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Disclaimer: See front page.
By 1:30 they were back in the captain's office. Simon studied the coins curiously. The white disk mailer sat temporarily ignored on the conference table.
"You said three of these belonged to the men on your team, and the other two are strangers?"
Jim nodded, gazing at the coins. After a moment he reached out and picked one up. "This one was first. It belonged to my Communications Sergeant." Ellison set it aside and picked up another. "This one was second. It belongs to a man who retired from the Army two years ago. He was also a Communications Sergeant." He set this coin next to the first, and picked up another. "This one belonged to my medic." Jim lined this one up under the first coin and picked up one more. "He retired three years ago. He was also a medic." The detective carefully set this coin next to its counterpart, and picked up the last coin. "Ben Sarris, my engineer." He placed the piece of metal under the first column. All three men stared at the disk mailer, knowing the coin inside would fill the empty space.
Just as Jim reached for it, Simon's secretary, Rhonda, knocked and opened the door. "Excuse me, Jim, here's the results of the records search you requested on the Haley case."
Jim passed the cardboard container to his partner and took the folder she was holding out. "Thanks, Rhonda." The blonde woman smiled, retreating as quietly as she'd entered. The detective turned his attention to the file. "Go ahead and do the honors, Chief," he said as he opened the folder. "Now, maybe we'll get some answers to why someone wanted to kill Mr. Haley."
Blair nodded in agreement, glancing down at the package in his hand. Absently, he pulled the zip strip and dumped the piece of silver into an evidence bag. Instead of looking at the coin his focus returned to Jim and the file in time to see his partner's face go white. "Jim?"
Without a word Jim plucked the coin from Blair's fingers and looked at it. The anthropologist saw the look of guilt and anguish that flared in his friend's eyes, before the older man tossed the coin and folder on the table and moved to the windows. There was a definite slump to his shoulders.
Blair glanced at the items on the table then at Simon, before focusing a concerned gaze on his Sentinel. "What is it, Jim?"
Without turning around Jim quietly answered. "Haley retired from the Army five years ago." He cleared his throat. "He was an 18C with the Seventh SFG."
Blair's brow furrowed in puzzlement. He easily translated the SFG to mean Special Forces Group, but he didn't have any idea what 18C meant. Casting another furtive glance at Simon, he saw an equally confused expression. "What's an 18C?"
Jim bowed his head. "18C is the MOS designation for an Engineer Sergeant."
"Oh." Blair's gaze darted back to the newest coin. "It's Haley's coin, isn't it?"
His friend nodded.
"Wait a minute. You mean to tell me our murder victim was in the same Army unit, and that's his coin?" Simon spoke up in disbelief.
Ellison finally turned around, his face reflecting the guilt and anguish he felt. "It's too much of a coincidence not to be."
The captain nodded reluctantly in agreement.
"How do I tell Mrs. Haley her husband was killed because of me, a man he didn't even know?" Jim asked raggedly.
"Man, you are not responsible for his death!" Blair said vehemently.
"I might as well be. It's obvious I was the reason Haley was made a target. He fit the profile."
Blair clenched his jaws in imitation of Jim's familiar action, but he said nothing. There was nothing he could say to that.
Simon sighed heavily. "Why don't I give Mrs. Haley a call?"
"Thank you, sir, but no." Jim shook his head. "I need to do this myself."
Banks stared at his detective for a long moment. Finally, he nodded. "All right, Jim, but take Sandburg with you."
"Yes, sir."
Jim didn't sound resigned or disappointed by the order. Blair offered an encouraging smile, and was mildly surprised when his friend squeezed his shoulder in passing. Blair quickly gathered up the coins, and followed Jim out of the office.
After delivering the coins to the forensics lab, the two men headed for the Haley residence. When the door opened, they were met by a woman who was taller and younger than Haley's wife.
"Yes?"
"Excuse me, ma'am, I'm Detective Ellison." Jim showed her his badge. "Is Mrs. Haley available? I need to talk to her."
"Hello, Detective. I'm Lily's sister, Jessica Peterson. Please, come in."
"Thank you, Ms. Peterson," Jim said quietly.
The woman smiled and led them into what was obviously an office. "Please, have a seat. I'll tell Lily you're here."
Jim and Blair looked around the neatly ordered room. A large desk with a computer on it took up much of the middle. A long table stood against one wall, littered with blueprints both rolled and unrolled. A round tub held more rolled up plans. Built in book shelves on the other wall held three-ring binders and various institute standards indexes. On the credenza behind the desk were a fax machine and small copier. A niche in the bookcase had been set aside for various personal items such as family photos and construction awards. Among the pictures was one of a broad-faced, dark-haired man in an Army dress green uniform, wearing a beret. It wasn't the standard military portrait Blair was used to seeing, but a more candid shot of the man accepting a large, open, hinged box from another uniformed man. Judging by all the gold braid and striping, Blair guessed the other man was at least a Colonel, or maybe even a General.
"Haley, I presume?" Blair asked quietly, indicating the photo.
Jim looked at the picture, allowing his eyesight to zoom in for more detail. His hands and jaw clenched reflexively. "Yeah, must be. The other man is Colonel Pierce."
"Who's he?"
Jim shrugged. "He was in charge of operations and intelligence training. He and I didn't see eye to eye on a few things."
"You knew the Colonel, Detective?"
Both men turned at Mrs. Haley's quiet voice. Jim swallowed. "Yes, ma'am." They took seats as the woman maneuvered around the desk and sat down. "I was with the Seventh SFG until '90."
"Did you know John?"
"No, ma'am, I don't think so. We might have met on training exercises, but I don't recall."
Lily's brow furrowed in concentration. A few seconds later her face brightened and she snapped her fingers. "That's why you look familiar! You're that poor man who was stranded in Peru for a year and half, originally thought KIA."
Jim nodded slowly. Blair hid a faint smile behind his hand. He knew Jim was uncomfortable with any mention of the media event that took place after his rescue, and now the man was almost squirming. Deciding to take the spotlight off his partner, Blair asked, "Was that a medal your husband was receiving?"
She looked at the picture for moment. A small, sad smile touched her lips. "Yes. It was his Joint Service Achievement Medal. He got that after a one-week mission unexpectedly turned into three months."
Blair was impressed. Figuring the mission itself was classified, he didn't bother to press for details. He glanced at Jim to see that his partner had paled. What the--? Does he know something about that mission? The detective shook his head slightly at Blair's questioning look and he let it drop for the moment.
Jim cleared his throat uncomfortably. "Uh--we're here because more information has turned up concerning your husband's death."
Lily looked expectant. "Do you know who--killed him?"
Ellison bowed his head for a moment, then met the woman's eyes with an anguished gaze. "No, not yet, but we think we've discovered the reason."
"Which is?" Mrs. Haley prompted when the silence had stretched too long.
Jim's throat muscles worked. Blair reached over and gripped his friend's arm. "He apparently fit the profile for someone who's been taunting me for a couple of months now."
"Taunting you? I don't understand."
Jim swallowed. "Mrs. Haley, do you know about the SF group coins?"
Slowly, the woman nodded, waiting for an explanation.
"Did your husband have a coin?" the detective asked quietly.
Again, Lily nodded. "Yes. Even after he retired from the Army he kept that coin on him. He said it was his good luck piece."
Ice-blue eyes closed against his anguish. His jaw working nervously, Jim pulled a small evidence bag from his pocket and held it out to Mrs. Haley. "Is this your husband's coin?"
With a trembling hand, she took the offered item. Lily stared at the silver coin inside the bag for a long time. "It's John's," she whispered. "From the way you're acting, I take it you didn't find this with his--body?"
"No," Jim breathed. "For weeks now I've been receiving coins like this. One every nine days. I have three coins that belonged to those of my men on our last mission, and now I have three coins belonging to men I don't know, but who were in the Seventh and had the same specialties as my men." Ellison swallowed the lump in his throat yet again. "I'm so sorry, Mrs. Haley. I'm sorry your husband became a victim of someone's apparent vendetta against me."
Mrs. Haley was silent as she digested Jim's words. No one spoke for what seemed like several minutes. Blair glanced nervously from Jim to Lily and back again. Jim sat stoically, waiting for Mrs. Haley's reaction. Lily stared at her husband's picture, her hands unconsciously crumpling a piece of stationary that had been lying on the blotter.
Finally, blinking, Lily took a measured breath and turned her gaze back to her guests. Glancing down at the ball of paper in her fist, she looked momentarily abashed. "I'm sorry, Detective."
"You have no need to apologize, Mrs. Haley. Your anger is understandable."
Lily studied both men, noting the detective's distress, and his friend's obvious concern for him. "Do you understand that I'm not angry at you, Detective?"
The big man looked startled.
Lily smiled gently. "I want you to put your mind at ease. You are not responsible for the actions of another. I'm angry that someone chose to end my John's life because of some senseless revenge plot or whatever, but I can't--I don't blame you for that. I have a husband I loved dearly to mourn, but I think old wounds have been opened for you. I think they are wounds that never entirely healed, and you're mourning all the harder for your lost men."
Blair beamed, thrilled with the woman's obvious concern.
Mrs. Haley nodded. "I can tell you're a very compassionate man, Mr. Ellison--and very dedicated. I know you won't stop searching for whoever did this heinous thing until you've found them and brought them to justice. I think you would have done that for me even if John's death was a random act of violence, but I'm more than sure of it now. Go, Detective. Find that killer, and see that he gets justice."
Blair wanted to hug the woman. She'd said all the things he could have hoped she'd say. All the right words to ease Jim's guilt, and turn it into an even more determined resolve. He flashed Mrs. Haley a grateful smile, and mouthed "thank you" to her. Lily returned his smile, and tilted her head slightly in acknowledgment. Blair reached over and laid a hand on Jim's shoulder, squeezing it.
Ellison straightened from his slumped position in the chair, and lifted his eyes to meet Mrs. Haley's. "Thank you for that. I would have understood if you were angry at me."
"No need, Detective. Believe me, I am angry, but none of it is directed at you. You don't deserve it. You're a victim in this too."
Jim could only nod in agreement, while Blair mirrored the gesture emphatically. Jim stood up and turned toward the office door. Blair quickly followed, and they quietly preceded Mrs. Haley down the hallway. At the front entrance, the detective gave the woman a small smile. "Thank you. Again. We'll keep you informed."
"That's all I ask right now, Detective. Thank you. I know this wasn't easy for you."
Jim's lips twitched again, and he shook his head. Blair offered the woman his own quiet thanks, and hurried after his partner, who was already halfway to the truck.
"So, what was that reaction I saw, man?" Blair spoke several minutes later.
"What reaction, Sandburg?"
"When Mrs. Haley was describing how her husband earned that medal." The anthropologist was concerned when his friend's expression grew haunted, and his jaw went rigid. "You know what mission that was, don't you?"
A short nod.
"What happened?"
If anything, Jim's jaw clenched tighter, and Blair thought he heard a faint growl. "Some of it's classified, Sandburg."
Blair held up his hands. "Okay, okay. Sorry I asked."
A few seconds of silence passed. With a sigh, Jim said, "It was a humanitarian aid mission to Nicaragua. They were providing medical services to a couple of the orphanages hardest hit by all the fighting going on. Fighting broke out. One of the orphanages was destroyed. The team scrambled to move the remaining orphanage to a safer location. The jungles are as thick there as they are in Peru. You can have two teams only a few hundred yards apart and not know it. Anyway, they built a whole new orphanage, while assisting the meager staff with the children, and scouting for guerillas. Eventually the hot zone moved and the team was able to be recovered."
"Wow."
Jim's lips quirked in amusement.
"That's cool, what they did, but--the orphanage that was destroyed…." Blair's voice trailed off, not sure how to ask. His partner seemed to know what he was thinking, however, because his hands tightened around the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white.
"All dead," came the whispered response. "Twenty children and two staff people."
"Oh, man." Blair paused. "Were you involved in the rescue?"
Jim shook his head slightly. "No. A friend of mine led the team Haley was on. He told me what happened."
Neither man spoke again until they reached the precinct. As the detective parked the truck, Blair inquired hesitantly, "Jim, if Haley was killed for his coin, do you think the other two men were too?"
Jim finished parking the truck and stepped out of the cab before he answered. "I don't know, Chief. I hope not, but it's probably a safe bet. I'm going to do an inquiry on the national database and see what turns up. I don't know if we'll get anything back today or not."
Blair nodded in agreement and followed the Sentinel into the elevator.
Rooted to the deck, he helplessly watched the chopper fall toward the earth. Everything seemed to happen in slow motion. By some freak happenstance, a second missile soared through the left crew door and out through the right cockpit window. Three of his men died instantly, caught in the missile's path. The pilot was disintegrated when the missile exploded out the other side of the ship. The others were hurt by flying shrapnel. He might be hurt too, he didn't know. He was too numb to feel anything. Smoke and fumes filled his lungs, and he coughed violently. Impact. He was thrown from the aircraft. His head hit something hard. He saw sparkles for a moment, then nothing.
Jim moaned quietly in his sleep. He rolled onto his side. He tossed a few more times, then subsided into a restless slumber.
The first thing he became aware of when consciousness returned was the stench of fuel, oil, jungle, charred flesh, and blood. The smell only exacerbated the pounding in his skull. Neither of those things had roused him, however. What had finally broken through the veils of consciousness was the sensation of something warm and viscous dripping on his face and trickling down the side of his neck. Slowly, he opened his eyes. Wide, sightless eyes stared back at him from the open hatch above his head. Blood oozed from the dying man's mouth, landing on his cheek. He gasped and rolled to his knees, his heart racing in fear. "No! NO! NOOOO!"
"Jim?"
"No!"
"Jim! Wake up, man!"
"No!"
"Oh, God. Jim! C'mon, man! Wake up!" Jim's eyes snapped open. Dimly, he registered the fact that he was on his knees in bed, Blair's hands were gripping his shoulders tightly, and he was speaking. "That's it, man. Are you with me now, Jim? It was a nightmare. Shhh. Easy, easy." Jim gasped, as the remnants of the nightmare came rushing back to him.
Blair felt the big man begin to tremble. "What? Jim--Jim, it's all right. It was a nightmare, it can't hurt you. I'm right here. I won't let you go. Come on, man, relax. Shh, shh." Not sure what else to do, Blair kept up the soft reassurances, and continued to hold his friend. One corner of his brain found this role reversal strange, yet oddly comforting. Jim Ellison, Mr. Stoic, didn't have breakdowns very often, and this one seemed to have badly shaken the foundations.
It was nearly ten minutes before the shaking subsided, and Jim's breathing was under control. By that time, Blair's own knees and calves were numb. Neither man said anything for several minutes more, Jim out of embarrassment, and Blair simply offering silent support. After the older man calmed, he lowered his hands and began to gently rub the muscular back.
Jim finally shifted to a sitting position, draping his legs over the edge of the bed so he could lean forward on his elbows and bury his face in his hands. Blair shifted with him, getting more comfortable while keeping up the soothing motions with one hand. "It was about Peru again, wasn't it?" he asked softly, unnecessarily.
The detective dropped his hands with a heavy sigh, and nodded. Blair waited. He wanted to ask questions, but was afraid his friend would misinterpret his motives. This wasn't about his dissertation, this was about a genuine concern and need to help a hurting friend. When the silence had stretched long enough, Blair finally ventured to ask. "Was it the same dream?" Ellison shook his head, confirming Blair's feeling that it wasn't. "What was different about this one that had you shouting?"
"Blair, I'd rather not talk about it."
Blair? Uh-oh, this is bad. Okay, I can do this. "Jim, please don't shut me out. You need to get this out in the open. It's festered inside of you for too long. If you don't talk about it, it's only going to get worse. You know that." Blair stopped, a thought occurring to him. There was an odd constriction in his voice when he continued. "Jim, I've got finals coming up in a couple of weeks. I won't be able to watch your back for a few days. I can't--I won't let you go to work zombied from a lack of sleep from recurrent nightmares and risk getting yourself killed. I won't allow it."
Jim turned to look over his shoulder at Blair, smirking. "Protecting your thesis subject, Chief?"
"Damn it, Jim!" Blair's face darkened in anger. "This isn't about my paper! I care about you! You, Jim. As my friend, as my Sentinel. Not as a subject for a damned paper! When are you going to stop doubting me?" He dropped his hand from Jim's back and prepared to get off the bed. Jim's hand shot out and gripped his knee.
"Chief. Blair, I'm sorry. That was cold. I was teasing. I know you care about me. I think you know I care about you, too. It's just that--you know how I am."
Blair was silent for a long moment, his back rigid. Finally, closing his eyes, he concentrated on his breathing for a moment. Calmer, he opened his eyes and reached up to squeeze the big man's shoulder. "Yeah, Jim, I know, but sometimes--I forget," he whispered.
Jim ducked his head, almost contritely. "I'm sorry," he said, patting the leg he'd gripped just a moment before.
"Now, about this nightmare--?"
"You're not going to let this go, are you?"
Blair shook his head. "No. What I said before still applies. I'm not letting you on the streets without me if you're suffering from a lack of sleep due to recurring nightmares."
Jim nodded, his smile slowly fading. He turned and leaned forward on his elbows once again. Taking a deep breath, the detective let it out slowly. "We were preparing to rappel from the chopper when the missiles struck, so none of us were strapped in at that point. I was thrown from the ship when it hit the ground. I think I smacked my head on the landing skid, because I blacked out. I came to with," Jim stopped and gulped, "Hill's blood dripping on my face."
Blair cringed at the image. "Oh, man," he breathed.
"That's what had me on my knees," Jim said. "When I opened my eyes, his were staring down at me from the hatchway above me. I lost it for a moment, and had to get some distance."
"Understandable," Blair murmured.
A hint of a smile. "Yeah." Silence. "I think I'm going to wish these memories had stayed buried."
Blair couldn't help himself. He was excited by the prospect of learning more about Jim's time in Peru. "Do you remember more than what was in your dream?"
"I think I'm starting to. One thing of note, and I guess you can put this in your diss."
"Jim, I--"
"I mean it, Chief. If nothing else, it'll satisfy a bit of your curiosity." Jim really did smile then, and Blair knew he was sincere.
"Okay. What is it?"
"I think you might have been right that my senses were starting to come online just before the crash. When I came to, the scents I was smelling were nearly overpowering. I could smell the fuel and oil, but also charred flesh and blood. Hill's blood and the blood of the others, and my own."
"Which explains why you're able to detect the slightest trace of it without effort, and why you so easily zone on large amounts of it. Other people can recognize the smell of blood in large quantities, but for you--for you the scent is engraved on your mind." Blair's legs began to quiver with his effort to keep from bouncing.
Jim chuckled softly. "I figured you'd come up with something like that."
Blair grinned, pleased that his friend seemed to be relaxing. He was reluctant to risk shattering the mood, but he felt there were still some issues to deal with. "So your sense of smell was probably online. Do you remember what you did next?"
Jim grew still. Blair feared that the Sentinel had zoned, but just as he opened his mouth, the big man started to speak. "I didn't do anything. All I could do was stare at Hill. It was like I was frozen in place. I knew he was still alive, but I couldn't make myself move. When I finally did go to him, he was dead."
As Blair listened to the painful memories, his hand returned to Jim's back, rubbing in soothing circles. "Jim--"
A shake of Jim's head stopped him, and the big man continued. "I thought at first that my inability to pull myself together and help him had been his death sentence, but--when I did manage to reach him, I realized there was nothing I could have done. He was dead the moment the piece of shrapnel that hit him punched through his chest. It just took his heart a while to realize it."
Quiet descended around the two men. "Man," Blair whispered after a moment. "I knew it had to be bad, since you've so thoroughly blocked it out, but…"
"Chief." Jim interrupted gently.
"Huh?"
"Don't go into scientific theory tonight, okay? Please?"
"Sure, Jim. Sorry." Ellison nodded his acceptance, while Blair continued to rub the Sentinel's strong back. "Are you remembering anything else?"
Jim shrugged. "Yeah. Maybe. Can we give this a rest, Chief? Six o'clock is gonna get here too early as it is."
Blair paused in his massage, then smiled. Sliding his hand up, he patted his friend on the shoulder and climbed off the bed. "Okay, Jim. Enough treading the halls of memory for one night. Think you can go back to sleep now?"
Jim reached out and briefly gripped Sandburg's arm. "Yeah. Thanks, buddy. It helped."
The anthropologist flashed one of his megawatt smiles. "You're welcome, Jim. Good night." He turned and started back down the stairs, stopping briefly to give his friend another encouraging smile. As Blair made his way back toward his room, he spoke in a voice only his Sentinel could hear. "Pleasant dreams, buddy."
"I'm telling you, man, we should really see about taking off this weekend. Get completely away for a day. I can work on the finals exam I'm going to give my students anywhere," Blair said as he and his partner stepped off the elevator and walked into the bullpen of Major Crime.
"It's sounds good, Chief, but I don't know if Simon can give us the time off on such short notice. After all, the Haley case is still…open."
Blair felt his friend stiffen, and looked up. Following Jim's gaze to Simon's office, he saw two men in Army uniform. He unconsciously mirrored his partner's unease. "Jim, do you know who they are?"
The detective shook his head. "No, but I have an idea." Just then Simon looked out through his office window and motioned to them. "Let's go, Chief. Time to find out what's going on."
Blair patted his partner's back reassuringly, and followed him toward the office.
"Jim," Simon said as the partners entered, "this is Major Stoltz and Lieutenant Grange, from Fort Bragg. Gentlemen, Detective Ellison and his associate Blair Sandburg."
The uniformed men stood up when the new arrivals came in. The strangers shook hands with Ellison and barely acknowledged Sandburg with a nod. Blair smiled to himself. Brush-offs such as this had long since ceased to annoy him. Sooner or later, they would receive an attitude adjustment. Instead, he simply made himself part of the background and did one of the things he did best. He observed. Of immediate note was Jim's subtle change in stance. His shoulders squared and he held himself straighter, while he exuded an air of caution.
"Captain Ellison, Colonel Duffy sent us. He sends his regards," Major Stoltz said in an attempt to break the ice.
Jim inclined his head fractionally, his face betraying nothing. "Thank you, sir, but it's just Detective now. I gave up that rank when I left the service."
"Yes, so you did. Habit, I guess."
A faint smile touched Jim's lips at this. "Why did Duffy send you all the way out here?"
"You made him curious."
"Gentlemen, why don't we get comfortable?" Simon interjected, gesturing to his large conference table.
The two Army officers returned to their seats while Banks moved from behind his desk and sat down at the head of the table. Jim took a seat facing the two uniformed men, and Blair bracketed himself on his partner's right.
Major Stoltz looked directly at Blair for the first time. "Captain Banks, do you think it wise that a police observer sit in on this conversation?"
Banks scowled. "Sandburg acts as Ellison's partner. He's been an asset to this department. I will vouch for his discretion."
"Even so, the information we have to impart is on a strictly need to know basis." Major Stoltz looked at Ellison. "Captain, as a former Green Beret, you should understand this procedure."
Beside him, Jim went very still, while Blair's heart skipped a beat in surprise. Green Beret? What? So I wasn't crazy. When he caught the sideways glance his Sentinel gave him, he swallowed the questions he wanted to ask and offered a small smile.
"I understand, Major," Jim said quietly. "However, if you can tell me why I made Colonel Duffy curious without jeopardizing your secrecy, I will tell you whether or not Sandburg 'needs to know'."
There was an expectant silence. Stoltz seemed to be mulling over this turn of events, obviously not having expected any problems. Finally, he reached a decision. "Your recent inquiries to the Colonel concerning some former Green Berets made him wonder, so he did some checking and came up with some interesting information."
"He stays."
"Pardon me?"
"Sandburg stays," Jim said again. "Those inquiries concern a case he and I have been working on, one that seems to involve me." Icy blue eyes lifted to meet the Major's stern gaze. It wasn't long before the older man conceded to the determined detective.
"Very well, Mr. Ellison. I'll trust your judgment."
One corner of Jim's mouth turned upward, but he said nothing.
"Detective, we're interested to know why you've been making inquiries."
Blair observed his partner as he silently studied the two military officers. He remembered the last time Jim had locked horns with someone from the Army, really in the Army, not some pretenders. That person had been with Military Intelligence. The woman had been arrogant, condescending, and pumped up on her own self-importance. She'd nearly gotten an innocent young woman killed because of her zealousness. Fortunately, her superiors had finally realized she'd been overstepping the bounds, and pulled the plug on her so-called investigation. So far Major Stoltz had displayed no arrogance, just the usually expected reluctance to part with information. Blair had the feeling Stoltz had knowledge they could use, but he was still surprised when Jim spoke candidly. "Sandburg and I have been investigating the murder of a John Haley. We'd been having trouble turning up a motive, let alone a suspect, so I decided to dig deeper into his past. That's when I learned he had been part of Special Forces."
"And the previous inquiries?" Major Stoltz prompted.
Jim sighed. "I received their morale coins in the mail. I didn't know either man, so I made the inquiries to find out who they were."
"Their morale coins? Why would someone send you their coins? Especially since you claim not to know them?"
"That I would like to know myself. Since the middle of March I've been receiving these coins, one every nine days. So far they've been running half and half, half belonged to my team, and the others to men in the Seventh who I don't know. I got Haley's coin yesterday."
"Someone with a grudge?"
"It appears that way."
"Are you aware that Sergeant Michael Johnson and Sergeant Paul Morrow were both murdered within the last two months?"
Jim shook his head, his shoulders slumping as he sat back in his chair. "No," he said quietly, "I didn't know, although I can't say I'm truly surprised after discovering Haley's background."
There was a moment of silence. "To tell you the truth, detective, Colonel Duffy's curiosity over your inquiries is what turned up the other two homicides. Until then, no one even suspected the deaths could be related. Johnson lived in Arizona and Morrow in Illinois. Your background check on Haley sent up a red flag. The Colonel sent us to find out what's going on."
Blair didn't like what the Major seemed to be implying, but managed to hold his tongue. After all, Jim still seemed relaxed, and he figured his friend knew how to deal with these people.
"Are you here to help, or to hinder?" Jim asked pointedly.
"If, as Colonel Duffy suspected, you are investigating a case, we're to provide what help we can. If not, we are to issue a cease and desist order and leave."
Jim pursed his lips in interest. "Sounds fair enough."
The major nodded slightly in response.
"How did they die?" Blair asked quietly.
Stoltz barely glanced at the police observer, obviously reluctant to respond to the question. "Johnson was killed in a car crash. The brake lines had been cut. Morrow was shot once through the head on his way to work." Stoltz paused. "You see now why we didn't connect them?"
Ellison nodded. "Serial killers normally don't vary their methods. When were they killed?"
"It looks like Johnson died around the fifth of March. It was a few days before his car was found. Morrow was killed on March twenty-third."
Jim stiffened, exchanging a haunted look with Blair.
"Oh, man," Blair whispered. "The same day you got Johnson's coin."
Lieutenant Grange speared the police observer with an accusatory stare. "And why do you know what day it was?"
"Grange!" Stoltz barked.
The lieutenant subsided marginally, but his stare didn't leave Sandburg as he waited for an answer.
Beside him, Blair felt Jim tensing, getting ready to spring. He gave his friend a reassuring glance, and caught a slight nod of assent. Turning back to Grange, he met the man's hard gaze. "Ever heard of a day planner, Lieutenant?"
"Why would you need a day planner?"
Sandburg ignored the condescending tone. "Hey, man, I'm a grad student, a teaching fellow, and a police observer." Not to mention Guide to the Sentinel. "I write down practically everything."
"And this is significant because?"
Blair scrubbed a hand over his face, casting a perturbed glance at his partner. "Because--I wrote down when Jim received a coin. The twenty-third of March was one of the dates."
"Are you in the habit of getting your partner's mail?"
"As much as he's in the habit of getting mine." Seeing the odd look on both uniformed men's faces, Blair added in exasperation, "We're roommates, okay? It's pretty common for us to get each other's mail."
"I see."
"No, I don't think you do," Jim interjected quietly, his tone deceptively mild.
"That's it. I've had enough." Blair jumped to his feet and slammed out of the office. He returned moments later, plopping a notebook on the table. Reclaiming his seat, he stabbed a finger at the open page. "Here, read it for yourself, starting with Monday the fifteenth."
Grange almost eagerly pulled the notebook closer to him, but Stoltz stopped him by covering the book with a hand. Giving his assistant a quelling glare, the major closed the binder and slid it back across the table. Blair risked a glance at his partner, and caught Jim's gaze on him. The detective's expression was stern, but there was a glint of amusement in his eyes. Blair felt oddly reassured by this tacit encouragement.
"No need for that."
Blair's attention snapped back to Major Stoltz. "Good, glad to hear it. Now what?"
"I'd say we try to discover what the link is between the coins and Detective Ellison."
"We…."
"We know that whatever this guy is doing, it centers around my last mission. So far the victims' MOSes have corresponded to those of my men in the order of their delivery." Jim quietly interjected.
"I don't think I quite follow you, Detective."
"The first coin I received belonged to one of my team. The next one belonged to a stranger, but he had been in the Seventh and he had the same specialty as my man. That pattern has repeated itself twice."
"He's recreating the Peruvian detail."
Jim nodded. "Yes, sir. I believe so."
"Major, can you pull the files for the men on Jim's team, plus those of Johnson, Morrow, and Haley?" Simon spoke for the first time since the meeting began, startling everyone.
Stoltz' gaze shifted to the police captain. "Of course, but the files are classified."
Banks scowled, waving that aside. "I'm not interested in mission details, just in personal info like birth dates, wives, children, Army training courses, that kind of thing. Surely that isn't classified?"
The major hesitantly shook his head.
"Good. How long will it take you?"
"Captain Banks, I'm still not sure…."
"Major, I realize this case has some strong military ties, personally involving one of my detectives, but it is also still a murder investigation. Now, you can pull government rank and yank the case out of our hands and give it to the Feds, but since it does involve Ellison, you'd be hard-pressed to remove him from the investigation. Why don't we cooperate and get this thing solved? I'm tired of having one of my best detectives haunted by this matter."
"Gee, thanks, Captain," Jim said.
Simon's gaze turned to Jim for a moment, but he didn't apologize for his words.
"Very well, Captain. Your suggestion makes sense. We should be able to pull the information we need by tomorrow afternoon."
"Good enough. Jim, when they come back tomorrow, go ahead and take one of the interrogation rooms. Now, gentlemen, if that's all for the moment, my men have some police work to get back to."
The five men rose to their feet. Major Stoltz and Lieutenant Grange exchanged handshakes with the others and took their leave. On their way past, Jim gave the Lieutenant a measuring look.
"Well, that was interesting," Blair commented after they were gone.
Simon made a sound of amusement, moving back to his desk.
When there was no corresponding response from Jim, Blair realized his partner wasn't paying any attention. He was staring at Blair's journal, seemingly immersed in thought. "Jim?"
Ellison glanced distractedly at Blair. "Can I have a look at that, Chief?"
"Uh, yeah, sure." The grad student watched as Jim perched on the edge of the table and quickly leafed through the pages. Wondering what thought his partner was pursuing, Blair moved closer to the table. After a few minutes Jim shut the journal with a snap, and turned his gaze out the window, idly rubbing his lip with a hand.
"Jim, what is it?"
The big man's eyes were filled with guilt and anger when he finally turned to look at Blair. He said quietly, "The next man is already dead, Chief."
"What do you mean already dead?" Simon snapped.
Jim's jaw clenched at the harsh tone, and Blair cast the captain an irritated glance before focusing on his Sentinel. "What have you figured out, Jim?"
Before answering, Ellison stood up and strode to the windows. He stood, with back straight and hands clasped lightly behind his back, gazing out over his city. "Stoltz said Johnson was killed around March fifth, right?"
"Yeah."
"He also said Morrow was assassinated on March twenty-third." Blair made an affirmative noise. "I got Johnson's coin the twenty-third." Jim finally turned around to face them. "I received Morrow's coin April tenth, the same day we discovered Haley's body. I got Haley's coin yesterday."
By now Blair had paled as he followed his partner's reasoning. "Damn." It was barely a whisper. "So, where's the body, and who is it?"
Jim shook his head. "I don't know, but it looks like we have eighteen days to find out, before the next one is murdered. Damn it!"
"Easy, Jim."
Jim's eyes turned to ice, his expression furious. "How can you stand there and tell me to take it easy? Because of me, because of what I used to be, innocent men are being murdered!"
Blair held up his hands defensively. "Whoa, man, I'm on your side, remember?"
"Yeah, well, you could've fooled me," Ellison said defensively.
"Jim!" Simon commanded. "Just calm down. You're not doing yourself or the case any good by taking it out on the kid."
"No, Simon, it's all right. Who else can he yell at?" Blair looked pointedly at his partner.
Jim had the grace to blush, looking suitably chastised. "You know I didn't mean it," he said softly.
Blair nodded, waving the apology aside. "Jim, you have every right to be upset, but don't take on more guilt than belongs to you. You've got to make yourself believe that what's been happening isn't your fault. We've been over this before, but I'll say it again. It's not your fault that you survived and the others didn't. Sentinel abilities or not, you couldn't have foreseen those two missiles or reacted any differently. Jim, man, you survived something very traumatic, and now some maniac is trying to make you pay for being a survivor. So far they're doing a damned good job of it too!" Blair swallowed the lump that had risen in his throat, as he again thought how easily fate could have dealt him a different hand where one Jim Ellison was concerned.
"Sandburg's got a point, Jim," Simon interjected gently. "You can't blame yourself for this."
Jim was silent for a long time, his stance still unwavering.
"Remember, the ultimate blame rests with Colonel Oliver and his greed. He sent you and your team in there with the express purpose of destroying you."
The detective visibly seemed to deflate, though his eyes still flashed with frustrated anger. "I know you're right, Blair."
The anthropologist glanced at Simon worriedly, then plunged ahead. "Jim, the next man might already be dead, but now that we know when they're being killed, we have something to work with. In a few days we'll know what this victim's specialty was. There are only four left, right? I think it's pretty safe to assume you are the final target, so we can eliminate your MOS from the equation. That leaves only three." Jim looked at him quizzically for a moment, then nodded as he too recalled that the coins of his men indicated what the stranger's specialty would be. With a wry smile playing at the corners of his mouth, he said, "And I thought I was the detective."
Blair grinned, wiggling his eyebrows. The big man actually chuckled, and Blair's grin only got wider.
Before he could bask too long in his accomplishment, Simon's phone rang. The partners prepared to leave, but Banks held up a hand. Moments later he hung up.
"Jim, that was the ADA. She wants you in her office at two. She needs your deposition on the Henderson case."
Jim nodded. "Okay. Simon, would you contact Major Stoltz and fill him in on what we've concluded? Tell him to keep his eyes open for any deaths of retired SF personnel in the last few days."
"That's a hefty order, Jim."
"That's the best I can do right now, sir."
"All right, I'll call him."
"Thanks, sir. Come on, Chief."
"Uh, Simon," Blair said as Jim took a step toward the door. "There isn't any way you'd give Jim the weekend off, is there?" He caught a glimpse of his partner's rolled eyes, but only smiled.
Simon scowled, looking like an automatic denial was on the tip of his tongue. However, he didn't voice it, studying the two men in front of him, Ellison in particular. It didn't take a sentinel to see the fine lines of fatigue and stress around the crystal-blue eyes. The captain directed his attention back to Blair.
"What'd you have in mind, Sandburg?"
Blair shrugged. "Not much. Just a two-night camping stay in the Cascade National Forest. We won't even be out of cell range."
Banks was quiet for a moment, then he nodded. "All right--depending on how tomorrow pans out."
"Great! Thanks, Simon." Blair flashed his partner a satisfied grin, and Jim had to smile in spite of himself.
"Yeah, thanks, Simon. I told him I didn't think you'd give us the time off on such short notice." There was a hint of gratitude in Jim's voice.
The captain gave them one of his rare, slow smiles. "I'm not blind, Jim. You need the break."
Jim gave an answering smile. Without further delay he placed a hand on Blair's shoulder and ushered him out of the office.
"So, is it true?" Blair inquired hours later in the truck on the way home.
Jim glanced at him in confusion. "Is what true?"
"What Major Stoltz said. Were you a Green Beret?"
This time the glance Jim threw him was surprised. "What's this about, Sandburg?"
"I'm curious, man. I want to know."
Ellison sighed, keeping his eyes on the road. "I was a member of Special Forces, what does that tell you?"
Blair rolled his eyes in exasperation. "I don't know, Jim, you tell me. I may know a little about a lot of things, but the intricacies of the military isn't one of them."
Another, more resigned sigh. "Special Forces are the Green Berets, Chief."
The anthropologist's eyes widened, his mind whirling. "Cool!"
"Cool?" Jim said incredulously. "Sandburg, why the excitement? You knew I was in Special Forces."
"Jim, man, I didn't equate Special Forces with the Green Berets. I mean, I know the Army Rangers are a pretty elite force, and do some special ops stuff, too, but the Green Berets, man, they're the elite of the elite." Blair realized his partner was rather uncomfortable with this discussion. "Man, I'm sorry I seem to be making such a big deal out of this, but it just jazzes me."
"I can see that. What I'm wondering is, why? I thought you were a pacifist, Chief, I didn't expect you to be excited about this. I can only imagine what Naomi would say about me." This last was said with a self-deprecating smile.
"I'm not my mom, Jim. I still don't care for the darker side of the military, or even the police force for that matter, but I recognize the necessity of some of it. Without the Green Berets and Rangers, and other forces like them, there wouldn't be a 'free world' as we know it. And besides, I know black ops isn't the only thing they do. They handle diplomatic and humanitarian aid missions, too. You said so yourself, when you told me about those orphanages in Nicaragua."
The detective was grinning now. "It sounds to me like someone's been doing some research."
Blair mirrored the grin, his legs bouncing with pent up energy. "Hey, man, research is what I do best."
Jim's smile turned fond now. "No, Guiding is what you do best. Research is what you do to help you Guide."
Blair stared at his friend in stunned silence for a moment. "Thanks, Jim."
The big man nodded. "You're welcome."
"Jim, why so reluctant about the Green Beret thing? Why let everyone say you were a Ranger?"
"Because it causes fewer problems, and it's not a lie," Jim answered quietly. "I went through Ranger School immediately following Airborne. I was with the Seventy-fifth Ranger Regiment for a year and a half before I was approached by someone from the Seventh Special Forces Group. They were impressed by my service record and wanted me to consider joining Special Forces full time. The rest, as they say, is history."
"Wow, man. I didn't know that." Blair fell silent, processing all he'd learned about Jim in the last few minutes.
"Why the fascination, Chief, or do I even need to ask?"
"I don't know, man, I guess it's just the fact that I'm learning something new about you. You know as well as I do that I practically have to use a crow bar to get any personal information out of you."
Jim smirked, but nodded in agreement.