New
Arrivals
Author-Sorcha
Titles
In the Shadow of Evil
Part One
by Sorcha
As always, I'm greatly indebted to Danae for beta reading my story (and for helping me come up with a title. *Again*!). Merci beaucoup! :-)
Constructive feedback greatly appreciated
Disclaimer: Jim, Blair, Simon, and Brown don't belong to me <sniffle>, I just like to borrow them. I write only for fun, not money, so please don't sue me. No infringement intended.
Blair Sandburg stepped out Hargrove Hall and into the sunshine. Finally, Spring had arrived in Cascade. Breathing in the fresh, flower-scented air, Blair headed to the parking lot, almost bouncing as he walked happily. The campus was always beautiful in the spring with the trees and flowers out to their fullest. And it had been a good day for Blair -- his office hours had been productive and he felt satisfied with the amount of work he'd accomplished.
Now, just after three thirty, Sandburg was heading home. As he walked, Blair was thinking about what he would prepare for supper that night. Being in such a good mood, he decided to make one of Jim's favourite meals, something to ensure that the big guy would share Blair's high spirits that night. Deciding that lasagna was a safe bet, he tried to think which ingredients he'd have to pick up from the store on the way to the loft.
As he crossed the parking lot to his car, Blair was so busy making a mental shopping list that he didn't hear the man come up behind him until it was too late. One arm reached around Sandburg, pinning his arms to his sides, while the other pressed a chloroformed cloth to his nose and mouth. Blair struggled against the iron grip for a few seconds but then went limp as the chloroform sent him into oblivion.
* * *
Paperwork. Jim hated paperwork. His eyes kept straying away from the task at hand, drifting to his watch, then to the phone, then wandering around the bullpen before coming back to start the rounds again. He was hoping for one of three things: a sudden break in one of his cases which would require him to do something, *anything*, other than paperwork, a phone call from his partner saying that he was heading over to the station to give Jim a hand, or for Captain Banks to tell him to go home a bit early today. All three were unlikely to happen, Jim knew, especially the third. Giving up for the moment, Ellison stood and stretched, then headed to the Break Room for a fresh cup of coffee, tossing out his candy bar wrappers as he went.
Reluctantly heading back to his desk after stalling for as long as possible, Jim perked up at the sound of his phone ringing. Quickening his stride, he made it over to his desk within one more ring. He grabbed the receiver, hoping that this phone call would be the break in monotony that he'd been waiting for. But Jim would have done ten hours straight of paperwork if it would have enabled him to change what the person on the other end was telling him.
"Jim, what the hell's going on here?" Simon Banks strode across the university parking lot to where Detective Ellison was standing. Recognizing Blair's car, Simon felt uneasiness grow within him.
"Sandburg's been kidnapped, Sir." Jim's voice was even, but his jaw was tightly clenched.
"What?!"
Jim bent down and picked up Blair's backpack from where it had fallen. Holding it, he leaned up against the car. "I don't know, Simon. I just don't get it." Ellison sounded as if he was starting to drift.
Not knowing if the Sentinel was about to zone out or not, Simon put a hand on his shoulder. "Okay, Jim. What've we got so far?"
Snapping back, Ellison let out a deep breath. "There's a witness. A student named Brian Lee. He was coming to get his car when he saw someone being dragged over to and into another car. And," Jim motioned to the backpack, "it turns out that ‘someone' was Blair."
"Could Lee give a description of the perp?" Simon asked.
"Yeah. He ran over as soon as he realized what was happening. He was too late to do anything, but he got a pretty good look at the guy. A white male, dark hair, clean shaven, approximately 5'10 or 5'11. We've got him working with a forensic artist right now and after he's done there we're going to get him to take a look at some mug shots. So far, there's nothing else to go on."
Banks nodded, sticking a cigar between his teeth. "Don't worry, Jim, we'll get this guy."
"Yes, Sir, we will." Jim only hoped that it would be in time.
* * *
Randy Carver pulled the limp body out of the car and dragged it across the garage. He gave a grunt as he hoisted the body up over his shoulder to carry it up the stairs leading into the house. In the kitchen, Carver opened a door leading to the cellar, and slowly started down the stairs, being careful not to stumble under the weight of the body.
Reaching the bottom, he bent over and lowered the young man to the dirt floor. Squatting in the shaft of dim light coming from the kitchen above, Randy looked over his prisoner. "You look so innocent now," he spoke to the unconscious form, stroking back curls from the young man's face. "But don't worry, that'll all be changed soon." He stood and went back up to the kitchen. Closing and locking the door behind him, Randy left the cellar in complete darkness.
* * *
Blair stirred, slowly regaining consciousness. He rolled onto his side mumbling Jim's name, but there was no answer. Becoming more aware of his surroundings, Sandburg noticed the darkness. On the verge of panic, he strained his eyes, looking into the blackness. He couldn't see anything. He put his hand in front of his face and waved it around. Still nothing. <Oh, my God, I'm blind. I can't see.> His heart was racing. <Okay, Sandburg, just relax. Panicking won't get you anywhere.> He took some deep breaths, trying to keep control. His heartbeat started to slow down, and he managed to call out, "Jim?" When there was no answer, he tried again, "Jim, where are you, man?" But instead of an answer, Blair found that he was only left with more questions, <Where am *I*? What happened?>
He started to remember what little there was for him to remember. He had been walking to his car, was just about to get his keys out, when someone had grabbed him from behind. After that . . . nothing. And now there was only darkness. <Oh, man. Some psycho's got me again. I'm blind, I don't know where I am, and I'm gonna be murdered.> He had to start his deep breathing again as panic threatened to set in once more.
With his control regained, Blair felt around, trying to figure out where he was. He was sitting on . . . dirt. Was he outside? He couldn't feel a breeze and there had been a breeze that afternoon. But maybe it wasn't even the same day. How long had it been since he was grabbed? <This is where an Indiglo watch would come in handy,> he thought wryly. <Unless, of course, I really am blind.> Then he got his thoughts back on track. <I wonder if Jim knows that I'm missing yet.>
Blair crawled along on all fours until he bumped into a wall. Keeping his hands on it, he followed it along. Arriving at a corner, he found another wall. <Two walls . . . three walls,> he came upon another, <So I'm inside. With a dirt floor. A basement, or maybe a cellar?> Then he bumped into something along the third wall. He felt around and smiled with growing hope. <Stairs.> Blair scrambled up the stairs and used his hands to find the doorknob. He twisted and tugged at the knob for a few seconds but it was locked tight. Feeling desperation rising up inside, Sandburg tried throwing himself against the door. But it didn't budge and he only succeeded in bruising his side. Not knowing what else to do, Blair started pounding on the door as hard as he could, ignoring the pain it inflicted. "Let me out of here! Somebody! Let me out!"
Finally, hoarse and worn out, Blair made his way blindly down the stairs. He sat down on the ground with his back against the wall and prayed that Jim would find him.
* * *
Jim's eyes were stinging from lack of sleep and the luminescent glow from his computer screen. He'd been staring at the computer for so long, trying to put a name to the face of Blair's kidnapper, that he was getting a headache. Ellison didn't care though; he would do whatever it took to find Blair and get him home safe and sound. He looked up as Brown approached him.
"Jim, we've got Brian Lee back looking at more mug shots."
"Good. Hopefully he'll find something because I've got nothing."
"Still no luck?" Brown asked.
"None," Jim replied. "I've gone through everything I can think of, anyone who might have a grudge against me and could be using Sandburg to get revenge. But I keep coming up empty."
"Does he look at all familiar?" Brown looked at the photocopy of the artist's drawing.
Jim shook his head. "Not one bit. I could swear I've never seen this guy before."
"Maybe you haven't. This could have nothing to do with you, man. Maybe Hair Boy was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. He is pretty good at attracting trouble."
"Yeah, you can say that again," Jim agreed.
Brown was summoned from across the bullpen so he wished Jim luck and moved off, leaving Ellison alone with his computer once again. The Sentinel rubbed a hand over his eyes and settled into his search again.
* * *
It was almost twenty-eight hours after Blair had been taken when the first break in the case occurred. An off-duty detective was shopping at the supermarket when he spotted a man that looked suspiciously familiar. Following the man down the dried goods isle, Detective Summers managed to get a closer look at the man. Yes, he was certain -- it was the man from the picture drawn with Brian Lee's guidance, the man that had taken Ellison's partner.
The suspect paid for his groceries and left the store, heading for his car. Abandoning his grocery cart in mid-isle, Summers jogged out to his own car and followed the other man. While following the suspect, the detective called it in, relaying the licence plate number over the cell phone. Just as the off-duty officer was about to cross a busy intersection after his quarry, he was forced to stop and wait as two fire trucks passed by on their way to the scene of a fire. When Summers was able to move again, the suspect was gone. Cursing silently, the detective updated the person on the other end of the phone line and headed back to get his groceries.
* * *
Blair now knew more than just darkness and fear. Now there was thirst, hunger, and cold too. He had no idea how long he'd been there, or even how long he'd been awake. Wearily, he pulled himself to the top of the stairs once again. And for the second time he pounded on the door and tried to call out. But when he tried to yell, Blair's voice caught in his dry throat. He clutched his stomach as a violent coughing fit set in.
Catching his breath after the coughs had abated, Blair pushed his hair back out of his face. <Oh, God, I don't want to die here. I don't want to die alone in this darkness.> Giving in to his exhaustion, Sandburg crawled back to the bottom of the stairs where he fell asleep.
Blair lay on his back, staring up into the dark nothingness. He was just wondering what would happen first -- death from starvation and dehydration, or insanity -- when a voice came through the blackness.
"You need a drink."
Blair jerked up into a sitting position, trying to figure out where the voice was coming from. As it continued, Sandburg decided that it was coming from somewhere above him.
"You will find a glass of water on a tray at the top of the stairs."
Blair scrambled over to the staircase, feeling around for the objects. His hand came in contact with a glass and he grabbed it, bringing it to his dry lips. At this point, he didn't care if the drink was drugged or poisoned. If he didn't drink soon, he would die anyway.
"Make sure you drink slowly," the voice cautioned.
Sandburg let the liquid trickle down his irritated throat, thinking that he'd never tasted anything as good as this lukewarm water. With his throat feeling slightly better, he croaked, "Who are you? What do you want with me?"
"Oh, don't worry," the voice came back, "I'll explain everything. You see, ever since I was young, I've been fascinated with the concept of evil. But most of all, I want to witness, firsthand, the transformation from good to evil in someone. And I have chosen you for my subject."
<Great,> Blair thought. <He's definitely a psycho.> He challenged the voice, "How do you know that I'm not already a bad person?"
"I've been watching you. I was out looking for possible subjects when I came across you at the university. I watched you and a couple of others for many days, and finally decided on you. I've always been good at telling which people are basically good and which people aren't."
"Yeah? And which category do you fall under?"
A short laugh came from above, but there was no answer to Blair's question.
"You won't get away with this, you know," Sandburg warned his captor. "There're people out there who'll be looking for me. They'll find me."
"It's no matter," the voice was unperturbed. "I'll be done with you soon. And anyway, when I'm finished they might not want you back."
"What do you mean?"
"When they see your evilness, do you think they'll want you around?"
"If anyone here is evil, it's you, not me," Blair said with disgust.
"Oh, I'll get you over to the other side, you'll see. In fact, you're already part way there."
Blair's silence was full of questions.
"You're wondering what I meant by that." The voice read Sandburg's silence. "I'm talking about the darkness."
More silence.
"Perhaps you thought you were blind, or that I was just keeping you in complete darkness, am I right?" He didn't wait for a reply from Blair. "But it's neither of those. It's actually your own darkness that you see. I know because I've made the transformation myself. It's a black world where there is no day or night, just darkness, evil. But there's a comfort in its atrocity. You'll find that soon."
"You're crazy!" Blair spat into the darkness.
"You think that now, but you'll see it my way soon. Just look around you. I'm not causing the blackness, you are. You will never see the light of day again. But there's no need to be afraid of it. If you welcome the darkness, it will welcome you. Only if you reject it is there reason to fear it because it has already taken a hold of you. You cannot escape it now. "Once you have made the complete transformation, you will realise what you have been missing all this time. You will be my companion, and together we'll help our evil to grow, to flourish. Let the darkness envelope you. Let the evil fill your body, seep into your bones."
"Shut up!" Blair's shout was filled with anger, hate, and fear.
"You'll love it once you've made it over to this side. Don't fight it. Just let it happen. You know it's what you want. Deep down it's what you've always wanted." The voice continued relentlessly, its hypnotic roll making it dangerous.
Blair covered his ears with his hands. Rocking back and forth, he tried to block out the voice. <No, no, no. I won't listen to him. I won't. I'll. . . I'll think of Jim. Jim'll find me, he'll come for me soon. I know he will.>
* * *
Captain Banks walked over to Jim's desk where the detective was working at his computer once again. "You got anything yet, Jim?"
Jim sighed. "We ran the plate number and it turns out the car belongs to a Mrs. Edna Carver. But we're looking for a man."
"What about her husband?"
"Deceased," Jim replied. "Hold on a second . . . " Jim scrolled down half a page, "Mrs. Carver has a son, Randolf, who's a patient at Riverview Mental Hospital." Ellison looked up at his Captain.
Simon raised his eyebrows. "Maybe it's time you checked in on young Randolf."
Jim had to pound loudly on the hospital door for several minutes before a night nurse appeared on the other side. After looking at the badge he held up to the window, she unlocked the door and let him in. "Can I help you?"
"I'm Detective James Ellison with the Cascade PD. I need some information on a patient."
"I'm sorry, I'm not at liberty to divulge any information about our patients."
"Look, a crime has been committed and I need to know if Randolf Carver is here," he explained without much patience.
"Mr. Carver is no longer a patient here, I can tell you that much."
<This is our guy.> Jim felt certain. "Then can you give me an address?"
"I don't have access to that information," the nurse replied.
"Well, who does?" What little patience Jim had started out with was quickly disappearing.
"Nobody who's here at this hour," she said, glancing at her watch to note the early hour of the morning.
Jim let out an exasperated sigh. "Look, this is important. A life could be at stake here."
Finally recognizing the urgency in the detective's request, the nurse offered, "I could try to get hold of someone who does have access, ask them to come in early."
"I'd appreciate that," Jim said, and the nurse turned and walked quickly down the hallway.
A few minutes later, she returned. "I talked to Dr. Freedman -- he's the one who treated Mr. Carver -- he'll be here in about forty-five minutes. There're a few chairs down the hall, if you'd like to wait there."
"Thank you." Jim headed in the direction that the nurse had pointed as she turned to get back to her work. All he could do now was wait.
Dr. Freedman, a small man in his late fifties, came out of his office with a couple of papers. "Detective Ellison, I really shouldn't be giving this to you without the proper paperwork."
Jim tried to stress his point, "I can get a court order from downtown if you insist, but by then it could be too late."
The doctor sighed but handed over the papers. "Mr. Carver was released fifteen days ago. His mother passed away recently and left him her car and some money so he bought a small house. The address is there on the first page."
"Thanks, Doc, I appreciate it." Jim jogged off down the hall, heading for his truck. Once he'd turned out onto the street, Ellison pulled out his cell phone to call Simon. After being updated, the Captain assured Jim that backup would be on its way, about fifteen minutes behind Jim. Ending the call, Jim stepped on the accelerator, praying that he would find an unharmed Blair at this address.
The sun was just creeping up over the horizon as Jim pulled his vehicle onto the street where Carver's house was. He came to a stop in front of the stuccoed bungalow and got out of the truck. All the windows were blinded, without even a crack to look through, so the Sentinel reached out with his hearing, scanning the property. He picked up two heartbeats. One, Jim realised with tremendous relief, belonged to his Guide. That one sounded farther away than the other, which seemed to be coming from behind the house.
Removing his gun from the holster on his belt, Jim cautiously made his way around the side of the bungalow. Arriving in the backyard, the detective found a man matching Brian Lee's description watering his garden with a hose. Jim was almost taken aback by the innocence of the early morning activity. Almost. "Excuse me." He got the man's attention. "Are you Randolf Carver?"
The man took a few steps in Jim's direction. "Yes, I am. But everyone calls me Randy. Can I help you?"
"I'm Detective Ellison with the Cascade PD. I'd like to ask you a few questions."
"About what, Detective?"
"About the kidnapping of Blair Sandburg."
"Kidnapping? Blair Sandburg? I'm sorry, I have no idea what you're talking about."
<Right,> Jim thought dryly, <you have the guy in your house but you know nothing about it.> "Do you mind if I take a look inside your house?"
"Actually, I do." Carver stuck his thumb over the nozzle of the hose and sent water spraying into Jim's face. Dropping the hose, he took off toward the woods which his property backed on to.
"Dammit!" Jim angrily wiped water from his eyes and took off after Randy. He gained on the other man quickly, tackling him at the edge of the woods. They both went down but Jim jumped to his feet quickly, pulling Carver with him. Randy swung around, punching Ellison in the gut. Jim cringed and bent slightly with the pain, but then recovered in time to block Carver's next punch and get in one of his own. The blow to Carver's jaw sent him stumbling backward. Before Jim even knew what was happening, Randy dropped out of sight. Then there was a cry which ended abruptly with a sickening sound, somewhere between a thump and a crunch. Jim took a few steps forward and peered over the edge of a ravine. At the bottom, Carver's body was impaled on a sharp branch which was sticking upright. Ellison stepped back, catching his breath. Randy Carver wouldn't be going anywhere ever again.
After retrieving his gun from the ground and returning it to his holster, Jim jogged across the lawn to the back door. It was unlocked, so he entered the house, opening his hearing to Blair's heartbeat. The only light in the house came from the open back door. All the windows were completely blacked out and when Jim tried the light switch, nothing happened. <Sounds like he's conscious,> he observed, picking up the sound of his partner's breathing. His senses led him to a large cellar door that was bolted from his side.
Sliding the bolt aside, Jim opened the door. The cellar was completely dark, but the Sentinel's hearing told him that his Guide was down there. Opening up his sight, he picked out the huddled form of his partner in a corner. "Chief? Are you okay?" He started down the stairs.
"Jim?"
"Yeah, it's me, Chief. Don't worry, everything's all right now."
"No, Jim, stop." The voice was urgent and Ellison froze, thinking that Blair was warning him of a trap.
"What is it?"
"You have to stay away from me." Blair scuttled along the cellar to the corner farthest away from the staircase.
"What're you talking about, Chief?" Now Jim was confused and concerned.
"He made me evil, Jim. He took me over to the other side."
"Blair, he was crazy. Don't believe anything he told you." The Sentinel started down the stairs again, but was stopped by Blair's voice once more.
"No, stop. It's true. What he told me is true." Sandburg's voice was shaking slightly.
"What did he tell you, Chief?" Jim asked his friend patiently.
"I can't see because I'm evil. I created the darkness. I'll never see light again."
"You are not evil, Blair. You can't see because there's no light down here. He has the whole house blacked out."
"Can you see me?" Blair asked.
"Yes."
"Then there is light. No one can see if there's no light, not even you. I should be able to see *something*."
"Blair, listen to me. If you come over here, you'll be able to see something. And if you come up stairs you'll be able to see everything. I left the door open. It's morning and the sun's shining." Jim kept his voice calm, but he was getting desperate. He had to convince Blair.
"The sun?" The voice was uncertain, but hopeful.
"Yes, Chief. Why don't you come and have a look?"
"No, no I don't think so, Jim."
The Sentinel felt his heart sink. He thought he'd been reaching Sandburg. He tried again, but was cut off, "Blair--"
"No, Jim. If I go with you and can't see . . . well, I don't think I could handle that."
"Trust me, Blair, you'll be able to see. Do you trust me?" Jim knew he could reach Sandburg with that one. He was almost fearfully aware of how much trust the younger man had in him.
"Of course I trust you, Jim."
"Then come over here."
There was a slight pause. But then Blair slowly stood and carefully advanced across the cellar. Jim guided him with his voice. "That's it, buddy. Over this way. There." He got hold of Sandburg's arm. Blair grabbed onto Jim's shirt as they started up the stairs. Near the top, Jim said, "See, Chief, you can already see the light from here." When there was no reply, Ellison looked down to find that Blair had his eyes tightly shut. He put a hand on his Sandburg's shoulder. "Blair, open your eyes." There was no response. "Come on, Chief. Trust me."
Slowly, Blair's eyes opened. After a moment, a smile started to appear on his face. "You're right, Jim, I can see a little bit. Not much, but I can see your outline."
"What did I tell you? Come on out of this cellar and you'll be able to see even more."
Blair followed Jim out to the kitchen, still holding onto his shirt. He looked about him, taking in everything, as it got lighter and lighter. When they got to the back door, Sandburg was smiling widely. But as they stepped out into the sun, he winced, covering his eyes.
"Here, it's too bright." Jim noticed his partner's reaction. "Come over into the shade." He tried to lead the way, but Blair stopped him.
"No, it's okay. It's good. I just need a minute, that's all." He sat down on the back stairs, and Jim sat down beside him.
"Just take your time, Chief," Jim said.
Blair nodded. "Where is he?"
"Who?" Jim asked, tilting his head slightly as he picked up the sound of their backup approaching in the distance.
"The guy. I don't know his name."
Jim pulled his senses back in. "His name was Randy Carver. He's dead."
"Dead? How? What happened?"
"He tried to take off and we ended up fighting over there." Jim motioned to the forest with his head. "He stumbled back and fell into the ravine."
Blair absorbed this information, then asked, sounding slightly unsure, "Is he still there?"
"Dead is dead, Chief. He's not going anywhere," Jim replied grimly. After Blair was silent for a moment, Jim continued. "If you need to see the body, I'll show you. But it's pretty gruesome. He was impaled on a branch that was sticking up."
Blair made a face. "God. No, I'm okay, I'll just take your word for it that he's dead."
"Very dead," Jim assured him.
Squad cars could be heard arriving at the front of the house, so Jim stood and led Blair in that direction. "Did he feed you?"
"No. He started giving me water after a while but no food." Sandburg shook his head in disbelief. "I can't believe I let that psycho get to me."
"Chief, you haven't eaten in nearly two days. Your mind just didn't have the energy to stand up to him. It's to be expected and it's certainly nothing to be ashamed of."
"Yeah, I guess," Blair agreed. They made their way across the front lawn. "Some of the things he said, Jim . . . he was sick." Blair shivered despite the increasing warmth of the sun.
"Yes, he was sick. But he can't hurt you now."
"I know."
Jim stopped by the truck. "Look, I'm going to have to take care of a few things here, it won't take long. Then we'll get you home and taken care of. We'll talk. Okay?"
"Yeah, that's fine. I'm just gonna wait in here," Blair said, opening the passenger's door.
"All right. I'll just be a few minutes." After giving his partner's shoulder a reassuring squeeze, Jim jogged off toward the newly arrived officers.
It wasn't long before Jim returned to the truck, everything under control. But when he opened the door and got in, he found that Blair had fallen fast asleep, slumped into the wall of the truck's cab. Jim reached over and buckled his friend in, then started for the hospital.
Twenty minutes later, Jim was pulling into the parking lot and Blair was waking up. Sandburg rubbed his eyes sleepily and yawned. Realizing that they weren't home, he looked at Jim and asked, "Where are we?"
"County General," Jim replied and readied himself for the protestations that were sure to come.
And come they did. "What? The hospital? I don't need a doctor, Jim."
"I just want you to get checked out, Chief."
"Jim, I'm fine. Really, I am."
"That's good to hear. Now, if we can just get a doctor to confirm that, I'll be able to rest easy." Jim opened the door and got out of the truck. Seeing that Blair had made no move to follow him, Jim stuck his head back inside. "Come on, Chief. If it does nothing for you, at least it'll make me feel better. Okay?"
Blair sighed and unfastened his seatbelt. "Okay, you win."