Sentinel - Progression Series 10 Pilgrimage Part 1 Page 3

  Jim leaned heavily against the seat at his back and closed his eyes. Oh, Chief. He shuddered as he thought about Blair, blinded and bound by duct tape, lying alone in the rain and wind, helpless, hurt. He could only imagine how cold it had become in those mountains the past few days, especially at night. And adding the fact that Blair had been wet on top of that….

  "….he’s on the verge of pneumonia but she thinks they may have gotten to him in time to prevent that," Simon was saying. "But what has the doctor most concerned is that wound on his side, the one Sandburg sustained during the Kaage case. It's infected and he’s running a high fever because of it. That’s why he hasn't regained consciousness.”

  They drove the rest of the way in silence, Jim trying to process all he had been told. As horrified as he was by what he had heard, as bad as he felt about the death of the one student and possibly the other two as well, he couldn’t help but be grateful that Sandburg was alive. But what he'd gone through… Jim pushed the unpleasant thoughts away. He couldn’t dwell on that. Not now. All that mattered now was Blair and getting him well.

  After parking the car, Simon and Jim made their way inside the hospital's main entrance. “We’re here for Blair Sandburg,” Jim announced as soon as he reached the front desk, finding a small bit of comfort in the ability to take charge of the situation. But he waited for what seemed an eternity as the receptionist entered information into the computer in front of her.

  “He’s on the third floor, Room 327. I can--”

  “We’ll find it.” Jim strode to the elevator, Simon following close behind him.

  Moments later, as they approached Room 327, the door opened and an older woman in a white lab coat stepped out. Her gaze shifted from the chart in her hand to Jim and Simon. “How may I help you, gentlemen?”

  “I’m Detective Jim Ellison," Jim replied, not bothering to pull his badge. "Blair Sandburg is my partner.”

  She nodded, her expression sympathetic. “I heard you’d been notified." She extended her hand and Jim shook it absently. "I’m Dr. Holland," she told him, glancing at Simon. "I’ve been taking care of Mr. Sandburg since he was admitted.”

  Simon shook her hand as well. “I’m Captain Banks. I talked to you earlier on the phone. How is Sandburg doing?”

  She hugged Blair's chart to her chest. “His condition hasn’t improved much since he was brought in. Considering the fact that we believe he was out in the elements for at least forty-eight hours….”

  "Forty-eight hours," Jim muttered, still unable to believe that was even possible.

  "At least forty-eight hours," she corrected him kindly. “It may have been longer.” She lowered Blair's chart and glanced down at it. "Mr. Sandburg is currently suffering from--”

  “Doctor,” Jim cut in suddenly, "I know this is all important, but right now I need to see my partner. Could you give me the details later?”

  She gave him a weary but understanding smile. “Of course.” She moved aside, allowing him access to his guide’s room.

  “Are you coming?” Jim asked Simon.

  The captain shook his head and gestured for Jim to go ahead. “I’ll talk to the doctor, get the details of the kid’s condition. You go be with Blair.”

  Jim nodded once, curtly, and pushed through the door. The room inside was shrouded in shadows. The shades over the window had been drawn and the only light in the room came from pale shafts of late afternoon sun that filtered in at the edges of the curtains and a light fixture mounted above the head of the bed. The figure lying in the bed beneath the dim light was just a dark mound covered with white sheets and blankets. Jim moved forward stiffly, his heart pounding rapidly in his chest.

  Adjusting his eyesight to the darkness, Blair’s familiar form came into focus. He lay on his back, his head turned to the left, away from Jim. His left arm rested across his chest, an IV needle taped to the back of his hand. His wrist was red and raw from the tape used to bind him. As Jim stepped closer, he could hear the congestion in his guide’s lungs, could feel the heat of the fever that radiated from his body.

  Stopping next to the bed, Jim stared down at his friend. Blair’s normally smooth face was marred by several cuts and scrapes, but it was the rash-like rectangular outline around his eyes and mouth that sent a pronounced chill down Jim’s spine. The distinctive shape of the irritation could have only been caused by one thing--the duct tape that had been applied to his partner’s face and left there for…how long? Forty-eight hours. Two full days and nights. At least, the doctor's voice came back to him.

  He was on that mountainside while I was in court...when I went out to eat with Simon and Joel on Friday night...this morning when I ate breakfast...

  Jim extended a shaking hand toward Blair, touching at the marred area around his eyes with sensitive fingertips, gently running them across the damaged skin. And in that moment, Blair had never looked so vulnerable to Jim.

  “Chief,” he breathed, swallowing hard against a sudden surge of emotions. “How could this have happened?”

  Behind him, the door opened quietly and Simon stepped inside. “Would you rather I come back?” the captain asked softly.

  Jim took a deep breath, working hard to get himself under control again, and shook his head. “I know you want to see him, too.”

  Simon crossed to the bed, stopping beside Jim. “Ah, Sandburg,” he whispered, reaching out as if to touch Blair. His fingers hovered tentatively above the younger man's arm for a moment, then dropped back to his side. “The doctor couldn’t tell me much more than we already knew, Jim." He glanced briefly at the detective. “But right now, it appears that all his injuries are a result of his fall. He wasn’t beaten or abused before he was pushed down that mountainside. That’s the only good news.” His gaze dropped to Blair again. “As for everything else that’s wrong with him, it’s pretty much a wait and see situation.”

  Jim frowned. “Wait and see?” He looked over at Simon. “Wait and see what? He’s going to live, Simon. I guarantee that.”

  “Jim, if the congestion in his lungs gets any worse--”

  “It won’t. I won’t let it.” He knew the statement was pompous and juvenile. That Blair's condition was beyond his control. But he didn't care…just saying it made it feel like it could perhaps be true, that perhaps he could help Blair, at least in some way….

  Simon nodded. “Fine,” he acquiesced softly. “But Jim, I think we should contact Naomi...just in case.”

  “No,” Jim said without hesitation.

  “She’s his mother. She--”

  “When she gave Blair her pager number,” Jim interrupted firmly, “he made me promise that I would never call her unless he was…unless he was dead." Jim's gaze bore into Simon's. "He wanted it to be his decision about contacting her. He doesn’t want his mother running back to Cascade every time he’s hurt.”

  “Are you sure about this?” Simon asked, sounding anything but sure himself.

  Jim stared down at Blair’s still form, watched the slow rise and fall of his chest, studied the cuts and bruises. “I promised him, Simon.” He looked at the captain again. “Right now there isn't a lot I can do for him, but I can at least keep my promises.”

  /

  Jim looked up as the door to Blair’s hospital room opened. Simon came in carrying two paper cups. “Coffee,” he said, handing one of the cups to Jim, "black and as strong as I could get it."

  “Thanks, Simon.”

  For the last two hours, Jim had done nothing but sit next to Blair and listen to the young man's strained breathing. His hand had rested atop Blair’s head the entire time, the warmth of Blair's skin and the soft feel of his hair giving Jim a sense of connection to his guide. But the kid hadn’t stirred at all, and the unnatural stillness was beginning to rattle the sentinel.

  During those two hours, Jim had tried to imagine the kind of person who could just dump another human being, bound and helpless, on the side of the road and drive away, leaving them to die. But he couldn’t.
>
  “Jim,” Simon began, his voice low, “the two hikers who found Blair are still here. They came to the hospital with Sandburg because they knew he was coming in without ID and they didn’t want to desert him. They've given their statements to a couple of uniformed officers, but I thought before they left that you might want to talk to them.”

  Jim nodded. “Yes. I do.” He stood and, reaching over the railing of the bed, placed his hand against Blair’s cheek. Looking up at Simon, he asked, “Would you mind staying here while I talk to them? I don’t want him to be left alone.”

  “Of course I’ll stay.”

  “Thank you, sir.” After one last look down at Blair, Jim left the room. He stretched his stiff neck as he made his way to the waiting area where he knew he would find the two people who had--in all likelihood--saved Blair’s life.

  Stepping inside the small room near the elevators, his gaze came to rest on a couple seated against the far wall. They both appeared to be in their mid-forties and were dressed in casual outdoor clothing. A quick glance at their sun-lined faces and the trim, well-maintained leanness of their bodies indicated to Jim that they clearly enjoyed being in the great outdoors. The woman sat with her head against the man’s shoulder, eyes closed. Both of them looked as tired as Jim felt.

  “Excuse me,” he said crossing to them. “Are you the folks who found my partner?”

  The woman sat up, her eyes blinking open. The man stood and offered Jim his hand. “Yes. I’m Paul Keller. This is my wife, Linda.”

  Jim shook the man’s hand, nodding at his wife as she smiled up at him. “I’m Detective Jim Ellison.”

  “Detective,” Paul said, his eyes widening. “Is the young man….”

  “Blair,” Jim supplied.

  “Yes, Blair,” he said, taking his seat again. “Is Blair a police officer?”

  “No. He’s a consultant with the department. But we’ve worked together for over four years and I consider him my partner.” Jim pulled up a chair and sat across from the couple. Leaning forward, resting his arms on his legs, he clasped his hands together and said, “Can you tell me what happened?”

  “We’re nature photographers,” Paul began. “We set off early this morning in hopes of getting some shots for a calendar we’ve been commissioned to shoot. With all this rain we’ve been getting, we’ve been a bit behind in our work. But we weren’t out more than half an hour when we thought we heard the howl of a wolf….”

  Jim's heart seemed to suddenly stop in his chest and he stiffened in his seat. “Excuse me," he said, leaning further forward. "Did you say a wolf? You’re sure?”

  “Oh, yes,” Paul confirmed. “We've spent years shooting pictures of animals in their natural habitats and we're quite familiar with the distinctive cries of most North American species." He glanced over at his wife before he continued. "Anyway, the wolf didn’t sound right…it sounded like it was sick or wounded. So, we decided to try and find it. We thought maybe it had been caught in a trap or something and if we could find it, we could call in some help." Mr. Keller dropped his gaze and shook his head. After a few seconds, he looked up at Jim again, his eyes holding profound sorrow. "We found your partner instead.”

  “When we first saw him,” his wife added, picking up the story where her husband left off, “we thought he was dead, that someone had dumped a body out there. He...he had that awful tape on him and he wasn’t moving….” Her voice trailed off as she glanced down the hall in the direction of Blair’s room. “We only hiked down to him because we were going to leave a marker for the rescue people.” Her gaze shifted back to Jim, her eyes wide, haunted. “But then we saw that he was breathing.”

  “It was obvious he’d been out there for a few days,” Paul continued. “It hadn’t rained since the night before but he was soaking wet. We knew we shouldn’t move him, but my wife…she just couldn’t leave him the way he was.”

  A single tear slid down Linda’s cheek. “He was so cold,” she whispered. “And that tape...it was so horrible to see that tape on him.”

  Paul slid an arm around his wife, pulling her close. “We were careful when we took the tape off,” he assured Jim.

  The detective nodded, not trusting himself to speak. In his mind, he could see Blair as they had seen him--wet and cold, bound with the duct tape, left to die on the side of that mountain--and in that moment, he knew he would never rest until he found the people responsible for harming his friend.

  “We knew he needed to be warmed up,” Paul began again, “so we wrapped him in our jackets. Linda volunteered to stay with him while I went for help. I, um…I saw the other body when I was leaving. I knew by the way he was positioned that he was dead.”

  Jim hadn’t heard anything more about the other boy who had been found with Blair. Hadn’t even thought to ask. Now he couldn’t help but wonder which of the young men it was, and could only hope he hadn’t suffered before dying.

  “Did Blair wake up at all?” he asked, attempting to keep his mind focused on the things he could do that would help him find the people behind this. “Did he tell you what happened to him?”

  Linda shook her head. “He only woke up once,” she said. “It was only for a moment and he wasn’t really...there. He just opened his eyes for a few minutes and said, 'Find Jim.' I thought at the time that he was probably talking about the other hiker, and I didn’t want to tell him he was dead. So…I just tried my best to soothe him until he quieted down again. But now.…” Her gaze locked with Jim’s. “Now I realize it was you he was talking about. He wanted us to find you.”

  “Do you have any idea who did this to him?” Paul asked.

  Jim shook his head. “At this point we're not even sure what happened."

  "The uniformed officers seem to think that because there was no car and because there were no possessions with the boys, it was a car-jacking."

  Jim nodded as he thought about the gold Toyota Four-Runner, the pricey SUV that had appeared as though it had just been driven off a showroom floor. Even the most casual of observers could tell, just by looking at the big vehicle, that it was top-of-the-line, fully loaded. A car-jacker's dream.

  Linda wiped her face as another tear slid down her cheek. “I just can't imagine anyone hurting someone like this.”

  “I know,” Jim breathed out. “I can’t either.” Reaching into his front shirt pocket, he withdrew one of his business cards. Quickly, he wrote the loft's telephone number on the back, then handed the card to Paul. “This is my home number. My cell phone number is also on this card. If you remember anything else, please call me.”

  Paul nodded, taking the card.

  “Could we call you to see how Blair is doing?” Linda asked, her gaze darting briefly to her husband before coming to rest again on Jim. “I'd just like to make sure he’s all right.”

  Jim smiled warmly, happy that such warm and compassionate people had been the ones to find his partner. “I’m sure once Blair wakes up, he’ll want to thank you himself for all you did for him. So yes, please call.”

  Part Three

  Jim pulled open the window blinds, illuminating Blair’s hospital room in early morning sunshine. He blinked against the sudden light and brought his fist up to cover his mouth as he struggled against another yawn.

  He’d spent the entire night at his partner's side, monitoring his every breath, listening to every beat of his heart. Nothing had changed. The kid was still unconscious, unresponsive. But he’s going to wake up today, I just know it.

  Late last night, he’d finally learned the identity of the boy found near Blair. It had been Andrew Rehse, the young man who had shown so much interest in Jim’s work, the boy whose father owned the now missing SUV. According to the coroner, his neck was broken in the fall. He’d been dead before his body stopped rolling down the mountain. The other two boys were still missing. No one believed Peter Meade or Stan Gillman had anything to do with the crime. They were considered victims and most of the people involved in the case believed that th
ey were dead.

  Jim turned as the door to Blair’s room opened. Eli Stoddard stood in the doorway, his gaze locked on Blair.

  “Eli!” Jim blurted out. He hadn’t even thought about calling the professor. As he stared at the man’s shell-shocked expression, his wide, unbelieving eyes, he realized…Those were his students, they were on a trip he sent them on. Jim could only imagine the guilt the man must feel, guilt that was completely unfounded but would eat away at the older man nonetheless.

  “I just heard,” Eli said, his voice holding a tone of disbelief, his gaze never leaving Blair. “Is he going to be all right?”

  Crossing to Blair, Jim reached down and lay his hand against the top of his partner's head. “He’s running a high fever right now. And there’s a lot of congestion in his lungs." He looked over at the professor. "But he’s going to be fine,” he said with conviction…more conviction than he actually felt.