Sentinel - Progression Series 09 To Have and To Hold Page 3

  He looked over at his partner and found himself wishing Blair were awake. If he were, he could send Sandburg in to talk with Hannah. That type of thing was the kid's forte, not his. Blair would know what to say to comfort her, what to do. But Blair wasn't awake. He was.

  Sighing deeply, unsure of what he could possibly say or do to offer solace to the distraught woman, Jim slipped from beneath the covers and pulled on his robe. Padding quietly across the carpet, he knocked lightly on the door that separated the two rooms, then moved slowly across to Hannah's bed.

  "Hannah?"

  There was the sound of quiet sniffling, then Hannah shifted her position on the bed and looked up at him. Even in the darkness of the small room, Jim could see that her eyes were wet from crying. "Jim?"

  "Yeah, it's me." He stepped closer. "Mind if I sit down?"

  "No, of course not." Hannah moved over, allowing Jim enough room to sit on the edge of the mattress. "I'm sorry if I woke you. I should have closed the door..."

  "No, it's all right." He shifted his body, finding a more comfortable position, and stared down at her. "We're going to get this man, Hannah. I want you to believe that."

  "I know you will," she replied with quiet confidence. "It's just that...well, this is just so terrifying. I've never had anything like this happen to me before." She breathed out a small, mirthless laugh. "I just don't get it at all. I keep asking myself, 'why me'? It's not like I'm anyone special--"

  "Hey..." Jim interrupted. Tentatively, he reached out and rested his hand against her shoulder, pleased when she didn't shy away from his touch. "Hannah, I want you to listen to me. You're a very kind and special person. I think Philip Kaage has taken the good traits he saw in you and fixated on them. And the worst part? Now he has you doubting those good things about yourself. He has you wondering if you did something to deserve this. You didn't."

  She sniffled again, reaching up to wipe at her eyes with trembling fingers. "I want to believe that. I keep going over and over that day in the park, trying to figure out if I did or said anything--"

  "You see what I mean?" Jim cut her off gently. "He has you doubting yourself when you're not the problem." He squeezed gently at her thin shoulder, then withdrew his hand. "Hannah, you're the victim in this. Philip Kaage is the bad guy here, not you. Can you understand that?"

  She was silent for a long moment, staring up at Jim in the darkness with wide, haunted eyes. Then he saw a tiny smile form on her lips, and she nodded her head against the pillow. "Yes, I think I can."

  "Good. Feel better now?"

  "I think so. Thank you, Jim."

  He smiled. "No problem. Do you think you can get some rest now?"

  Again, she nodded.

  "Good." Jim began to rise from the bed, then stopped. Suddenly it just seemed so unfair to leave Hannah alone in the dark, battling with her fear and insecurity, overwhelmed by her dark thoughts of Philip Kaage. Settling down on the mattress again, he paused for a moment, then said, "I...could sit here with you until you fall asleep if you'd like." He was surprised at the hesitant shyness he heard in his own voice...and at the unexpected knowledge that he would be profoundly disappointed if Hannah refused his offer.

  But she didn't. "I'd like that," she whispered softly. "If you're sure you don't mind..."

  Jim gave her a wide smile; he knew she couldn't see his grin, but it was a smile he couldn't keep at bay. She wants me to stay. "It would be my pleasure." Patting gently at her arm, he whispered, "You rest. I'll be right here."

  Part Three

  "Sandburg, I'm going to get the truck. You wait here with Hannah and I'll pick you both up out front in a few minutes."

  Blair nodded as his partner headed toward the door. Jim had parked his truck two blocks over, nowhere near the motel, just to be on the safe side. The precaution had paid off. The night had passed without incident and Blair had awoken with a confident feeling that today they would find something or someone who would lead them to Philip Kaage.

  They planned to stop for breakfast on the way into the station. Then, once they'd delivered Hannah safely to the Records Department, he and Jim would begin the search again.

  Glancing toward the open door to Hannah's room, Blair couldn't help but smile. He could hear her in there moving around, getting ready to leave. She'd been humming earlier, a soft, pretty tune. He didn't know if it was just wishful thinking on his part, but he was almost positive he'd detected a change in Jim this morning--in the way he looked at Hannah, in the tone of voice he used when talking to her.

  But Blair wasn't going to push it...not like he had been. If something finally was developing between Hannah and his partner, he would let it take its own course from here on out.

  Still smiling, he went into the bathroom to retrieve his shaving kit. Just as he lifted the small case, a loud crash reverberated through the room--the unmistakable sound of a door slamming inward. Seconds later, he heard Hannah cry out, her voice filled with fear and surprise.

  Blair dropped the kit and dashed to the young woman's room. He came to an abrupt halt as he came through the door. Philip Kaage stood behind the petite clerk, his left arm wrapped around her waist and holding her tightly against his chest. His right held a large knife, the blade against Hannah's throat. His wild gaze locked on Blair.

  "You think I'm going to let you have her?" he growled as he pressed the knife harder against her skin

  Hannah let out a soft whimper, and a single tear slid down her cheek.

  Blair held up his hands in a non-threatening manner, swallowing hard against the sudden dryness in his throat. He knew he couldn't win in a hand-to-hand battle with Kaage. The man was enormous. Instead, he needed to stall for time--he just needed to keep this maniac calm until Jim got back.

  "Listen," he said, pitching his voice low, using the same quiet tone that always worked to bring Jim out of his zones. "Why don't you just let her go and we can talk about this. No one has to get hurt." He glanced briefly out the open door of Hannah's room, hoping to see Jim's truck pulling up in front. But the parking lot was clear. He licked his lips. "Just put down the knife."

  "She's leaving with me," Kaage announced, dragging his victim toward the door.

  Hannah let out a startled cry, her eyes growing wide with fear.

  "Stop!" Blair blurted out, advancing on Kaage, his mind racing. "You don't have to do it this way. She wants to be with you."

  Kaage narrowed his eyes as he looked at Blair, uncertainty clouding their dark depths. "You're lying," he said finally, but the knife at Hannah's neck moved away slightly.

  "No, she was just telling me, weren't you, Hannah?" He looked at the young clerk, hoping she'd realize what he was doing and would play along.

  "Yes," she breathed, working hard to get the word past her trembling lips.

  "You see!" Blair said, taking another step, closing the gap between them. "You don't need the knife. She wants to be with you."

  Slowly--his gaze still wary, but now tinged with hope--Kaage lowered the knife. Hannah began to move away and Blair reached out, extending a hand to her. Just as their fingers touched, Jim's truck pulled into the parking lot. Kaage turned toward the open door, able to see the blue and white Ford as it steered toward the room. Instantly, his eyes darkened with rage.

  "Liar!" he bellowed. Drawing his arm back, he swung the knife toward Hannah's lower back.

  "No!" Blair yelled, pulling her past him before stepping in front of her.

  The next several seconds seemed to happen in the blink of an eye. The knife cut deeply into Blair's left side. He gasped, unable to catch his breath as sharp pain sliced through him. His legs gave out as the knife was pulled free. He fell to his knees, then collapsed to the floor. Warmth spread across his stomach and he looked down. A fast growing stain of red blood darkened the left side of his shirt.

  He saw Kaage, standing above him, raise the knife again. Blair tried to move, to cry out, but he could do nothing but lay on the floor, struggling to breathe. Just as the at
tacker's arm moved downward, the blade aimed directly at Blair's chest, two sharp gunshots rang out. Kaage staggered backward, his eyes wide with a combination of shock and pain.

  His gaze flicked down to the wounds in his chest. "You're not supposed to shoot me," he muttered.

  Another shot rang out, hitting the man squarely in the heart. The knife slipped from his hand as Kaage collapsed to the floor and stopped moving.

  Blair looked toward the sound of the gunshots, expecting to see his partner. But it was Hannah who stood holding the gun. It was Hannah who had just saved his life.

  /

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  Jim slammed the truck into Park and pushed himself out of the cab. He rushed to the motel room, the sound of the gunshots still echoing in his ears. Pulling his own weapon, he stepped inside. A dozen various scenarios of what he would find had raced through his mind as he'd driven across the parking lot, but he was completely unprepared for the scene that greeted him.

  Blair lay on the floor, face pale and eyes closed, his shirt stained with blood. Hannah sat beside him, her hand brushing gently through his hair, muttering over and over, "It's okay. I called 911. It's okay." Just a few feet away lay Philip Kaage--dead from three gunshot wounds to the chest.

  I've only been gone a few minutes. How could all this have happened in those few minutes?

  Shoving his weapon into the holster at his back, Jim dropped down on his knees beside his fallen partner. "Blair?" he whispered, reaching out and cupping the side of his face. "Hey, buddy, you with me?"

  Pain-filled blue eyes fluttered open, struggled to focus. "Jim?"

  "Right here, Chief," he whispered. Carefully, gently, Jim pulled up the front of Blair's shirt. His jaw clenched as he took in the deep cut along his left side, the blood still seeping from the laceration. In the distance, he could hear the sound of an ambulance and beyond that, police sirens. The motel manager probably called the cops when he heard the first gunshots. So help was coming...but his partner had already lost a lot of blood. He couldn't afford to lose much more. Lowering Sandburg's shirt, Jim bore down against the wound with the heel of his hand, applying pressure, hoping to stave off the bleeding.

  Blair gasped in pain, his eyes closing again.

  "I know, buddy. I'm sorry, it can't be helped." But even as the words left him, Jim knew Blair was no longer feeling any pain. He had passed out.

  The sentinel looked at Hannah. "What happened?"

  "I called 911," she answered softly, her eyes never leaving Blair, her voice holding a faraway quality. And as Jim looked at her, he realized she was in shock.

  Before he could get any more information from her, the paramedics arrived. Jim and Hannah stood back as the men crowded around his partner, shouting words about stabilizing him and getting him ready for transport. As Blair was placed on a stretcher and loaded into the back of the ambulance, Jim instructed the uniformed officers who arrived on the scene to contact Captain Banks in Major Crimes, that his department would be handling the investigation. Climbing into his truck, Hannah in the passenger seat, Jim followed the ambulance carrying his partner to Cascade General.

  /

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  Pushing through the emergency room doors, Jim stayed close to his guide as they wheeled him toward an examination room. Blair had regained consciousness on the ride over and his frightened eyes were now locked on Jim as they moved through the hospital corridors. His body trembled uncontrollably, a reaction to the high loss of blood. And even with the aid of the oxygen mask that covered his mouth and nose, he was still having trouble breathing.

  Jim kept a hand on his partner's arm, gripping tightly. "You're going to be okay, Chief. You're going to be just fine," he coached, smiling down at him, doing his best to reassure him.

  They reached the doors that led to the treatment area and a nurse stepped in front of Jim, stopping his progress forward. "This is as far as you go, Detective."

  Reluctantly, Jim released his hold on his partner. "I'll be waiting right here," he promised Blair as the paramedics and nurse moved forward with the stretcher. The sentinel watched until Sandburg disappeared from sight, but as he cocked his head he could still hear his guide's labored breathing, his racing heartbeat. He closed his eyes and clung to those sounds, letting them ground him, reassure him.

  A light touch to his arm brought him out of his reverie. He looked down to find Hannah standing beside him, staring up at him with wide, soulful eyes. Turning to face her, he gripped her arms gently. "Hannah, I'm sorry. I haven't even asked how you're doing."

  She dismissed his concerns with a small smile. "I'm okay, I think."

  Jim gestured toward a small alcove that had been set up for visitors. "Here, let's sit down." As soon as Hannah was seated on one of the vinyl-covered couches, Jim asked, "Can I get you anything? Coffee or a soft drink?"

  She shook her head. "No. I'm fine."

  Taking a seat beside her, Jim closed his eyes and tried to force himself to relax. His partner was being examined and treated for a knife wound, and beside him sat the most unlikely heroine he could have ever imagined. "Hannah..." he began, opening his eyes and looking over at her. "Where did you get that gun?"

  She stared at him for a long moment, then lowered her gaze. "It was my father's. I've had it for several years, but I only bought bullets for it the other day...after Kaage started following me."

  "Why didn't you tell me you had it?" Jim pressed, his voice taking on an irritated tone. "I would have liked to have known that."

  She bit at her lip, her gaze not meeting Jim's. "I'm sorry," she breathed out, beginning to cry softly. "I never dreamed I'd have to use it." She looked up at Jim then, her eyes filled with fear. "Am I going to get into trouble for shooting that man?"

  Jim took a deep breath and scrubbed his hand wearily across his face. "I don't know. It was self-defense..."

  "The gun is registered in my name," Hannah added hastily. "My father gave it to me when I moved into my house, and we went to City Hall and filed all the proper paperwork."

  "Well, the fact that it's registered to you will help..." Jim allowed the sentence to trail off as he studied Hannah more closely--noted that she was trembling slightly and that she had once again dropped her gaze from his. Slowly, his anger at her dissipated then ebbed away completely. After all, she had protected Sandburg, had possibly saved his life. Her failure to tell him about the gun was a significant mistake, but she wasn't a cop, wasn't familiar with proper procedures. "Listen, Hannah," he said gently. "I'm sorry if I was harsh with you. It's just that I wish I'd known about the gun, that's all. But...I do appreciate the fact that you defended Blair."

  She nodded, then looked up at him. A trembling hand came up to wipe away a few stray tears. "Blair will be okay, won't he?"

  Jim sat back, leaning heavily against the couch cushions at his back. "He has to be," he breathed out softly. He closed his eyes and tried to focus in again on his partner's heartbeat and respiration, but there were too many other noises in the hospital to allow him to concentrate for more than a few seconds at a time. He took several deep breaths, trying to calm himself, center himself like Sandburg had taught him.

  Beside him, he felt Hannah shift slightly, then he felt the warmth of her hand as it came to rest on his arm. Opening his eyes, he gazed over at her--into her concerned face. He offered her a weary smile, and was glad when she moved close and rested her head against his shoulder.

  /

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  Jim stepped quietly through the doorway to Blair's room, relief washing over him as his gaze settled on his partner. Blair lay in the bed, eyes closed, his breathing soft and even. He still looked pale but the trembling had stopped and the oxygen mask had been removed. An IV line still ran into his arm, but that would be there for the night.

  They were lucky, the doctor had explained to Jim. The knife had missed Blair's major organs and had, instead, nicked an artery. That explained all the blood his pa
rtner had lost.

  As Jim closed the door softly behind him, Blair opened his eyes wearily.

  "Hey, man," he whispered, a small smile tugging at one corner of his mouth. "How're you doing?"

  Jim moved up beside him and rested a hand lightly against his arm. "I think that's my line, Chief."

  "I'm tired," Blair breathed out. "I think they put me through every test they have. What is up with that anyway? I mean, running a CAT scan? That's going overboard."

  Jim chuckled. "You should be used to all those tests by now."

  "That's a sad commentary on my life," Blair muttered, but Jim could hear the humor beneath the words. "So, when do I get out of here?"

  "Sorry, you're in for the night."

  Blair's eyes slipped closed. "Yeah, I thought so. They don't usually stick me in a room if I'm going home."

  "You lost a lot of blood, Chief," Jim said, and even as the words left him a mental picture of Blair lying on that motel floor, blood staining his shirt, flashed through his mind. He forced the image away--Blair is going to be fine. He squeezed gently at the arm he still held before speaking again. "The doctor said when you were brought in that your blood pressure was dangerously low as a result of the blood loss. They want to keep you on the IV fluids for the night to bring it back up. Plus, he said he wants to keep an eye on that cut, make sure infection doesn't set in."

  "I can live with that." Blair looked up at Jim again. "Is Hannah okay?"

  "She's fine. Just worried about you. I think she blames herself for this."

  "She shouldn't. No one's at fault here except Kaage." At the mention of his assailant's name, Blair frowned. "Jim, what happened...it's foggy in my mind but...did Hannah shoot him?"

  Jim nodded. "I think she probably saved your life, Chief."

  "I know she did, Jim," he said, his voice low, serious. But as he stared up at Jim, his brow furrowed suddenly. "Is she still here?"

  "Waiting out in the hallway. She didn't want to leave until she knew you were going to be okay."