seemed to take that advice, and soon, Jim detected relaxation where it was most needed. Carefully, he eased his fingers into the hot tunnel until they were fully sheathed. Feeling the virgin tightness in this hot, moist spot, Jim wondered how it would ever expand to accommodate his cock. Tearing Blair was not an option in his mind, although he knew that this first time, drawing a little blood was a possibility. The thought made him sick inside.

"Jim?" Blair was looking over his shoulder now, worried.

"Just letting you get used to it, sweetheart." Jim kissed the worried face and started rotating and scissoring his fingers, stretching Blair carefully. Before long, Blair was moaning in pleasure, moving with the rhythm of Jim's fingers.

"I'm going to try three, Chief. If it hurts, you let me know--got it?" Jim asked, his tone gentler than the words.

"I got it." Blair sighed and leaned back into Jim's body. "I love you," he muttered.

"I love you, too, sweetheart. Relax for me. Gonna go nice and slow now." Jim eased three fingers inside the slick passage, and paused when he felt Blair's little intake of breath and noticed the cessation of any sound.

"Feels...big," Blair said honestly, shifting a little and working at relaxing his muscles. Jim slid his free arm around his lover and started stroking the semi-hard cock there, pumping gently, starting to move his fingers gently in time with the strokes. "Mmm...feeling good, lover," Blair whispered.

Feeling inspired, Jim probed a bit deeper until he found just the spot he sought.

"Oh, my God!" Blair shouted, his body stiffening out. "Wha...oh, man, do that again!" he panted. Jim grinned and happily obliged, feeling the hardening cock surge in his hand. "Oh, yeah. God, Jim, when you're in me...hit that spot."

"Your wish is my command, baby," Jim brushed over the little nub a few more times, rapidly, and when he was satisfied Blair was as turned on as he could get without finishing alone, he withdrew the stretching fingers. "You ready for me?" he whispered hotly against Blair's ear.

"Do it, lover. Now."

Blair thrust his ass against Jim's groin, and that was all the incentive he needed. After coating himself with the lube, he guided his own straining arousal to Blair's slick center. With a kiss to Blair's shoulder, he slid partway inside, just past the tight barrier. There was a sharp intake of breath from Blair.

"It's okay, baby. Relax. No hurry." Jim kissed Blair's shoulder again, then nuzzled his neck, nosing the sweaty curls there. "Talk to me, Chief," he said softly.

"It feels...it's really...stretching."

"Does it hurt, sweetheart? We don't have to do this--"

"I want to do this. It's just...big."

"I believe that's the nicest thing you ever said to me, Chief," Jim teased, and Blair had to chuckle at that, despite his somewhat uncomfortable state at the moment. But the levity did relax him a bit, and Jim ventured in a little further. "Breathe, sweetheart. Relax and let it happen." Jim stroked Blair's faltering erection, teasing and coaxing it back to full hardness. "Want to slide inside you so I can rub that little pleasure button, baby. Remember how that felt?" Jim whispered against Blair's ear. "You know how hot you make me? How tight and incredible you feel?"

"More," Blair responded. Jim carefully slid the rest of the way inside until he found himself fully sheathed.

"We did it, Chief."

"You're inside me," Blair said, a tone of wonder in his voice as he rested his hands on Jim's arms. Jim's fingers moved up to rub and roll at the taut nipples, while his other hand kept up a steady pumping of Blair's cock.

"One body," Jim responded, kissing Blair's shoulder. "Joined." At that, Jim ventured to move slightly, just a marginal, gentle thrust. Blair groaned and shifted a little. "Talk to me, sweetheart."

"Try again," Blair urged.

Obliging, Jim carefully slid out partway and then back in gently. He repeated the motion a few times, with what was, for him excruciating slowness.

"Mmmm." Blair let out his first appreciative sound and made his first tentative counter-thrust. He gingerly wiggled his ass a little, and Jim clamped his mouth on the tender spot where Blair's neck met his shoulder and sucked hard, doing everything in his power to keep from thrusting, or zoning out on the hot, slick, tight sensation of being inside Blair with no barriers. At the same time, he used that sensitivity to make sure the flesh around him was able to expand without tearing.

"Love you, baby," he muttered into Blair's ear.

"Move, Jim. Make love to me. I'm ready for you," Blair said, and Jim gratefully took the invitation, moving in and out of the tight heat in steady but conservative strokes, getting his satisfaction but still holding back a bit to avoid hurting Blair. He angled his strokes and hit Blair's prostate, smiling and groaning in response to the wild animal cries of pleasure those motions dragged out of Blair, whose cock was rock hard now, pulsing and moving in Jim's hand as they writhed together.

"Oh, yeah...God, it's good...so tight, baby...you're so good..." Jim knew he wasn't too coherent, but he wanted to give Blair some idea of how magnificent this all really felt to him. Explaining what it felt like deep in his soul would have to wait. It was big, and magnificent, and life-defining, but there was no way he could form the right words while he was sliding in and out of that tight heat, grunting in pleasure, listening to Blair scream for him with every impact on that little button deep inside him...

Then Blair's muscles began to spasm and contract around him, and Jim screamed out this time, taken by surprise by the intensity of the sensation of something so very tight clamping and unclamping around his cock. Blair was letting out little staccato moans, finally calling out Jim's name as his whole body stiffened and he bathed Jim's hand and the sheets with his completion, his muscles massaging Jim's length like it had never been massaged before.

Wishing he could last longer, draw out their first time even more, Jim felt his own climax rippling like a building wave on the water, approaching, cresting and then crashing down on him as he labored to control the speed of his strokes into his now-pliant lover, filling Blair, finally slowing and coming to rest, clutching the smaller body in the curve of his own, his cock still buried to the hilt inside his lover.

"God, I love you," he whispered against Blair's ear, feeling a lump in his throat. Love had never felt this intense, this complete, and this...overwhelming. Blair reached back then and rested his hand on the back of Jim's neck, pulling him forward a bit and turning so they could share a kiss, remaining joined.

"I love you, too. More than anything," he said sincerely.

"That was...incredible," Jim concluded, smiling at his own inability to find adequate words.

"I never felt anything like it," Blair said, unabashed awe in his voice. "It hurt at first, and even when we were moving, there was this little bit of pain there...but it was almost like it just made the pleasure more...intense." Blair chuckled. "Man, that sounds kind of kinky, doesn't it?"

"It makes sense to me. Pleasure and pain sometimes exist on either side of a fine line." Jim kissed Blair's shoulder again and rubbed his stomach. "I should ease out now, baby. It might hurt a little." Jim slid his hand into Blair's and held on, still stroking his stomach lightly. Then he eased out, and Blair groaned quietly. "Okay?" Jim asked, concern plain in his voice.

"Feels...weird. Like the muscles are all freaking out and quivering. Kind of sore." Blair looked over his shoulder. "But if you dare apologize, I will kill you. Understand?"

"Pretty clearly, yeah," Jim responded, smiling and kissing Blair's cheek.

"I'll just need pillows on my chairs for a day or so," Blair added, chuckling.

"Roll on your stomach, Chief. I have a few goodies here on the tray."

"Sounds interesting." Blair rolled on his stomach and watched Jim, appreciating the view as he hung off the bed to retrieve the supplies. He couldn't help but wonder how it would feel when he was pumping in and out of that firm, toned ass, making Jim scream for him...

"Let's get you washed up first, huh?" Jim soaked a washcloth with warm water and gently washed Blair's butt and his center, relieved not to find blood there. The skin was red and angry-looking, but he hadn't expected anything different making love to a virgin. He leaned down and kissed both of the rounded buttocks. Blair grinned and wriggled a little.

Retrieving some ointment from his pile of supplies, Jim squeezed some out on his finger and started massaging the cooling gel onto the swollen little pucker between Blair's cheeks.

"Mmm," Blair commented eloquently, spreading his thighs and thrusting his ass up a bit, seeking more stimulation from the finger. Jim happily obliged, spreading the soothing ointment inside Blair's tender passage, amazed to detect the stirrings of arousal in his partner.

"You like having your tender little hole rubbed, don't you?" he whispered in Blair's ear, smiling at the little shiver of excitement. He increased the pressure as he rubbed, and Blair whimpered in pleasure, rubbing his recovering cock against the bed. "You liked me pumping in and out of this hot little hole, claiming it...you like it reminding you of us, don't you, baby?" he teased, sliding his finger out and getting more ointment, then returning and resuming his rubbing, finally giving Blair a fairly lively finger-fucking while he watched his lover grip the sheets until his knuckles went white, writhing against the bed, moaning in pleasure.

"Soo good...mmmm....oooohh...yeah...rub my hole..."

Jim was getting hard now himself, but resisted the urge to try mounting Blair again. Once was enough for a beginner, and even if Blair was enjoying the stimulation of his sensitized passage, he'd be in enough discomfort in the morning without getting a second round of the main event. With a shout, Blair's body went momentarily stiff and still and he gripped the bedding even tighter. Then he shuddered through his second climax and lay there spent and drained, his face buried in the pillow, wild curls everywhere, body damp with the sweat of pleasure. There were a few passion marks visible on his neck and shoulders, and his thighs were still shamelessly splayed open, leaving the glistening opening exposed.

"Mm."

"You still alive down there, Chief?" Jim teased, and Blair finally raised his head and looked over his shoulder.

"Wow." With that, he fell back into the pillow, face down.

"That's the best review I ever got, sweetheart." Jim had to laugh then, and patted Blair's butt before moving away a little to clean himself off, a bit frustrated that washing up was just making him harder. It didn't seem like he should have a right to want more after what he'd gotten from Blair, but his cock didn't appear to have such a strong sense of gratitude that it was content to behave itself the rest of the night.

Jim stretched out next to Blair and covered them both with the comforter, then settled on his side and started rubbing Blair's back gently.

"Feeling okay, baby?" he asked quietly.

"Oh, man." Blair made the supreme effort to move his head so he was facing Jim. He grinned widely as Jim moved a few frazzled curls out of the way. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just... tender. Like pulled muscles, and a little raw feeling. You were careful, and that ointment is making Mr. Asshole really happy."

"Mr. Asshole?" Jim repeated, rolling his eyes.

"Sorry. I'm getting punchy." Blair chuckled, then shifted on his side so they could hold each other. "Whoa! Mr. Dick is doing the old 90-degree salute," Blair observed, reaching down and wrapping his hand gently around Jim's cock.

"Mr. Dick?" Jim started to laugh, and moaned at the same time, enjoying the sensation of Blair's talented hand pumping firmly, moving the eager shaft toward its completion. "We'll just call you...Magic Hands," Jim managed, moving to capture Blair's mouth, their tongues sliding together, tasting each other, as Jim groaned into the kiss and pumped harder into Blair's hand.

"I've got an idea." Blair reached over to the night stand and retrieved the tube of Vaseline, spreading some on his hand. "Fuck my hand, lover," he said huskily as he wrapped his fingers around the rigid cock again. "Remember what it was like being inside my ass? Hot, wet, tight..." Blair purred into Jim's ear, and with a shout, Jim reached his completion, and lay there limp, his head resting against Blair's chest.

"Oh, yeah," Jim opined eloquently. Blair smiled and kissed the top of his head.

"That good, eh?"

"The Vaseline was an inspiration."

"Liked that, did we?" Blair teased. Jim moved up and grabbed him in a tight embrace, rolling them over until he pinned his smaller lover to the mattress.

"I love you, Blair," he said very solemnly. "What you gave me tonight...it's a gift I haven't gotten in a long time. Maybe never...I'm not really sure. Your virginity. I know that's scary...and it's damn special."

"I'm not exactly a total virgin here, man. I wish I could give you that, but I can't. Anymore than you can."

"No one's ever been inside you but me."

"No one else ever will be." Blair grinned and ran a finger along Jim's jaw. "And I'm staking my claim right now--nobody else is ever going to be inside you but me."

"Good." Jim kissed Blair slowly, gently, then pulled back. "Sleep?"

"For a week," Blair replied, happily moving with Jim until they found a comfortable niche, snuggled in a tangle of limbs under the covers.

For a few golden, precious hours, the ugliness and depravity of recent days was held at bay, outside the windows of the loft apartment where the two lovers slept soundly in the dreamy afterglow.

 * * *

 Blair stirred and shifted in bed, immediately aware that he was restrained. But the restraint felt marvelous, warm, soft and firm all at the same time. He was curled on his side, and Jim was curled around him, spoon style. The beginnings of a morning erection were nudging at his very tender center, and his own cock was beginning to take an interest in the day. The alarm apparently hadn't gone off yet, and while Blair was curious what time it was, he wasn't curious enough to disturb Jim to roll over and look.

"It's 5:45," a husky voice near his ear informed him. Unnerved that his mental question had been answered by Jim, he had to smile.

"You read minds now, too, huh?" Blair responded.

"Just yours." Jim sighed and nuzzled Blair's neck. "You smell good."

"You've gotta be kidding," Blair said, smiling. "I've got to be, like, rancid this morning."

"You smell like us." Jim gently tightened his arms around Blair's body, snuggling closer. "I love you."

"I love you, too."

"I wish I had more time this morning to take care of you." Blair felt a warm kiss on his shoulder. "Pamper you a little." Jim's hand ran lovingly down Blair's side and over his hip. "How do you feel?"

"Okay. Of course, I haven't moved yet," Blair added, chuckling. Then, sobering, he added, "I'm fine, Jim. You were careful with me, and it was beautiful."

"Yeah, it was, wasn't it?" Jim's voice had almost a dreamy quality to it.

Blair rolled over to face Jim and smiled up at him.

"I think I'm gonna like doing this every morning," he said, "waking up and seeing you first thing."

"Come here."

Jim pulled Blair into his arms and kissed him thoroughly, feeling the electric jolt as the two morning-hard cocks met and pressed together. Blair thrust against him slightly, and he returned the gesture. In moments, they were rocking together, mouths awkwardly licking, nibbling and tasting each other, tongues finally delving deep and twining as they reached their shared climax, holding each other close through the shuddering pinnacle, and relaxing into the sated aftermath.

"That's the best wake-up call I've ever had," Blair said, snuggling against Jim and winding his leg around his lover's. "I don't want our first time to end."

"Me, either." Jim pulled back and looked down into the deep blue eyes of the man he loved more than life. "But we've got more firsts to go through together."

"And duty calls."

"And duty calls," Jim confirmed, kissing the end of Blair's nose. "Rest here a while. I'm going to start a warm bath for you."

"A bath?"

"The soak might feel good."

"Join me?"

"If I do, we'll never make it in to work." Jim paused. "I'll wash your back."

"Deal," Blair agreed, smiling. "I always thought you'd be a romantic."

"Really?" Jim chortled. "I don't think Carolyn would confirm that."

"You are. It's just the way you treat me. Like something precious."

"You are something precious." Jim squeezed him once, and then moved away, getting up. "I'll start the water. I'll holler when it's ready."

"Okay." Blair watched the perfect body move with the grace of a large panther as Jim rose from the bed and slid into his robe.

By the time Jim called to Blair, a tub full of warm water, laced with some sort of mildly herbal-scented bath oil, waited in the bathroom. Jim had showered already, and as Blair slipped into the warm water, Jim handed him a cup of coffee.

"Now this is service," Blair said, drinking a little of the hot coffee, and letting the warm water soothe away any residual achiness from the night before. Jim had been so right about the bath idea. To his surprise, now was the first moment when the murders and the case re-entered his mind. Making love with Jim had been like some amazing oasis of peace and paradise in a dessert of fear and turmoil. "Sometimes it's still hard to believe that we're together like this."

"Yeah, for me, too." Jim knelt by the tub and soaped up his hands, using them to wash Blair's back instead of a sponge or washcloth. "If you want, I'll wash your hair for you."

"You sure you want to tackle that project?" Blair asked, looking over his shoulder.

"I'd like to," Jim said in an endearingly serious way. Washing Blair's hair was as solemn a topic at that moment as working a top priority homicide case.

"I'd like it, too," Blair agreed. "I wasn't expecting a backrub. Man, that feels good," Blair relaxed, enjoying the gentle rubbing of Jim's hands over his slick skin. The attention on his lower back felt especially good as Jim relieved the stress on muscles that had been called on for some uncommon and new moves the night before. "You want to know something?" Blair asked, taking a sip of his coffee and then setting it on the floor near the tub.

"What?" Jim started working his way up Blair's back again, kneading the shoulders gently now.

"You're the most attentive, considerate lover I ever had." Blair waited as the hands paused, then rested on Blair's shoulders.

"Maybe because you never gave yourself to anybody the same way before."

"No, I know that, but still..." Blair turned to look Jim in the eyes. "I really hope we're going to be a forever thing, because I don't ever want to share you with anybody."

"No worries there, Chief." Jim hugged Blair from behind, not worrying that his robe was soaking up all of Blair's wetness. "You're stuck with me until you croak."

"And when we get to the other side, you better look me up or I'll come looking for you, man," Blair quipped, chortling as he leaned back into Jim.

"When you get to the other side, I'll be right there waiting, sweetheart," Jim said softly, with a sad, solemn quality to his voice that made Blair shiver a bit in the embrace.

"You can't go first, Jim," Blair said simply. "Don't do that to me, okay?"

"I'll do what I can," Jim said with a smile in his voice.

"I'm serious. Maybe it's because of…what happened with the murders. But talking like this...it just makes it too real. And time moves so fast, and the next thing you know--"

"We're both healthy, Chief. We'll be around--and together--a long time. Okay?" Jim kissed Blair's cheek and tried to move back, but Blair held onto his arms, keeping him close against the younger man's back.

"Promise?"

"Promise. But I won't be around much longer if we don't get a move on, because Simon'll kill me." The remark broke the tension, and both laughed a bit, finishing up Blair's bath and ingesting a hasty breakfast before heading downtown.

 * * *

 "I think we've revisited every multiple homicide committed in the Pacific Northwest," Jim grumbled, rubbing the bridge of his nose as he leaned back in his desk chair. "With the exception of the killing in Seattle last month, none of them fit this M.O., or show evidence of this guy's specific signature."

"You mean the souvenirs?" Megan clarified, sitting in the chair where Jim usually parked the perps he was booking.

"Right. Multiple victims, one human memento from the scene. So far we have a sorority and a fraternity. He's getting pretty arrogant, taking on a house full of jocks in the middle of the evening." Jim shook his head.

"You know, that still doesn't make any sense to me."

"Join the club."

"No, I mean it, Jim. Think about it. How could you not hear a multiple homicide in progress, even from upstairs? And how could he subdue multiple victims, all of them young and strong?" Megan frowned. "Something doesn't add up. And then there's the call to the police--"

"The killer probably made that call--the profile of the caller from the 911 tape fits with the description Blair provided."

"Oh, right. In between slaughtering six people in the middle of the evening with an axe, he stopped to phone the police before he popped upstairs to finish the job."

"You think there was a second killer?"

"Possibly," she conceded, "but we didn't find any forensic evidence to support that."

"With the number of people in and out of that house in a week, how the hell would we know?" Jim paused. "It's pretty rare for there to be two headcases with the same obsessions, working in a team."

"Rare, but not impossible. In any event, something about this situation doesn't add up. Did you notice how cold it was in that house? When I arrived at the scene, it felt colder in there than it was outdoors."

"The doors were open, cops going in and out..." Jim shrugged. "I guess it didn't strike me at the time--I was pretty intent on getting Sandburg out of there."

"It was as if someone had turned the thermostat down."

"Had they?"

"Well, no. This is something I followed up on the other day--just because it seemed to me to be an odd piece to the puzzle. The thermostat was set for 68 degrees. But the temperature in the house was showing 52 degrees."

"Old house, lousy furnace, I guess," Jim dismissed.

"Not exactly. The furnace was perfectly fine. I went over there with a plumbing and heating guy, and he inspected the furnace. It's perfect, Jim. They replaced it five years ago, and there was nothing wrong with it."

"Where is the thermostat in relation to the doors that were open?" Jim asked, frowning.

"It was well inside the house. Even if you allowed for cold outside air, it shouldn't have been that much lower."

"So what are you suggesting with all this?"

"Nothing, yet."

"But you're going somewhere with it. That's obvious."

"It's another piece of the puzzle, that's all."

"Connor."

"There's no earthly explanation for that temperature being that low."

"Whoa...just back up a minute. No earthly explanation? Please tell me that was a figure of speech. We aren't going to go off into another discussion about psychics and paranormal, are we?"

"You know yourself that ghosts exist, Jim. I would think you'd be open to this," she said quietly, leaning forward a bit. "Something's not right here. And I think there's something... sinister about it."

"Yeah, six people are dead. That's pretty sinister, Connor."

"I mean something...evil."

"The killer was no unseen force that bubbled up out of a hole in the basement. Blair saw him. He was very real. Not a misty, red-eyed demon. A real live psycho."

"You feel we should just ignore this information, then?"

"No. I think we should log it into the files and leave it there for future reference. Maybe it will mean something, maybe it won't. But I don't think an evil force murdered those kids. Blair saw part of the killings. He saw the killer."

"But what do we really know about the killer besides what Sandy saw?"

"Look, Connor, if you want to chase demons, that's your business. Personally, I'd like to solve this case with something we could take to court."

"Even if you're ignoring something very vital?"

"I'll take that risk," Jim replied, his tone sarcastic. He was only thankful that Blair was at the university this morning, teaching, instead of listening to this flight of fancy. Even with two of their best uniformed men watching him at all times, Jim felt uneasy not doing the job himself. Thinking about what he and Blair had shared the night before...and that morning... being apart was that much more difficult.

"Jim?"

"Hm?" He jerked back to reality and looked at Megan. "What?"

"Don't stick your head in the sand here. Whoever...whatever this killer is, he's on a rampage--and he knows Blair's identity."

"And no one wants him caught more than I do. Now if I could just get Sandburg to stay put, I wouldn't have to worry about him wandering around that campus all day."

"Murphy and Birnbaum are good men. They'll watch him."

"Yeah, I know." Jim rose from his desk chair. "But I still think I'll take a run over there and pick him up after his last class."

"How is he doing? He seems to be handling all this pretty well."

"Blair's a pretty tough customer. He's coping." Jim smiled slightly. "You'll see for yourself this afternoon. He's coming back in with me when he's done at the U."

"Good. Maybe he'll be a little more interested in exploring this--"

"Don't bring this thermostat thing up with Blair, huh? The last thing he needs is talk about sinister forces. He's had enough misery over this experience as it is."

"At least he might be open to the possibility that--"

"That what? The devil made him do it? Let's not get Sandburg going on any supernatural theories just yet." Jim grabbed his coat off the coat tree.

"I wouldn't laugh about something like that if I were you."

"Look, what we have here is a strange case with either a very efficient or extraordinarily strong killer. Maybe an accomplice. That's all. Let's not turn it into more of a circus than it already is." With that, Jim left the bullpen, heading for Rainier.

 * * *

 Blair had spent the first part of both classes he'd taught that day fielding questions and avoiding giving away details on the murders. Once the newspaper had "leaked" the name of the witness, Blair had achieved a sort of morose celebrity among the Rainier study body. Not only had he been in the house the night of the killings, but he had seen the killer. Now everyone wanted the gory details, which he was not at liberty to give, even if he had felt like reliving them several times each day.

"Where to next, Blair?" Al Birnbaum asked. The portly older man had been shadowing him all morning, his younger partner acting as a sort of "satellite," keeping an eye on the comings and goings of students and others from the building where Blair taught and frequently touching base with Al. Since everyone seemed to know what was up with Blair, they'd seen little reason to be subtle. The uniformed cop had accompanied Blair everywhere he went that day. Jim had considered it a wise precaution--and hoped that the visual deterrent would keep Blair safe.

"My office. We're almost done here. I just need to dump my stuff, and then we can head downtown."

"I've gotta tell ya, a lecture on ritual mutilation was a little hard to take under the circumstances."

"Yeah, well, it wasn't all that much fun to give, either. But every culture has its dark sides, and the syllabus said this week was ritual mutilation..." Blair shrugged. "When I set up the course outline, I hadn't planned on it being a sore spot."

"Man, I've been on the force for twenty years, and some of that stuff gave me the willies." Al shuddered, and Blair smiled.

"Ritual activities are sometimes a bit more...horrific than street crimes."

"You mean there's a tribe where they actually cut off--"

"Trust me on that one. I knew a guy who visited that tribe and saw one of the ceremonies. Nobody invited him out for lunch for about a year after he got back," Blair quipped, and Al laughed.

"Nice office." Al followed Blair inside after the younger man unlocked the door.

"Thanks. Beats a supply room. I used to have a desk and some old file cabinets in one of the artifact rooms. I got this when the department head's pet transferred to another university." Blair chuckled. I finally made it up in the pecking order to get an office."

"Blair? Package for you." An attractive middle-aged woman with long auburn hair braided down her back, wearing a blue sweater and skirt, stood in the doorway holding what looked like a flower box. It was white and sported a big red bow.

"Thanks, Sheila. Sheila, this is Al--my bodyguard for the day," Blair introduced the cop to the faculty secretary as he took the package from her.

"Nice to meet you, Al," Sheila said, shaking hands with him. "Would you like some coffee or something?" she asked.

"Thanks, that'd be great."

"It's just down the hall."

"Sorry, I can't leave--"

"I'm fine, Al," Blair said, gesturing across the hall at the line-up of faculty offices, most of which were occupied, with their doors open.

"You're sure? Ellison'll have my head if--"

"I'll be fine. And the coffee in here is really old, man," he added with a chortle.

"Okay. I'll be back in a flash." Al followed Sheila, the two of them chatting away. Blair suppressed a grin, hoping the two of them would hit it off. Al was recently widowed, and Sheila had been single for several years following her divorce. Both of them had struck Blair as being lonely.

Tossing his things on the desk, he pulled the ribbon off the long white box. Geez, Jim, flowers? Wow. I said you were a romantic, but I underestimated you. Surprised at how much he liked the idea of getting flowers from his lover, Blair lifted the lid on the box.

Al nearly dropped the coffee cup on the floor at the shout that came from Sandburg's office. Drawing his weapon, he ordered Sheila to stay put and ran down the hall toward the open door. Blair nearly knocked him down making a beeline out of the room, hand clamped over his mouth, on a dead run to the men's room.

"Holy shit," Al muttered under his breath, covering his nose and mouth with a handkerchief as he moved closer to the box that contained the severed human arm, nested in wax paper. Tied to the stiff white thumb was a small card. With the eraser of one of Sandburg's pencils, Al carefully lifted the cover of the card.

thinking of you . . . until we meet again.

Grabbing Sandburg's keys off the desk, he locked the door and shooed the interested onlookers away. Then he headed for the men's room to find the man he was supposed to be guarding. Ellison was gonna love this one.

Blair was still in one of the stalls when Al entered the restroom.

"Blair, you okay in there?"

"I will be." It was a valiant attempt at a steady voice that almost succeeded.

"Hey, Murph, you read me?" Al spoke into his radio. In a moment, there was a response from his partner.

"What've you got?"

"Got a nasty delivery up here in Sandburg's office. Get a hold of Ellison and tell him we need lab folks out here."

"Ten-four, pal," came the reply.

Blair finally emerged from the stall, his skin the same color as the white sink where he stopped to wash his hands and splash cold water on his face.

"Who's watching the...evidence?" he asked, wiping his face and hands with paper towel.

"I locked it in your office. Come on. Murphy's calling Ellison and the lab team."

"We can wait out by Sheila's desk. There are some chairs there."

The two men headed for the area Blair described, and Sheila approached them, the representative of the delegation of murmuring faculty and students who had been within earshot when Blair opened his "gift."

"What happened?" she asked.

"Sorry, Sheila. I can't really say. Could you get Blair a drink of water, do you think?" Al asked.

"Sure." Busied with that task, she also dispersed the group of onlookers, assuring them she'd let them know if she found out anything else.

"Sandburg!" Knowing that full-bodied bellow could only come from one source, Blair was out of his chair like a shot and heading down the hall to where Jim was rushing toward the office. "What's going on here? I got the call in the truck--you look like shit," he said, taking Blair by the shoulders. "What happened?"

"It's in the office," Blair said, resting his hands on Jim's biceps.

"Steady there, sweetheart," Jim whispered the endearment low enough to keep it between them. He rubbed Blair's shoulders gently. "Deep breaths. Don't keel over on me here, okay?"

"I'm okay."

"Yeah, you're doin' great. You're greener than your Volvo. Now take a couple deep breaths. These are new shoes," Jim quipped, and Blair had to smile in spite of the fact that he felt like his stomach was up in his throat. "I'm going to have a look at whatever it is that's in the office. Park it back out here with Al, okay?"

"Okay. Jim, it's really...gross. It's...I think it's...Danny's arm."

"Shit." Jim escorted Blair back to the waiting area and left him there with the other cop while he unlocked the office door and stepped inside. Grateful for Blair's warning about what he'd find, his sense of smell was dialed down enough to keep him from getting sick at the odor. The putrefying limb in the box had been marginally preserved, but not too effectively.

"Glad I brought my mask," Serena spoke up from the door. "You think this is the limb missing from the murder scene?" she asked, joining Jim.

"It's from a male, obviously. I guess the rest is going to be up to you and Dan to figure out."

"He's in a seminar this morning, but I'll take this back to the lab and we can go over it this afternoon."

"I've seen all I need to see here. It's all yours," Jim added.

"Thanks, Jim," she responded a bit sarcastically.

Approaching the area where Al sat in a chair and Blair sat on the couch, Jim sat next to his partner.

"Who delivered it, Chief?" he asked.

"Sheila would know better than I would. She brought it to the office," Blair nodded in the direction of the faculty secretary, who was working diligently on her computer, attempting to appear as if she weren't hanging on every word.

"Sheila," Jim said, walking over to her desk. "I'm Detective Ellison--"

"I know who you are. Blair has photos of you in his office. I've heard all about you," she said pleasantly.

"Don't believe everything you hear," Jim quipped. "Blair said you brought him the package. Did you speak to the person who delivered it?"

"No, actually, I didn't," she said regretfully. "It was on my desk when I got back from running some copies for Dr. Banning. There was just that little card on the ribbon that said 'Blair Sandburg,' so I took it to Blair when he got back from his class."

"Were all these people here at that time?"

"Not all of them. Some of the professors just got back in from classes, but a few were here."

"We'll need to get statements from everyone. If you could help me get a hold of everyone and make sure no one leaves until we're finished, I'd appreciate it."

"Of course." She left her desk and headed down the hall, stopping at the offices of faculty members who were due in classes soon.

"Al, you and Murphy work on getting statements from these folks. Find out if anybody saw anything. Sandburg and I are going to do a little canvassing around the building and the grounds to see if we can ID the delivery person."

"You got it. Take care, Blair," Al said, slapping Blair on the shoulder lightly as he rose and headed down the hall.

"Thanks, Al," Blair called after him.

"Up to a little detective work?" Jim asked his partner.

"Yeah. I'm okay."

An exhaustive trek around the building and the surrounding areas yielded nothing. No one had seen anyone delivering a flower box, though some students reported seeing the guy who normally delivered office supplies hauling some large cartons into the building. That had led them over to the supply department, and after questioning the staff there, both men were satisfied that it was a dead end. Somehow, the killer, or his accomplice, had slipped in, left the package, and slipped out unnoticed.

"It's not all that weird that nobody saw him. I mean, if he made the drop when classes were changing, it can get pretty confusing in the halls and around the exits." Blair climbed into the truck.

"You up to looking at a few more mug shots?"

"Okay." Blair shook his head. "I don't know what good it's gonna do. None of them look like him. I mean, you know what the composite looks like."

"Humor me?"

"Don't I always?" Blair retorted.

"Yeah, sure you do, Chief."

 * * *

 Jim picked up the phone on his desk on the first ring, watching Blair flip through the latest batch of pictures of "at large" suspects with violent profiles.

"Ellison," he said, lackluster.

"Jim, it's Serena. I ran some tests on the arm, and then I had Dan double check my work. It's Danny Cohen's." Serena paused. "I can't imagine what the family must feel like--and now we call them back and tell them we have the missing limb. Ugh," she said, shuddering. "Horrible."

"At least they can bury it with him, though I doubt that's a lot of consolation."

"Probably not. Well, I'll be working down here this evening on a few other fiber samples we found on the arm if you have anything else you need checked out."

"Sandburg and I'll be getting takeouts later. You want anything?"

"Any chance you're going to Fat Tony's Subs?"

"Sounds like a great idea."

"Bring me a Fat Tony Special. I haven't eaten since breakfast."

"Will do. Thanks, Serena."

"I'll call if I find anything." With that, she broke the connection.

"Takeouts--I guess we're staying here late, huh?"

"Looks that way. Blair, the arm was Danny's."

"Oh, my God..." Blair slumped back in his chair. "I knew it would be. I just... Somehow, knowing for sure makes it worse. You won't have to spend much on takeout for me, man," Blair commented, wincing.

"Brown's going home at a normal hour tonight. Why don't you use his computer and work on some of those backed up reports? There's some important stuff in there that we're letting slide for this case."

"You don't have to give me busy work, Jim. I can handle this."

"I know. But it's not busy work, and there's no need for both of us to spend all night dwelling on dismembered bodies. You've had your share of that for a while. There's a homicide case and a rape case in that pile of paperwork, and both of the files need updating. That's stuff I should be doing but just don't have time. I keep feeling like there's something in the information on one of these other cases that should help--something I'm overlooking--and I want to go back over the files again."

"Okay. Maybe I will work on that other paperwork, then." Blair started sifting through the pile Jim had indicated. "I suppose it was wishful thinking to assume this guy hadn't killed before."

"Probably, but we all indulged in it, I think." Jim logged in to the computer and frowned at the screen, ready to launch yet another search for homicides matching up with this particular killer's depravities.

 * * *

 Blair pulled off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. Five solid hours of data entry, typing up handwritten notes and organizing some disheveled files had left his eyes feeling like two burning coals in his head. Jim was on the phone with Serena again, talking corpses. Jim was telling her some grisly stories he'd run across from his computer search, asking her to check a few things out on some unclaimed bodies. It was nearing midnight.

The witching hour in the bullpen, Blair thought, smiling slightly. The witching hour...

"Excuse me, Serena, my other line's ringing." Jim disconnected with her and answered the ringing phone. "We're on our way," he said after a brief pause.

"What's up?"

"Another homicide. Come on, Chief."

Jim didn't need to explain that it was their killer's M.O.; Blair simply accepted that from the grim expression on Jim's face. They drove in the opposite direction of the campus this time, however, and a part of Blair was somewhat relieved--at least Rainier wasn't going to become some sort of killing ground...not that there was anything positive to say about such atrocity. Wherever it struck, it was horrendous. No one deserved to lose his life the way Danny and the others at the frat house had that night.

The truck wove through a number of other emergency vehicles that choked off the flow of traffic on the narrow city neighborhood street. Blair felt a building sense of dread as they came upon the actual crime scene. This house was not adjacent to the campus by any means, but it housed students--a group of honor students Blair and another teaching fellow were mentoring. The best and the brightest...and now, the dead...

"Jim, this is where my student group lives--remember the students I told you about who got the house off-campus for quieter study conditions?"

"Dammit." Jim brought the truck to a stop at the curb in front of the house. "Wait in the truck, Chief. I don't want you seeing this."

"Jim--"

"I mean it. Don't move." Jim got out of the truck, forestalling any further debate on the matter. Blair had already seen something like this up close and personal, and he'd barely escaped death at this bastard's hands. There was no point in his being exposed to another bloodbath.

"Jim...it's pretty ugly in there, man," Taggert warned as he met Jim on the porch of the large, white, two-storey frame house. "And there's something else--the son of a bitch is leaving us notes now."

"Great. You gonna be okay, Joel?" Jim asked, noticing the other man's queasy expression. After all his years on the force, whatever Joel had seen inside had taken a heavy toll on him.

"Yeah...just needed some air. I guess their furnace is broken in there. It's warmer out here."

Jim frowned at that, but said nothing more as he crossed the threshold into the house.

In his years at the Cascade PD, Jim had been to a number of homicide scenes before. He had seen some things in Covert Ops that had made his blood run cold. He'd even done a few things he didn't particularly enjoy remembering.

None of it prepared him for what lay beyond the foyer of the big old house which had hours earlier been inhabited by several active, intelligent, lively young people.

On the wall of the large, square living room, an upside down cross had been painted in blood. The figure was at least four feet long and three feet wide. Rivulets of drying blood crept down the white wall from the two crudely painted lines. Beneath the cross, lying on a long, low coffee table which too greatly resembled a sacrificial altar, was the corpse of a young man, his head severed but arranged so it was in line with his body. The detached head bore a mop of long brown curls, the features too similar to Blair's to be comfortable. Jim felt his head spinning, and felt a sensation he hadn't felt at a crime scene in years.

Fleeing the scene, he made it to the bushes in front of the house before emptying his stomach there in a couple of violent heaves. Still leaning on the railing that ran beside the front steps, Jim felt a steadying hand come under his free arm to support it, another resting on his back. Without hesitation, he turned and pulled Blair into his arms, hugging him tightly and breathing in his living scent, closing his eyes and burying his face in the soft curls.

"Thanks, Chief. But go wait in the truck for me. I'll be okay now." Jim stepped back and smiled unconvincingly.

"Jim, what did you see?"

"It's nasty, Blair. I won't lie to you about that. I guess it just took me by surprise, that's all."

"Everybody...?" Blair asked.

"I've only seen one. There are, what, seven people living here?"

"Eight--right now. Theresa's sister is here from Portland," Blair said, covering his mouth briefly. "My God."

"I'll let you know as soon as I've been through the house."

"Let me go in with you. Man, you don't look so hot."

"I'll make it, Chief. Go on. Go back to the truck and wait for me, okay?"

"Okay," Blair finally agreed hesitantly. He turned and headed back for the truck, hating himself for not forging ahead and fighting his way inside to be with Jim. Still, he knew after what he'd been through that night at the frat house that what lay beyond the door of this house was probably more than he could handle. If it sent Jim outside to vomit, Blair seriously considered that it might cost him his sanity.

Jim met up with one of the uniformed officers, an older man whose face was as white as the paint on the walls.

"There are five upstairs--three females and two males."

"So we've only got six all together? Eight people are supposedly here right now." Jim clarified. The older man nodded, then shook his head in disbelief.

"I've never seen anything like this. And I worked the Grant homicide fifteen years ago. I thought I was ready for anything."

"Wasn't that the case where the guy murdered his whole family?" The other man nodded again. "Pretty brutal, wasn't it?"

"Stabbings. But this..."

"Thanks for the warning. I better take a look upstairs."

Jim climbed the long staircase, hearing the sounds of movement from upstairs. The crime lab people were already there, but they seemed to be hanging back at the end of the hall closest to the stairs. While it would have never surprised him to see Serena keeping her people out of the cops' way, it amazed him that Cassie was doing the same. Maybe she was finally getting the point--and then again, maybe even she wasn't able to handle this one easily.

"Jim, you don't want to go down there," she said, taking a hold of his arm.

"I'm the detective on the case, Cassie. I have to." Jim watched with concern as she took another deep draw on her inhaler. "Are you going to be all right?"

"I don't think I can do this." Her statement surprised Jim. The woman who was always pushing to be right at the elbow of the detectives, if not ahead of them, was cowering at one end of a long hall with a couple of lab technicians who didn't look any more convinced they wanted to proceed. There was blood spattered here and there on the walls in the hall, and some large splotches on the floor, including one that flowed into a large drag pattern leading into one of the rooms.

"I was surprised to see you. I thought Serena would draw this one."

"I asked for it. I pulled rank on her," Cassie admitted. "Boy, did I get mine on this one." She shook her head.

"If you can't handle it, call back downtown and get someone out here who can," Jim retorted, in no mood to coddle Cassie when she was admittedly there for having frozen Serena out of the mainstream of what would be one of Cascade's most remembered homicide cases. It seemed to Jim that in the midst of such carnage, those games would take a back seat. He made his way down the hall.