Progression Series 17 Lying in Wait Page 5

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  Jim stared down at Blair's still form, trying to block out the sound of the respirator that was aiding his partner in his breathing. Just like the last time. Jim's thoughts cycled back to that time before. He'd been blind, unable to see his partner. He'd had to depend on touch and hearing to monitor Blair and had railed against the fact that he couldn't see him. But now-seeing the tube that ran into Blair's body, Jim was thankful that he had been spared the sight before. He swallowed against a surge of nausea, the sickening knowledge that the tube was feeding Blair with life-sustaining oxygen-that without it....

  It shouldn't have happened once. To have it happen twice...

  The sound of the respirator seemed to mock him, refusing to be ignored. The sound was haunting, every hiss supplying a breath for his partner that Blair couldn't supply for himself. In, out. In, out. In, out...

  "Jim? Jim!"

  The captain's voice and a firm hand gripping his arm reached the sentinel and he gasped, taking in a deep breath of air. "What?"

  "Snap out of it!" Simon barked, his voice more scared than angry. "Now is not the time for one of your zones."

  "I...I'm sorry," Jim managed weakly as reality rushed over him again. He tried to shake off the encroaching sound of the respirator, but he couldn't seem to manage the dial. Moving closer, he leaned against Blair's bed, reached out and took his partner's hand in his own. Immediately, grounded by his guide's touch, the internal dial responded and the sound of the respirator faded away and blended in with the other background noises in the room.

  "You okay?"

  "Yeah, I think so."

  Simon frowned and studied his detective. "Jim, you're under a lot of pressure. Why don't you let me assign this case to-"

  Jim held up his hand, halting Simon's speech. "No one else gets this case, sir," he said crisply. "And I'm all right. I'm just a little tired, that's all."

  The captain inhaled a long, thoughtful breath, then held up his hands in a gesture of defeat. "Fine. Have it your way." He glanced down at Sandburg, then back at his detective. "Listen, Jim, I've been thinking. I know you think a bunch of cadets are behind this, but this is Golden we're talking about. It's not easy to find and it's certainly not cheap. Could this possibly be the work of Marcus Grant?"

  The detective jerked his attention toward Simon, his eyes wide, searching. But after a few seconds a surety crept into his mind. "No, Grant wouldn't try to kill Blair. Not now, after what happened in Crittendon. Besides, the man likes to play games. If he were behind this, we'd know. He'd want us to know."

  Simon sighed out heavily, rubbed wearily at his face.

  "I'm sorry, sir," Jim told the captain, "but the academy is my best and only lead right now. And I know that if some of those students over there are behind this, I won't get any closer to finding them by staying here." He rubbed at his forehead, working at the headache building there, trying to ignore the unease that gripped his stomach. "I need to go...."

  "Go where?" Simon demanded.

  "To the warehouse where Sandburg was found for starters."

  "Alone?"

  "I don't see that I have a choice!" he barked. Then, realizing how biting his tone had been, he muttered, "Sorry, Simon." He rubbed at his temple again. "I just need to get out there and get to the bottom of this. Whoever did this to Blair wasn't interested in just drugging him. They wanted him dead." He looked up at Simon again. "Which means he's going to need protection."

  Again, the captain sighed. "All right. I'll assign a 24-hour guard to the kid's door."

  "Thank you, sir. But I don't just want some stranger posted at his door. I want someone I know, someone I trust sitting with him, at his side." He hesitated only a moment then added, "Right now, that's you."

  "Jim, as much as I'd love to stay with Blair, you know I can't...."

  "Just for a while, sir. Please. Just until I can check a few things out."

  "All right, Jim," Simon gave in wearily. "Go. I'll stay with Sandburg."

  Relief flooded Jim. He smiled his thanks at the captain and then turned his attention to his partner. Reaching down, he gently placed the palm of his hand against the young man's forehead and traced his fingers down the side of Blair's face, lightly touching the bruising there. His gaze then shifted to the bandage covering his partner's shoulder, concealing the bullet hole.

  Jim sighed then leaned down and rested his cheek against his guide's, whispering softly, "Stay with me, Chief. I need you, buddy. Remember that-I need you." He allowed himself to linger for just a moment more, then straightened, glanced one final time at his captain, and strode toward the door.

  /

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  He floated in a terrible void, cold and lonely. Soundless shapes swirled around him in a frenzied mist...shapes with golden hues that sparked brightly for a moment, then morphed into something black and charred. The forms filled him with an almost overwhelming terror...but he was helpless against the onslaught of the ethereal fire people, helpless against the dread they instilled within him.

  It seemed as though he'd been in this place forever, floating, searching... Searching for what?

  He wrapped himself in his despair, tried with all his might to lose himself in it completely. Anything...anything to make the golden fire people disappear.

  And then, as though bidden by the silent call of an unseen overlord, the golden shapes fled away, disbursing in a frightened whirl. He watched them dim, flash golden one last time, and then disappear into charred ruin. And as he wondered at the strange reprieve, he felt it...a touch, warm and gentle against his face...a tender and familiar voice whispering in his ear. All thoughts of the golden creatures gone now, he turned his attention to the comforting sensations, clung to them desperately.

  But just as they had appeared so suddenly, so they departed, leaving the void even more desolate than it had been before. No! his mind and heart screamed. He reached out with every fiber of his being, willing the touch to return and the voice to keep speaking... But there was only darkness.

  He searched his tired mind, searched until the words the voice had spoken came to him: I need you...remember...I need you

  Someone needs me, his weary mind supplied. Someone I know...someone I care about...

  A tiny spark of determination worked its way into his confused mind. He reached out with his consciousness, trying to capture it... only to find the vertigo and terror rushing in instead. He tried to fight the fear, tried to pull into himself. Even in his fear and confusion he knew he shouldn't give up-that he should try and find the person who needed him, the person with the gentle touch and the tender voice... But the mists were back-swirling about him in that mad frenzy, lifting him and carrying him along. And he was just too tired to fight the tide.

  /

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  Simon dropped wearily into the chair near Blair's bed and withdrew his cell phone from his pocket. He knew Jim wanted him to stay here with Sandburg-to offer the young man protection against whoever did this to him. But Simon had sensed the anxious nervousness in his detective, had seen the telltale signs of a man whose emotions were slowly but surely unraveling. Jim was going after Blair's assailants and he was going alone. And Simon couldn't allow that.

  He knew any one of the other detectives in Major Crime would be more than willing to sit with Blair, but the captain felt that Sandburg needed more than just protection. He could assign any rookie on the force to guard Blair's room, but only one other person besides Jim Ellison could be a true comfort to Sandburg at this time...if the kid was able to perceive anyone at all being with him, that is....

  "Rhonda," he spoke into the receiver as the call he'd placed was answered at the station, "I need you to do something for me. In my office, in my Rolodex, is a number for Dr. Eli Stoddard at Rainier University. Get it for me, would you?"

  /

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  Jim followed the female uniformed officer into the deserted warehous
e.

  "This is where he was found." The officer pointed to a spot on the cement floor just ahead but the direction wasn't necessary. Jim could see the blood still marring the floor - his guide's blood. "We found his backpack and phone over here."

  Jim glanced toward the area she indicated, frowning. "The phone was out of the pack?"

  "Yes. I figure he was trying to call for help when whoever did this nailed him."

  Jim crossed to the discarded pack. "Are you finished with this?"

  The officer nodded. "Forensics already took pictures of the scene. You can move it."

  Grabbing the handles, Jim hefted Blair's pack off the floor before scooping up the cell phone. The power was still on, the lighted display glaring up at him. His hand tightened around the small device. Were you trying to call me, Chief? He switched the phone off and stuffed it into the pack. Inside, he could see a small notebook. Curious, he pulled it out, quickly realizing that it was Blair's attendance record for his classes at the academy. Jim flipped the notebook open and read down through the unfamiliar names. But it wasn't the names he was most interested in--penciled neatly beside the name of each individual were notes about the cadets themselves.

  Quiet. Intelligent. Cocky. Uncertain.

  Each cadet had a one-word description beside his or her name, followed by slightly longer explanations. Jim bit at his lip as he closed the book. This was a beginning. Tucking it back into the pack, he zipped the bag closed and turned to the officer beside him.

  "I was told a dock worker found Sandburg. Is he still around? I want to talk to him."

  She nodded curtly. "I'll take you to him."

  /

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  Eli hung up the phone, stunned by the call from Captain Banks. Overdose. Unconscious. Not breathing on his own. Shaking, Eli pushed himself from his chair and made his way toward his bedroom. He planned to stay at Blair's side until the person or persons who attacked him were found. In order to do that, he needed a few essentials from home.

  Carrying his small bag to the bathroom, he pulled open the medicine cabinet and retrieved his toothbrush. As he closed the small door, he caught sight of his own reflection in the mirror before him. Worry darkened his eyes, pulled down the corners of his mouth.

  Injected with Golden. The words spoken to him only moments before by Captain Banks flashed through his mind again. What affect would that have on Blair? He knew only what he'd read in the papers about the time Blair was dosed with Golden at the police station two years ago. And Blair's reaction that time had come from a single bite of pizza dusted with the drug. To have the drug injected straight into his system....

  A shiver ran up Eli's spine, raising the hairs on the back of his neck. Instantly, a mental image flashed through his mind-the image of Blair struggling with an unknown assailant brandishing a syringe filled with the deadly drug.

  Eli shook his head, erasing the image, wishing he could erase what had happened to Blair as easily. Exiting the bathroom, he moved toward his bedroom, determined to finish his packing quickly. He needed to get to Blair, stay with him while the police found out who did this to him. And why.

  /

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  Jim wound the truck through downtown traffic, slowly making his way back to the station. His mind raced as he drove, churning out first one possible lead, discarding it, churning out another. Nothing was coming together, making sense.

  The dock-worker had been open and helpful, but had really given him nothing. He'd heard the gun shot, which had drawn him to the warehouse, but once there he'd seen no one leaving, no car.

  Jim had conducted a search of the area himself, looking for Blair's Volvo. But it wasn't there. Which means it probably wasn't a "meet," he thought to himself. Blair had to have been abducted.... Either that or he'd driven to the warehouse and the person who'd shot him had taken the Volvo. Jim frowned. There was really only one way to find out. He glanced in his side view mirror then moved smoothly into the outside lane. Turning right on Market, he flipped on his blue flashing light and sped toward the Cascade Police Academy.

  Pulling into the parking lot, he spotted the Volvo instantly. Swinging the truck around, he came to a stop before it...and saw George Mitchell leaning down on the passenger side, staring into the small car.

  Jim shoved open his door and stalked toward the older police officer. "What the hell are you doing?" he exploded.

  Mitch looked up, his eyes wide with surprise. "I saw the kid's car here and I thought it might give us some clue-"

  "Stay away from my partner's car. In fact, I don't want you near anything that has to do with Sandburg. You got that?"

  Mitchell stared at him. "I'm just trying to help."

  Jim moved closer, looming over the smaller man, glaring down at him. "It's too late for that," he bit out. "You weren't there when Sandburg needed you and now...I don't want or need your help."

  Mitchell stared at him unflinching. "What's your plan?"

  "I just told you-"

  "Dammit, Ellison! I feel responsible for what happened to that kid!"

  Jim stared past Mitchell for several moments, trying to reign in his anger, trying to decide if the man before him was sincere in what he was saying....or if he just trying to cover his own ass.

  "This is my fault," Mitch said more softly. "Let me help. Please."

  "I'm going to the source," Jim said finally, seeing no harm in sharing his plan. "I'm going to the cadets.

  "Are you crazy?" Mitch blurted out. "You'll tip our hand."

  "Tip our hand? Tip our hand!" Jim let out a derisive laugh. Then, grabbing Mitchell by the front of the shirt, he shoved him hard against the side of the Volvo. "My partner is in the hospital! They know!"

  "You're going to blow this entire thing," the man countered evenly, never losing eye contact with Jim.

  "That's your problem." The sentinel released his hold on the man and stepped back. "Sandburg kept notes on all his students," he ground out. "He was doing the job you manipulated him into, the job you promised to back him up on."

  "I did my best-"

  "I'm going to go down Blair's list of students," Jim cut in, his voice overriding Mitchell's, "and talk to each one as I see fit."

  That said, he turned and stalked away, the sound of his own heart beating hard in his ears. But as he listened more closely, he realized...it wasn't his heart he heard beating loud and fast, but Mitchell's. Yet the older cop had seemed so unconcerned. Jim kept walking, didn't turn around to look back at Mitchell. But he couldn't help but wonder what it was that had the man so frightened....

  /

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  Eli Stoddard pulled the vinyl chair up to the edge of Blair's hospital bed and lowered himself slowly, wearily onto the seat. He stared at Sandburg, bit at his lip as tears threatened, stinging his eyes. How many times have I visited you in this hospital, my dear boy? How many times? And how many more times in the future will this scene repeat itself?

  He studied Sandburg, the gentle features lined with pain even in sleep. How much more pain will you suffer? Immediately, Dr. Stoddard reprimanded himself for the thought. He knew that Blair was where he wanted to be, despite the risk to his own safety. Any other life than the one he was now living and the boy would be unfulfilled, miserable. Far beyond duty to the sentinel he had sought all his life, Blair loved Detective Ellison. He'd gladly give his life for the man if it came to that. And it almost had...many times.

  The professor settled himself more comfortably in the unyielding chair and reached out to take Blair's hand into both of his. Squeezing at the limp fingers, he closed his eyes and whispered a silent prayer for Blair's recovery. Behind him, he heard the door open, then soft footfalls against the tiled floor. A strong hand came to rest on his shoulder and he opened his eyes and looked up into the face and the kind eyes of Simon Banks.

  "Hello, Captain," he greeted wearily.

  "Dr. Stoddard. Thank you for coming."

&n
bsp; Eli turned his attention back to Blair. "Will you be going after the person who did this now?"

  "Yes. Jim's been working on it, but I need to get some people out there to help him."

  Eli nodded. "I imagine he's working on sheer nerves by now. He'll need your help."

  There was a short pause, then Simon spoke again: "How did you know that?"

  Eli gazed up at the captain. "Know what? That Jim's probably on edge? I know Blair's been unable to work with him. And now he's here, injured, unable to help Jim at all. It's only a matter of time before Jim's control collapses completely." He dropped his gaze back to the bed, back to the young man who was like a son to him. "You need to find the person or people who did this before then, Captain," he said quietly. "I fear what might happen if Jim gets to them in the condition he's in."

  "Jim's just upset because Blair's been hurt...."

  "He's upset because he's losing his control, Captain." Again Eli looked up at Simon, his earnest expression forcing the captain to look at him. "I know you don't understand the full ramifications of the bond between your detective and Blair." He huffed out a humorless laugh. "I suppose none of us understands it. But it's not something we can discount or ignore. Jim Ellison needs this young man. And until Blair is back at Jim's side, it's going to be up to you to keep him in control."

  Simon nodded. "I'll do the best I can. In the meantime, I want you to know that you and Sandburg will be safe. I've arranged to have an officer posted outside his door twenty-four hours a day until this ends. They have a list of who's allowed in and they'll follow that list to the letter."

  "I'm grateful for the care you're taking."

  Simon's gaze cut to Sandburg. "He's worth it," he muttered before shifting his attention back to Eli. "I'll keep you informed." With that, he turned and left the room, leaving Eli alone with Blair.

  In the silence of the hospital room, the respirator pumping air into Blair's lungs suddenly seemed very loud to Eli. Reaching up, he touched lightly at the tape holding the respirator tube in place, then gasped lightly as he took in the bruises just below the tape.