Disclaimers: They don't belong to me (don't I wish). I'm making no money. Please don't sue.
This little story is an answer to challenge #1 on Jen & Suzie's Challenge page. The url for the page is http://members.xoom.com/kobie/
I'm dedicating this to Wolfpup for providing me such a lovely home for my work. Thanks, Puppy!
There is death in this story, but NOT of a major character. I figure I can kill the characters I create if I want.
This takes place after Sentinel Too. Blair was only damp. He is now back at home in the loft. His friendship with Jim is even stronger than before. All is right with the world. Alex Barnes' fate is not mentioned in this story, but I personally believe she was abducted by the Borg and assimilated to replace their lost drone, Seven of Nine.
Rated PG-13 for violence and mention of sexual assault (NOT graphically depicted, I don't have the stomach for that).
P.B.
Ray Hemphill watched the video screen in front of him with rapt attention. The video of the large cop and the young man with curly hair intrigued him. He'd never have thought the great Detective Jim Ellison would have anything to do with such a throwback to the sixties. The boy was an academic, not one of Ellison's cop or old military cronies. Yet, he was obviously important to the big detective. From the reports Ray had received, as well as the video surveillance, it would seem that the long-haired hippie was closer to Ellison than anyone, even the detective's own brother. That fact had saved Steven Ellison's life and condemned Blair Sandburg to death.
"Ellison, Sandburg, Rafe, Brown, Hartwood: my office, now!" Captain Simon Banks bellowed from his open office door. He had the expression of someone who had to deliver news so bad he didn't want to know it, let alone share it with anyone else. Unfortunately, there was no alternative for him. If the news was to get any better, these men had to be told and start working on the problem.
All the summoned men filed in quickly and took seats at the small conference table in their captain's office. Joel Taggart was already present, having been notified of the news at the same time as Simon. He was seated at one end of the table, with Simon occupying the other. The other four chairs were occupied by detectives Rafe, Brown, Ellison, and Hartwood. Blair had pulled out one of the seats for himself, but Jeff Hartwood had slid into it before Sandburg could occupy it.
Hartwood was relatively new to the department, having graduated at the top of his academy class, but with a sizable chip on his shoulder. He'd hated the anthropologist immediately, thinking he was certainly homosexual, and probably on drugs. After all, his father had taught him that any man with hair like that and earrings had to be both. Jeff just knew Sandburg was a slacker who had somehow conned his way into a cushy consulting job with the department. The hippie freak probably laughed it up with his queer little drug buddies that the cops let him in their station and had no idea what he was really up to away from them. The young officer figured Ellison and the others probably hated having the little creep around as much as he did, but just weren't vocal about it. That was why he couldn't understand the stone cold looks he received when he snagged Sandburg's chair in the office. He just assumed the others would find it as amusing as he did. Suddenly, he realized he was going to have to rethink some things.
"Here, Sandburg, take my seat," Ellison growled, his eyes boring a hole through Hartwood's face. He started to rise when Blair stopped him.
"Don't worry about it, Jim," he replied, more cheerfully than he felt because he could sense the waves of tension flowing from his friends in the conference room. "I'll be more comfortable on the couch anyway."
"You sure, Blair? You could have my chair if you want," Rafe offered.
"No, guys. I'm fine here. See?" he intoned, leaning back into the sofa cushions and bringing his legs up under him. Simon was so annoyed at the display by Hartwood that he didn't even tell Blair to get his feet off the furniture.
Hartwood couldn't believe it. Why were they all so worried about the little runt's comfort? All he'd done was taken a chair away from him. These guys were acting like he was their little brother or something. Even Banks was affected, letting him put his feet on that sofa without so much as a word. Why were they all so protective of a little piece of nothing like Sandburg? He was going to find out. So he settled his six foot frame into his stolen chair and ignored the glares from the other men while he listened to the report.
"On to business, Gentlemen," Banks began. "Raymond Hemphill escaped from custody today while awaiting his arraignment."
"Oh, come on!" Ellison yelled, backed up by a chorus of disbelief from the other assembled members of the group. "We just arrested him. Those guys downstairs in holding couldn't keep him in a cell for forty-eight lousy hours?! I can't believe they let him get out!"
"All right, all right, quiet everyone! Ellison, that means you, too." Simon was standing now, with his palms flat on the table staring at the room full of men. Silence reigned, and he began speaking again. "We have no idea how he got out of holding, or out of the station for that matter. We just know he's nowhere to be found now. He knew we were closing in on him long before we made the arrests so it's possible he had the time to plan his escape well in advance of being caught. Since everyone in this room except Sandburg was on the arresting team, we've been given the responsibility for finding him. I've included Blair in this group because he did help with the research and would have been in on the bust if he hadn't been busy at the university. Now what we have to focus on is getting Hemphill back before it's too late."
"If he's as smart as we've been thinking he is, he's probably already heading out of the country," Hartwood contributed.
"Unfortunately, he's more mean than he is smart; so I'd say he's still hanging around somewhere thinking about revenge," Blair replied, absentmindedly, not noticing that Jeff was glaring at him for contradicting him.
"I tend to agree with Sandburg, here," Banks replied. "I think we have to assume he's still here in Cascade. That means he's our problem until we find him or find out he's decided to pack it in and leave town."
The meeting continued with a few viable suggestions, a plan of attack that included staking out a few of Hemphill's old haunts, and one fuming officer Hartwood. He hated being upstaged by Sandburg, and he was incensed that the others had supported several of his ideas. He obviously had this department conned better than Jeff had believed. The young officer was determined to show that little creep up for the fraud that he was. A detective of Ellison's stature deserved a real partner, and he deserved better than this snow job he was being given by his present so-called partner.
Daryl Banks was walking home from school, his mind riveted to thoughts of an upcoming party and the beautiful fifteen year old girl who had just agreed to be his date. He couldn't believe his luck. He'd had a crush on Rita for months, but hadn't worked up the nerve to ask her out. He had gone to Blair, the babe magnet, for advice on what to do. To his surprise, Blair's advice had been to ask his father. The anthropologist had said that Simon had a handle on the whole how-to-talk-to-women thing, and that it would really make him feel proud if his son asked him for advice. Blair said it would be a great bonding experience, and then began to tell him a story about tribal rites of passage between fathers and sons. Daryl loved to listen to Blair's stories, and was looking forward to his freshman year of college when he could finally take one of his friend's courses. The anthropologist could make the most outwardly boring subjects come to life with his enthusiastic manner and natural exuberance.
It had worked beautifully, too. Daryl had asked his father and, much to his surprise, actually got some great tips from the old man. His father was so pleased that his son had come to him about this that he gave Daryl some extra money to spend on the date. He planned to use the cash to take Rita out to eat before the party, maybe even bring her some flowers before their date. It couldn't hurt to impress her a little. So it was that he was walking along with a silly grin on his face, and his mind on the future, when the van that had been following him came to a stop and opened to allow the exit of two men who grabbed him and dragged him back to their vehicle.
Ginny Brown was loading her bags of groceries into the trunk of her Honda. She was making dinner for her brother Henri that evening. As a cop, he worked long and tiring hours, never taking time to eat good, nutritious meals. He lived on junk food, except for the occasional meal she cooked for him. Ginny was trying to do more of that because she worried about his health. Since their parents had died, she had been taking care of him. Though they were both adults, she was the older and felt it was her responsibility to look out for her baby brother.
She just assumed the van pulling up behind her was about to turn into the parking space next to her. She was wrong. The side door opened and a man stepped out and put a chemically treated cloth over her nose and mouth. Her momentary struggle ended as the drug on the fabric took effect, and her body became limp. Ginny was loaded into the van and transported out of the parking lot, leaving her trunk standing open with only half the groceries loaded and two stunned witnesses sitting in a nearby car.
Pam Hollander was waiting for two of her students to finish giggling and playing around in the bathroom at the Cascade Art Museum. The 5'6" blond had the patience of a saint. She had developed it teaching art to pre-teen sixth graders for the last three years. It served her well when dealing with her fiance, one Detective Mark Rafe. He was forever canceling dates with her at the last minute because of one case or another. Earlier he had called to tell her he couldn't make dinner that evening due to some escaped prisoner he had to help find. If she didn't love him so much, she probably would have dumped him by now for someone with a more reliable schedule. However, he was a truly wonderful man, and he always made it up to her when he could.
She heard a sound behind her and thought the girls had finally decided to come out. She was almost ready to go in and rush them up a bit. Unfortunately, she was mistaken. Pam felt the sharp sting as the butt of the revolver connected with her skull; then she felt nothing. She lost consciousness immediately from the blow to her head and was dragged out the door in front of a crowd of other teachers and students who were kept at bay by a man with a gun.
Glenda Hartwood was coming home from a charity luncheon at the Montblanc Tea Room. She was being honored for her contribution to the new oncology wing at Cascade General Hospital. She didn't enjoy being the recipient of all that attention. Her husband had been the one who liked to be recognized for everything he did. He had been a hard and unfeeling man who had believed that appearances were everything. Jeffery Hartwood, Sr. had always made sure that everyone thought he was a generous man with a good soul. In truth, he'd been a bigot and an abuser who had managed, despite his wife's attempts to thwart him, to infect their son, Jeff, Jr., with the same darkness in his personality. That wasn't a good quality in a police officer, and she knew it would be her son's eventual undoing.
She parked her car and exited, heading toward the walkway to the house. She never made it because of the man who approached her from behind with a gun, the barrel of which was pressed against her back. She wanted to struggle, but thought better of it and followed his instructions to climb into the awaiting van.
J. J. Taggart was practicing riding his new bike. The five year old son of Detective Joel Taggart, Sr. had gotten his new prize for his birthday the week before. He was doing beautifully, and his mother, who had been dutifully watching from the front porch of their home, turned away for a moment when her daughter asked for an opinion about a science project gone awry. In that moment, two men opened the door of a van that had been parked on the street for several minutes. They ran over to the child on the bike and snatched him up. As he screamed, his mother turned and saw him being loaded into the van. She tried to stop them, but they were gone before she could reach the street. Being a cop's wife hadn't left her ignorant, however, and she stepped into the street behind the speeding vehicle to get the license number before she called her husband frantically.
Blair Sandburg sat in his office contemplating the importance of the tests in front of him in the overall scheme of things in his life. He hated having to leave Jim while they were trying to get Hemphill back behind bars, but he absolutely had to get those grades in by the time the Anthropology Department's office closed, or he was in deep trouble. It was his own fault. If he had just given an objective mid-term exam, he would have been finished already. But no, he had to give an essay test to see if they were really absorbing the material or just memorizing facts. Sometimes he hated himself for being so dedicated to his teaching, but then he reminded himself it was worth it every time one of his students came to him saying he or she had decided on a career in Anthropology because of the great job Blair did teaching it. That had happened so many times, he was quickly gaining a reputation as the "Pied Piper" of the Anthropology Department. He smiled when he thought about that. Then he started to work on grading those tests. The sooner he finished, the sooner he'd be back by Jim's side where he belonged.
After he finally completed the grading and turned the grades in at the office, he started walking toward his car. He never made it. A chloroform-laden rag was placed over his face causing him to inhale the stench and pass out cold. He was in the van and out of the parking lot before the student who witnessed the incident could get to a phone.
The department gave new meaning to the word chaos. Reports started coming in simultaneously about several men in vans abducting people out in public. When it was discovered that the abductees were all family or loved ones of police officers, a panic went through the station, with officers stopping what they were doing to phone relatives and friends in an effort to make sure they were still all right, and to tell them to go somewhere safe and get behind locked doors.
After all the reports had come in, it was obvious that only the members of the Hemphill task force were affected. Simon was beside himself with worry. Taggart was in shock. Rafe and Brown were trying to calm and support each other. Hartwood was completely stoic, and Jim Ellison was beyond enraged. He attacked the case of his missing guide like his spirit animal might attack a small jungle beast of prey. He would find his partner and rip limb from limb the man who had taken him.
Jim's first stop was the faculty parking lot at the University. He got nothing from the scene except a whiff of chloroform and a monster headache. When his cell phone rang, he expected the worst, and was relieved when Simon told him to return to the station. The kidnappers had called and said to assemble the officers whose loved ones had been abducted. They could expect another phone call in twenty minutes.
Ray Hemphill stood in the room with his captives and looked them over. One was already gone from the group, being prepared for the phone call Ray was about to make. The others were huddled together, either crying or comforting. Sandburg seemed to be in charge of the little band of hostages. He was trying to calm the others, telling them their families would come for them soon. Banks' and Taggart's children were holding on to him as though he could keep them safe from all harm. Hemphill knew differently. He had plans that didn't include safety for any of them. He would get his retribution for the collapse of his drug smuggling empire, and he would get one final shipment delivered while the police were busy looking for their family members. It was all working out exactly as he'd planned. Now, he had a phone call to make. He left them to wonder when they'd be rescued.
The second call came in precisely twenty minutes after the first, just as promised. At least Hemphill was punctual. He gave the officers a riddle and told them it would lead them to one of the hostages. He allowed them to believe that if they figured it out quickly there was still a chance to save her. In truth, she was already dead when he made the call.
The riddle had been too simple. It led them directly to the old oil refinery just outside of town. They assumed it was a trap, so they went in carefully. There was no trap, only Pam Hollander's badly beaten corpse propped up against a stack of empty oil drums. She had obviously been raped and tortured before her death. Rafe fell to his knees in front of her body and began to shake with the force of his shuddering sobs. He reached forward and pulled her lifeless body into his arms, rocking her and muttering tender words of love, while his partner, tears streaming down his own face, rested a hand on Rafe's shoulder to offer what comfort he could. Under the gentle prodding of his captain, Rafe soon released his hold on Pam, and moved into the waiting embrace of Henri Brown.
"Let it out, man. Let it go," Brown soothed as he held his partner and patted his back. "You're among friends; you know that."
When the downtrodden officers returned to the station, there was a video tape waiting for them. With reluctance, not knowing what horrors might be depicted on it, they inserted it into the VCR and started the tape. The opening shot was a room with five familiar faces in it, all looking terrified to be there. Then Ray Hemphill entered the picture and began to speak.
"Well, hello, Gentlemen. By now you've found my little present at the refinery. Did you like it? Detective Rafe, I'm particularly interested in your opinion." He paused to chuckle. Rafe sat down at the conference table and laid his head on the cool surface to avoid screaming. Hemphill continued his taunt. "Now the rest of these charming folks will be following Ms. Hollander very soon. They will all suffer the same fate she did. I want the rest of you to think about that as the hours drag on. You know what happened to her by now, so you understand what your loved ones have to look forward to. I don't want to spoil the surprise, so I'm not telling them just yet." He smiled viciously at the camera, then walked over to Blair, who had little J. J. Taggart in his lap and Daryl Banks curled up at his side.
"Ellison, your friend Mr. Sandburg here has been filling their heads with the idea that you all will be coming to the rescue any time now. I don't care for his optimistic attitude. That's why he's next."
"Not while I'm still breathing," Jim snarled at the man on the video screen.
"Well, I'll say farewell until later." The screen went black.
"Simon, I need everybody out of here except you and me," Jim declared. "And I want to watch that tape one more time." He knew he had seen his guide's lips moving, but he had wanted to listen with normal hearing first, then go deeper when he could listen in private, with no distractions.
Simon shooed everyone out and started the tape again. He placed a hand on Jim's back and rubbed lightly as Sandburg had instructed him to do. Blair had explained that Jim needed stimulation of another sense when he focused in on one, to keep him from zoning.
"I got it!" Jim exclaimed after a few moments. "Sandburg says they're at the railroad switching yards. He says he can see and hear the trains outside the window of the building where they're being held. It's a small wooden structure, about fifteen feet square. The trains can be seen out the window on the north side. We got him!"
"Let's get the others and go!" Simon was ecstatic. He was going to save his son. He only hoped they got there in time to save the person whose quick thinking made it possible to find them. Blair was supposed to be next, but how long would Hemphill wait before starting on him?
Cops surrounded the rail yards. They were hidden all over the place, waiting for the order to move in for the capture. Jim was training his hearing on each of the small buildings on the south side of the yards. He was trying to figure out which building the hostages were in. He had already pinpointed Hemphill and his accomplices, but he wanted to make sure there weren't any guards in with the hostages before the police came barreling in for the arrests.
He finally found the precious voice for which he'd been searching. "Listen to me, People. They will be coming to get us. I know it. Now Hemphill and his cronies may come to get me, but it's important that you remember, even after I'm gone, that they will come to rescue you. Now Daryl, I'm putting you in charge of J. J. here. You've done some baby sitting for him before. This is just another one of those times. His father is going to be here soon to get him, just like your dad will be here for you. It's gonna be okay. Now, I don't want anybody getting upset and going to pieces when they come to get me." Blair's voice was a lot firmer and calmer than he felt. He was going to die before Jim could get to him. He knew the guilt would eat at his friend's soul, and he wanted to pass on a message to help assuage some of it.
"Ginny, would you do me a favor, please?" At her nod, he continued. "When they get here, tell Jim I know he tried to make it in time. I know he did everything humanly possible, and I appreciate it. Also tell him I said he's the brother I always wished for, and I love him. You got all that?" he asked with a smile. As she nodded tearfully, the door behind Blair opened, and he closed his eyes expecting the worst.
"Yeah, Chief, I got all that." Blair's eyes popped open and his head snapped around to look at the figure standing in the doorway, actually being shoved through the doorway by several officers anxious to see their family members.
"Jim!" Blair yelped, jumping up to plow into his friend's open arms. They hugged fiercely for a moment, then separated. "Did you get Hemphill?"
"Yep, Chief. Once we realized the hostages were in a separate building from the kidnappers, it was simple. We just waltzed right in and caught 'em totally off guard. They couldn't even get to their guns in time."
"All right!" Sandburg enthused. Then his face turned grave. "What happened to Pam, Jim? And how's Rafe?" Impossibly blue eyes stared up at the big detective, and his heart rejoiced that there was still life behind them. However, he was also saddened by the senseless death of a beautiful young woman. He knew his partner would feel the sting of the loss sharply because he was such a compassionate individual. It was also so very like him to dismiss his own trauma to think of someone else. Jim hated to tell Blair what had happened to her, but knew Blair needed to hear it, so he told him the awful truth.
The funeral had been a somber occasion, but many of Cascade's finest had come out to show their support for Rafe as he buried his fiance. Blair had been of particular comfort to the young detective by encouraging him to reminisce about all the good times he and Pam had enjoyed and what a special person she was. Sandburg and Rafe had talked and shed tears together for several hours before, during, and after the service for Pam. Rafe knew it had done him a lot of good to share those memories and dwell on the positive side of their relationship instead of wallowing in guilt and pain at the fact that she died because of her association with him.
Jim spent the day thinking about what might have been, and didn't stray far from his partner's side. He still needed that tactile reassurance that his friend had survived, and Blair responded to the constant touches and pats with knowing grins and assurances that, yes, he was indeed perfectly healthy and present. After the crowd had abated, and only Jim and Blair remained, safe and snug in their home, the usually reserved Ellison found his voice and let his heart be heard.
"Chief, I have something I want to say." He cleared his throat, delaying the inevitable. "You know I'm not one for expressing my feelings, but I wanted you to know," he paused and looked his friend in the eye, "that I'm really glad you're my partner." Clearing his throat again, "And I love you, too."
Blair beamed at the detective, knowing what it took for Jim Ellison to say those words aloud. It was one thing to talk about brotherhood and friendship, expecting the other person to simply understand that love was also there, unspoken. It was another thing entirely to actually voice the emotion. Blair couldn't let such an act of bravery go unrewarded.
"Thank you, Jim. I needed to hear that. I said once that this thing we have is about friendship, but that's not true anymore. Now, it's about family." With that, the partners hugged each other, knowing that no one could ever tear them apart.
The End
Yes, you're wondering why I didn't do more with Hartwood. Well, I'm thinking about doing a sequel wherein we see him again. I just don't have a ghost of a plot, yet.