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Disclaimer: See front page.
A little before two the next afternoon, Jim and Blair were in one of the interrogation rooms, going over the Haley case file when Major Stoltz and his associate were shown in.
"Major. Lieutenant," Jim greeted. He stood next to Sandburg, who was seated with a notebook in his lap. Blair simply waved a hand. "Good afternoon, Detective Ellison. Mr. Sandburg," the major answered, moving to the table and setting down the satchel he was carrying. "Captain Banks tells me you think another man has already died?"
Jim nodded. "I'm sure he told you why."
"He did, and I've started a search, but it's a pretty daunting task."
"Well, I'm hoping something in the files you have will help us narrow down the search, as well as give us a clue to who's doing this."
Major Stoltz nodded in agreement. After a lingering glance at Blair, he reluctantly opened the satchel and pulled out the files he'd gathered. The Lieutenant seemed sullen, but said nothing as he took a seat beside his superior.
"Okay, we already know about the link between the MOSes. What I'm hoping to discover is any other similarities or ties between the men from my team and the men who were murdered." Glancing quickly through the files, Jim picked two and passed them to Blair. He took another pair for himself, leaving the rest for the major and lieutenant. Stoltz looked again at the observer uncertainly, but said nothing.
Blair opened the two files Jim had given him, quickly realizing one was for Hickman and the other for Johnson, the first two coins received. He glanced over the obvious similarities. Both men had been in the same Special Forces Group, and communications specialists. Sitting up, he said, "Jim, look at this." Ellison leaned over to see what he'd found. "Hickman and Johnson were the same age."
Jim looked back in the files in his hand. "Hill and Morrow, too." A glance at Major Stoltz received a confirming nod.
The detective sat back in his chair, rubbing a hand over his face. "Same Group, same MOS, same ages. Man, this guy has been thorough."
"Same physical description, too," Blair added, meeting his partner's startled gaze calmly. Jim glanced at the files again, confirming what Blair had discovered.
"That will help narrow the search down, if we can only determine who's next." With a resigned sigh, Jim reached for one of the unpaired files. A file of one of his men.
An hour was spent going over the information. In that time, Blair had to surreptitiously pull Jim out of several memory zones. Each time, he would pass a concerned glance at his partner, who would simply acknowledge his concern with a slight shrug. Always the researcher, it didn't take Blair long to begin taking notes. He started listing the men's names and their particulars, such as age, rank, specialty, and the MOS designation. He'd just finished writing Jim's name and rank when his partner looked to see what he was doing.
"18A," the big man murmured, tapping a long finger in the appropriate column. Blair smiled indulgently and dutifully wrote down the number. When he looked back up, Jim was staring at the page as if transfixed. Blair nudged him gently with an elbow.
Jim blinked, and turned his bemused gaze to his partner. "That's it."
"What?"
"The MOS designations. That's how he's doing it." Jim tapped on the page again. Write down the designations in order. Put Johnson, Morrow, and Haley off to the side."
Blair started writing, seeing what Jim saw, but quickly growing confused again. When he finished, he looked at the list he'd created. "Ellison, 18A; Turnbow, 18B; Sarris, 18C; Hill, 18D; Hickman, 18E; Andersen, 18F; Tippit, 18Z; Crouse, 180A." In another column he had written, "Johnson, 18E; Morrow, 18D; Haley, 18C."
The anthropologist looked back at his partner. "Okay, I can see where you're going with this. You think they're being killed in order of their MOS designations, right? If that's true, why not start all the way at the bottom, with," he glanced at his notebook, "a 180A?"
Jim smiled, his eyes actually gleaming with discovery. "Because, a 180A isn't at the bottom, Chief. Neither is an 18F or an 18Z." Blair waited for his friend to clear up his confusion. "Think of it as a hierarchy, Chief. The captain--I'm at the top. I'm the leader, I make the final decisions. My second in command is the Warrant Officer, my XO, the 180A. He carries out my decisions and informs me of things that need my attention. Next in line is the Operations NCO and Team Sergeant, or 18Z. He's a Master Sergeant. His job is to coordinate the team's activities. He has an assistant. The 18F, Intelligence and Operations officer. Without him, no team could be fielded. From there it's just a matter of designation."
Blair absorbed this surprising deluge of information from his normally sententious partner, then returned his gaze to the notebook. "So, you think an 18B, Weapons Sergeant, has already been murdered?"
Jim nodded.
The police observer located the file of Jim's weapons sergeant, and looked over the contents. "Jake Turnbow, Sr., would have been fifty-five. He had blond hair and brown eyes. Height, 5'-10". Weight 190 pounds, stocky build."
Jim turned to Major Stoltz, who was already writing. "I think that narrows down your search parameters, Major."
The older man nodded in agreement. "I'll get some people on it as soon as we're finished here."
"Jim, do you think the next one is going to be the Intelligence guy?"
"It's a fair bet, Chief."
"Maybe the major could be looking for them, too?"
"That's a good idea." Blair handed the big man a piece of paper with the description already written down. Jim gave him a wry smile, which he returned. The detective passed the information to Stoltz.
There was a knock on the door, followed closely by Simon's entrance. "Gentlemen. I came to see how it's going in here. Found out anything?"
"Yes, sir." Jim nodded. "We've established a pattern for the murders."
"Good. Suspects?"
"Haven't gotten that far."
Simon nodded. His expression said he was disappointed but not surprised. "Well, it's almost four o'clock. If you two still plan to make a weekend of it in the woods, why don't you pack it in and pick this up Monday?"
"Hey, almost forgot! Thanks Simon."
"Yeah, thanks, sir." Jim looked at Major Stoltz. "You probably won't have anything back until then, will you?"
"Probably not. Even narrowed down, it's going to take a while."
Jim nodded. "Okay. Simon knows how to get hold of us if anything comes up. Nine Monday morning?"
"We'll be here," Stoltz agreed, beginning to gather up the files, as Blair and Jim stood up.
"Giving the hippie boy a survivalist lesson, Detective?" The voice was derogatory.
The entire room went silent. Slowly, Jim turned toward Lieutenant Grange. He smiled, though his eyes glinted with ice. "I may not be in the Army anymore, Lieutenant, but I still outrank you. Is that understood?"
Surprisingly, Grange responded to the tone by coming to attention. "Yes, sir."
"Good. Now, what does Mr. Sandburg's appearance have to do with whether or not he can survive in the woods?"
"Nothing, sir."
"Unless you can tell me you've been on live field missions, don't presume to know what Sandburg's capabilities are or aren't."
Silence.
"I didn't think so." Jim motioned to his partner. "Come on, Chief. Let's hit the road. See you Monday, Simon. Major."
"Stay out of trouble, Jim. You too, Sandburg." Simon grinned at the shorter man as they walked past him. Blair grinned back and hurried after his partner.
Outside the room, Jim stopped abruptly. Recognizing the look, Blair leaned closer. "What is it? What do you hear?"
"Ellison keeps that pansy joined at the hip, doesn't he?"
"I'll pretend I didn't hear that remark. Ellison and Sandburg have a damned good partnership. That's all you need to know or care about."
"I agree, Captain Banks. Grange, if you can't act like a proper officer, I can send you back to North Carolina."
Jim smiled down at his partner, beginning to walk again. "Just Simon, Chief. Defending our honor."
Blair was perplexed for a moment, then his eyes rounded. "Let me guess. Grange said something stupid again, right?"
Jim clapped him on the shoulder as he steered him back toward his desk. "Got it in one, Chief. Got it in one."
Blair watched the fire flare as Jim added more wood. He pulled his coat a little closer around himself and leaned back against a log with a contented sigh.
They'd arrived at their chosen campsite just before dusk. Jim had grabbed his fishing tackle and headed for the river while Blair had set up camp. By the time the detective returned an hour and a half later with a respectable string of trout, the fire had been going nicely. They'd dined on fresh baked fish and canned baked beans. It had tasted delicious.
"You know the question I have, Jim?"
Jim settled back against the log. "No, Sandburg. What question would that be?"
Blair heard the note of amusement, but ignored it as he continued to stare at the dancing flames. "How is this guy getting his hands on your men's coins?" He turned his gaze to Jim. "I mean, I can almost see him able to get the others, especially if the victims have been like Haley and kept their coins on them, but the men from Peru? How's he getting them?"
Jim shrugged. "I don't know, Chief. That's something that's been bugging me, too. Those coins should all be in the possession of their families."
Blair remained silent, turning his attention back to the fire. "How many guys continue to carry those coins after they leave the service?"
The big man contemplated the shifting colors of the flames. "Probably quite a few. I suppose it's like carrying a lucky piece, like Mrs. Haley said."
"Do you carry yours?"
Jim shook his head. "No," he said, barely audible.
"Why not?" Truly curious.
"More fodder for your dissertation, Sandburg?" Before Blair could react to that comment, Jim hurried on. "Forget I said that. I'm sorry, Chief." He paused, seeming to gather his thoughts. "I enjoyed my time in the service. It was something I was good at. My team and I, we met every mission with a sense of purpose. We knew what we were there for. We felt like what we did made a difference." Jim dropped his gaze to his hands for a moment, then looked back at the fire. "After Peru, it all changed. My team had died. My sole purpose for eighteen months was getting to know the Chopec and help them defend their land, not against other tribes, but against anyone trying to take something from their land. After I was retrieved and my head had cleared, I accused Oliver of incompetence. When no one seemed to care, I knew it was over. I took the honorable discharge, and returned to Cascade. I tucked the coin away with the other memories, and left it at that."
Blair pursed his lips, absorbing everything his friend had said, silently amazed by the amount of information Jim had willingly divulged. "Under the circumstances, I think that made perfect sense."
The older man smiled slightly.
"You know, it's at times like this that I wish we'd never met," Blair said. The hurt and betrayal he saw quickly shuttered in the other man's eyes let him know all he needed to in order to push this conversation. "No, I don't wish that, I wish the reason for our meeting didn't exist."
Now the expression in the steely-blue eyes staring at him was cautious, but questioning. Blair met that gaze unflinchingly. "My dissertation, Jim. I feel that real and tangible barrier every time you get defensive about something I've asked you. I thought after--Alex--that we'd worked it out, that we'd come to an understanding, but we really haven't. Not about this."
"Blair…."
"No, Jim. My turn." Blair swallowed, staring into the fire. He firmed his resolve and plunged ahead. "In the beginning, yeah, all I was really concerned about was gathering information for my diss. I knew I could help you get control of your senses, and I knew you could help me achieve my life's dream. I never figured on the emotional commitment that would come out of it." He risked a glance at Jim, and saw the rock-like jaw and icy eyes watching him. Sighing, Blair pulled his legs up and leaned his head on his knees. "We became friends. Really good friends. That's not something a scientist is supposed to let happen, but it did, and now I'm stuck with it. When Alex came along I thought, 'Cool. Another sentinel. I can help her, and use her as my subject, and take the heat off Jim. That should make Jim happy. Make him feel less like a lab rat.'
"Well, I don't have to tell you what a big mistake that turned out to be. Now, here I am, almost one year later, a PhD candidate, you as my subject, and my stupid dissertation in the middle. I'd rip it up and burn it, but I can't. I know you know if you asked me to burn it I would, but I also know you know it would mean the end of my career, my life's dream. And you would never ask that of me, because I know, despite my run-on mouth and other annoying habits, you respect me, respect what I do. Our friendship should mean more than my doctorate, and it does, but you don't need a freeloader for a friend, or a friend who can't be your Guide because he's flippin' burgers at Wonder Burger. So, you're stuck with letting yourself be my subject, thinking that anything personal you reveal is going to end up in my paper.
"I admit that in the beginning that probably would have been true. But I've learned a lot in the few years I've known you. The value of friendship, and just as importantly, the value of discretion. Now, I'm wondering how I can convince you that I don't have ulterior motives whenever I get you to open up to me. Yes, I catalog practically everything concerning you, but for a long time now, most of it has been going in my personal journals. Hell, as your Guide, I've even started cataloging my own responses. How accurate it is, is anyone's guess." Blair paused, closing his eyes. "Jim, if I already had my doctorate, or was an old tenured professor, I would still care what happens to you. I care about you, the man, Jim, who just happens to be a sentinel. I'm not planning on going anywhere. So, where does that leave us?"
There was no immediate response. Blair kept his eyes closed, listening to the pop of the branches in the fire. He was startled to feel a warm, familiar hand come to rest on his shoulder. He opened his eyes, and came face to face with Jim's suspiciously bright gaze.
"With a jerk for a sentinel," Jim whispered, his lips twitching into a hesitant smile.
Blair raised his head, returning the smile. "I don't know, man. I think we can both claim that title on occasion."
The smile became more sure. "Yeah, you have a point." Jim was quiet for a moment. "I can't deny any of what you said. I know you'd destroy your work if I asked you to, and no, I'd never ask you to sacrifice something that important to you. It wouldn't be fair. I also know in here," the big man pointed to his heart, "that you care about me as a person, not as some lab rat. But the brain doesn't always see eye to eye with the heart. Fear-based responses, remember?"
Blair rolled his eyes, but nodded. "I wish I'd never written that."
"No. It's true, and I think I understand what you meant, but I should never have read it. Just another Ellison-jerk reaction. I can promise to try and do better, but you know I'm likely to fall into the same pattern as before."
"I know, Jim. But a guy can hope you'll eventually learn, right?"
Jim cuffed him lightly on the head. "Right. So, are we okay now?"
"Yeah, Jim. We're good."
"Good. Let's hit the sack, so we can get an early start on the fish tomorrow."
"I can deal with that."
Jim doused the fire while Blair gathered the blanket they'd been sitting on and ducked into the tent. Within minutes both men were comfortably cocooned in their sleeping bags, and well on their way to slumber.
Two days later, back on the road toward Cascade, Blair found his thoughts wandering. It had been an idyllic outing. Great weather, great fishing, and great companionship. He couldn't have asked for better. Glancing at Jim, seeing how relaxed the Sentinel was, made him smile. It was like having their spiritual batteries recharged. Blair considered that thought for a long moment.
"You lost in your own zone there, Chief?"
Blair chuckled. "No, just thinking. We had a nice weekend, didn't we?"
Jim nodded. "Yeah. I can't believe how good I feel. It was very refreshing to get back to nature. It's been a while."
"I was just thinking the same thing. Ancient sentinels and their shamans must have been very close to the earth, in harmony with nature. I always knew we take these trips to get away for a bit and hopefully relax. I've just never really considered how rejuvenating these little outings are. That is, when nothing goes wrong, like stumbling into poachers or something."
Jim laughed in agreement.
A few more miles passed in companionable silence. "You know, Jim, I've been thinking about the coins, and what you said about how they should have gone to their families."
"Yeah?"
"What if they did, and someone's managed to steal them?"
Jim raised his eyebrows skeptically.
"I know it sounds kinda wild, but all you'd have to do is check out one. See if they've been robbed recently or had a break in? What d'you think?"
Ellison rubbed a hand over his mouth, keeping his eyes on the road. He finally glanced at Blair. "I think it's worth a shot, Chief. You just might have something. I'll contact Major Stoltz when we get home and see if he'll check into it for us."
Blair flashed his partner a grin. With that the anthropologist pulled out his laptop, and began to work on finishing up the test he was going to give his students.
Simon was standing in the doorway of his office when they entered the bullpen the next morning. He had obviously been watching for them because his stern features softened into an anticipatory smile.
"Hey, Simon!" Blair greeted.
"Morning, sir."
"Good morning. Glad to see you made it back in one piece." The captain gestured into his office, and stepped back.
Blair grinned, bouncing on his toes. He glanced up at his partner before preceding him into Simon's domain.
Blair took his usual seat and Jim his usual perch on the table as Banks closed the door behind them. "It looks like your little excursion helped."
"Yeah! It was great."
Jim smiled, nodding in agreement with his partner's assessment.
"Good. Just don't expect to do that too often, Sandburg."
Blair laughed. "No fear of that, Simon."
The captain favored the police observer with a glare that didn't quite hide the pleased glint in his eyes. Amenities aside, Simon turned his attention to Jim. "Have you talked to Stoltz since you got back?"
"No. I tried him once last night, but he wasn't in."
Simon nodded, moving to lean against his desk. Crossing his arms over his chest, he hesitated before saying quietly, "He called me yesterday afternoon. They've located the latest victim."
There was a moment of silence. "Who?"
"A man by the name of Charles Walker. He lived in Tacoma. Guess he retired from the Army about four years ago. Stoltz and Grange went to check it out. The major said they'd be back by this afternoon."
Jim nodded glumly. "Do they know how?"
"Would you believe, they think he was garroted?"
"Garroted!" Blair exclaimed. He looked at Jim to see his partner close his eyes and bow his head.
"This guy is good," Jim said quietly, opening his eyes and raising his head to look at Simon. "Every murder a different method. He's obviously assassin-trained. My guess is military. He knows far too much about me, Special Forces, and the coins to be just some hired killer satisfying someone else's grudge against me."
"Okay, I'll go along with that. Now what?" Banks questioned.
Jim stood up. "I think I'll follow up on a theory Sandburg had this weekend."
Simon eyed Blair skeptically, but simply said, "Keep me informed."
"Will do, sir." With that, the two men left the captain's office.
"So, you're really going to do that?" Blair asked as they maneuvered their way to Jim's desk.
Jim nodded.
"You know how to get hold of the families?"
The detective hung up his coat, pulled out his wallet, and sat down. "I do one of them."
While he shrugged out of his own jacket, Blair watched his partner search through the billfold briefly, then pull out a scrap of paper. As Jim reached for the phone, Blair went to the break room, returning in moments with two mugs of coffee. He sat down in his customary chair just as someone picked up on the other end.
"Bonnie," Jim said into the receiver. "It's Jim." He had to clear his throat. "Jim Ellison." A pause. "Yeah, it has been a while. Sorry I missed calling you last Memorial Day. How's Annie?" Jim smiled sadly. "I bet she's getting to be as pretty as her mother. She'll be starting college next year, won't she?" Another pause. "Good. Bonnie, listen, I need to ask you something. Okay. Have you had any recent break ins? You have. When? Was anything taken? All…all right, Bonnie. Take it easy. Did you ever find out who did it? That's okay. Bonnie," Jim swallowed. "I have it. Someone delivered it to me. No, I don't know who, yet. It's a long story. I have to hang on to it for a while yet, but as soon as I can, I'll get it back to you. I promise. Okay. Thanks, Bonnie. Tell Annie hi for me. Tell her she'd better get good grades if she wants that scholarship." Finally the smile was back. "Yeah. I understand. Thanks, Bonnie. Bye."
Blair waited expectantly as Jim hung up the phone. With a sigh, his partner sat back in his chair. Finally, he met Blair's gaze. "That was Bonnie Hill. She says her house was broken into almost four months ago. Some jewelry and other small items were taken. Kelly's coin was among them. Everything but the coin was recovered a few weeks later. She was afraid whoever had taken it had melted it down or something. She was relieved to know I have it."
Blair nodded, pursing his lips in thought. "I didn't know you stayed in touch with any of the families."
He saw Jim hesitate for a moment. "Yeah."
Blair raised his brows in silent inquiry.
A small, wry smile touched Ellison's lips. "Kelly and I were fairly close. I was pretty good friends with him and his wife. I told you he had a six-year-old daughter when we went to Peru. I--I try to stay in touch with Bonnie, try to contact her around Memorial Day every year, just to see how she and Annie are doing. You know, just to let her know Kelly's not forgotten." Blair nodded again in understanding. "Annie's about seventeen now. She'll be starting college next year." Jim stopped.
Blair didn't press him any further. "So, what do we do now?"
Before Jim could answer, his phone rang. "Ellison." He shot Blair a startled glance. "Mrs. Haley, hello."
Hearing the name, Blair sat up, focusing all his attention on his partner. A few minutes later, Jim returned the receiver to its cradle, looking a little dazed.
"Well, what did she say?"
"Uh, she called to personally invite us to her husband's memorial service."
"Why?"
"She said it would honor his memory if the person who served in the same SF Group and was now investigating his murder attended."
"Are you going to go?"
Jim shrugged. "I don't know." He paused. "Yeah, I think maybe I will."
"Good. When is it?"
"Tomorrow. One o'clock."
"Okay. I only have the one class tomorrow afternoon. I can get somebody to cover for me. Unless of course you don't want me to go with you?"
"Yeah, I want you to go. Do you think I'm going to do this on my own? Not hardly. Besides, she asked you to come, too."
Blair smiled, then his expression turned serious again. "So, like I said, what do we do now?"
"Well, I'd say we wait for Major Stoltz to get back. He'll have easier access to where the other families are and how to reach them. In the meantime, we still have a bunch of paperwork to do."
"Ah, gee. I would've never guessed."
"Seriously, Chief. I think we might be on to something here." The detective patted Blair's back, then reached for a folder from his in-box.
Blair picked up another folder while taking a sip of his coffee. His mind wasn't on the file, however. A stray thought had captured his attention and he spent several minutes chasing after it.
"Chief?"
Blair blinked and looked up at his partner. "Jim, you said this guy's probably military." Jim nodded, waiting expectantly. "I know you said it wasn't Veronica's style, but could it be someone else like her? Another son or daughter or relative of one of your men?"
Jim sat back in his chair, giving this some serious thought. "God, I don't want to think so."
"But?"
"But, I suppose it could be a possibility." Jim picked up a pencil and began toying with it. After several minutes of staring at nothing, the detective shook himself and set to work on the file in front of him.
Blair watched him for a moment. He could tell part of his friend's mind was still working on the problem, so he decided not to push. Though frustrated, he focused his attention on his own file. He was surprised when he heard Jim's quiet voice a few moments later.
"Stoltz has probably already thought of that angle. If he has, he's more than likely compiled a list already. I'll ask him when we see him this afternoon. Whoever this guy is, he's definitely in the service and close to Special Forces, if not actually in it. It makes sense that it might be somebody closely connected to my men. After Veronica, I have to believe it's possible."
Blair met Jim's haunted gaze. He offered him an encouraging smile. "We'll get to the bottom of this, Jim. We're getting closer."
Jim nodded resignedly, then turned his attention back to the file in front of him.
At three o'clock that afternoon, Major Stoltz and Lieutenant Grange walked into the bullpen. "Detective Ellison."
"Major." Jim looked up, and got to his feet. "What'd you find out?"
"Can we go somewhere private?"
"Sure. Rhonda, we'll be in Interrogation Three." Simon's secretary nodded an acknowledgment.
"Where's your partner, Ellison?"
"Grange," Stoltz growled quietly.
Jim didn't comment right away, but as the lieutenant prepared to step past him into the room, he placed a hand in the middle of the stocky man's chest. "You seem to have a problem dealing with Sandburg. I suggest you either get a handle on it, or I'll handle it for you."
"Are you threatening me?" Grange sneered.
"No. Stating fact. Sandburg has earned his place in this department--the hard way."
"Tell me, Ellison, do you always fight his battles for him?"
The detective rolled his eyes. "I don't have to." Jim smiled ever so slightly, then let the lieutenant by him.
"Hey, Jim. What's up?" Blair asked, appearing at his partner's side.
"Hey, Chief. Glad you're back. Stoltz and Grange are here." The detective motioned Blair ahead of him, then closed the door.
The major leveled a meaningful glare at his associate as the observer came in. Jim smiled slightly at Blair's questioning glance, but shook his head slightly. Blair shrugged and settled into a seat across from the uniformed men, while Jim got himself a cup of coffee from the machine in the corner, then joined him.
"We heard about Charles Walker. What'd you find out?" Jim questioned.
"As suspected, he fit the general profile of your man Turnbow. He was fifty-five; his former specialty, Weapons seargent. He retired from service four years ago. Method of death--garroting."
Jim nodded, getting to his feet to move around. "I assume you've figured out that it has to be someone either in the Army, or closely associated with it."
"That's my guess, yes."
"Where are you on narrowing down the next target?"
"So far, we've got it down to about one thousand men, but we're still eliminating possibilities."
Another nod. "A few years ago, the daughter of one of my men was involved in a bombing spree. She thought I had let her father die in Peru."
"I recall the case. Veronica Sarris. She was placed back in a mental institution after she was apprehended."
"Have you pulled the jackets on my team for possible suspects? That seems the most likely pool at this point." Jim's gaze met Blair's. The anthropologist offered a small smile.
"As a matter of fact, we did. Of the immediate family members, two are currently in the service, one is in a psychiatric hospital and two have retired." Major Stoltz pulled the files in question from his satchel.
"Hickman was never married. He had an older brother killed in Vietnam. A younger brother, Tom, is an SGT with the 75th Ranger Regiment, 3rd Battalion. Hill had a wife and young daughter. The daughter is still in school. Sarris' wife died about a year before the Peruvian detail; his daughter was in the Navy, and is currently in a psychiatric hospital. Turnbow had a son, Jake Junior. He's currently an SSG with the 528th Support Battalion. Andersen and Tippit both had uncles serving in Reserve units. They've since retired. Crouse had a son and a daughter. The son died in Desert Storm, the daughter was killed in an auto accident in '87."
The room was quiet for a long moment. Blair watched his partner's face as he processed the deluge of information. Finally, Jim spoke quietly. "Turnbow and Hickman seem to be the strongest possibilities." Jim paused. "Major, we've been trying to figure out how this guy is getting his hands on the old coins when they should be in the possession of their families. Sandburg came up with a theory, and I think it's worth investigating. I've already checked with Bonnie Hill. Almost four months ago, her house was broken into. Just small items were taken. Hill's coin was among them, but wasn't returned when the rest of the stuff was recovered. There were no suspects. I'd appreciate it if you'd check with the other families and see if they've had any similar occurrences."
"And if they have, what will that tell us?"
Jim looked steadily back at the major. "Hopefully, that none of the relatives are involved in this."
Stoltz pursed his lips, and nodded in agreement. "All right. I'll check into it. I'll also see what I can pull on Tom Hickman and Jake Turnbow, Jr."
"Thanks, Major."
The major nodded and stood up. Quickly gathering the files and putting them back in his satchel, he nodded to Jim and Blair, gathered Grange with a gesture, and left.
"Jim? What is it?" Blair had noticed his partner immersed in thought as the two men departed.
Ellison shook his head and glanced at Blair. "I don't know yet. Something's nagging me, but I don't know what."
"Is it a memory? Something about Hickman or Turnbow?" Blair paused. "Something from the nightmares?"
"I don't know. Maybe." Jim frowned, then shrugged. "Come on, let's go tell Simon what little we have, then call it a day."
Blair nodded in agreement and followed his partner. Just before leaving the room, Blair asked, "How well did you know Turnbow's father? Were you friends?"
Jim stopped, and looked down at Blair, his expression thoughtful. "We respected each other. He took Sam's place on the team after Sam got sick." Jim paused "That's it. That's what I was trying to remember. Jake took Sam's place. I didn't know him that well, but we had worked together a couple of times. When we went to Peru, his son Jake Jr. had just completed Basic Training at the top of his class. We all teased Jake about it. Like he'd better be careful or he was gonna find himself outranked by his own son, that kind of stuff."
Blair smiled at the image that conjured.