As far as spoilers go, this story has some major S2 references and a few minor Cypher allusions thrown in for good measure. Other than that, I think you're safe.
Furthermore, this story deals with a series of graphic crimes. The crimes themselves are not outlined in detail, but the nature of them might offend some readers. Just so I warned you.
Another warning--like an anthropologist of our acquaintance, I am not a cop. I'm a graduate student. Meaning I don't know proper police procedure from a hole in the wall. So, if you do, and you find the events leading up to the resolution of this case to be absolutely ridiculous, that's 'cause I'm making them up.
I'm not an anthropologist either. All things pertaining to the Surad'ha culture are entirely the product of my admittedly strange imagination. Any resemblence to any real civilizations is purely coincidental and not meant to offend. All other anthropological tidbits referred to in passing, outside of the Sassanids and Alexander the Great, are also purely made up.
This is my first foray into the world of fan fiction, so I'd welcome any constructive criticism, however negative. I realize that there are more than a few ends not tied up in this story, but there is a sequel in the works, I promise.
Laura
He knew that there had to be one hiding here somewhere. Surely it was impossible to write an entire essay without a few actual facts hidden in it somewhere. If he just kept looking hard enough, he would have to find one eventually. Maybe all of this drivel at the beginning here was only to make the real argument, when it came, look all the more dazzling.
Blair dropped his red pen with a sigh of frustration. Who was he kidding? At this point he'd be overwhelmed by a complete sentence, let alone a rational argument.
Rubbing his temples he looked over at the clock, nearly hidden by all the piles of books strewn around his office.
1:42 am. That couldn't be right. He'd just looked at the clock twenty minutes ago and he'd sworn it was only 11. He looked again. The clock said 1:43. He glared at the pile of essays waiting to be graded, willing them to disappear like the time had. Unfortunately, they didn't seem to want to cooperate.
Geez, he thought, this was supposed to be an easy assignment. A two page discussion on Jenkins' early expeditions into Bolivia. Nothing too flashy. He'd covered Jenkins for two days in class. He figured that, combined with maybe a little library time, should equip his students with plenty of information.
I guess I was forgetting that coming to class and going to the library actually involve effort, Blair thought, staring at the pile of essays again. It still wasn't getting any smaller and now the clock said 1:54. He glared at it again, half-convinced that it was conspiring with his students against him.
He rubbed his eyes fiercely and picked up the red pen again. He needed to get those essays done tonight. Come Friday he would have a fresh batch to grade and he hated those professors who assigned new work before getting the old papers back. Well, he would return these tomorrow, well later today actually.
Feeling a little malicious he allowed the red ink in his pen to flow freely for awhile. It made him feel perversely better. He managed to work through five more papers before the words started swimming again.
2:24. Damn. Jim is going to kill me. I didn't get home last night, either. Sleep sounds so good right now.
Don't be such a wimp, Sandburg. Just because you've seen maybe ten hours of sleep in the last week, half of it at this desk, doesn't mean you get to collapse. Jim hasn't been doing much better with this Neugent case and you don't see him complaining about it. Hell, back in his undergrad days ten hours of sleep in a week would have been excessive. Well, maybe that was a little bit of an exaggeration, but not much.
Time for the caffeine fix, Sandburg. He looked at his miniature coffee maker with gratitude. He poured himself the last dregs out of the pot. Taking a sip, he winced at the flavor. Four hour old coffee definitely didn't go well at this time of the morning. Oh, well, at least the hot plate had kept it reasonably warm.
He was finishing up the last essay with a flourish when the cell phone rang. The sound jolted him out of his seat, sending his thankfully empty coffee cup crashing to the floor.
He grabbed the phone out of his backpack. Probably, Jim, he thought, wondering where the hell I am.
"Yeah?" he said into the phone, not trying to hide his tiredness.
"Sandburg?" Simon's voice came.
Simon? This was too weird. Simon never called his cell, and certainly not in the middle of the night. Unless something had happened...
"What's wrong with Jim?" he demanded.
"Calm down. Jim's all right. I just thought... maybe I shouldn't have called."
"Simon, you must have had a pretty good reason for calling me," Blair said, still a little panicked. Despite his assurances, Simon really had him worried.
He heard Simon's sigh over the phone. "We found another victim." There was an uncomfortable pause. "Jim's not hurt, but I think maybe you should get down here."
Blair stood up, all thoughts of incoherent essays and acid coffee flying from his head. "I'll be there in ten."
Simon watched as the old Volvo swerved through the parked police vehicles to pull up right next to his own car. The door swung open and Sandburg tumbled out. The kid rushed over, stumbling a little.
"What's going on, Simon?" No rush of words this time. Sandburg could be disconcertingly direct sometimes.
"We found another of Neugent's victims tonight. We got a tip that he'd be down here at the docks. We got down here and Jim could hear them." He paused again.
Sandburg looked up at him, his wide blue eyes holding just a little too much understanding. "He could hear what Neugent was doing, couldn't he? What he was doing to that girl. And now he blames himself."
Simon nodded. "Probably. Neugent knew we were here somehow, and escaped into the sewers before finishing with the girl. The paramedics said she'll probably be okay. He hadn't really started on her yet. Jim tried to follow Neugent, but he escaped into the sewer and I guess you probably know how that went."
Sandburg nodded, that seriousness not leaving his face. "There were too many things for him to filter through to focus on Neugent."
Simon nodded again. "I thought he was going to zone on me, but he didn't. Just looked murderously angry for a moment and then stalked back over to the crime scene. He's been going over it with such intensity that I thought maybe you should come down. I probably am over- reacting. Sorry for bringing you down here at this hour."
Sandburg patted him on the arm. Simon supposed he should have been surprised, but wasn't. "You did the right thing, Simon," the kid said, and smiled at him. Not the usual brilliant grin, something softer.
Simon felt absurdly grateful. To hide it he pushed off the hand on his arm. "Don't make me regret it, Sandburg." The kid's smile became a little wider and he bounced over to find his partner.
Simon watched him go over. Ellison was stalking around like he had been for the last hour, looking for clues. His face, normally so hard to read, was a study in anger and guilt. Sandburg's bouncing stopped as soon as he could see the crime scene.
Damn, maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all, Simon thought, looking as the light concern on the kid's face was replaced by anger, grief and something else Simon didn't recognize. He knew how Sandburg felt about these things. Hell, this one had been bad even for himself, and he thought he'd seen them all. Neugent used his victims in some sort of bizarre ritual sacrifice. A couple of cops, some not so very inexperienced, had been openly sick at the sight of it. Damn, Simon thought again. Jim told me to keep the kid out of this. Even if the girl had been taken away, there were still all those symbols drawn in blood and, even worse, little bits of past victims scattered around the circle as a sort of emphasis. Sandburg probably even recognizes those symbols. What was I thinking? Simon berated himself.
But it looked like it was going to be all right. For a minute there, Sandburg looked like he was ready to bolt. Probably would have too, if he hadn't spotted Jim pounding his fist into a light post. All of a sudden, the sick color in Sandburg's face disappeared completely. The new expression, filled with grief, understanding and a peculiar form of wisdom, made him seem decades older. He walked over to his raging partner and laid a hand on his arm. Ellison looked like he might punch him for a second, but only for a second. Sandburg started talking lowly and the anger left Jim's face. Without Jim's Sentinel senses, Simon couldn't hear what the kid was saying, but he could tell it was working. Jim nodded once, looking only tired and a little grief stricken. He tried to move back over to where the symbols were drawn on the ground, but Sandburg interposed himself in front of him, still wearing that strange, old, gentle expression. Ellison nodded again and Blair continued talking.
They finally went back over to the crime scene, empty of the forensics people by now. The kid laid a hand back on Jim's shoulder and the two of them went over Neugent's gruesome message. Simon didn't know how Sandburg did it, but he didn't flinch, even when they came to the child's severed hand. He just kept talking and squeezed Jim's shoulder slightly. After a while he pulled Ellison from the scene and walked him to his truck. Simon was surprised when his detective got in the passenger side.
Sandburg said one last thing to him, getting one more nod, before walking back over to Simon.
"He's all right now," he said. After having seen Ellison's mood earlier, Simon would never have believed it, but coming from Sandburg it sounded so undeniable. I'm always underestimating the kid, Simon thought. Jim's always lecturing him about his emotions, but he's the one in control this time. Looking into the Sandburg's eyes, he realized that that maybe wasn't quite true. He looked like he was drowning a little.
"Sandburg, if this is too much for you..."
There was that damn little smile again. Sandburg shook his head, causing a few stray chestnut curls to fall into his face. "It's O.K., Simon. We are going home now, anyway. Have someone take my car over to the station, would you?"
Simon took the keys. "That's assuming it will start."
Blair laughed. "Good point," he said. Simon watched as he strolled over to the vehicle in question and hauled that two-hundred pound book bag of his out of the passenger side before going back to the truck. He slipped easily into the driver's seat and started the truck. With one more pat on Jim's arm, he pulled away.
Simon shook his head. Feeling a little absurd he gave the keys of his own car to another officer and squeezed himself into the Volvo. It was a tight fit, to say the least. Praying to whoever would listen, he turned the keys. The car, much to his surprise, started right up. Still not quite believing he was actually doing this, he drove the old car over to the station himself.
Blair still had a pile of work to do at his office, but he didn't want to leave Jim alone. He was looking so, well, lost. He knew that most people, even their friends at the station, just thought of Jim Ellison as some sort of super cop. Hell, even Jim believed that emotions had no place at a crime scene. But Blair knew that not even Jim could always "check his emotions at the door". You just didn't get to be as good of a detective as Jim was without caring about the victims. And this case...
Stop it, Sandburg. Wondering about where all those body parts came from isn't doing Jim any good right now. He's right, you are too emotional for this work. If you want to be any help to Jim, you can't be losing your lunch every time you see something like this. Jim isn't falling apart. He's just seen a little too much today. Probably heard too much, too. I can't imagine what listening to that psycho must have been like.
Jim obligingly got himself out of the truck and into the elevator, for which Blair was grateful. The big guy looked so very tired, he'd been afraid he was going to have to drag him up there himself. Something he'd done once or twice before, but not an experience to be repeated if unnecessary. Some sleep will do Jim good. Simon said he could come in late tomorrow. Blair had told him that, but he didn't know how much Jim was listening. Simon said he'd been on stake-out until midnight last night, which probably meant Jim hadn't gotten more than five or six hours of sleep.
Damn it, Blair thought, I should have known that. He knew Jim had only gotten a few hours of sleep the night before that, too. He'd stayed home to finish up his paper for Professor Richardson's class and hadn't heard Jim come in until around 2. Blair had heard him tossing and turning for another hour before he went to bed himself. I'm supposed to keep track of things like this, Blair berated himself. The only reason Simon let's me around is because of it. I should have gone out with him tonight. Jim's safety is more important than these stupid essays. He grinned slightly at himself despite the trend his thoughts had taken. I'm sure my students would agree.
Well, at least I thought to bring the things along, he thought, hefting his backpack more firmly over one shoulder while guiding a still silent Jim from the elevator to the door. Keys jangling, he managed to open the door.
He looked out the window at the lightening sky. It must be six o'clock already, Blair thought.
He looked up at Jim. "Why don't you go to bed, man. I know you must be tired."
Jim finally looked at him and nodded. He even managed a half-smile. "Sounds like a good idea, Chief. I think I'll take a shower first, though."
Blair nodded, understanding where the thought came from. He knew it would probably take a dozen showers to get the feeling of that bloody scene from his head. All of a sudden, the gory picture flashed back into his head. Something about it seemed familiar, but what? Think, Sandburg. It wasn't the standard pentagram you found at scenes like this. No, it looked older, more authentic. He just knew he had seen something like that before. His brain seemed far too fuzzy to connect with it, though. He shook his head, knowing it was useless to try and remember right now. When he met up with Jim at the station in the afternoon, he'd take a look at the crime photos. Jim hadn't allowed him to see them before, but he thought maybe the detective would be too distracted now to notice if he took a quick look at them.
He heard the shower turn off. Maybe he should take one himself. Right now that sounded even better than sleep. Instead of doing either, though, he plopped his backpack onto the table and pulled out the detested essays. He'd made comments on all of them, thank god, but he liked to wait to put the final grade on each paper until he'd read them all. Well, that shouldn't take more than an hour or so. By that time the buses would have started their routes and he could catch one back to his office. And at least he could make himself a pot of decent coffee.
Jim woke up, not remembering having gone to bed. Rolling over, he spied his electric clock. 10:07. Well, Sandburg did say that I could sleep in today. About twelve times. I probably don't have to be at the station until after lunch.
He raised his hearing a little bit to see if the kid happened to be around, but the loft was silent. There was a smell, though. If he didn't know better, he would swear...
He was on his feet and half-way down the stairs before he even realized he was out of bed. There--on the counter in the kitchen--a white pastry bag with a yellow post-it note hung haphazardly on it.
I didn't think you'd be up in time for a real breakfast, so I decided that maybe I could indulge you for one day. Just don't blame me if you keel over from a heart attack next month. I think I told you this last night, but Simon says take it easy today. I'll be over at the station this afternoon after my class. See you then, Blair.
Jim smiled and opened up the bag to reveal four cream filled doughnuts with chocolate frosting. The kid had really gone over board this time. He ate the doughnuts one by one, savoring each sweet bite as only he could.
Geez, I must really have scared the kid last night for him to go all out like this.
With that thought, the sugary sweetness in his mouth suddenly became disgusting. He almost thought he would be sick. All of a sudden he was trapped back at that scene, just as he had been last night.
He could hear the girl screaming, screaming.
Those screams still echoed. He'd followed the screams, begging them to continue, if only because they meant the girl was still alive. He came to the crime scene only to find the girl still shrieking. He caught sight of a figure, cloaked in black, fleeing into the distance. Sprinting after, he nearly managed to catch up when the guy disappeared into the sewers. Running blindly in pursuit, the sentinel had nearly become overwhelmed the minute he entered. A thousand sights and smells assaulted his wide open senses and he'd nearly lost it. Only Simon's hand shaking his shoulder brought him back. By that time, it was too late, the killer was gone. They'd sent a couple of men in after, but he was gone.
Leaving Jim to return to the girl. The paramedics were there, thank god, and they'd gotten her quiet. Most of her wounds were superficial, and the medics didn't think she was in serious physical trauma. The psychological trauma would probably be devastating.
If only I'd gotten there sooner, Jim thought for what was probably the thousandth time. One look at that bloody symbol with its morbid embellishments and he'd nearly zoned again. The rage and guilt inside of him hadn't let him though. And so he paced back and forth, too unstable to focus on anything useful. He barely remembered punching the light post. He looked at his hand, almost surprised by the bruises he found there.
All he remembered after that was Blair being there. Blair talking to him, telling him to block it all out. Telling him it was O.K., that they'd get the killer. He followed the kid's voice like he always did, and the anger left him, allowing him to function again. He hadn't relished the thought of going over that crime scene again, but with Blair there, he knew he'd do a better job. And he needed to do it if they were to catch the killer.
Blair pulled another trick from his seemingly endless supply and managed to make the process not so horrific as it might have been. Speaking in that low, hypnotic tone he always used whenever Jim was too frustrated or tired to work properly, he'd guided the sentinel through the crime scene. The voice told him to look only for clues, not to look at the horrible things the killer had done. And so that is what he did. And so now, although he knew they'd gone over every bit of that pier, he couldn't clearly remember specific details outside of those that were directly relevant to finding Neugent. He remembered the odd smell of spice clearly, for instance, but couldn't remember the exact coppery tang of old blood or the reek from the little souvenirs the killer had left from his former victims.
He wondered suddenly why Sandburg had been at the crime scene at all. Simon must have called him. He supposed he should be angry with the captain for dragging his partner out of his bed in the middle of the night to a crime scene he had no business seeing, but he couldn't work up the proper irritation. It had been too obvious how much he had needed Blair there. If he hadn't shown up, the sentinel would have missed at least half a dozen clues. A couple things Blair had turned up on his own, without the help of Jim's senses. Like that odd greenish spot of mud with the imprint of a strange shoe. Jim still didn't know how he missed that one.
The phone jangled all of a sudden, causing Jim to wince. He'd forgotten to turn down his hearing. Grabbing the phone before it could cause a full blown migraine, he barked his name into it.
"I guess I did call too early." It was Simon.
Jim relaxed. "Sorry, captain."
"No, Jim, it's all right. We all had a long night last night. I know you could probably use a little more time this morning, but I wanted to tell you that Neugent's victim woke up this morning. She's in a bit of shock, but willing to talk. I sent Henri and Rafe over, but..." There was a significant pause and then a sigh. "I know I am going to regret this, but do you think you could maybe find Sandburg and see if he'd be willing to talk to her, too? For some reason, people seem to open up to him."
Jim had to smile at the police captain's tone. "Sorry, captain, Sandburg has a class this morning. I think he is planning on showing up at the station later on, though."
"Oh, well, it was just a thought. Probably a bad one. You coming over now?"
"Yes, sir. I should be there within the hour."
"Good. Brown and Rafe should be back with the girl's statement by then."
"Very good, sir. I will see you then." Jim hung up the phone and hurried to get ready for work. At least this late in the morning there was plenty of hot water.
He pulled his truck into the station garage and was surprised to see Sandburg's car already parked there. Had Simon tracked the kid down after all?
He wandered into the bullpen and Simon called him into his office. There was no sign of Blair anywhere.
"Sandburg's not here, if that is what you are wondering," Simon said, apparently noticing his confused expression. "He asked me to have his car brought over here last night."
Jim nodded, a little embarrassed. He had forgotten that Blair had driven home last night.
"Unfortunately, the girl didn't have much new information to give us. She was walking to her apartment after a night of studying at the library and said she was grabbed and shoved into an old van. She said she couldn't exactly tell the color because it was dark, but thought it was blue. The guy who grabbed her hit her over the head, and the next thing she knew, she was dressed in that white robe and he was holding the knife. Her wounds aren't too bad, all things considered. I think most of those screams you heard were from fear."
Jim nodded, feeling a little relieved.
Simon's face took on a pained expression. "I still have the feeling I am going to regret this, but I think maybe it wouldn't hurt to have Sandburg talk to her after he shows up. I was thinking maybe he could use one of those tricks he uses when he's trying to get you to remember things."
"I'm not sure how well it would work on someone who isn't a sentinel, sir, but I suppose it couldn't hurt. Are you sure the girl is up to another interview, though? Some of those memories might be too painful to remember right now."
Simon shook his head and a slow smile spread across his broad face. "No, that girl is a fighter. She really wants to get the guy who did this to her. I'm not saying it won't be hard, but I think she's willing to do just about anything if it will help us out. Even if it means facing Sandburg."
Jim couldn't hide his grin this time. "I'll pick him up around one and take him over, then."
Simon glared at his best detective's glib tone and shooed him out of his office.
Blair wondered why someone was using a jackhammer outside of his office. He really wished they would stop. He supposed he should get up and ask them to, but somehow he couldn't seem to move. His neck felt awfully stiff and his face was pressing against something very cold and hard. They seemed to be shouting now. This was really too much. How was a guy supposed to get any work done?
A hand grabbed his shoulder and roughly shook him. With a start he opened his eyes and sat up in his chair with enough force to crack his head off the wall behind him. Ouch. He blinked a little blearily. Oh, man, he'd fallen asleep at his desk again.
"Mr. Sandburg. Mr. Sandburg, are you all right?"
Blair turned his head and found one of his students standing there beside him.
"Oh, hi, Keiko," he said a little sheepishly. Having one of his students find him sleeping at his desk was definitely not a good thing for his image.
The girl looked a little hesitant herself. "I'm sorry to bother you, Mr. Sandburg. You look pretty tired. I wanted to talk to you about my essay, but I could wait until mid-terms are over."
"Oh, no, Keiko, that's O.K. Sleeping here probably isn't the best idea, anyway. I seem to remember that you did pretty well on that essay, though." He thought she had, anyway.
Keiko blushed a little and pulled her essay from a red folder from her pack. "Well, I guess I did O.K., but I wasn't really sure about the significance of Jenkins' findings at Tolomeo and I wondered if you could maybe clear things up."
Blair brightened a little. A sincere interest in the subject matter, who would have thought? Finally, a student who didn't use office hours as an opportunity to moan about their grade. He spent the next half hour or so expounding on the importance of Tolomeo in the larger body of Jenkins' findings. The amazing thing was, the more he talked, the more interested she seemed. How often did that happen?
"Umm, Mr. Sandburg?" Keiko said, glancing at her watch. "I hate to cut this short, but I have a class at one and I really need to get going. I really enjoyed this though. Do you think maybe we could discuss it more on Friday after class?"
Blair favored her with one of his widest grins. "Sure thing, Keiko."
Keiko smiled a little more hesitantly and then frowned a bit. "You really do look tired, Mr. Sandburg. Are you O.K.?"
Blair nodded. "I just stayed up a little late grading those papers. I guess it serves me right for assigning them, though."
Keiko grinned this time. "I think I know something that might help," she said. "It always helps me when I'm too tired to focus." With that she pulled a Scooby Doo thermos from her backpack. "I've had it since kindergarten," she said, blushing a little. She unscrewed the cap and poured out a little of the contents into it.
Blair took it a little hesitantly. It looked like some kind of juice. Well, the girl was only trying to help and he did need something to wash the flavor of burnt coffee from his mouth. He smelled the liquid before tasting it. The aroma, fruity and spicy, surprised him. Well, maybe it wouldn't hurt to take a little, after all. He took a sip, even further surprised by the drink's flavor.
It tasted like summer. Like strawberries and tangerines and nutmeg and cloves, flavors that shouldn't go together, but somehow did. It was cool and flavorful and drove a lot of the fog from his head. He could almost forget he hadn't slept in two days.
Keiko smiled, looking pleased with herself. "Good, isn't it? I noticed you shop at the natural stores near campus a lot, so I thought you might like it. They sell it over at the store on Third and Main, if you'd like some. Just tell them I sent you and they'll know what I mean. It really helps me get through those long study nights. Martha, the owner, says it is a lot better for you than caffeine and it works a lot better, too."
Blair handed her the cup back, trying to think of what store she meant. Oh, yeah, he knew Martha. She'd been in the business for years. No danger buying things from her. Maybe he should look her up on the way to the station. There was a bus station over there where he could catch a ride downtown.
"Hey, thanks, Keiko," he said, smiling at the tiny undergraduate again.
She smiled in return, a more genuine expression this time. "I'll see you on Friday then, Mr. Sandburg." She packed up her things and left, with one last shy smile. Blair began to pack up his own things to go to the station, feeling better than he had in about a week. He'd better hurry, though, if he wanted to stop over at Martha's before going over to the station. Jim should be there by now and Blair didn't like the thought of him working alone. He didn't want a repeat of last night.
That thought was sufficient to banish most of his good mood. Damnit, he should have been there. What good was he if he wasn't there when Jim needed him most? Well, I'll be there for the rest of the case. We just have to find this guy.
He slung his overloaded pack over his shoulder, stifling a groan. Those books he needed to write that paper for Professor Steinbrunner's class sure were heavy. He stuffed his office keys into his pocket and headed for the door. Swinging it open, he was surprised to find Jim there.
"Hey, man, has something come up?" he said.
Jim shook his head. "I noticed your car over at the station this morning and figured you could use a lift."
Blair suppressed a wave of guilt. Jim didn't have time to be carting him around. "Oh, man, you didn't have to come. I was going to just catch the bus."
Jim looked a little surprised. "No problem, Chief. Simon wants us at the hospital, anyway. He seems to think you could help the victim remember a few things."
Blair bounced a little in surprise. Simon thought that? Must be sleep deprivation talking.
"Well, I guess I could give it a try." Blair gave Jim a searching look as they strode down the hall. He looked a lot better than last night, but there was still a little tension left. "You have lunch man? Sometimes you forget that oversized body needs food."
Jim raised his eyebrows in response. "Oversized?" He shook his head. "Yeah, me and Simon grabbed a burger. I can't say I was too hungry after that feast I had for breakfast."
Blair grinned. He could see the doughnuts had done their work. "You're welcome man."
Jim grinned in return and cuffed him on the back of his head.
Jim watched his partner waltz to the car and throw his backpack in before entering himself. The spring in the younger man's step made him feel a little old. Sometimes his irrepressible partner's seemingly limitless energy supply could really be annoying. He must have gotten more sleep last night than I thought.
"Are we going over to Cascade General right away?" Blair asked, pulling a paper from his backpack. Jim gave it a quick scan while turning the ignition. Family dynamic among the Kuatipl and the role of the matriarch.
"Interesting reading you've got there, Chief," Jim said, shaking his head. "And yeah, we are going to the hospital directly."
Blair nodded and pushed his glasses more firmly on his nose.
Jim watched in mild amazement as his partner managed to read and take notes on his article on the drive to the hospital. If he had tried anything like that, it would have given him a monster headache.
Blair looked up in mild surprise himself as the truck came to a stop in the hospital parking lot. "Sorry I'm not being better company today, man. I just really need to get some research done."
Jim laughed a little and shook his head. "No problem, buddy."
The girl at the desk directed them to a room on the third floor. Outside the door, a young uniformed officer stood guard.
"Do they think Neugent might come back for her?" Blair asked, eyeing the guard.
"We don't know if he will or not. None of his victims have ever lived before. We just thought it might be better not to take chances."
"Right." Blair said. He nodded hello to the officer and stepped into the hospital room, Jim on his heels.
"Oh, man," Blair whispered. "Kelly."
Jim started slightly. "You know her?"
Sandburg nodded a little. "I had her in my Anthro 101 class a few semesters ago. She was one of my better students."
At the sound of their voices the still figure on the bed stirred a little and opened her wide gray eyes. Jim was surprised at how good she looked, all things considered. There was a faint bruise on the right side of her face that was mostly obscured by the blonde hair hanging over it and her left arm had a long bandage on the inner side, but those were the only obvious injuries.
"Mr. Sandburg?" she asked, sounding a little frightened.
Blair smiled. It was the smile he usually reserved for children. "Yes, Kelly, it's me."
"What are you doing here?" she asked, still looking a little lost.
Blair smiled again and took her right hand where it lay on the white sheet. "I do some research with the police, remember, Kelly?" He gestured at Jim with his free hand. "This is the man I ride along with, Detective Jim Ellison. We thought maybe you wouldn't mind answering a few questions. If you are too tired, though, we will come back later."
Kelly gripped Blair's hand harder. "I already told the other two detectives what I could remember. I'm so sorry, but I don't think I can remember anything more."
Blair smiled a third time and sat in the chair beside the girl's bed without releasing her hand. Not that she probably would let go, anyway, Jim thought.
"Would you like to try?" Blair asked, his tone very soft. "If it is too much for you, we certainly understand. I could just sit here with you for a while, if you'd like."
"No." The force in the girl's words surprised Jim. "I want to get the guy who did this. I heard about him on the news a few days ago. He's going after little kids, too, isn't he?"
"We'll get him, Kelly. I promise you." Blair said, his voice low and serious.
I promise you, too, Jim thought.
"All right, Kelly," Blair said. "I want you to close your eyes and relax. Why don't we start early last night, say around eight o'clock. Where were you then?"
Kelly swallowed and nodded before laying back on the pillows again and closing her eyes. "I was at dinner with my friend Jen. We went over to that new pizza place on campus."
"Hey, I've been meaning to try that," Blair said. "How was it?"
A hesitant smile took hold of Kelly's lips. "It was pretty good. Stay away from the anchovies, though."
"You bet," Blair said. "I heard they have some totally cool artwork by a local artist."
"Oh, yeah," Kelly said, brightening. "There's a great big mural on the back wall. Jen knows the guy who painted it. He's a poet, too."
Blair rolled his eyes. "Aren't they all?"
Kelly's small smile became a little wider.
"So, where'd you guys go after pizza?" Blair's tone was deliberately casual, as if he were asking about some weekend trip.
"Jen and I decided to go to the library to study. It was quieter there than in the apartment and I have a bunch of tests this week."
"Oh yeah? For what class?" Blair asked.
Jim bit his lower lip, feeling a little frustrated. He knew Sandburg didn't want to hurt the girl, but what did pizza and mid-terms have to do with their case?
Kelly smiled a little more genuinely this time. "Dr. Brown's macro-economics for one. And then there's Dr. Curran's Italian Renaissance Studies class."
"Yeah, I took Curran's class too. Lots of work, I recall."
Kelly nodded again. "We studied for about three hours, but after that I was really tired, you know? So I decided to go home and study more in the morning maybe. I was walking along the path by Sycamore when all of a sudden..." Her voice trailed off and her face became clearly panicked.
"It's all right, Kelly. It's all right. He can't hurt you anymore. You are safe, here with me. Focus on my voice, Kelly. There, that's right. Just focus. You are just an outsider now, you're not in the scene anymore. That man in there can't hurt you, because you are just watching now." Blair's voice was at its softest and most hypnotic. Jim himself almost lapsed into following it.
It seemed to be working, though. Kelly's face lost all traces of fear, though she grasped Blair's hand about three times as tightly.
"I'm here, Kelly, I'm here. Just listen to my voice, remember?" Blair said. "Now, what do you see?"
"I see me, I'm walking down the path. It's a little dark and I am scared a little. I feel a little stupid being frightened."
Blair reached over with his other hand and stroked the back of the girl's hand while retaining his grasp of it.
"There is a man there, now."
"Can you see him clearly?"
Kelly shook her head. "No, he's wearing some kind of robe. Wait! I can see a little bit of his face. He's very pale and has brown hair. I can't see his eyes, though."
Blair smiled although Kelly couldn't see it. "That's great, Kelly. Do you see anything else?"
"Yeah, he's grabbing me now. I fight him, bite his hand. He gets really mad and starts dragging me away. There is a van there. The light shines on it and I can see that it is a Ford. The license plate is from New Jersey, but I can't make out the numbers. He shoves me inside and hits me on the head. I can't see anything more."
Blair patted the girl's hand and continued to stroke it. "You are doing really well, Kelly. Are you still listening to my voice? This next part is going to be hard, but I want you to remember that it isn't you in that scene. You are just watching. You are safe, protected."
She nodded again and relaxed completely. When she continued her voice took on a slight sing-song quality. "I see myself waking up. I'm wearing a white robe. It smells strange, like cinnamon, maybe. The man is there, he has a knife. He starts talking, but I can't understand him. He raises the knife." Her voice stopped.
Blair squeezed her hand. "It is all right, Kelly. You don't have to watch this part. You are still safe. You are right here with me, remember?"
Kelly nodded and relaxed again.
"You can open your eyes now, Kelly," Blair said, smiling at her. She opened her eyes and raised them to meet Blair's.
"Did I remember anything helpful?" she asked.
"Yeah, Kelly, you did really well. We'll get this guy, for sure."
"I'm sorry I didn't remember this morning." She looked angry.
"Hey, you gave us more information on this guy than we've been able to come up with so far," Blair said, stroking her hand again. "You've been a real help. No one has been able to give us any kind of physical description before and we had no idea what kind of car he was driving, other than the fact that it's a van."
The anger left Kelly's face. "I'm glad. I just don't like to think of this guy being out there. I had such terrible dreams." She looked frightened again.
"Of course you did," Blair said. "I want you to remember that you are safe, now, though. If you need me to remind you, I want you to call me, no matter what time it is, O.K.?"
"I think... I think maybe I'd like that," Kelly said, squeezing his hand again. "Will you maybe come see me again?"
Blair grinned. This time it was the patented Sandburg smile. "Of course. I'll even bring you some pizza. I know how much I hate that goo this hospital tries to feed you."
"O.K." Kelly said, smiling.
"It's a date, then," Blair said. He gently disengaged his hand and stood up. Grabbing a piece of paper from his pack he scrawled a few lines on it and laid it on the table beside Kelly's bed.
"There is my office number and cell number. I want you to use them."
"I will," Kelly said, a little more forcefully this time.
"I have to go and help Jim here catch bad guys now," Blair said. "But I'll stop by later."
"I never pictured you playing cop, Mr. Sandburg," she said. "Not after the stories you told about your adventures in that Mexican prison."
Jim raised an eyebrow. Mexican prison?
"Hey, that was just a misunderstanding." Blair pulled on his backpack and turned for the door. "I'll see you later, Kelly."
She nodded, looking a lot more sure of herself than when they came in.
Jim fell in step with his shorter partner as they exited the room. "I must say I'm impressed with your technique, Chief, but I think you could have gotten a little more out of her."
Blair threw him a surprised glance, but shook his head forcefully. "Jim, it's been less than a day since that guy grabbed her. He was going to ritually sacrifice her, man. I couldn't force her to go there right now. I'll talk to her again later, after she learns she can trust me."
"I understand how you feel, but right now the information she has might be the only way to catch this guy. I know you don't want to push her, but how will you feel if this guy strikes again?"
Blair looked up at him again, his eyes a little narrowed. "I'm not hurting that girl anymore, no matter what you say. I can't do that."
Jim sighed. "I've told you about letting your emotions cloud an investigation, Chief."
Blair shook his head again, clearly annoyed this time. "The second I start to push her, she'll panic and I won't get anything useful out of her anyway. So I will have destroyed any trust she has in me for nothing."
Jim nodded, not entirely sure he agreed, but knowing it was pointless to argue. "You ready to head to the station?"
Blair nodded but didn't say anything. The ride downtown was very quiet.
Jim clenched his jaw, but refused to be the one to say anything. The kid just had to learn that sometimes you had to do terrible things if you wanted to get this job done. No one wanted to hurt that girl, but these killings had to stop. Did he want there to be another victim?
The two of them entered the bullpen only to be called into Simon's office.
"Did you talk to Ms. Johnson?" Simon asked, closing the door.
"Yes, but it didn't do us much good. She couldn't tell us anything new," Jim said, trying to keep his voice level.
"Jim, were you even at the same interview?" Blair asked. "She didn't tell us a whole lot, but she did give us a physical description, both of her assailant and of the van. There can't be that many old Ford vans in Cascade with Jersey plates."
"Jim, it sounds like we might be getting somewhere here," Simon said. He turned to Blair. "Do you think she might be able to work with a sketch artist to provide us with a picture?"
Blair thought about that for a while but finally nodded a little hesitantly. "I think so, but not today, Simon. The girl already had to go through two interviews today. I think she'll want me to be there, too. I think she might trust me."
"I can see no point in traumatizing the girl. Can you make it over tomorrow afternoon?"
"Yeah, sure. I don't have class until evening tomorrow, anyway."
"All right. Why don't you go set up something with Maria?"
Blair nodded and went out to find the police artist.
Simon shut the door after him and then turned to glare at his detective. "All right, Jim, you want to tell me what is going on? You've looked ready to murder Sandburg since you walked in the door."
Jim paced back and forth for a moment before answering. "I just think that girl could have told us more if he had just tried a little harder. He didn't even talk to her for more than ten minutes, and half that time he just chatted with her about a local pizza joint."
"Well, he got more in that ten minutes than I was expecting, so I'm not too unhappy. If he didn't want to push the girl, I can see why."
Jim looked up to glare at his captain. "This girl is potentially our only lead, sir. We can't allow Sandburg to play nursemaid here."
"Jim, what the hell are you talking about? What about all of that evidence we've gathered from that scene last night? I'd say we have a little more to go on than this girl's story. Even if she did remember everything clearly, there is no guaranteeing that she saw anything useful."
"I guess that's true, but we'll have no way of knowing that now, will we?"
Simon rocked back a little on his heels. "I know you want to catch this guy, Jim. We all do. But yelling at Sandburg certainly isn't going to help us with the case."
"Since when has that stopped you in the past?" Even without listening to his captain's accelerated heartbeat or looking at Simon's suddenly angry expression, Jim knew those words were a mistake before they even left his mouth.
Simon glared at him. A glare that Blair usually faced, not Jim. "That's about enough, Ellison. I know this case has us all a little tense, but there is a limit to what I find acceptable behavior. Sandburg might put up with this kind of thing, but I won't. Are we clear?"
Jim forced himself to let go of his anger. It wasn't Simon's fault that Sandburg had refused to get anything more out of the witness and the captain certainly deserved more of Jim's respect. "My apologies, sir."
Simon looked at him for a long moment and then nodded his head. "Apology accepted-- so long as it doesn't happen again."
"Understood, sir."
"All right, then go and grab that partner of yours and get some work done. I want you two to go over to the University and see if you can't find more clues along that path the girl said she was taking home."
Jim nodded. He paused a moment in the doorway, but, thinking better of another apology, headed over to his desk instead.
"Come on, Chief, we've got to go check out that path by Sycamore."
Blair hastily shoved some papers in his pack and followed after.
The headache was back. Actually, he didn't know that it had actually left. His head had been throbbing with increasing violence for so long now that he had almost begun to ignore it. That was until he spent a tense half hour bouncing around in a truck with a majorly pissed off sentinel. Blair didn't even know why Jim was so angry. He knew that Jim had wanted him to press Kelly harder, but surely all this rage couldn't be over that.
The truck hit a pot hole. Hard. Blair winced at the pain stabbing behind his eyes. Lord, what he wouldn't give for a cup of decent coffee. He definitely had to stop by Martha's. The only time he'd felt decent all day had been that half hour he'd spent talking with Keiko.
Part of him said that what he really needed was a decent night's rest, preferably in a bed, but he couldn't afford to listen to that right now.
The soft patter of raindrops on the roof of the truck drew his attention out of himself. He looked out of the window to see huge raindrops falling from the sky. Great, it looked like it was going to rain in earnest. This day was turning out just so wonderfully. All he needed now was a stand-off with some gun toting psycho and his day would be complete.
Jim brought the truck to a lurching stop just at the beginning of the path Kelly had described. Blair's head smacked off the head rest and he winced again.
Looking at the pouring rain, he decided to leave his backpack in the truck for once. Repressing a sigh, he pushed open the door of the truck and pushed himself into the downpour. At least he'd thought to wear his rain parka today. With the hood up, he could stay dry even in this rain for at least twenty minutes or so. Jim scowled at the sky and put on his Jags cap.
"Come on, Chief. Unless you've got any objections to this, too?"
Blair decided not to answer that.
Fortunately, the path Kelly took him went through one of the small parks on the outskirts of the Rainier campus. Finding clues here in the soft mud on either side of the path would be easier than looking in some back alley. He followed Jim down the trail, trying to focus on looking for clues but unable to do much with that stabbing pain in his head. He was having enough trouble just walking in a straight line, let alone look for anything useful. He closed his eyes and took a deep calming breath. It actually seemed to clear some of the pain from his head. Come on here, Sandburg, he thought. You need to focus, for Jim. And for Kelly.
He opened his eyes again and stared at the path, determined to ignore the new waves of pain this action brought.
"O.K., Jim, I want you to focus. Kelly said she struggled so there has to be some sign of where she was taken. She said she smelled spice too, so maybe you want to combine your sight with your sense of smell for this one."
Jim nodded and seemed to do as Blair suggested. They wandered down the trail for a bit. Blair tried to keep his words encouraging and soothing, while trying to look for signs himself, but the effort became increasingly difficult. Focus, Sandburg. You've been falling down on the job here a lot lately. If you want to prove to Jim that this partner business isn't something you made up, you can't let such a tiny thing as no sleep get to you.
Focus.
Jim tried to do as Sandburg suggested. He was more used to piggybacking his hearing onto his sight, but theoretically (well in Sandburg theory, anyway) it should work for his other senses just as well. The kid was wandering after him, clearly trying to be encouraging. Jim frowned. Wandering was a good word for it. Sandburg wasn't even walking in a straight line-- more bouncing aimlessly from side to side of the path. If the kid couldn't take this investigation seriously, then why the hell was he here?
Hold on a minute, Ellison. You need to see where all this aggression is coming from. Sure, the kid screwed up this afternoon, but he's clearly trying here.
But it wasn't working. Ordinarily, all it took was a couple of words from Sandburg and his senses obeyed like magic. For some reason, for nearly the first time since their first few days together, it wasn't working that way. They found a place where a struggle clearly had taken place, but his senses couldn't seem to pick up anything at all useful. The only clue they got was found by Sandburg, who spotted a torn piece of black cloth hanging from a branch. Considering the color and the fact that it was stained with blood left little doubt as to where it came from.
Blair smiled. "Kelly must have fought him pretty good. I hope she got a few good hits on this guy."
"I'd say he deserves more than a few hits," Jim said, surprising himself a bit with his sharp tone. To hide his discomfort, he bagged the small scrap of fabric and tucked it into a pocket of his coat. Blair had fallen silent and Jim felt a little guilty. Not an emotion he was particularly fond of. But this was no time for the kid to pout. "Sandburg, if you aren't going to be of any help here you might as well get back into the truck. No sense both of us getting wet."
Something flickered across Blair's face, but he smiled eventually. There was something missing from that expression, but Jim wasn't in the mood to wonder about it. "That's all right, man. I'm already soaked through anyway. Why don't we ignore combining scent with sight and just focus on your sight for now? This rain has probably dampened any odors anyway."
Jim nodded. Now they were getting somewhere. They focused on the area of the struggle and Jim was able to make out the trail where Kelly had been dragged off the path. Blair on his heels, he struggled through the short space of brush between the path and the road. A quick scan of the area found tire tracks and a spot of blood. Jim let out a breath. Finally, they were getting somewhere. The tire tracks led straight down Sycamore street, with no sign of turning around. There was something distinctive about the track pattern, something he couldn't quite put a finger on, but he felt it was important. Well, that was what forensics was for.
"I think this is all we are going to find here today, Chief. Like you said, the rain has washed a lot away, but the tire treads are distinctive enough that they might provide a small lead, anyway. I'll give Simon a call and let him no what we've found. We should be getting out of this rain, anyway."
"No objections here, man."
Jim nodded and cut back over to the path. Blair followed a lot more slowly. Well, if the kid wanted to stay out in the rain longer and freeze, that was his prerogative, but Jim sure as hell wasn't going to wait for him.
Jim swung into the truck, happy to be out of the rain. He managed a quick call to Simon to tell him what they had found before Blair showed up. His partner opened the door and swung into the cab, instantly laying his head back and closing his eyes. Jim started up the truck and headed back over to the station. Thank god it was almost time to go home. He thought he could probably sleep for about a day. Of course, that couldn't happen until this psycho was caught, but Neugent never struck again before at least four days had passed, so he supposed he could afford a decent night's rest. And some food. Definitely that, too.
Kelly felt like she was drowning. There was blood. So much blood. It wasn't all hers. Some of it was old, lukewarm, sluggish and disgusting against her skin. She opened her mouth to scream and was drowning in it. It cut off her voice and she started to choke.
She woke with a start to find herself staring at the hospital ceiling. She closed her eyes and took a few deep breaths. The hospital air was stale and held the faint aroma of bleach, but to her it smelled like a spring garden. She became aware all of a sudden of a strange, scratching sound. It ran for a few seconds and then stopped for a while and then picked up again. It almost sounded like a pen on paper. She turned her head to find Mr. Sandburg sitting beside her bed. He had a pile of books on the table next to him and was bent over a file in his lap. He was wearing his glasses and was chewing on his lower lip a little. Kelly would have died before admitting it, but she loved him like that. She had had such a crush on him back when she was taking his introductory anthropology class. She thought those glasses were so cute. They made him look so young and serious.
She blushed at where her thoughts were taking her. This was her teacher she was thinking about. But it was much better than thinking of drowning in blood. Mr. Sandburg looked up for a moment and spied her staring at him. He smiled, that beautiful, impossibly wide expression she had seen earlier.
"Hey, Kelly. I'm glad to see you're up."
"I'm--I'm glad to see you too, Mr. Sandburg," she offered hesitantly.
"I promised to visit you, didn't I? It's Blair, too, not 'Mr. Sandburg'. If Jim heard you calling me that, he'd die laughing."
"Jim?"
"My friend, the detective. Remember, he was here this morning?"
She nodded. She remembered now. She'd been a little afraid of him. Those eyes of his had seemed very cold. But with Mr. Sandburg--Blair--there she hadn't been too upset. He had promised to protect her.
"Hey, Kelly, I brought you something. You have to swear not to tell the nurses, though, or man, I'll be in a load of trouble."
"You brought me something?" Kelly asked, surprised.
He smiled again. She smiled back. He really did look so cute with those glasses and the curls falling into his face.
"Yeah, I called your roommate. She's worried about you, by the way, and will stop by tomorrow. I was going to bring pizza, but figured you might like something you could keep for a midnight snack. So I went with Jen's suggestion and brought you a cheese pastry from that little French bakery over on Highland Street."
Kelly gasped, really surprised this time. She really did love those cheese pastries. Blair held out a bag and she reached out with her good hand and opened it. There were two cheese pastries in there as well as a cherry one, a chocolate one and an almond one thrown in for good measure. She raised her eyes to find Blair grinning at her. How had he known this was exactly what she needed? No thoughts on that terrible scene last night--that knife--the blood--just a friend bearing snacks.
"Umm, thanks, Blair," she said. She dug out one of the cheese pastries. "I am a little starving."
"Great," Blair said, sitting back. She watched as he took a few gulps from the thermos next to his pile of books.
"Want one?" Kelly asked.
He shook his head, sending chestnut curls flying. "No thanks. Some of us have to watch our figures."
She giggled and ate her pastry. For a while she just laid there, watching him pour over whatever was in that folder, comforted by the silence. She was glad he knew she didn't want to talk. She closed her eyes. It felt so good to lie here. Just lie here, in the blissful silence.
All of a sudden, she was drowning again. The blood was everywhere and this time she couldn't wake up.
"Kelly, Kelly!" There was a voice calling her. A voice she trusted. With a little gasp, she opened her eyes. Blair was standing over her, a worried expression on his face. Much to her horror, she started to cry. After a moment, she felt him sitting next to her on the bed. He carefully wrapped his arms around her and she buried her face into his shirt. Her sobs grew into near shrieks.
"It's all right, Kelly. You are safe. I'm not going to let anyone hurt you. I promise you."
"I'm sorry, so sorry," she gasped between sobs. She couldn't believe she was doing this, but it felt so good. She had been so terrified and no one seemed to understand. The doctors, the nurses, even the police, they all expected her to be strong. She understood. They were just trying to find the killer who had done this to her, but she couldn't do it any longer. She cried for a while more, half-expecting Blair to flee, but he didn't. He just held her and told her to go ahead and cry. He understood. She surprised herself by believing him.
After a while, she was too tired to cry. She just lay against him and let him stroke her hair. Neither of them said anything for a while. Oh, it felt so very restful. He kept the blood away. Instead, there was just the feeling of his warmth leaking through his shirt and the scent of him, so different from blood. She supposed she should be embarrassed. No one had held her like this since she was a little girl. She wasn't, though.
"You work with the police, right?" she asked after a while.
"Yeah, Kelly, I do. Don't know how much you could call what I do work, but sure, I spend a lot of time down at the station." His voice sounded a little surprised, but his hand didn't falter in stroking her hair.
"Promise me that you'll find this guy. I can't--I don't think I can feel really safe until you do." But that was a lie, wasn't it? She felt perfectly safe right now.
"I promise you, Kelly. We'll get this guy for you."
She felt so sleepy. "Promise me," she said again, a little desperately. When he said it, she believed him. The other cops meant well, but she didn't trust them. They didn't make her feel safe, only inadequate.
"I promise," he said again, his voice a little ragged.
She tucked her head beneath his chin, ignoring the pain from the cut on her cheek. "Tell me a story," she said.
She thought she could actually feel him smile. "Sounds good to me, Kelly. Did I ever tell you guys about the time I spent in Venezuela with my friend Crazy Tony?"
She smiled and shook her head a little sleepily. Blair told the best stories. They were always so exotic and full of danger. He knew the most interesting people too. She remembered the day that Navajo friend of his had shown up with the live snake. She'd been terrified until Blair had told them the story of how he'd met both the man and, more amusingly, the snake.
She heard Blair start the story, but she couldn't focus on the words. That was O.K. though. So long as he kept talking. She remembered his words from the morning. He was right. His voice kept her safe. It kept the blood away. It was her lifeline.
Blair stayed with Kelly until the nurses shooed him out several hours later. He hadn't wanted to abandon her, but he knew the nurses had let him have more time than he was really allowed already.
Amber, a nurse he knew quite well from his own trips to the hospital, pulled him from the room around midnight.
"I think you're just what she needed, Blair. The poor thing was scared out of her wits and afraid to show it in case someone would think she was falling apart."
Blair shook his head. "She needed to fall apart. How does anyone expect her to deal with the fear if she has to swallow it all the time? If she wakes up, tell her I'll be back as soon as I can, will you? I will be back with the police artist tomorrow anyway, but I don't just want to visit her on police business."
Amber nodded. "Her parents will be here tomorrow, too. I think that will help. But I definitely think a visit from you will cheer her up. Those pastries sure did the trick."
Blair blushed. He was so sure the nurses hadn't noticed that bag.
She laughed at his embarrassment. "Don't worry, Blair. We all know how much you hate 'hospital goo'. None of us were particularly surprised to find you sneaking food in here."
Blair laughed. He supposed these people knew him better than he liked to admit.
"It's good to see you here for some reason other than getting hit over the head, hon," Amber said. "But you need to leave. Visiting hours ended hours ago."
"Gee, thanks, Amber." Blair grinned to take the edge off his sarcasm.
She rolled her eyes at him, but then looked suddenly serious. "Let me rephrase that. You need to go home. Not to your office or down to the station or one of the thousand other places you are always off to. No offense, honey, but you look terrible. I think if it weren't for the three gallons of coffee you drank, plus whatever is in that mysterious thermos of yours, you would have collapsed hours ago."
Blair threw up his hands in surrender. "Hey, no argument there. I am beat. It's straight home and into bed for me."
"That had better be true, Sandburg," Amber said, obviously trying to look gruff.
He laughed. He wondered just when the nursing staff decided he needed an extra mother or twenty. "Yes, cap'n," he said with a little mock salute.
She giggled and pushed him down the hall. "Home," she ordered again.
He had no great objection. He realized dully that it had been nearly three days since he'd seen his bed, let alone slept in it. Nothing could keep him away now.
He drove home as quickly as his bleary vision would allow. Knowing Jim would be asleep, he crept into the loft as quietly as possible. He paused a minute before going into his room, comforted by the sound of light snoring from the bedroom above. Good, Jim really was asleep. Lord knew the big guy had been exhausted. Blair managed to change into his usual bed gear in what had to be record time and switched his alarm off. Neither he nor Jim really needed to get up at 6 am, he thought.
He dove for the bed and was unconscious before he hit the pillows.
He opened his eyes some indefinable time later, surprised to find it dark in his room. He hadn't slept an entire day, had he? He rolled onto his side focusing his eyes on his glow in the dark clock with an act of will. Five after two. He rolled onto his back with a stifled moan. Come on, stupid brain, go back to sleep. I'm really tired here, man.
He lay there, sure that his overwhelming exhaustion would claim him before too long. It didn't happen, though. He punched his pillow with frustration. He knew he was more than a little wired from all the caffeine he'd consumed in the last week, but surely that couldn't be it. That two hours of sleep he'd managed had barely taken the edge off the pressure threatening to explode his head.
Promise me...
He jumped up, remembering the words. Kelly had looked so small, so injured, when she'd said them. Oh, god, he could barely stand to remember her voice. It had been the sound of a soul begging. He shuddered. He remembered that awful, sickening crime scene. It had haunted his thoughts ever since he'd seen it, never entirely leaving, not even when he was teaching class or debating the finer points of anthropology with his fellow graduate students. Kelly had been there. She'd been a part of it. A little bit of that blood had been hers. Lord, when did I become so insensitive? I should have realized that hours ago.
There was something in that thought, that same elusive tugging that had pulled at his brain since he'd brought Jim home yesterday morning. Something about those symbols. WHAT WAS IT?
He had a sudden flash of the library over at Rainier. Or rather a shelf of books from that library. He knew he'd seen something like those symbols somewhere. He forced himself to look at that mental image of library books again. He focused on a fat red book on the right side of the shelf. There, that was it, but what was it? He could see it so clearly, could remember the weight of it in his hand, smell the musty odor rising from its old, crumbling pages. But what was it?
He lay back in his bed again, trying to convince himself that the morning was plenty soon for him to be dragging his sorry self to the library.
Promise me.
Oh, hell, he wasn't getting any sleep like this anyway. He threw his covers off and dressed as quietly as possible. At least this being midterms, the library was open 24 hours a day. And it certainly wasn't unusual for him to be seen down there in the early hours of the morning.
He yanked his backpack with him into the kitchen. He hated the idea of waking Jim up, but if he was going to function, he needed something to wake him up. He thought about coffee for a moment, but opted to go for the drink he'd picked up at Martha's on his way to the hospital. Martha had known what he wanted immediately and had even mixed him up a bunch to put in his thermos. It had worked even better than he remembered.
Well, here's hoping it works again. Working as quietly as possible, he mixed a bit of the powdered drink into a pitcher of cold water. He tasted a bit. It soothed his headache immediately and relieved at least half of the pressure behind his eyes. He would have to remember to send Keiko a thank you card or maybe a lifelong indentured servitude. This stuff was a miracle in a bottle. He poured the remainder into his thermos and tightly capped it. He checked to make sure his copies of the case file were safely tucked into his backpack and then headed out the door.
Jim woke to the smell of fresh coffee, feeling about a thousand times more human. His migraine was gone and every sound had stopped multiplying itself by a hundred. He pulled himself out of bed and stretched luxuriantly before pulling on his robe. He bounded down the stairs to the familiar sight of his roommate sitting at the kitchen table surrounded by a pile of huge books.
He took a look at the biggest of them all, a fat red tome precariously balanced on the corner of the table near Blair's elbow.
He read the title Religious Practices of Ancient Babylon and Neighboring Civilizations.
"Looks exciting, Chief. What's for breakfast?"
Blair looked up, apparently surprised by his arrival. He smiled, obviously excited about something.
"Yeah, it really is. But I think I'll wait to tell you about it until we get to the station. I still have a few thoughts to put together."
"Sounds great," Jim said, sighing. He waited a moment. Blair had buried himself back in his books. "Umm, Chief, breakfast?"
Sandburg bounced again. He really was jumpy this morning. "Oh, sorry, Jim. I didn't know what time you'd be up, so I haven't made you anything yet. How do scrambled eggs and bacon sound?"
"Sounds fine to me. I'll just get in the shower while you fix it, okay? There had better be hot water, Sandburg."
Blair shook his head and grinned as he bounced over to the refrigerator. "Don't worry, big guy. I showered hours ago."
Jim hopped in the shower, and found, to his amazement, plenty of hot water. Well, I suppose there is a first time for everything.
He came out to find a plate full of eggs, bacon, toast and strawberry jam.
"Looks good, Chief." He looked up, surprised to see his roommate shrugging into his rain coat. His eyes narrowed a little. "I thought you were going straight to the station today. We could really use your help on this case."
"I'll be over as soon as I can, Jim. I just want to check in on Kelly before I go over. I'll make it a quick visit, I promise. I just want her to know I haven't abandoned her. When the nurses kicked me out last night, she was asleep and she probably won't know where I've gone."
Jim supposed he couldn't really argue with that excuse. As long as Sandburg kept the visit short. They really did need all the help they could get on this one, even if the kid had seemed a little scattered lately.
"I'll see you as soon as I can, Jim." Blair called from the doorway.
Jim nodded and attacked his breakfast. It really was good.
He got to the station and found, to his disappointment, nothing new on the case. That didn't depress him as much as it might have yesterday, though. Amazing what ten hours of sleep will do for you. Now he was just angry and that was much better than hopeless, wasn't it?
Around ten o'clock, Blair struggled in, still weighted down by all those books. Why ever had the kid dragged them all the way in here? He thought about saying something about security blankets, but thought better of it.
He saw Henri and Megan heading over to the break room.
"Look's like you got here just in time, Chief. I'd say something's up."
Megan took her seat in the break room and watched as Ellison stalked in looking for all the world like a caged panther. She expected Sandy to follow in closely on his heels, but it was a moment before the grad student appeared, weighed down by what easily looked like fifty pounds of books. He set the books down with a thud, smiling a little sheepishly in apology. It looked like he had just gotten in. He was still wearing his drenched raincoat, and sparkling rain drops decorated his drawn-back hair. Megan kind of preferred it down.
Simon called the impromptu meeting together.
"We aren't getting anywhere on this one, people, and I can't help but think we are missing something important here. I want all of you to report your thoughts thus far to see if it doesn't spark something."
Megan gave her own report, though there wasn't much to say. Ellison, as usual, had the most to add, but his report was a little ruined by the angry glares he kept throwing his partner. Megan glanced over at Sandy, surprised to find him alternating between snapshots of the various crime scenes and a thick book that was perched in his lap. This surely was a strange time to be studying. She could almost sympathize with the looks Jim was throwing around, except that she remembered that it was mid-terms. This wasn't the sort of case that the graduate student handled well, anyway. She wondered why Jim had changed his mind and involved Blair after all. She was even more surprised at the way Blair was studying those pictures.
She wondered a little angrily who had given them to him. Now where did that thought come from, Connor? Sandy's a grown man. A good detective too, even though, as everyone knew "he wasn't a cop". She felt more than a little sympathy for him. She knew what it was like to be shut out of this boys' club. She supposed that was part of the reason she stuck up for him so much. Well, those glasses he was wearing right now, looking so studious, might have something to do with it. She wondered if he knew how cute he looked in them. But then, she'd always had a thing for professors.
"Sandburg, any time you'd like to add anything would be fine with me. If you are just going to study, you should have stayed at the loft." Ellison's voice was a low growl.
Megan looked up in surprise. Blair's expression mirrored her own. There was something else, there, too, though. Hurt, maybe.
"Sorry, Jim. Like I said at the loft, I was just trying to put my thoughts together. I think I may have found something that might be a little useful. I came across it in my research this morning."
"Chief, I'm sure those books are really important in your little university paradise, but we are trying to stop a killing spree here. I thought you understood that."
"Jim! That's about enough," Simon snapped. Megan didn't remember him looking quite so irritated before. He turned to Blair, his face taking a gentler expression. "Go on, Blair. What did you find?"
"Sir, we don't have time for stories," Ellison snapped. Simon just glared at him again.
Blair swallowed and began with a look at Jim. "These symbols here. I knew I recognized them from somewhere, the other night at the crime scene. They looked too authentic not to be copied from some real source. I thought they might be African, based on the presence of some Donardo arcs on the edge of one of the patterns. Very sub-saharan. That's where I got off track. Sorry, guys. If I hadn't been so focused on that I would have figured this out hours ago. It isn't African at all. Those symbols are clearly Su'radha."
Joel Taggart shook his head. "You mind speaking English, Blair?"
Blair grinned at him. "Of course. The Su'radha are a very ancient culture that lived in the general area of ancient Babylon. Not much is known about them, though a lot of scholars think their culture might be a lot older than we think and may have been greater even than the later Greek empires. The Su'radha were clearly dying out by the time Babylon rose to its ancient height, but the Babylonians wrote everything down about them that they could. Fortunately, they made a key for translation between the two written languages. I studied it back in my undergrad days. I can't believe I didn't recognize it right away. I could kick myself."
Simon blinked, obviously as surprised as Megan herself was. "You mean you can read this, Sandburg?"
Blair shook his head. "I could translate it with a bit of effort, but I can't read more than a symbol or two offhand. There is a professor over at Rainier who could do better than I could but I didn't know how you would feel about me sharing information like this. I started with the scene from the last body we found, before Kelly, because it was the most complete. I discovered pretty quickly that this just isn't ritual sacrifice. That was our first mistake. No, this is more of a communication. This guy is trying to communicate with gods he thinks has abandoned him, or else he thinks he has failed his gods and is the one who did the abandoning."
He paused and shook his head. "Sorry, guys, my Babylonian isn't what it could be and this is even worse. I went back through all the scenes we had complete pictures of and realized that this guy is getting more and more desperate as time goes on. The first scene only included blood from the body we found at the scene. The second had only blood, too, but some of it was old. It wasn't until the fourth scene that the body pieces started showing up, and none of them had the number that the one on the pier did."
"What do you think that means?"
"I think we are dealing with a cycle a lot longer than we originally thought. Su'radha belief doesn't necessarily call for human sacrifice. It's a part of it, but not even a large part of it. It was only reserved for desperate situations. I got the idea that this guy might have started smaller. He might have just started out scratching lines in the ground or even using spray paint. After that he might have moved on up to animals, larger and larger ones until finally, he gets so desperate that he requires human sacrifice. So I decided to look through some older newspapers for signs of vandalism along these patterns. I found incidence of animal sacrifice right away. It took me a lot longer to find evidence of smaller scale events that fit the pattern, but I found them eventually." He laid out a bunch of copies from newspaper microfiche.
"The oldest incidence that I can find that is unquestionably Su'radha came about a year ago. This could have been going on for longer than that, but I don't think so. At least not much longer than that. About 11 months ago, a warehouse manager over on Ireland Street found a symbol spray-painted on the side of his building. Fortunately, the paper carried a picture of the weird symbol, thinking it was some sort of street art. Some of the writings here are an exact match for ones found at later crime scenes."
Woah, Megan thought. A year? And how had Blair figured all of this out? But he wasn't done yet.
"I think we've been making wrong assumptions about this from day one. For example, if you look at the victims, too, they aren't as random as we originally thought. Who has he killed? A child, a mother, a lawyer, a bodybuilder, and now he tries for a student. What do those things represent? Innocence, fertility, justice, strength and knowledge. Those are five of the pillars of Su'radha faith, at least according to what texts I could find. Unfortunately, Rainier doesn't have much on them."
"There's one more thing. I'm not entirely certain about it, but I'm pretty sure I'm right here. Do you remember why we started referring to this guy as Neugent? Because he signed his name on the first killing, right? Well, I took a closer look at that signature. It is really hard to read, but I don't think it says Neugent. I think that is really supposed to be Nuaja with a little fancy scrollwork that looks like maybe an n and a t at the end. Nuaja is pretty close to nuadj, which is Babylonian for moon."
"Are you saying these killings have something to do with the moon?" Henri asked. "But we thought of that, man. The killings don't seem to be following any sort of pattern with the moon."
"No, I don't think that is what it means. I think we were right in assuming that this was the killer's name, we were just reading that name wrong. I think his name, or maybe a better word would be title, is moon. There is something else about the Su'radha faith. Something that scares me a little. I think we might be dealing with more than one man here. In fact, I'm convinced of it."
Megan swallowed. That was a scary thought. One psycho killer was enough, thank you.
"The high priests in Su'radha religion were not allowed to directly take part in communication with the gods, especially in powerful messages like these are. It was thought that the priests are so attuned to the gods, that in speaking directly with them, they would see the minds of the gods themselves and would be driven insane. And so they always had a helper. Someone who was absolutely, insanely devoted to them. Usually a boy they'd raised from childhood. This helper was invariably a little, to be kind, simple."
"Oh, now I get it," Henri exclaimed. "Moon, like moon child. Someone a few blocks short of a stack. So you think that Neugent is just the working man? That there is someone behind this operation?"
Blair nodded. "That's the best I can come up with. I'm sorry guys, I know it sounds awfully flimsy. Jim's probably right. This was just a waste of time."
Megan was surprised at his tone. It sounded so very unlike him. No energy to it.
"Let me see those newspaper articles," Simon said. Blair handed them over.
"Damn," Simon said after a moment. "I think Sandburg might be on to something here. I never would have thought to look into something like this." For the first time that morning, Simon brightened a little. Megan found herself relieved. Although she would never admit it, she was a little intimidated by Simon. He was an excellent captain, but he hadn't exactly been welcoming when she arrived. She knew that a lot of that was her own fault, but it still hurt her a little that Sandy had been the only one to stick up for the new kid.
"Rafe, Brown, I want you to go through records and dig up all the official documentation on these incidents. I want you to enlist a couple others and look for more incidents like these and have Sandburg look them over to see if they fit the pattern. Connor and Ellison, I want you two to interview some of the people who reported these earlier 'messages'. See if they remember anything. Sandburg, are you still planning on going over to the hospital with Maria?"
When there was no response, Megan glanced over at Blair. He was staring a little blankly at his notes. He looked up after a minute, blinking slightly. "Huh? Oh, yeah, Simon, I'll be going over there after lunch. I already warned Kelly we'd be there this afternoon."
Simon nodded and then paused. "Sandburg?"
"Yeah?"
"Good job on this one," he said.
Blair blushed and suddenly found something on the table top intensely interesting. "It's nothing you guys wouldn't have put together on your own. Like I said, I should have thought of this long before now. I'm sorry for not putting it together more quickly."
Simon snorted. "Give it up, Sandburg. Modesty does not become you. You only got a hold of these crime photos when, late yesterday afternoon? Against my permission, I might add."
Blair grinned. "Sorry, Simon. It would have been too weird to get them with your permission first."
Simon tried to look fierce but failed. "O.K., people, you have your assignments. Let's go."
Most of the detectives paused to slap Sandburg on the back in congratulations before exiting. Blair accepted those with a fair amount of grace as he stood to collect his notes.
Megan walked over and gave his shoulder a squeeze. "Good job, Sandy. You really impressed me with this one. Did you just put this together last night?"
Blair raised his eyes and shook his head. "No, I'm afraid it didn't come to me until this morning. Like I said, you guys probably would have put it together a lot faster. I'm afraid I can be a little stupid sometimes. I can't believe I didn't recognize it right away."
Stupid? Megan rolled her eyes. She wished she was that stupid. She felt Blair sway a little under her arm and really looked at him for the first time that morning. God, he looked exhausted. The circles under his eyes looked drawn there with permanent marker and his eyes had a jittery cast to them.
"Sandy, are you all right?"
He smiled. "Sure, Megan."
She squeezed his shoulder again, not at all believing him, but not knowing if she should pursue it. "I thought Jim said you'd gone to the hospital this morning. Did you decide to skip out?"
"No way, Megan. Kelly's counting on me to be there. I grabbed all this stuff before heading over there. I'm not that quick. Those newspaper articles took forever to track down, believe me." He swayed a little bit again and put a hand to his head
Megan was really concerned now. "Sandy, did you sleep at all last night?"
Blair smiled a little weakly. "You sound like Jim. But yes I did sleep." She glared at him. He had the grace to look nervous. "Well, for an hour or two, anyway. I woke up at two and just couldn't sleep. I was convinced that we were looking at this thing all wrong and had a feeling, suddenly of where I could look. I was really tired, but Kelly was counting on me." His voice lowered as did his eyes. "I wanted to show Jim that I could help, too."
Megan shook her head in exasperation. "Well, Sandy, you can't help anyone if you collapse. I know you have to go to the hospital this afternoon, but why don't you go home and get some sleep now? I'd say you've done your part."
But Blair shook his head. "No can do, Megan. We have to find this guy. Simon wants me down with Rafe and Henri looking at those records anyway. I'll sleep tonight."
"Is that a promise?"
He laughed and suddenly a Blair she recognized was back in the room. "Sure, Mommy."
Mommy? Well, there was one way to put a stop to that. Jim was always complaining it was impossible to make Sandy be quiet, but Megan knew a way with guaranteed results. She considered Blair's smirk for a moment and then reached over and grabbed the curls at the base of his skull and dragged him over to her. Yanking his head back, she bit him, hard, on his lower lip. He jerked a bit but didn't pull away.
She pushed him away eventually, with a little laugh. That had been as satisfying as the last time she had done it, when they were playing trophy wife and hotheaded artist on that home security case. It had unbalanced him then, too. She smiled sweetly at him, saying, "I'm not your mother, Sandy. I think you might want to remember that."
The look on his face was priceless.
Jim sat at his desk, staring at the articles Sandburg had collected. The kid had put one hell of a stack together. Jim wasn't convinced they all were related to the guy they were searching for, but they were a damn sight closer to finding Neugent--nuaja--whoever--now than they had been an hour ago. Jesus, where did the kid come up with half of this stuff? It must have been in one of those books the kid had been pouring over this morning. And I snapped at him. Sorry, buddy, I'll make it up to you as soon as this case is over. Thanks to you that might be sooner than we thought.
Megan and Sandburg exited the staff room where they'd held their conference. Jim thought his roommate looked more than a little confused. And Connor looked decidedly satisfied with herself. Something was going on there, Jim was sure. He just wasn't sure if he wanted to know what.
Sandburg set his pile of books back on Jim's desk.
"You mind if I keep these here for the moment, man? Some of them are reference books and it would be so not cool if something happened to them. The librarian almost didn't let me take them out. I almost thought I'd have to leave an arm as collateral or something."
"Go right ahead, Chief."
Blair threw him a grateful smile. "Thanks, Jim. I have to run and help Henri and Rafe with looking through old case files, but I'll catch up with you later. Well, probably much later. I don't know how long I'll have to be at the hospital with Kelly and I have a class tonight."
Jim raised an eyebrow. "I guess you are telling me I shouldn't wait up."
Blair shook his head. " Last night Kelly was seriously shook up. I don't like the thought of her laying around in the hospital alone. Her family is supposed to arrive today, but I get the feeling that she doesn't want to let them know how scared she is."
Jim thought about saying something about keeping your emotional distance, but knew his words would probably be wasted. At least if he was at the hospital, the nurses would force him to eat something.
"All right, Chief. Just don't push it, O.K.?"
Sandburg grinned at him. "Don't worry, Jim. I am planning on some serious crashing later."
"Hey, Sandburg, are you coming?" Rafe called from across the station.
Blair nodded and grabbed up some of his notes. "Duty calls, man," he threw over his shoulder as he hurried after the other two detectives.
"That it does," Jim said, looking back at the newspaper articles again. It would take the better part of the morning for Connor and him to sort through them, but it was definitely worth it. Finally, a real lead.
Kelly woke up abruptly. The blood had been drowning her again. The hospital room was dark. Too dark. The blackness threatened to smother her as closely as the blood had. She reached up blindly with her good hand until she connected with the switch for the reading lamp above her head. She felt absurdly grateful when it's light flared in a pool around her.
She looked around the room. The light from the lamp extended just far enough for her to make out a figure in the chair by her bed. She smiled.
Blair.
He'd come by three times that day. First, early in the morning for a quick visit to inform her of her afternoon session with the police artist. He had been worried about her, but he shouldn't have been. She'd slept so well after he left. She didn't even mind trying to bring back the memories so she could adequately describe the man who had captured her. Blair had been there, almost hypnotizing her with his voice and the gentle pressure of his hand on hers. The voice had kept the fear away. He didn't have to worry, but it was obvious that he did. It made her feel good. Her parents had been by. She knew they were out of their mind with worry, but they had been far more concerned with blaming each other for what had happened to her than in trying to actually listen to her. Blair had waited until they left, but then he had crept in for his third visit.
Bearing burritos. Not the Taco Bell variety, either. Nope, one of Blair's friends just happened to make the best Mexican food around and Blair had just happened to stop by his house and pick some up.
She giggled softly. If Blair stopped by much more she would have to go on a diet.
He'd told her they were a lot closer to finding the monster who had done this to her, but only after she had begged him. She could tell he hadn't wanted to tell her. Probably hadn't wanted to get her hopes up.
Right now Blair sat half in the chair, half slumped over the table on his left. He was also deep asleep. Kelly frowned. That couldn't be a very comfortable position. But she really didn't want to wake him either. She was afraid he would leave. She took a deep breath. You are being selfish here, Kelly. The poor guy could probably use some sleep. In a bed, not in a plastic hospital chair. There are no oceans of blood here. And there certainly aren't any knives. They aren't cutting into you, that guy isn't standing over you, you can't see it, no you can't, you can't see that hand, lying inches from your face...
She could feel two hands clasp her shoulders and start to gently shake her.
"Oh, Kelly. Kelly, I'm so sorry. Oh, come here, hon. It's O.K. I'm here now."
She shivered and opened her eyes. No blood. No body parts. Just the hospital room and Blair's worried face.
"Oh, Blair, I am so sorry. I feel so stupid."
Blair sighed and sat on the bed next to her. She leaned gratefully against him and he put an arm around her. It was a good thing they were both small, Kelly thought, considering the less than spacious hospital bed.
"It is not stupid, Kelly. No one expects you to put this all past you in a day. It is going to take a while, maybe a long while. But I will be here, and your parents, and your friends. You aren't alone, you do know that, don't you?"
She pushed away from him and huddled in a corner of the bed. "I am alone. He made me alone. No one else knows what it is like. No one else laid there, in all that blood, looking at those body parts, knowing that theirs was going to join them. How dare you tell me I'm not alone?"
She was doing her best to push him away, but she was terrified of his leaving her at the same time. Oh, please, Blair, don't go. I'm sorry. But you don't understand after all.
He was quiet for a while. "I think maybe it is time for another story."
"I don't want a fairy tale right now, Blair."
He laughed. The laugh sounded a little unhinged, though. "Well, this isn't a fairy tale, Kelly, so I'd say we're safe. I--I well, I never told anyone this story before. Not even Jim. He knows most of it, anyway, but not all of it."
Kelly crept a little out of her corner and put a hand on his arm. "What is it?"
He closed his eyes and leaned his back against the wall. She stroked his arm and he smiled a little. "You see, Kelly, I do understand. Maybe not what it is like to lie in a pool of blood or look at dismembered body parts, but I've been where you are, believe me. This story does involve another psychopath, though."
Kelly was intrigued. She had known all along that he worked for the police, but it had never occurred to her what kind of people he must come across in his research.
He swallowed. "His name is, well was, David Lash. He didn't collect body parts, but he did have his little trophies. He'd collect them from his victims, use them to become them. Eventually, he decided to become me."
Kelly listened, hardly daring to breath, while he related the story of David Lash. Lord, I had no idea. No one did. No wonder he understood her so well.
"Well, anyway, Jim killed him and that was the end of it. For Jim anyway. Well, that is not quite true. Jim was really worried about me for a while there, but he figured I would get through it eventually. He was right, mostly. But for a good long time, I was convinced I was going crazy. I kept seeing him everywhere. One of my things would go missing and I would be in a panic, thinking he'd stolen it." He fell quiet for a while. "I still get nightmares about it. Jim doesn't know that, though. The guy feels responsible enough for me without knowing about that little tidbit. Besides, it was three years ago. You'd think I'd get over myself by now.
Kelly let out a breath. She could see how hard that story had been for him. She suspected that, despite all his chatter, Blair was a rather private person. By his own admission, she was the only person he'd told about all this.
"There is always blood," she whispered, "a lot of it. It rises up and I can't breath. I am choking on it."
Blair nodded. "I had dreams like that for awhile. Hell, I still get them around once a week. Though it's usually water I am drowning in."
Kelly turned her head up to find him looking down at her.
"Maybe you should talk to a psychologist tomorrow," he said. "They could at least give you something to help you sleep. They have things that will stop the dreams, at least for a little while."
She shook her head. "I don't want to talk to a psychologist. I want to talk to you."
"Hey, Kelly, no one's saying you can't do that, too. But I am just a lowly anthropologist. I think maybe a professional couldn't hurt."
Maybe he was right. Sleep without dreams sounded really good.
"Blair?"
"Yeah, hon?"
"Could you stay here for a while--I mean right here? I am a little cold." It had been cold on that pier, so very cold.
"Just try and move me," Blair said. She leaned against him a little more firmly and he draped an arm across her shoulders.
Kelly felt sleep claiming her again, but this time, she didn't fight it.
Jim rolled over in his bed and looked at the clock by his head. Ten to seven. He closed his eyes and searched for signs that his roommate was awake. He'd better not be if he knew what was good for him. Blair had looked way too exhausted yesterday. Good, no smell of coffee or breakfast. The kid must still be asleep. Acting out of reflex, he listened for Blair's heartbeat to confirm that and realized with a shock that it wasn't there.
He pulled himself out of bed and wrapped on his robe. He padded down the stairs and looked into Sandburg's room. Nope, Sandburg definitely wasn't there. The bed didn't look slept in, either.
I'm going to kill you, Chief. Just as soon as I find you. What happened to 'serious crashing'? You had better not be sleeping at your desk again or I really will kill you. Sleeping is something you are supposed to do in a bed, not on office furniture.
He called Blair's office phone, but no one picked up. Well, I guess I'll go check at the hospital and see what time he left last night.
Well, he thought, pulling up to Wonderburger's window, at least with Sandburg missing in action this morning I can have a sausage biscuit for breakfast.
He made it to the hospital by eight. Confirming that Kelly's room hadn't changed, he strode up to the third floor and nodded hello to the uniformed officer waiting there.
Entering the room, he found his mission over much sooner than he had thought. Sandburg hadn't left last night. There he was on the bed leaning against the wall. Fast asleep. Lying on top of him was the tiny blonde girl. His shirt was twisted in both of her hands and there were tear tracks lining her face.
Jim sighed. Well, Chief, I guess you got the bed part right.
The girl's eyes opened and she noticed him standing there with a tiny gasp. At the sound, his roommate's eyes flew open.
"Hey, Kelly, what is it? Did you have another nightmare?" Blair asked, his tone very gentle. Jim was mildly surprised at having the tone directed at someone besides himself.
The girl shook her head. "I'm sorry, Blair, I was just a little surprised at finding your detective friend here."
"Jim?!" Blair sat straight up in the bed, dislodging the girl a little bit. He turned toward Jim and grimaced a little sheepishly.
"Oh, hi, Jim," he said. "What are you doing here, man? I mean, shouldn't you be still asleep?"
Jim scowled. "Those are some pretty good questions, Chief. I was just going to ask them of you. But the reason I'm not asleep is because it is after eight."
Blair looked suddenly panicked. "After eight? You've got to be kidding." He turned and glared at the clock. He leaned back and smacked his head against the wall. "Oh man, I am so dead. I have class in forty minutes."
The girl had drawn herself into a ball on the corner of the bed. "You're leaving, Blair?"
Jim raised his eyebrows. So we were on first name basis with victims now?
Sandburg was smiling gently at the girl. "Sorry, Kelly. Duty calls, you know? I wouldn't want to deny the freshmen the privilege of one of my lectures, now would I?"
She laughed and hit him on the arm. "Yeah, if you didn't go they might miss out on some valuable nap time."
"Oh, man, that was so incredibly low," Blair said, but he didn't sound annoyed. He bounced off the bed and grabbed his backpack.
Jim shook his head. "Come on, Chief. I'll give you a ride over to Rainier if you'd like. My truck's quicker than that thing you drive."
Blair gave him his most pitiful look. "Do I have a sign on my head saying let's beat on Sandburg today or something? The Volvo's not 'that thing'."
Jim rolled his eyes. "Do you want to be late or not?"
"Give me a minute, O.K. big guy?" Blair pulled his backpack on one shoulder and disappeared into the bathroom. A moment he reappeared wearing a fresh shirt and with his hair neatly brushed and tied back. He threw Kelly one of his patented grins and pulled his backpack on both shoulders.
"I'll see you later, Kelly, O.K.? You're going home today, right?"
She smiled and nodded at him.
Jim nodded goodbye at her too and pulled his partner from the room.
"How'd you manage the transformation, Chief?" he said, gesturing at Blair's fresh clothing. He thought he smelled toothpaste, too.
"I always carry enough supplies for a day at least. I thought you knew that. Just a holdover from the Naomi days, I suppose."
"And toothpaste is an essential supply?"
Blair grinned at him. "It is for me, man."
"No wonder that backpack of yours always looks like it is about to break."
Blair followed Jim to the hospital parking lot. "Jim, I appreciate the ride and all, but I really do have time to make it to my class in my own car. I know you probably want to get over to the station."
"It's not a problem, Chief. I need to talk to you, anyway." Now why did the kid look so nervous all of a sudden. Damn, but he was jumpy lately. "Get in the truck already, would you?"
"Sure, Jim."
They were quiet as Jim pulled the car into the early morning traffic. Jim looked over to find his partner reading through a pile of notes.
"Chief?"
Blair looked up. "Oh, sorry, Jim, I just needed to look through some of my lecture notes. I'm glad I started with these last night instead of Steinbrunner's paper. At least they are halfway coherent."
Spotting a bakery on the right, Jim pulled in. "Stay here. I'll be right back."
Blair gave him a somewhat confused nod and turned back to the notes.
Jim came back a moment later, white pastry bag and cup of coffee in hand.
He swung into the truck.
"Umm, Jim, what are we doing here? I thought you knew I was in kind of a hurry," Blair said as he was getting in.
"Breakfast, Chief."
Blair gave him a disbelieving stare. "You cannot be hungry, man. Don't think I didn't notice that sausage biscuit wrapper."
Jim laughed. He should have known he'd be caught. "Not me, you," he said shoving the bag in Sandburg's line of vision.
Blair took it and opened it. "Bagels! Thanks, man. I guess I kind of forgot about breakfast this morning."
Jim started the truck and moved it back onto the road. "I thought as much. Kind of like you forgot about coming home last night?"
The kid stopped, mid-bite, and swallowed. He looked a little guilty. "Sorry about that, Jim. I really didn't mean to spend the entire night there. I guess I must have fallen asleep in the chair. And then Kelly woke up and she was so scared... well I just couldn't leave her there. She's been having nightmares, and, well, I can understand that."
Jim let out a long breath. "I guess I can understand that, too. I think you have to remember though, Chief, that this girl isn't your responsibility. I know you want to help her and I admire you for that, but you can't be sitting in her hospital room every night just in case she has a nightmare."
Blair nodded. "Sure, Jim, I know that. I just know how lonely those hospital rooms can be. She'll be going home today. I'm sure she'll do much better in her own bed, with her roommates there."
"That's good, Chief. Just think about what I said, O.K.?"
Blair nodded, taking another bite of his bagel.
Jim pulled his truck up outside Hargrove Hall. "What time do you expect to be over at the station today? I think the captain wants you to go through some more case files."
Sandburg paused, obviously thinking about that. "I'll be there sometime after lunch. Sorry, but I can't be any more specific than that. I have an exam of my own to give this morning, and then I am proctoring a couple for Professor Black. And then we have a staff meeting. I still have to write this stupid paper for Steinbrunner, but I can put that off until tonight. This case is more important."
"All right, I'll tell Simon you'll be in later."
Blair swallowed the last of his bagel and hopped out of the truck. "Thanks for the ride, Jim. I'll catch up with you later."
Jim waved goodbye to his partner and headed over to the station. He spent a fairly satisfying morning with Connor interviewing more people from the cases Sandburg had looked up. Now armed with the sketch Maria had provided them with from her session with Kelly Johnson, progress went a lot faster. The sketch was amazingly good, considering the vague details Ms. Johnson had been able to give them the day after the incidence. Maria had said, with a wondering shake of her head, that that was Blair's doing. She hadn't seen a witness calm down so well before for anyone. Jim didn't know if he liked the sound of that or not. On one hand he was proud of the way Blair was helping out on this one, but on the other hand, it was obvious that Kelly Johnson was becoming more and more dependent on his partner.
It was well after lunch before his partner showed up. He looked a lot better than he had yesterday, or even that morning. The slight bounce was back in his step and he was chatting amiably with Joel.
"Hey, Chief, why didn't you call and say you were ready to come over? I would have given you a ride," he said as Blair pulled up a chair to Jim's desk.
"I know you have better things to do. Besides, I wanted to stop at the hospital."
Jim tried to keep the frown off of his face, but didn't know how successful he had been about it. Hadn't the kid heard a word he'd said this morning? Blair looked up and must have noticed his expression, because he flinched a little.
"Hey, man, I needed to pick up my car anyway. I made it a very short visit. I knew you'd be waiting for me."
"All right, all right. Simon wants you to look through these case files, and then he wants you to see if you can make any more progress trying to decipher those messages left at the crime scenes."
"Sure, no problem, I'll just take them into the break room so I have some room to spread out."
Jim nodded and went back to work. Most of the witnesses from the earlier incidents lived close to the University. Although only Ms. Johnson's attack was at this point directly linked to university property, Jim had this feeling that somehow the killings or at least the killer were tied to Rainier in some way. Close by the university grounds, there were several low rent districts, or "student slums" as Sandburg would call them. If the killer hit Sandburg's psychology profile, and was, indeed, as Brown had put it "a few blocks short of a stack" then low rent was probably the best he could afford. He'd have some copies of Maria's sketch hung in the area. It was probably a good idea to keep the students informed, anyway. After Neugent had failed with Ms. Johnson, there was no way of knowing if he'd try to get his--what had Sandburg called it?--"knowledge" pillar a different way.
He decided to go over the victim profiles from the earlier murders. There it was, Mark Timmons, aged six, had been a part of the University's outreach program. Debra Cunningham, divorced mother of two, had a job nearby to the Rainier campus. The other two had no obvious links to the college, but that didn't mean they didn't exist. None of the bodies, including Ms. Johnson, had been found anywhere near Rainier, but that didn't mean Neugent hadn't grabbed them there. This link was looking better and better.
He and Connor went out to interview a few more potential witnesses. When they came back, Jim was surprised to notice that it was seven o'clock already. Where did the time go? Jim got an uncomfortable feeling. It had been three days since Neugent had grabbed Kelly Johnson. It was nearly time for him to strike again.
He found his partner still ensconced in the break room, the table covered with shiny crime photos and open books. Blair was bent over a picture of the strange blood-drawn message they'd found around Kelly Johnson. He was glaring at a sheaf of notes and tugging on his hair. He stopped and banged his fist on the table before taking a huge gulp of something from his thermos.
"Hey, Chief, what's the problem?"
Blair's face was a study in frustration. "Nothing more serious than my own idiocy. I know these body parts have some significance, I mean, seriously--a hand, eyes, lips--they are all rather significant parts. They are things we use to communicate. I know their placement in this whole arrangement isn't as random as it looks, but what it means, I just can't think."
Jim couldn't remember the last time he'd seen his partner so worked up. "Calm down," he said. "You've already given us a lot on this case, remember? No one is expecting you to unlock all this in a day. You are trying to get into the mind of a psychopath here? That can't be an easy place to go." Jim wasn't even sure if he wanted him to go there.
Sandburg nodded and looked a little defeated. He took a little sip from his thermos again. It seemed to settle him. "I guess you are right, Jim. It's just so frustrating, you know?"
Jim smiled a little grimly. "Yeah, I know. What do you say about us heading home? It's getting pretty late."
"Yeah, sure Jim. Just let me gather up this stuff and I'll take it home."
"No you don't. This stuff will wait until tomorrow. Didn't you say you have a paper to write?"
"Yeah, I guess I do. I was planning on working on both, though. I already did most of the research for the paper. I just have to throw something on paper. Four, five hours max."
"Which means you will be getting to bed no earlier than midnight as it is. Sorry, partner, the case work stays here."
Blair nodded. Jim's planned retort died on his lips. He'd never expected the kid to give in so easily. He must be more tired than I thought.
"What will it be? Chinese or pizza?"
"Pizza sounds good."
"O.K. I'll pick some up on my way home," Jim said, picking up the case files. He'd lock them in his desk. Sandburg had a key, but he thought he'd get the message.
"Why don't you just head home, Chief?" Jim asked as he picked up the phone to call the pizza place. "I'll be along."
Sandburg nodded and headed to the elevator.
Jim got to the loft around forty minutes later. He found Sandburg at the kitchen table, surrounded by a half dozen journals. He didn't even look up from his laptop as Jim set the pizza down. Jim shook his head and reached over to put his fingers on the lid of the lap top.
"Dinner time," he said.
Blair looked up as if surprised by his arrival. "Wow man, I didn't even hear you come in. I guess this paper is more interesting than I thought. Just give me a couple of pieces. I'll eat while I work on this."
"No, you won't. You will eat it while we watch the game. Come on, Chief, even you need to relax sometime."
Blair hesitated, his eyes darting between the pizza, the living room and his laptop. "I guess I can afford a little break. Thanks, Jim."
"No problem," Jim said, pushing him toward the couch. He grabbed two beers and divided out some pizza onto two plates before joining his roommate. He switched on the TV and was happy to see his friend getting into the game for a while.
But it only lasted about a half-hour. Sandburg looked regretfully at the television for a minute, but then stood up and took his dishes to the kitchen.
"I'd love to finish watching this with you, Jim, but I really have to turn in that paper tomorrow."
Jim would have loved for him to finish watching the game, too, but he knew his roommate had obligations. Jesus, Chief, I don't know how you do it.
The Jags game, although it had started out well, slumped by the second half. The boys just weren't up to their usual performance. They won, but it was not what anyone would call a resounding victory. Frowning, Jim switched off the game and decided to check on his roommate.
Blair was still sitting at the kitchen table, fingers flying as he typed out his paper. Jim watched in mild amazement as Blair sorted through his notes with one hand while typing at light speed with the other. He wasn't even looking at the keyboard. And yet Jim knew that his typing was probably letter perfect.
"You almost done, Chief?" Jim asked glancing at the clock. It was already after ten.
"'Bout two-thirds done," Blair replied, not bothering to look up. Still typing furiously with his right hand, he reached for the mug sitting on the table and gulped down its contents.
Tea? Jim thought reaching out with his senses. No, not tea, but something similar. Something fruity. Probably one of his herbal concoctions, Jim thought, but it smelled too good for that. God, what was it? He tried separating the individual scents - citrus, definitely, maybe a hint of strawberry? Spices too.
He felt a hand shaking his arm. "Jim, man, are you zoning on me?" Jim blinked and look down at the worried face of his partner.
"Hey, Jim, what's wrong? Are you sensing something?" Blair's face still looked worried.
Jim shook his head, still trying to identify the scent. "Sandburg, what is it that you are drinking?"
The worried look disappeared. "Oh, that is just something one of my student's suggested. I got it over at Martha's. Want some?"
Jim didn't even try to keep the horrified expression off his face. That was probably his worst mistake.
"Oh, come on man, you'll love it. I promise you. I was wary at first, too, but this stuff is great. Here--" Much to Jim's horror, Sandburg grabbed a mug and poured some liquid from the pitcher on the table. He thrust it into Jim's hand.
"Come on, taste it," Blair said.
How do I get myself into these things? Jim wondered, raising the glass to his lips. Tensing himself for some nasty herbal taste, he held his breath and gulped down whatever this stuff was. To his surprise, he did like it. It reminded him of drinking lemonade with Stephen in the summer grass when they were little.
Blair grinned. "Admit it, you do like green eggs and ham."
Jim had to laugh himself. "I guess that makes you Sam I am."
Blair grimaced a little. "Like I don't have enough nicknames." He poured himself more out of the pitcher and went back to his work. "Jim, why don't you go to bed? No point in both of us staying up."
Jim was a little tired. "All right, Chief, but if I find out you spent the entire night working on this thing you and I are going to have a serious talk."
"I am like, so scared, man."
Jim cuffed his roommate on the back of the head and went to bed.
Blair felt like bouncing his head off the table. He probably would have too, if he wasn't sure Jim would hear it. How to explain that one?
Sorry, Jim, my head felt like it was going to explode and I thought I'd do myself a favor and cave it in instead? I promise I'll clean up afterward. Hmm, probably not a good idea, Sandburg.
He was getting desperate now, almost desperate enough to raid Jim's supply of over the counter pain pills. But Jim would probably hear that, too. There were definitely times when living with a Sentinel was less than it was cracked up to be.
He gulped down another cup of Keiko's Concoction, as he'd taken to calling it. Like always, it completely cleared his head. No pain, just focus. For all of ten minutes. He frowned and concentrated on the swimming letters in front of them long enough to force them back into words. Come on, man, a couple more paragraphs and this paper will be done. You might actually get to bed before midnight.
Ignoring the resurging agony in his head for a while more, he managed to put the final touches on his paper. Sighing, he leaned back in his chair and dug his fingers into his temples. He threw his notes into a haphazard pile, knowing Jim probably would rather he got some sleep than clean the kitchen. Sorry, man, I'll clean it up tomorrow. Right now bed sounds too good. Feeling like a zombie, he flicked off the kitchen light and barely made it to his bedroom before collapsing.
The phone rang ten minutes after Blair went to bed. Cursing a little, Jim rolled out of the bed and ran down the stairs before his exhausted roommate could take it upon himself to pick up.
"Ellison," Jim nearly barked into the phone. He was surprised to hear sobbing on the other end of the line.
"I--I was looking for Blair Sandburg," came a tense voice.
"Blair is asleep. You will have to call him in the morning," Jim said. There was no way he was going to wake up his partner for some distressed girl calling in the middle of the night.
"Umm, it is kind of an emergency," the voice said, sounding a little desperate.
Jim sighed. "Who is this?"
"I'm Kelly Johnson's roommate. Look, it's really important that I talk to Mr. Sandburg."
Jim felt a hand on his elbow. He looked up to see Blair standing there. Damn.
"It's all right, Jim. Why don't you give me the phone and go back to bed?"
Jim gave up the phone, but he didn't go back to bed. He leaned against the wall and glared at his roommate instead.
"Tara? Tara what is it?"
Jim extended his hearing to catch the other end of the conversation.
"Mr. Sandburg? Oh, thank god. I'm so sorry, Mr. Sandburg, but I think maybe you should come over here. Kelly's really, really upset, and I don't know what to do. I tried to call her parents, but she wouldn't let me."
Blair looked immediately concerned. "What is it Tara, another nightmare?"
"Could you just come, please? I just don't know what to do. Please! Oh, god, she's screaming again."
Blair looked about ready to scream himself. "Tara--Tara! It's all right. I'll be right over."
"Oh, thank god. Please hurry, O.K.?"
"I'll be there as soon as I can, Tara." He hung up the phone and turned to Jim. His eyes looked deadly serious in the moonlight. "We aren't going to argue about this, Jim."
"Oh really?" Jim knew he was going to lose this one, but he didn't have to be happy about it.
"Jim, I'm way too tired for this."
"Good, I'm glad you agree with me. I'll just call this girl and explain that my nearly catatonic partner is going to have to come by tomorrow afternoon."
Blair was pulling on his shoes. Jim grabbed him by the shoulders. He looked up, his normally brilliant eyes looking dull. "Jim, she's waiting for me. I promised her."
Damn. He couldn't argue with that look. Oh well, he'd known he was going to lose this one. "All right, Chief. Let me grab some clothes and I will drive you over."
Blair shook his head. "No, you should get some sleep, Jim. I know you're tired, too. Look, I'll probably get there and calm her down and end up crashing on her couch. It usually only takes a little while for her to get under control."
Jim started to argue, but Blair stopped him with a hand on his arm. "I know you want to help, but the best help you can be right now is to get some sleep. You need to catch this guy and you can't do that if you're too tired."
Jim frowned. He really didn't like losing arguments. When did the kid start making so much sense?
Blair had moved over to the table. He was shoving books into his backpack. "I'm really sorry she woke you, man. If only she'd called ten minutes earlier I would have gotten the phone. I'll catch you tomorrow at the station. I have another meeting, so it will probably be a little late."
Jim nodded, not really catching what he'd said. Blair slung on a coat and then his backpack and left, quietly closing the door after him.
Jim sighed and mounted the stairs. He flung himself into his bed and listened for his partner as he exited the building and started up his car. At least it started up smoothly. He listened as Blair pulled the Volvo out of its parking lot and sent it on the road toward the University.
Sighing again, he rolled on his side and closed his eyes. Sandburg was right, one of them should get some sleep.
He woke up the next morning, something pricking at his consciousness. He couldn't figure out what it was until he realized that the loft was too quiet. Again. Well, tonight Sandburg was going to come home if Jim had to handcuff him to the truck. At least it was Friday. Blair could get a couple of days respite from classes and meetings over the weekend.
He got up and made himself some coffee. He stared into the refrigerator while it percolated, wondering what he'd make for breakfast. It wasn't a chore he usually had to manage. Sandburg always seemed to be able to whip together the most enticing meals from whatever happened to be in the refrigerator. Not a skill Jim could claim. Well, at least there were eggs.
After breakfast, he luxuriated in the shower for the fourth day in a row. Still a little unnerved by all the quiet, he dressed and left for work.
Once he got there, an informant called with information on the Miller case and he drove off, his worries about his roommate temporarily driven from his mind. The tip turned out to be unusually useful. By afternoon Miller was sitting in custody and Jim was feeling a lot less frustrated. There was nothing new on the Neugent case, which might actually be a good sign. At this point, the only news might be a new body.
He strode back into the bullpen to find Sandburg at his desk, looking through the case files he'd locked there yesterday. Jim frowned. It might almost be called a scowl.
"Chief, what are you doing?"
Blair looked up. "Looking through these photos, Jim. What does it look like? Simon wants me to work on cracking this message since it looks like we've dredged up all the old cases."
"I mean, what are you doing here? You should be at home. Asleep." Jim tried his best glare, the one that left hardened criminals quaking, but it didn't seem to work. Blair didn't so much as shiver.
His partner rolled his eyes instead. "Stop it, Jim. I did get some sleep last night. Kelly calmed down right after I got there and we both promptly went to sleep. I feel much better."
Jim looked him over and had to admit that it at least looked true. He sat down on the opposite side of the desk. "All right, Chief, but we're going home at five, O.K.?"
Sandburg waved a hand dismissively. "Sure, whatever you say, man."
Jim filed the paperwork for the Miller case, grumbling a little because Sandburg was too busy to do it for him for once. It had been so long since Jim had actually filled out a report for himself that he almost forgot how.
"Ellison, Sandburg! My office," Simon called.
Jim went into the captain's office, his partner, as always, on his heels.
Simon gestured for them to sit and leaned back in his chair. "Sandburg, you making any progress?"
Blair nodded a little hesitantly. "A little, but not much. I'm sorry, Simon, but translating things like this isn't really an exact science. I think I've been able to get a little bit of the last one, though. I am really sorry this is taking so long. It's just not really my area."
"That's all right, Sandburg. I'm not expecting miracles. I don't know if I want to contact outside experts on this one, so you're all we've got right now. Whatever you can give us is fine."
Blair looked up. Jim thought something flashed in his eyes, but didn't recognize it.
"Well," Blair began a little hesitantly. "I'm not entirely certain of this, right? But I think I've got a few lines here. They're not pretty." He looked down at his notes. "This bit here in the corner was clearest, so I began there. I think it reads '...the world drowns in blood, and the hands of the innocent do not stem the tide. The eyes of the just look down upon barbarism, helpless. From the womb comes forth monstrosities. Oh great and all powerful, divert this stream of darkness. Raise us to the light! Or else give the sign and it shall be my hand which begins the final descent into the ultimate evil'." He looked up and pushed his glasses more firmly on his nose. "It goes on, but I haven't translated it yet. It is a lot harder than I was expecting."
Simon chewed on his cigar in clear frustration. "What do you think it means?"
Blair looked a little hesitant. That was new. "I have a theory, but I don't know how good it is."
"At this point, Sandburg, I'll take anything."
"He's going on and on about how the world is descending into darkness. How innocence and justice are giving way to blood and destruction. I think this guy has seen a little too much maybe. It's like he can't take everything that is going on anymore and is looking to these gods to tell him why the world is going so screwy. Hell, I can't say I blame him. School shootings, kids leaving their unwanted babies in dumpsters, drive byes. The list goes on. If he finds the world confusing and hurtful, I can't say I don't sympathize."
Simon looked a little doubtful. "So he starts chopping people into little bits? I don't know if I buy that."
Blair shook his head, clearly getting into the argument now. "But he didn't start there, Simon. That is pretty clear now. He started just drawing things on the sides of the buildings. I'll start with one of the earlier photos next and see if the message is the same. I'll bet it is, only a little less desperate. This guy wants answers. I don't think he necessarily wants to hurt people, but now he sees that as the only option."
"Well, let's say I buy that for now. What is this ultimate evil he's talking about?"
Blair swallowed sharply. "I don't know, Simon, but it scares me a little. This guy is more than a little unhinged, no argument there. We just don't know enough about Su'radha beliefs to speculate on whether they had any beliefs in Armageddon. I'm thinking it's not going to be very pretty, though. I think if this guy continues for much longer without any response, he might take that as a sign that the gods have abandoned us after all and it's up to him to bring about the end of the world."
Simon chewed his cigar fiercely. "What is it about this town? Couldn't we have any normal criminals?"
Jim spoke up. "Sir, I've been going over witness testimony and I think this guy might be linked to the university in some way, maybe not to the university itself, but definitely its grounds. Several of the victims have links to Rainier and most of the earlier vandalism that Sandburg has linked to the case happened within walking distance of campus."
Simon looked interested. "Excellent. I take it you've had posters distributed for the area."
"Yes, sir. I actually came across this yesterday. I meant to inform you then, but you were closeted with the commissioner and this morning I had to deal with the Miller case."
"Well, I can understand that. This psycho, as twisted as he is, isn't the only criminal in Cascade. We can't let our other cases slip. The commissioner will be pleased to hear that we've caught Miller. That new drug he's been pushing has already killed a bunch of teenagers. One of them was a friend of the Mayor's son."
"Oh, man," Blair said. "How old was he?"
"Fifteen," Simon said.
Jim could tell that this was definitely not a conversation Blair needed to be having.
"Ah, Chief? Why don't you go work on these messages some more? Sounds like you have your work cut out for you."
"Yeah, man, you could say that again. I'll just be at your desk."
Simon watched him leave a little curiously, but didn't say anything until after the door had closed. "What was that about?"
Jim cleared his throat and refused to meet his captain's look. "Umm, well, sir, I just thought Sandburg had enough to handle right now. You know he doesn't take children's deaths too well."
"Yeah, well, these last couple of cases haven't exactly been easy on any of us. I can see why the kid might have a problem with a few of them."
"Thanks, sir."
"All right. I want you and Connor to go and interview people over by the school. On second thought, take Sandburg. He knows the area better. I'd really like to know more about this 'ultimate evil' but this might get us faster results."
"Very good, sir."
Blair did know the area better. The people, too. It seemed to Jim that he knew nine out of every ten people they met. No, he thought as Blair exchanged one more exuberant greeting, he knew eleven out of ten people.
A couple of people remembered seeing someone resembling the suspect's description in the area. None of them knew who he was or where he lived, though. In this part of town, people came and went all the time. The passage of any one person went largely unnoticed. Still, the fact that four people recognized the description convinced Jim even further that their man was around here somewhere. Besides, he'd been glad to drag Sandburg out of the stuffy office, even if it was a little cold out here.
They got back to the station by six. So much for the five o'clock deadline. Still, it wasn't too late. He shoved Sandburg into his car with instructions to go straight home. Jim decided to pick up a movie. Unforgiven. Now there was a good movie. Even Sandburg could agree to that.
He came into the loft to the smell of Blair cooking and the sound of him humming a little. The kid stood over the stove, stirring some sort of sauce for pasta.
"Sorry, Jim, but I didn't have time for anything fancy. I thought we'd just have pasta and some wine. Hey, did you get a movie?"
Jim ruffled his hair fondly. It had been too long since they had just hung out. "Yeah, I sure did. Popcorn too. And just for you--" He pulled out what he had been hiding behind his back a