New
Arrivals
Author-Sorcha
Titles
Hush
Part One
by Sorcha
Warnings: Hmm. Blair owies. . . if you don't like that, well, you've been warned. : ) Rated PG for the use of one or two words.
I'd like to send a real Fraser-like ‘Thank you kindly' to Danae for beta reading and for that wonderful pep talk that got me writing again. Also to Michelle for her encouragement. And finally to Cathy and Jen for their positive feedback. You all helped get this story finished faster. Thank you!
Feedback very welcome and very much appreciated.
Disclaimer: You know the drill -- don't own ‘em, no money, no infringement intended.
Detective James Ellison pulled his truck into the parking garage of the police station and came to a stop. He climbed out of the vehicle, shutting the door behind him, and his partner followed suit.
"Hey." Blair came around the front of the truck where he stopped, bouncing up onto the balls of his feet. "I'm gonna run over to the coffee shop while it's not raining so hard. You want me to get you something?"
"No thanks, Chief. I'm okay," Jim replied. "I'll meet you upstairs."
"Okay." Blair turned and headed back out to the street.
Just outside the garage, Blair passed by two uniformed officers who were smoking cigarettes, huddled into their jackets in hopes of keeping out the rain and cold. One was bitching about something while the other lent a sympathetic ear. As Blair walked by them, the two men stamped out their cigarettes and headed back into the garage. Sandburg didn't notice when one of the officers turned back to glare at his retreating form.
Blair entered the bullpen and moved over to Jim's desk. He placed his steaming cafe latte on the desk and started to pull off his jacket when Jim came over from the direction of Captain Banks' office.
"Don't bother taking your coat off, Chief," Jim stopped him.
"Where're we going?" Blair stuck his arm back its sleeve and picked up his drink again.
"There was a home invasion last night in The Point area, making the third in eight days. Simon just put us on the case and I thought we'd take a look at the crime scene, see if there's anything I can pick up that forensics couldn't," Jim explained, pulling on his own coat as he led the way toward the elevator.
Blair perked up at the thought putting Jim's heightened sense to work, and happily followed the detective down the hall. "So what's the deal with these invasions? Has anyone been hurt?"
"Not seriously," Jim replied. "In one case, a man was knocked unconscious and got a slight concussion. In the other two cases, the residents were either asleep or at least in bed and not confronted by the intruders. Nothing has been taken from any of the houses." Ellison pressed the button for the garage level and stepped back.
"Wait, you're saying that someone got into the houses on The Point and didn't take anything?" Blair was incredulous.
"That's right," Jim replied.
"But everyone that lives on the Point is filthy rich. Why would they break in and not take anything?"
"Their objective is probably to instill terror and fear, to feel powerful. But you're right, it seems strange that any crook would pass up such an opportunity to get hold of some very profitable goods." The doors opened and Jim led the way out to the garage and over to his truck. Once in the vehicle, Jim continued. "But that's not the only odd thing about this case."
"What else?" Blair buckled up his seat belt as Jim started up the truck and headed for the street.
"In every case there was no sign of forced entry. And not only that, the alarm systems had all been disarmed. Most likely by someone that had the code."
"Whoa. Some criminal has the codes to these people's alarm systems?"
"Seems like it."
"Could it be someone from the security company?"
"Brown and Rafe are looking into that as we speak. The companies screen their employees very carefully but it's a definite possibility."
Blair was silent for a moment, taking in the information he'd just been given. Looking back at Jim, he asked, "What else do we have?"
"The man that was knocked out is our only witness so far since all the others locked themselves in their bedrooms when they heard the noise of the intruders. All he was able to tell us was that there were four males of medium height and medium build that were wearing dark clothes and ski masks. He only caught a glimpse of them before one of them decked him."
"That's not exactly much of a description to go on."
"No, it's not," Jim agreed. "But it's all we've got."
Ellison and Sandburg walked up the winding cement path to a giant white house with blue trim. If it could be called a house. It was more like a mansion. The gardens were immaculately kept, no doubt by a professional gardener, the shrubs so perfectly trimmed it was almost annoying. Once on the porch, Jim rang the doorbell and a few seconds later, the door opened. Blair had half expected a maid to answer the door, but instead they were greeted by an expensively dressed, middle-aged woman.
"Are you with the Cascade PD?" she asked.
"Yes, ma'am," Jim replied. "I'm Detective Ellison and this is my partner Blair Sandburg." "Yes, I'm Mrs. Jansen. Please, come in." The woman stepped aside, opening the door wider. "I've been expecting you." The woman led them into a large sitting room which was littered with overturned furniture, books, and shattered lamps and picture frames. "It's such a terrible mess." She gestured at the room. "I was hoping to be able to have it cleaned up this morning. It really is atrocious to look at." "I'd just like to have a look around. When I'm done you'll be free to have the mess taken care of." Jim stepped further into the room, being careful not to step on anything.
A phone rang and Mrs. Jansen took a step back into the hallway. "Please excuse me for a moment," she said, then turned and disappeared into another room.
Blair moved over to his sentinel's side, making sure he'd be close to Jim in case the older man were to zone out. "Ready, Jim? Why don't you start with sight?"
Jim nodded and began to relax, letting his guide's voice direct him through the exercise.
"That's right. Just relax and focus your vision." Blair watched as the Sentinel scanned the room for clues.
After a moment, Jim pulled his sight back in and shook his head. "Nothing."
"Okay, let's go with smell now," Blair instructed.
Mrs. Jansen returned from down the hall and Jim reined in his senses, turning to her. "Who has access to your alarm code?"
"Other than myself, my husband, and my son, only my parents and our housekeeper."
"How well do you know your housekeeper?"
"Oh, no, Sharon had nothing to do with this. She's been with us for years. She's part of the family."
Jim nodded but asked, "Is she here now?" "Yes, she's upstairs. Do you want to talk to her?"
"Yes, please. Considering the circumstances, we need to rule out every possibility."
"I understand, Detective. I'll go get her."
Mrs. Jansen returned with a small woman in her sixties. Sharon was a sweet, grandmotherly type of woman and after briefly questioning her, Ellison's cop instincts and sentinel senses were satisfied that she was completely innocent. He thanked the two woman and made his exit, Sandburg right behind him.
"So?" Blair questioned once they were in the truck and pulling away from the curb.
Jim shook his head. "Nothing." He hadn't picked up anything unusual with his heightened senses.
Sandburg sat back in his seat. "What now?"
"Now we go over the reports for all three cases and see if we can come up with something."
"Sounds like fun," Blair remarked dryly.
"What?" Jim teased, picking up on his partner's tone. "Police work not exciting enough for you anymore, Sandburg?"
"Hah!" Blair laughed shortly. "That'll be the day, Jim."
It was a long and dull afternoon, spent pouring over reports and statements from the previous crimes. Taking the chance to stretch his legs and to answer the cries of his bladder, Blair left Jim in the bullpen and headed for the washroom. On his way back, Sandburg had a strange feeling that he was being watched. He turned his head and saw that he'd been right. Down the hall, a uniformed officer -- Blair seemed to recall his name being Baxter -- was leaning against the wall and giving Sandburg a dark look. <That's the ‘evil eye' if ever I saw it,> Blair thought with an involuntary shiver. <I wonder what's up with him.> But then he shook off all thoughts of Baxter and returned to the bullpen.
In the early evening, Jim and Blair made their way down to the garage, anxious to get home after a long and rather boring shift. As they climbed into the truck, Blair could have sworn that he saw Baxter glaring at him from across the garage. But after a few seconds, he changed his mind. <You're getting paranoid, Sandburg,> he scolded himself. <Tomorrow you'll be thinking that all the uniformed officers are plotting your demise.> With a slight shake of his head, Blair pulled on his seatbelt, not bothering to share his thoughts with Jim.
* * *
Blair pulled his car into the police department garage and, finding a parking spot, stopped and climbed out. He whispered a quick thanks to his car for not stalling on the way to the station, then jogged into the building, on his way to meet Jim after spending the morning at the university coaching students and preparing future lectures. Bypassing the elevator, which was stopped near the top floor, Sandburg headed for the stairs.
He started up at a light jog but by the time he'd reached the fourth floor, he had slowed down. Arriving at the landing between the fifth and sixth floors, Blair almost crashed into an officer going down the stairs. Looking up, Sandburg saw that it was Baxter. "Sorry, man." Blair stepped around the bigger man. But before he could continue up the stairs, Sandburg was stopped by Baxter's accusing voice.
"Watch where you're going!"
"Hey, I said I was sorry." Blair was about to turn back to the stairs when he was stopped again.
"You hippie freaks. You're all the same," Baxter spat. "Worming your way into other people's lives where you don't belong. Interfering in matters that are none of your business."
"What're you talking about?" This guy was making no sense to Blair.
"You're not a cop. You don't belong here!""
"Look, man, I don't know what your problem is but --"
"*You* are my problem!"
"Whoa." Blair raised his hands and took a step back. This guy was really starting to scare him. "Why don't you just chill out, okay?"
"Don't tell me what to do, you runt!" Baxter charged Blair, slamming the smaller man up against the wall and holding him there.
Blair's heart pounded and he gasped for breath after the sudden attack. Pinned up against the wall, Sandburg remembered a time when this had happened before. That time, when he'd looked into the eyes of his assailant, he'd been met with the ice of Detective James Ellison's glare. But ice can be melted, had been in that case. But this time, all Blair's eyes were met with was hate. A hate so pure and strong Blair felt himself shrink away from it.
A door opened in the stairwell, one floor above Blair and Baxter, and two officers started down the stairs. At the sound of the approaching footsteps and voices, Baxter released his grip on the anthropologist. With one last hate-filled glare, the bad-tempered man headed down the stairs.
Blair stayed up against the wall for a moment, catching his breath and trying to process what had just happened. But when the two approaching officers reached the landing and looked like they were about to question him, Blair tried to smile and took off up the stairs. He made his way across the bullpen and perched on the edge of Jim's desk. He was still slightly shocked by the confrontation and didn't realize that he had become lost in thought until his partner's voice jerked him back.
"Something bothering you, Chief?" Jim sat down, keeping his eyes on his friend.
"No, I'm fine." Blair didn't meet Ellison's eyes.
"You sure? You were looking a bit dazed there."
"I'm okay, man. I guess my lack of sleep is catching up with me."
Jim eyed his partner, noticing that he did look a bit tired. "Why don't you go home, Chief. Get some rest. I can handle things here."
"Are you sure?" Blair felt bad about the relief that washed over him with Jim's offer. He knew he was being a coward, running away. But Sandburg was desperate to put as much distance as possible between himself and Baxter.
"Yeah, I'm sure," Jim replied. He reached back, grabbing Blair's jacket, then handed it to him. "Go," he urged.
Sandburg accepted the jacket and pulled it on. "Thanks, Jim."
"I'll see you in a couple of hours." Jim watched Blair leave the bullpen. He believed that the grad student was tired, but he knew that there was more to it. Something was bothering his Guide and Jim made up his mind to keep a closer eye on the kid until the problem -- whatever it was -- was sorted out.
* * *
Jim entered the loft, tossing his keys in the basket and hanging up his jacket. He sniffed the air with approval. "Smells good, Chief."
Standing over the stove, Blair waved a wooden spoon at his loftmate. "You're just in time, Jim. Dinner is ready to be served."
Ellison placed cutlery on the kitchen table while Blair spooned out two servings of stew. As they sat down to their meal, Jim looked across the table at his partner and asked, "Feeling better?"
"Yeah, I am, thanks. I slept for two hours when I got home. I think it helped a lot."
Jim nodded and Sandburg started to chatter on about various subjects, only pausing now and again to work on his dinner. But the detective still wasn't convinced. Blair might be acting like there was nothing wrong, might even have fooled most people with his performance, but he wasn't fooling Jim. The older man didn't fail to notice when, for a split second at a time, the light in Blair's eyes dimmed as if he were being distracted by unpleasant thoughts. <What's really going on in that head of yours, Chief? You weren't just tired earlier, you were. . . troubled.> Knowing that it was best not to push Blair into opening up, Jim turned his attention back to his own dinner. <I'll get it out of you eventually though, Chief. Whatever it takes to get you to open up, I'll do it. Whatever it takes to make you happy again. . . .>
Later that evening, Jim was stretched out on the couch, eyes closed. He was dozing lightly to the sounds of Blair's breathing, heartbeat, and occasional mummers as the younger man explored the depths of an ancient looking tome he'd brought home from the university library. The peace of the loft was abruptly disturbed as the telephone let loose a demanding ring, and Jim blinked his eyes open. He stood, rubbing the back of his neck as he picked up the phone.
Blair looked up from the text he was reading. He pulled his mind fully away from the world he'd been previously lost in as he heard Jim greet the police captain. If Simon was calling them at this hour. . . .
"I'm on my way." Jim ended the call and headed straight for the door, turning to his partner as he pulled on his jacket. "There's been another invasion and this time they've left a dead body in their wake. You coming?"
Blair jumped up in answer and caught the jacket that Jim tossed to him. "A dead body? But these guys never even stole anything before."
"I guess you could say there's been a slight change in MO."
Sentinel and Guide climbed out of the truck amidst patrol cars with flashing lights and other unmarked cars belonging to various members of the investigation and forensics teams. Flashing his ID, Jim led the way up the path to a posh house which was flooded with light and swarming with people. Ellison and Sandburg entered a brightly lit hallway and caught their first glimpse of the trashed interior of the house as Brown appeared from down the hall.
"Hey, guys. Down here." Henri motioned them to follow him to the back of the house. He led them into a study whose floor was covered with books that had been swept from the shelves lining the walls. Papers littered the floor around a large Mahogany desk, and two lamps and a vase lay in shattered pieces on the hardwood floor. But that wasn't all the damage that had been done. Off to the side of the room, a dead body lay on the floor, Dan Wolfe squatting beside it.
"What've we got, Dan?" Jim moved over to take a look at the body while Blair stayed by the door where he could see as little of the dead man as possible.
"Mr. Carlisle, age forty-eight. Beaten to death, I'd say by multiple assailants. We're looking at major internal damage, hemorrhaging, causing death. The guy didn't have a chance."
As the two men continued to discuss and look over the body, Blair stepped back out into the hallway, looking around. He had only taken a few steps away from the study when he caught sight of Baxter standing near the front foyer. Blair's breath caught in his throat and he automatically took a step back. With a miniscule amount of relief, Sandburg realized that the officer hadn't noticed him yet. Wanting to keep it that way, Blair retreated to back to the study.
Aware of his Guides racing heartbeat, Jim finished his conversation with Dan and turned away from the body. Blair stood by the doorway looking pale and slightly shaken. Jim was at his side in second. "Chief, are you okay?" he asked with concern.
Blair took a deep breath. "Yeah, I'm fine, man. It's just the body. You know how I get sometimes. . . ."
Jim put a hand on the younger man's shoulder and steered him down the hall. "Why don't you go and get some fresh air. Here." he handed Blair the car keys. "You can wait in the truck. I won't be too long."
"Thanks, man." Blair took the offered keys, his eyes darting around to see if Baxter was still in sight. Not able to locate the other man, Sandburg thought it would be a good time to make his escape to the truck and moved quickly toward the front door.
"You'll be okay?" Jim called after him.
"I'll be fine, Jim. Don't worry," Blair said over his shoulder, then disappeared out the door.
His guide no longer in sight, Jim turned back to the investigation of the crime scene. He was slightly angry, but more concerned and upset, because he knew that Blair had just lied to him. Jim had heard Sandburg leave the study and move a little way down the hall, and the Sentinel knew that it had been then, not near the body, that Blair's heartrate and breathing had gone off the scale. <Why did you lie to me, buddy? What the hell is going on with you?> Jim had to struggle to ignore the silent questions for the time so he could concentrate on the task before him.
Blair sat in the darkness of the truck's cab, angry and disgusted with himself. "God, Sandburg, you are such a wuss." Then it occurred to him that Jim might be listening to him, so he checked himself and continued his thoughts silently. <What're you going to do -- run and hide every time you see Baxter? You're such an idiot! It's bad enough that Jim has a partner that turns green every time he sees a dead body, and now you fall apart at the sight of some jerk that had a bad day and took it out on you. Man, Jim would be so ashamed if he knew. . . so he can't know. I can't ever let him know what a coward I really am. There's just no way I'd be able to face the look in Jim's eyes. . . .> Blair huddled miserably in the seat, waiting for Jim to finish his investigation of the crime scene so they could go home.
* * *
Friday morning was spent with Jim re-interviewing the people whose homes had been invaded, Blair quietly tagging along. They returned to the station after grabbing a quick bite to eat and were in the elevator when Blair noticed the thoughtful look on Jim's face.
"What is it, man? You got something?"
"Maybe," Jim started slowly. "All the people we interviewed have a sixteen or seventeen year old son. And in every case the son wasn't at home at the time of the invasion."
"You mean their own kids could be doing it?" Blair asked incredulously. "Why the hell would anyone trash their own home?"
The detective shrugged. "As an act of rebellion, to feel power. Who knows? But it's something we'll have to look into."
They stepped off the elevator onto the seventh floor. "Were all the kids out each time there was an invasion?" Blair asked.
"That's exactly what I plan to find out," Jim answered and strode purposefully toward the major crimes department.
". . . And I just had it confirmed." Jim began to wrap up the verbal report he was giving to his captain. "All four guys -- Alexander Raines, Anton Deltore, Trevor Jansen, and Kevin Daniels -- were absent from home at the times the four crimes were committed."
Simon Banks took off his glasses, placing them on his desk. "But what about our dead man, Mr. Carlisle?"
"He was Kevin Daniels' stepfather. Apparently they didn't get along at all and have had some pretty nasty arguments. Even some violent ones, from what I could get from Mrs. Carlisle. Maybe Kevin decided to get back at him and got his friends to help him. It's a possibility."
Simon sat back in his chair, replacing his glasses. "All right, Jim. Let's bring these guys in for questioning and see what you can get out of them."
"Thank you, Sir." Jim rose and left the office, followed by Blair, as Simon's phone began to ring.
"Hey, Jim." Blair spoke up for the first time in several minutes. "Would it be all right if I don't hang around for the rest of the afternoon? I've got a lot of stuff I want to get done at the university before the weekend."
"Sure, Chief, you go on. I'll see you at home tonight?"
"Yep, hopefully I won't be too late. See ya." Blair grabbed his coat and was gone.
Simon came over to stand by his best detective. "Jim, what's up with the kid? He's been so quiet today, I'm really starting to get worried."
"He's got me worried too, Simon." Jim clenched his jaw slightly. "I don't know what's bugging him, but I plan to find out."
"Well, good and good luck to you." Banks started back toward his office. "Sandburg being quiet. . .it's just too unnatural."
His captain now back in his office, Jim said quietly, "I'll probably need all the luck I can get."
* * *
The loft door opened and Jim watched as Blair came inside, tossing his keys in the basket and hanging up his coat. Picking up the remote, Ellison flicked off the tv and asked of his roommate, "Long day, Chief?"
"Oh, yeah. I had so many papers to grade that I thought I'd never finish."
"But you did finish?"
"Yep. But now I'm exhausted. I'm gonna hit the sack." Blair started for his bedroom.
"Hold up a minute, Chief." Jim stopped him. As Blair turned back, the detective continued. "Is there something you want to talk about?" "What do you mean?"
Blair had managed to sound confused but the Sentinel didn't miss the slight increase in his guide's heartrate. "I mean, something seems to have been bothering you the last few days. And I think it's time to get it out in the open, before it eats away at you anymore."
"Jim, I'm fine. Really." Sandburg took a couple steps backward, closer to his room.
"I don't think you are, Chief." Jim stood so he could look directly at his partner.
Blair shook his head. "It's like I said before -- I'm just really tired this week. That's why I'm going to bed right now." He turned and headed for his bedroom.
"Chief --" Jim started, but was cut off by Blair.
"Goodnight, Jim," the young man said firmly, then closed his bedroom door.
Jim sighed, knowing that Blair had just closed the door on him figuratively, as well as literally. He needed to get to the bottom of this, and soon. But if Sandburg wouldn't talk to him. . . . <Enough is enough,> Jim thought, coming to a decision. He turned off the lamp and headed upstairs to pack.