Inevitable Series 03 The Unsuspecting Page 2

  Blair ran his fingers along the spines of the library books, checking the numbers against the computer printout in his hand. He'd spent the last two hours pouring through countless books about Shamanism ranging from ancient rituals to urban living to secret ceremonies. He'd found three books that looked promising. This last one, The Way of the Shaman, was proving to be difficult to locate -- and it was the one he wanted most. It was written by an anthropologist who had lived among the Indian tribes of Peru for ten years cataloguing their customs. Just as he was about to give up, deciding it must either be checked out or just misshelved, he finally came upon it. But as he pulled it down, he heard a disappointed sigh behind him. He turned and found himself staring into the softest brown eyes he'd ever seen.

  "I'm sorry. We're you looking for this?" he asked, offering the book to the young woman before him.

  She smiled, a dazzling, grab his heart and squeeze it, smile and said, "Yes, but it's all right. You got it first."

  He shifted the books he already had, his still sore shoulder protesting, and tried again. "Really, I've got three. You take it."

  "Thanks." She accepted the offered book and he was rewarded with another killer smile. "I really came here just for this." She hugged the book to her chest. She was about Blair's height with dark brown, shoulder length hair. She wore it straight, one side tucked causally behind her ear. He guessed she was his age or just a little older. She had a natural beauty that attracted Blair instantly.

  "So you're into Shamanism." He nearly cringed. Good opening line, Sandburg.

  "Not really," she hedged. "It's for my father. He's been a practicing Shaman for most of my life. Used to lecture on the subject. He's retired now but likes to keep up on the latest works." She held out her hand. "I'm Rebecca Lowry by the way."

  He shook the hand, surprised by the strength of her grip. "Blair Sandburg."

  "Well, Blair Sandburg, you certainly don't look like someone who would be interested in Shamanism." Her fingers lingered on his hand, stroking his palm. "I don't usually do this," she began, her voice low, uncertain, "but would you like to get a cup of coffee or something?"

  Blair checked his watch. He was supposed to meet Jim at the station in an hour. He looked back at the woman before him, her expression expectant. Hell, he had time for a quick cup of coffee.

  Frank Croft stepped from behind the shelf of books and watched as Rebecca took the arm of the stranger beside her and led him from the library. His gaze lingered on the long-haired young man. Could he be the one they'd waited for? The one they'd sought for so long?

  His eyes narrowed as he considered the questions. If he was, then he would be easy prey. He suspected nothing. Trusted easily. Was completely open to attack.

  They would gain his trust...then take his life.

  Jim knocked on Simon's door before poking his head inside the captain's office. "Sir, can I talk to you for a minute?"

  Simon held out a hand, indicating the chairs before his desk. "Have a seat."

  Jim closed the door and crossing to the desk, sat down. "Sir, didn't you tell me once that Darryl used to sleepwalk when he was younger?"

  "Yes. Still does sometimes when he's stressed out. Why?"

  Jim hesitated. He didn't know if this was something Blair would want him to share with the captain but Jim needed answers. Needed to know what he should do if tonight proved to be a repeat of the night before. "Blair was sleepwalking last night. At least, that what I think it was. I found him out in the living room and when I woke him, he couldn't remember how he got there."

  Simon's brow creased. "He's never done this before?"

  "No. Not that I know of." He paused before continuing. "Simon, I couldn't wake him at first. And then when he did…" His voice trailed off as the memory of that moment hit him. "It was bad. It was like he couldn't breathe for a second, his knees buckled and he just collapsed."

  "Is he all right?" Simon asked.

  "He's fine," Jim said, touched by the genuine concern in his captain's voice. "I'm just worried that if it happens again tonight, I'm going to end up hurting him because I don't know what to do."

  "Don't wake him, Jim. You don't need to. Just get him back to his room."

  Jim nodded, that sounded easy enough. Only… "How do I do that?"

  "When someone is sleepwalking, it's almost a trance-like state. They're in there, they're just not aware of their surroundings. If you just talk quietly and lead them back to their bed, in most instances, they just lie down and go right back to sleep, many times not even remembering any of it the next morning."

  Jim hoped that what Simon was telling him was true and it would be that easy if it were to happen again. Although, I'd just as soon skip it. "Sir, would you mind not letting Sandburg know I spoke to you about this. I think it might embarrass him."

  Simon waved a hand, dismissing Jim's worry. "No reason to mention it." He leaned forward on his desk, his hands clasped together tightly in front of him. "Do you think he's up to this stakeout tonight? I could reassign the case?"

  The case involved a serial arsonist who had moved into Cascade and was taking great pleasure in burning out the abandoned buildings on the outskirts of town. The case had been bumped up to Major Crimes when a homeless man died in the last blaze. Simon had assigned four separate teams to watch different sections of the city, hoping to catch the guy in the act. Jim and Blair had first shift for the next four nights. It was nearly unprecedented to have first shift, the easiest shift, so many days in a row. Jim knew Simon had done it on purpose. Blair had been back to work only two days and the captain didn't want him overdoing it. Simon would never admit it out loud and Jim would never call him on it, but they both knew this was the captain's way of watching out for Blair.

  "I already told Sandburg about the case, Simon. If I tell him now that we aren't going tonight, he'll know something's up. Besides, I think he needs to get back to his normal routine. We both do. It's the only way we're going to put all this behind us."

  "You know his limits better than I do," Simon relented.

  "Thanks, sir. I just--"

  A knock sounded on the door. A minute later, Blair came in. "Hi, Jim. Simon. Sorry I'm late. What'd I miss?"

  Jim looked up, startled by his partner's sudden appearance. "Blair?" His brow creased. He hadn't heard him arrive. Usually, he knew the minute Blair stepped off the elevator or at the very least, the instant he reached the doors to Major Crimes. It was nothing conscious, just the sudden realization that he could hear the familiar beat of his friend's heart in his ears. But today… "I didn't hear you?"

  Blair took the seat next to him, rubbing absently at his left shoulder. "You guys were talking," he said, not understanding the significance of Jim's statement.

  Suddenly Jim had a sobering thought. Was it possible that Blair's acceptance of his Shaman gifts had somehow put a block between them? Jim hadn't even realized just how much he tuned into Blair until he couldn't do it anymore. If he was right and this was something that came with his Shaman abilities, what did it mean to Jim? Would that bond he had come to rely on so strongly be lost to him?

  Anxiety stiffened his back, settled in the pit of his stomach. He needed to talk to Blair about it. Needed to tell his Guide what was happening. But how would Blair react to the news? Would he decide to give up the whole Shaman thing just to make Jim happy? He didn't want that. Couldn't ask that. Yet--

  A hand touched his shoulder, pulling him from his thoughts. "Jim, you with us, man?"

  He blinked several times, his gaze shifting from Blair to Simon and back again. They both looked at him with furrowed brows. "Sorry," he muttered.

  "Did you zone?" Blair's voice was edged with concern.

  Jim shook his head. "No, just thinking." He turned to Simon. "Sorry, sir."

  Simon's eyes were dark with worry but it was no longer just directed at Blair. "Jim, are you sure you're up for this tonight? I'm feeling less and less certain about sending you two on this assignment."

&n
bsp; Jim glanced briefly at his partner. Blair sat stiffly in his seat, his gaze lowered and Jim knew that he was blaming himself for Simon's sudden lack of confidence in their ability to get the job done. "We'll be fine, sir," he said with a certainty he didn't completely feel.

  Jim sat in the cab of his truck and watched as Blair lifted the binoculars and scanned the front of the vacant warehouse they'd been assigned to watch. He could have told him it wasn't necessary. Jim had just finished doing that himself. But it never hurt to have a fresh perspective and Blair certainly had that.

  "So did you find anything good at the library?" he asked.

  A slow smile crept onto Blair's face. "Yeah, man, I did." He lowered the binoculars. "I met a girl."

  Jim rolled his eyes. "Only you, Sandburg."

  "What?" he asked, putting on his most innocent expression.

  "You're supposed to be trying to find out about Shamanism. Somehow you get a date out of it." He shook his head. "I don't know how you do it."

  "All we did was go for coffee. She was at the library to get some books for her father. It turns out he's a practicing Shaman. Can you believe my luck?" He shifted in his seat and Jim couldn't help but notice the slight cringe that crossed his features. He knew Blair was still sore from the gunshot wounds he'd sustained. The doctors had told him it was best to get up and out. But Jim was afraid he was overdoing it -- like he always did. You're sleeping in tomorrow, Chief. Blair had classes tomorrow starting at one but Jim was going to make sure he stayed home and rested until then.

  "I'm going to see the guy first thing in the morning," Blair said, completely blowing apart Jim's plan.

  "Don't you think you might be overdoing it a little?" Jim asked, unable to keep the worried tone from his voice. "Maybe what happened last night is your body's way of telling you to slow down. You did just get out of the hospital."

  "I'm fine, Jim, really. I mean I'm sore. My shoulder still--" His words cut off abruptly. "I'm fine," he finished softly.

  And Jim suddenly realized why Blair hadn't complained at all about his injuries. Why he insisted on doing all the things he'd done before he was shot. "Blair, you don't have to pretend that your shoulder doesn't bother you because of me. I know I shot you. You not talking about it doesn't erase it from my mind, believe me."

  "Jim, you didn't shoot me. I jumped in front of your gun. There's a huge difference. But I don't bring it up because I know you and I know you feel guilty about something that wasn't you're fault."

  "Blair, if you had died--"

  "I didn't die. I'm right here and I don't plan on going anywhere. At this point, I'm more worried about you."

  Jim's brow creased. "Me?"

  "The entire time I was with Brackett, he kept talking about his 'superiors'. Whoever those guys are, they know about you, Jim. They know what you are and what you can do. With Brackett still out there somewhere..." He tucked a stray lock of hair behind his ear, his eyes troubled. "The whole thing scares the hell out of me."

  Jim shifted his gaze back to the warehouse automatically scanning the entire area before turning back to his partner. "Blair, I'm a cop. I've got a lot of guys out there who'd like to kill me just for that."

  "Gee, Jim, thanks for easing my mind."

  "I'm not trying to ease your mind."

  "That's obvious," Blair muttered.

  "What I'm trying to say," he continued, ignoring his partner's remark, "is that no matter what we do, there will always be someone out there who might want to hurt me or you or both of us. I'm a Sentinel. The Watchman of my tribe. My job is dangerous which in turn, makes your job as my Guide dangerous." Jim paused, trying to figure out how the conversation had led to this point, had become so serious. But as he looked into Blair's anxious eyes, he knew this was a conversation they needed to have. Should have had long before now. "What gets us through it over and over again is our partnership. Blair, I'm not worried about Brackett or anyone else because I believe, as a team, we can defeat whatever comes our way. I trust you to back me up. I trust that you'll be there for me. And I hope you feel the same way."

  "You know I do," he said softly. "I've known you'd be there for me ever since Lash." He shook his head, his fingers nervously playing over the binoculars. "You shouldn't have been able to find me, Jim. Believe me, I've thought about that fact a lot over the years and I know you shouldn't have. It was a shot in the dark at best."

  Jim had never told anyone, but he had had the exact same thoughts. When Lash abducted Blair, they'd had no idea where he'd been taking his victims. Jim had managed to put it together from the barest of clues. And if he were hard pressed to say what really led him to his partner, he'd have to say instinct more than anything else. Deep down, he'd just known where Blair was. He could see that now, three years later. Then, the relationship between them had been too new. "I think you're right, Chief."

  "I know I'm right, Jim. From that day on, I knew you would always be there for me. That was why I called you my 'Blessed Protector'." He laughed at the memory. "Man, I barely knew you and I blurt out that I expect you to be there to save my life for the rest of your life. I thought that was going to be it right there. End of partnership. Pack your bags and get out time. But you didn't even blink an eye. You just took it in and went with it."

  Jim had to admit he had been surprised when Blair made the statement. But something in him had liked the idea of being 'responsible' for Sandburg's well-being. It hadn't even occurred to him to hit the panic button at those words. Which would have been the natural Ellison instinct with anyone else. "So what have we determined?"

  "That we are unbeatable and every bad guy in Cascade should run for the hills because they're just wasting their time," Blair said in his most serious voice.

  Jim cuffed him on the side of the head. "Remind me of that next time we get our asses kicked."

  Blair was still laughing when the second shift arrived to relieve them a few minutes later. After filling the two detectives in on what they'd seen so far -- nothing -- Jim and Blair headed home.

  A sound grated against his mind, pulling him from sleep. Jim sat up in bed and listened. It came again, only this time he recognized the sound -- one of the locks turning on the front door. Grabbing his weapon from his night-stand, Jim slid from the bed and made his way quickly but quietly to the stairs. But as his sight zeroed in on the now open door, what he saw stopped him cold.

  "What the hell," Jim breathed. He took the steps two at a time, pounded across the living room and out the front door.

  Blair shuffled down the halfway heading straight for the elevator. He wore no robe. No socks. Just his sweats and T-shirt.

  He's sleepwalking again.

  When they'd gotten home from the stakeout, Jim had thought that Blair would be so exhausted that he'd fall into bed and stay there the entire night, deeply and utterly asleep. He had been wrong.

  Jim rushed around the front of his Guide, blocking the younger man's path. Blair stopped. Jim reached out to touch him and hesitated. If he touched him, would it wake him and produce the same kind of violent reaction as last night? Jim dropped his hand back to his side. "Blair?" he whispered.

  The grad student blinked but otherwise did not move. Did not acknowledge Jim in any way. He just stood there, his face expressionless, his gaze locked forward, his eyes vacant, unfocused. Jim swallowed hard. It was disconcerting to look into those eyes and not see his friend behind them. He remembered Simon's advice. Prayed it would work.

  "Blair, I need you to go back into the loft," Jim said, using a tone he hoped would get his partner to move on command.

  No reaction. Just the same blank stare. What had Simon told him? That he should just lead him back to bed? So he could touch him – just not wake him.

  "Blair, we're going back inside now, okay?" Taking him gently by the shoulders, Jim turned his Guide back toward the loft. Just as it had the night before, Blair's skin felt ice cold to the touch. Colder than it should, Jim thought. Blair did not protest as Jim led him t
hrough the living room and into his bedroom. Jim tensed as he sat Blair on the edge of the bed, afraid the more forceful movement might wake him. But the second Blair touched the mattress, he stretched out on his side, pulled the blankets over himself, closed his eyes and fell into a deep slumber.

  Jim crouched down next to his sleeping friend, listening to his soft breathing. "Where were you going, Blair?" he whispered. If Jim hadn't heard the locks turning... He reached out and brushed the hair back from Blair's face. Why didn't I hear you get up, Chief?

  And Jim realized that although Blair's sleepwalking worried him, the fact that he hadn't been able to sense Blair for the last several days absolutely terrified him.

  Blair cringed as he rolled onto his back and opened his eyes. He wondered how much longer it would be before the constant ache in his shoulder and chest would be gone. It was the worst in the mornings, maybe because of the inactivity of sleep. But each day when he woke, he felt stiff and sore for at least the first hour. After that, he could function almost normally except for the occasional twinge when he overdid it.

  Well, at least I managed to stay in bed all night this time.

  But even as the thought went through his mind, he realized that Jim was asleep in a chair beside his bed. He closed his eyes. Dammit! The only reason Jim would be in his room was if something had happened last night. Blair searched back through his memory but the last thing that played through his mind was going to bed. So what had he done in the middle of the night to make Jim play baby-sitter? And why couldn't he remember it?

  Pushing back his blankets, he sat up, wincing as his shoulder and chest protested. He had to stop for a minute before actually standing and he was grateful that Jim slept through the whole thing. He knew his partner's guilt would just multiply if he saw how sore Blair was each morning. Moving slowly, he made his way to the bathroom and took a quick shower. After shaving, he slipped on his jeans and a deep blue pull-over shirt.

  He stepped out of the bathroom expecting to smell coffee brewing. But the kitchen was empty. Blair went back to his room and looked around the French doors. Jim was still asleep. His brow furrowed. Jim had to have heard him, heard the shower at least. So why was he still sleeping in the chair? Even if he didn't want to get up yet, why wouldn't he at least move to his bed instead of staying down here in this uncomfortable chair? He shook his head. It didn't really matter. Jim was getting sleep that he obviously needed and Blair was not about to disturb him. Softly, he pulled the doors shut and went into the living room. He was supposed to meet Jarred Lowry in an hour and he wanted to be as prepared as he could beforehand.