|
|
Author's Note: While this is my third post, it's the first Sentinel story I started. The idea for this was born after Susan L. Williams filled me in on what happened with the season finale. I hadn't seen it, in fact I missed it by about three days. I've only been viewing The Sentinel religiously since about June. From another fiction list I'm on I had heard of The Sentinel, and had even tried watching a couple of times, but since I was coming into it in the middle, I didn't really get hooked. Then one day, back in late May, I'm searching the net for fan fiction, specifically Forever Knight, when I come across a category for The Sentinel. Out of curiosity, I went to it. I think Yahoo listed about four options. At random, I picked one. It turned out to be the link to Susan L. Williams' page. I read "The Devil You Know" and "Masks", and was very impressed by how well written they were. For once, I decided to give an author some feedback. I wrote to her, and she and I have been corresponding ever since. A great big cyber hug, Susan! You've been absolutely wonderful.
Acknowledgements: Again, I wish to thank HMG herself for betaing this for me. And, always, to my friend Barbara who's amused by my flights of fancy and tends to join me in them without complaint. Thanks!
Warnings/Rating: Rated PG-13 for a few bad words and a modicum of violence. Conclusion to Sentinel, Too. THIS IS NOT A DEATH STORY. Archive: Yes, please. Disclaimer: You all know the drill by now. I don't own them, they belong
to Bilson, DeMeo, Pet Fly, and grudgingly, UPN. No money being asked for or received. I've just taken them out for a bit. I'll put them back when I'm through, hopefully in better shape than when I found them.
When the Wolf Cries -- Part 1
by KandaceK
9-24-98
"NOOOOooooo!!!" Jim screamed, straining against the hands that held him. Slowly the sound died in his throat, though an echo continued to reverberate inside his head. He stared down at the still, lifeless face of his Guide...his partner...his friend! His world had just come to a crashing end, all because he'd felt...what? Betrayed? Jealous? Threatened? His gaze eventually swiveled to his captain, one of the people whose hands held him.
Simon met his eyes. Jim caught the nearly imperceptible shiver, and he imagined his expression. Cold, cruel, calculating; the look of a man trained to kill, a man who had been part of the Army's Covert Operations. Within seconds the ice melted, and was replaced with a bleak and unutterable grief.
"Jim--" Simon began, but stopped when Jim shook his head.
His jaw muscles clenching and unclenching, he quietly requested, "Simon, let--let me be alone with him for a moment."
Banks studied his face for a long moment. Finally, with a soft, sad sigh, the bigger man nodded, and motioned the paramedics to move aside. Jim flashed his friend and captain a look of gratitude, gently shrugging off the hands holding him.
Slowly, Jim went down on one knee beside his dead partner. Taking a couple of quick breaths to relax the sudden tightening in his throat, ignoring the stinging in his eyes, he looked into the still face. The once expressive visage was now simply serene. No laughter, no frown, no brow creased with worry, nothing. Hesitantly, the big man raised a hand to lay it on Blair's unmoving chest.
A vision flashed before his eyes. The wolf! The animal's blue-gold orbs were looking at him in entreaty. Then it was gone. The image almost undid him. Jim's breath caught in his throat for a moment; with effort, he remembered to breathe. Pushing through the shock and grief, the Sentinel forced himself to focus on his Guide. Opening his hearing wide, on the verge of a zone-out, he listened. He listened intently. But no, nothing, not even the hint of a heartbeat. Reluctantly, he turned down his hearing, but his hand remained on the smaller man's chest.
"Sandburg," he whispered. "I--I'm sorry. Why? Why did we...Why did I let it go this far? I should never have doubted you. I'm sorry, Chief. I'm sorry. I failed you. Me and my stupid, stupid pigheadedness. I promise you, I will bring Alex to justice. I promise you." With this last, Jim took a deep breath and opened all of his senses, focusing on Blair. In some small way, he wanted to drink in and remember any last remnants of his partner's essence, his spirit. The wolf flashed before him again. This time there was an expectant look and a hint of an encouraging smile on the lupine face, just as his olfactory sense registered an odd smell. It didn't belong somehow, but it refused immediate identification. It was temporarily forgotten as his head exploded with the sound of the campus clock beginning to chime the hour. Jolted by the sudden pain and ringing in his ears, the Sentinel managed to grab his internal dials and turn down everything without reeling back. After another moment to compose himself, still trying to shake off the aftereffects, he got to his feet. "Good bye, buddy," he breathed, then silently turned back to Simon.
The captain nodded the okay to the ambulance attendants, and they moved forward to take care of the body. Jim's gaze was distant, staring through rather than at Simon. After a moment, Megan came up and put an arm around his waist. Almost unconsciously one of his arms encircled her shoulders, accepting the small comfort she was offering. Simon too, moved forward, lifting a hand to grip his shoulder.
Minutes went by as they stood that way. Together, they turned and watched as the gurney holding Blair's body was loaded into the ambulance. The doors were shut, and the attendants climbed back in the cab and drove away, lights flashing, but no siren.
Another full minute passed before Captain Banks said quietly, "Jim, go home. Take the rest of the day off. Wait 'til morning to come in and fill out the report."
Jim turned an icy gaze on Simon. "Go home to what, sir? There's nothing for me to go home to. I threw Sandburg out, remember? Threw him out without so much as a--a--Damn! I didn't understand what was happening to me. Happening to the world I knew. Instead of trusting Blair, I turned my back on him. Completely and utterly shut him out. Hell, I even told him I didn't trust him! When he wasn't even at fault. For any of it. Damn! Damn!" Jim paused a moment. Shaking his head emphatically, he said, "No, sir, I have to find that woman. She killed Sandburg. She's responsible for all of this."
The captain squeezed his shoulder a little harder, conveying sympathy and understanding, but his words were firm, brooking no argument. "Tomorrow, Jim. Tomorrow will be soon enough to get back on her trail. I have a feeling she's not done here yet, and I think you know she's not."
Ellison was preparing to protest, but these words stopped him. Looking deep into the dark, concerned eyes, Jim saw the understanding there, the determination to let him continue on the case, just not right now. The captain was right. If the detective didn't know it, the Sentinel did...now. A challenge had been issued, and first blood had been drawn. The first three rounds had gone to this strange sentinel before he'd even understood there had been a challenge, but now he was determined to end it with a KO to this stranger who had moved into his territory. As he glanced back at the fountain where he'd found Sandburg's body, black despair descended on him once more. He nodded acceptance of Simon's implied order, then began to turn away.
"Jim," Megan called, "do you want me to drive you?"
He stopped, shaking his head, saying, "No, I just want to be alone." With that, he walked away.
Jim could feel their concerned gazes on his back, but he didn't care. He was simply numb. "What do you think he's gonna do?" He heard Megan ask.
"I don't know," was the captain's answer. Sentinel-soft, he heard Simon's encouragement. "Go home, Jim. Take time to regroup and come back stronger." A tiny smiled pulled at the corner of his mouth. Absently, he listened to their conversation, as he continued toward the truck. "Hopefully, he'll go home and rest. He's been completely out of sorts lately. But, with that man, I don't know. I don't think I ever really did. Only Sandburg s--seemed able to predict that. Usually."
"Yeah. Jim's been weird lately," Megan commented. "Ever since he got winged a couple of weeks ago. That's when this all started."
Jim stopped in front of his truck, stiffening. 'Ever since he got winged a couple of weeks ago. That's when this all started.' She's right! It did start then. That's when I first saw the jaguar. Damn! He turned back toward the fountain, the spot where he had found his partner. He didn't move from the front of his truck, but he cast his vision out toward the area, looking for any clues to his partner's assassin. He found nothing but a bit of spotted cloth. Growling to himself, he turned and got in the truck. He was dialing Simon's cell phone even before he'd entirely backed out of the space.
Jim leaned against the jamb of the French doors. Taking another pull from the half empty beer he held in his hand, he gazed around the room. Sandburg's room. He was staring, not at the empty space it was now, but at the cozy, cluttered furnishings that had recently occupied it. He saw the futon bed with its brown comforter depicting tribal figures, the small night table beside it, the desk cluttered with texts and notebooks, the shelves filled with more books, and myriad artifacts that had hung on the wall or reposed on shelves.
Blair.
Closing his eyes, he raised the bottle to rub its damp coolness against his temple, hoping it would ease the headache, knowing it wouldn't. Now his mind's eye showed him Blair, smiling mischievously while Jim laughed at something the young man had done or said. They had been comfortable together. They'd shared so many good times, bad times, and in-between times. What had gone wrong? The young anthropology student had seemed so off the wall at first, but from the very first time he'd allowed himself to listen and do what the kid said about getting his hyperactive senses under control, he'd felt the respect begin. What had gone wrong? Their association had quickly grown into more respect, gradually into friendship. He knew he'd been hard, almost impossible to get along with, but the young man had stayed. Even that act of--bravery, dogged determination--in the face of someone who was slowly going mad and who didn't think he wanted or needed any help had gained the University student respect. What had gone wrong? He hadn't known when it happened, but one day he'd begun calling the kid his partner, and he'd meant it. Even he could admit that Sandburg had been the best thing to come into his life, and he had never wanted to give that up. What had gone wrong?
What had gone wrong was he'd suddenly and inexplicably had a fit of paranoia. Unable to even stand the company of the one person whose life was so intermeshed with his, the one person who understood him and his heightened senses, his brother, his Guide, he'd thrown him out. It didn't help that the following day, he'd moved everything out of the loft to get more space, not just Blair. He knew Sandburg had tried to talk to him, had tried to guide him, but Ellison could tolerate none of it.
Opening his eyes again, Jim gazed once more on the cozy furnishings of a life that had been meshed with his. His eyes burned and he brought his empty hand up to rub at them, finding tears. Inhaling deeply, slowly letting the breath out, he began to turn away.
The wolf was there, lying on Blair's bed. The animal was staring at him expectantly, though the eyes held a hint of sad disappointment. Then, unbelievably, the bushy tail began to thump softly against the mattress.
Jim started, inhaling sharply. The phone rang again. Exhaling, he rubbed a hand over his face, glancing back into the bedroom. The wolf was gone. Everything was gone. It was once more just an empty space. The phone rang insistently. Sighing, he rubbed a hand over his face again, absently noting as he moved toward the phone that it was dark outside. He had been standing in that doorway for several hours.
He grabbed the receiver just as it rang again. "Ellison."
"Jim?" came Banks' voice on the other end.
"Hello, Simon."
"Jim, I...uh..." the captain began.
To the Sentinel's ear he sounded uncomfortable, and not just with worry about his detective friend.
"What's wrong, Captain? I'm fine, if that's what you're calling about." Fine as a man who just lost a major part of himself can be anyway.
"Jim--Ah, hell, Jim, Sandburg's body is gone," Simon informed him shortly.
"What?! What do you mean, 'gone'?!"
"I mean, when the M.E. went to get the body out of the cooler to do the autopsy, it was gone. Vanished. They looked in all the compartments. Nothing. He's just gone."
"Could the ambulance have taken it elsewhere?" Jim questioned, turning to look back through the open doors into Blair's now empty room. For a fleeting instant he thought he saw the gray fur of a wolf.
"No, Dan checked the body when it was brought in and put it in the cooler himself."
Silence for a moment, then a whispered, "Damn."
"I'm on my way over there now," Banks said. "Jim, I--"
"I'll meet you there, Simon."
There was a slight pause as he heard the soft sigh, then the captain said, "All right, Jim. See you in a few minutes."
Jim hung up the phone, his jaw muscles clenching as he considered this outrageous event. Slamming the now empty beer on the counter, he moved toward the door, grabbing up keys and coat in virtually one motion. Quickly shrugging into the jacket, he locked the door behind him and ran down the stairs.
"What do we have, sir?" Jim inquired fifteen minutes later, as he wended his way through the few uniformed officers interviewing the staff.
Simon turned from watching Cassie, the chief of forensics, dust the open cube door for prints and looked up as the detective joined him. An unlit cigar temporarily forgotten in his hand, he shook his head. "Not much, so far." Continuing in exasperation, "No one heard anything. No one saw anything. Zilch. The body has just vanished, seemingly without a trace."
Ellison nodded, saying nothing, though the tell-tale jaw muscles were at work again. Looking around the cold, sterile room, he thought, Sandburg, how is it you manage to get yourself kidnapped even when you're dead? Unless.... He froze, raising his head slightly, sniffing.
Simon caught the familiar, intent look and quickly glanced around for any observers before moving closer to the other man. "Jim? What is it?" he whispered, now noticing the detective's balled fists and tense shoulders.
"She was here!" the Sentinel hissed softly. "Alex took Sandburg's body," he said with conviction.
Banks looked doubtful. "Why would she do that?"
Jim shook his head. "I'm not sure, sir, but I'm positive she took him." Leaning a little nearer to Simon, he lowered his voice. "There're lingering traces of her scent here. I'd say no more than six hours old."
The captain straightened, meeting Ellison's earnest gaze with concern. "I repeat, why would she take the body? She's already killed him, what more could she want with him?"
Jim didn't answer immediately. Instead, he stepped away from Banks, beginning to make a slow circuit of the room. Using his enhanced sight and smell, and ignoring Cassie's curious stare, he searched for any additional clues. He found nothing but the fingerprints that had already been dusted, and for a moment the Sentinel wished for his Guide to help him go deeper. Then, with an icy chill, he remembered. He no longer had that part of himself.
Bowing his head and shutting his eyes tightly, the big man contained the moan welling up in his throat as he struggled with his guilt and despair. Slowly, he became aware of Simon's gentle, firm grip on his elbow. Sighing softly, he opened his eyes and lifted his head.
"Jim?"
Ellison waved the captain's concern aside. "I'm all right," he said quietly. He was now facing the open compartment where Sandburg's body had temporarily been stored. Absently, he began to scan it. "The obvious answer to 'why' is, to hurt me further."
It took Banks a moment to remember the question he'd asked, then he gazed at his friend, somewhat bemused. "I'm not sure I follow," he prompted, noting 'that' look on Jim's face again.
"Think about it, sir. All along she's been toying with me. Taunting me. Always one step ahead of me. She knew k--killing Blair would hurt me, and flaunt the fact she had the upper hand. She also knew that taking his body would only add to my anguish." Jim paused, his jaw muscles bunching in anger. "Oh, yes, that bitch has been playing me like a sport fish on a line...and Sandburg too." He stopped speaking, his brain carefully reviewing the events of the last few days, but especially the last few hours.
Simon had been listening intently as the detective explained his perceptions, his expression going from grim to grimmer. When the other man fell silent, he let him alone for a moment, watching the stony visage. Finally, he demanded quietly, "Jim, what is it? What are you thinking?"
Ellison tore his eyes from the open compartment he'd inadvertently zeroed in on, and looked at the captain. Casting a glance at the surreptitiously staring forensics chief, he turned and strode from the room. Banks followed, wondering what his friend was thinking.
Jim stopped in the hall, out of ear shot from anyone else. He turned and waited as Simon came up beside him. "There's one other thing that Alex could do that would destroy me."
Gazing at the detective speculatively, Simon cautiously inquired, "What's that?"
"Make my Guide her own," the Sentinel replied solemnly.
The captain blinked, nonplussed by this response. "Uh, Jim, how's she gonna do that? I really hate to remind you, but the man is dead."
Jim shook his head. "What if he isn't, sir? What if Sandburg is still alive?"
Banks was completely speechless for a moment, stunned by the audacity of that statement. He groaned. "Jim, man, don't go there. Please, just don't go there."
"Please, sir, just hear me out," Ellison replied calmly.
As if to add conviction to his wild-sounding theory, the wolf appeared behind Simon, grinning, its tail wagging encouragingly, though its gaze was cautious.
The captain continued to stare at his friend for a long moment, seeing nothing in those ice-blue eyes but quiet seriousness. Those eyes had drifted from his, looking past his shoulder. He turned to see what Ellison was staring at, but saw nothing. Turning back, he grew a touch concerned when he noticed a faint smile on Jim's lips, but the man was still somewhat distracted.
Figuring--hoping--this was another Sentinel thing, Simon reached a reluctant decision. He sighed quietly, and mentally crossed his fingers. "All right, Jim. I'm listening."
Jim blinked, and returned his gaze to the bigger man's.
"What if she drugged Blair in such a way as to make him clinically dead, even to my senses?"
Banks pinched the bridge of his nose. "Jim, you're not making any sense. Drugs? What are you talking about?"
Jim shook his head. "On the contrary, Simon, it's beginning to make perfect sense," he said emphatically. Seeing his captain's still skeptical--and worried-expression, his jaw clenched in frustration. Scrubbing a hand over his face, he took a deep breath and forced himself to relax a little. When he continued, his voice was low. "There are drugs-methods-to make a person look clinically dead. All the methods I know of require an antidote within a few hours. And I'm just now realizing what that odd smell must have been."
The other man still looked somewhat skeptical, but Ellison could tell that he had relaxed, beginning to digest what he was being told.
Jim continued, presenting the facts rationally. "Here's what we know so far." The detective held up a hand, beginning to tick off points on his fingers. "One, a strange sentinel breezes into town. I unknowingly get sent into a tailspin because of it. If I somehow sensed her, it's a sure bet she sensed me too. Two, either by chance or design, she gets herself arrested. Blair hears what happened. Being the person he is, he offers to help get her senses under control. When he tries to tell me about her, I'm so agitated I refuse to listen to him. When I go to talk to him at the University, I sense Alex's presence with him. Instead of talking to him, I leave. In another fit of paranoia, I pack up his things and tell him to get out when he gets home. Still feeling agitated, I pack up my own things and move them out of the loft. It isn't until this that either Blair or I figure out there's something wrong on the Sentinel front, not with our relationship. We figure out the strange sentinel he's been helping and the thief I've been after are one and the same person. Again, I become irrational, and shut him out. Three, Alex calls and taunts me, daring me to come after her. Of course, I do, though now I'm not sure if it was Ellison the cop going after a thief, or Ellison the Sentinel out to protect his territory."
Jim noted the surprise on Banks' face, but simply nodded grimly and continued. "Four, she goes after Sandburg. Five, she steals his body from the morgue, before the autopsy."
The stress on the word 'before' caught Simon's attention and his eyes widened as he stared back at his friend.
The detective watched as his captain's expression slowly changed from skepticism to grudging belief. Abruptly, the other man's shoulders sagged and he shook his head in dismay. "Oh, God," he groaned.
Silence reigned for several moments. Finally, heaving a large, tired-sounding sigh, Banks asked, "Okay, so you're telling me this whole thing has been a turf war between sentinels?"
Reluctantly, Jim nodded. "It sounds pretty childish, doesn't it, sir?"
"No, it sounds pretty primitive, actually."
Again, Jim nodded. "You know when we told you about my heightened senses, how Sandburg explained it was because I was genetically predisposed to being a sentinel?" At Simon's affirmative, he continued. "Blair told me then, that each tribe usually had only one sentinel. The reason, he said, was because sentinels were very protective and territorial of their chosen ground. I didn't put much stock in it at the time. I mean, yeah, in the remote jungles of the world, but this is Cascade. I can only guard so much. Well, I think we all know my protective streak is a mile wide."
Simon smiled, nodding in agreement.
"It appears my territoriality rivals my protectiveness," the Sentinel admitted. "I didn't realize any of this until it was too late to do much other than react, and then I didn't know the stakes were so high." Seeing, the other's questioning look, he clarified. "Sandburg, sir. She wanted my Guide."
"You think she planned this from the very beginning?" Banks asked incredulously.
The detective shook his head. "No, not at first. I think she was a thief and a murderer, aware of her edge. When she met Blair, a whole new range of possibilities presented themselves, and she was quick to take advantage of them. I think, as soon as she became aware of me and what Blair represented in the scheme of things, she set about driving a wedge between us. She almost succeeded, too. Only, we kept coming back together, trying to work through the problem." Jim stopped speaking for a moment, his face going pale. He suddenly sagged back against the wall, his eyes reflecting horror. "Oh, God. What have I done?" he whispered.
"Jim? What's wrong?"
"Captain--sir, it just hit me." Jim's voice was rough with emotion. "Alex wouldn't have had to use this elaborate charade if Sandburg had had any intention of betraying me-of abandoning me."
"Didn't I try telling you Sandburg was too loyal to you?" the taller man replied quietly, and with no hint of his usual gruffness.
Ellison closed his eyes and gently beat his head against the wall. "I have been so stupid. So utterly blind." Faintly, the Sentinel heard the lone, triumphant cry of the wolf. When he opened his eyes, the animal was there. The blue-gold gaze was no longer cautious, but full of joy, hope, and encouragement. Its tongue lolled out of its mouth in an unmistakable grin. Jim shut his eyes again, briefly, a faint smile touching his lips. I hear you, buddy. I finally hear you. I'll get you back.
"So, what now?" Banks interrupted his thoughts.
Opening his eyes, and straightening up, Jim looked at his captain. "We catch ourselves a thief and a murderer."
"Jim, man, this woman has gotten the drop on you before! She's a sentinel, just like you, how are you going to get near her?" Simon questioned almost heatedly.
"I should resent that, sir," the detective replied, gazing back at his commanding officer.
They had returned to the station, and Simon's office to map out some sort of strategy for tracking down their very elusive prey. Jim had the distinct feeling that time was rapidly slipping away, and they were going to have to move quickly if there was any hope of catching Alex.
"She may be a sentinel, but she is not like me."
Banks held up his hands placatingly. "I'm sorry, Jim. You know I didn't mean it that way. But it is a valid concern, isn't it?"
"Yes, but one I've taken into consideration. She has the five heightened senses, and the cunning and ruthlessness of a cold-blooded killer. I, however, have the experience using them, she doesn't. Now that I know the score, and no longer have blinders on, I can take her down."
"You're not, I repeat, not going after her alone! Do you understand me, Jim?"
The other man nodded in agreement. "Yes, sir, I understand, but I had no intention of going in alone."
"You didn't? That was easy. Why not?" Simon asked suspiciously.
"Well, sir, I figured you would be my backup. And then there's Sandburg," Jim replied matter-of-factly.
"We don't even know what shape Sandburg's in, much less whether or not he's coherent," the captain answered, meeting those ice-blue eyes for a moment.
Ellison said nothing.
Sighing, Banks said, "All right, what do we have? Where do you propose we start looking for this-woman?"
Jim shifted his weight slightly where he leaned against the end of the conference table. He'd let his gaze drift out the window. Pulling it away, he looked back at the captain. "She'll need help reviving him. Somewhere with medical facilities."
Simon looked thoughtful. "Well, I think we can safely assume it won't be a hospital."
The detective shook his head in agreement. "Maybe a free clinic?"
"Let's go from another angle for a moment. Would she have had time to 'buy' the services of someone? Maybe set up her own little private lab?"
Jim chewed on the inside of his cheek, thinking. "I know she's been in Cascade for at least a couple of weeks. Blair met her while I was recuperating from that shot to the arm. So, it is possible she could have arranged everything, but somehow I don't think this was totally premeditated. I think she definitely intends to kill him-permanently, when she thinks she has everything she needs from him, but I also think she'd originally planned to either seduce or kidnap him. Faking his death probably came later in the game, after she failed the seduction and maybe decided kidnapping would bring too much attention."
"Sounds reasonable. So we concentrate our attention on the free clinics around town. Only about a hundred or so. Of course, there're also the back alley clinics we don't know about," Simon said, unenthusiastically.
When silence greeted him, he looked up to see Jim gazing out into the night again.
"Jim?"
Another moment passed. Still staring out the window, Ellison replied, "You mentioned a lab, sir." His blue-eyed gaze swiveled back to his captain. "The Anth Lab at the University."
Sentinel senses detected the loss of heat in the other man's face, as he stared back at him.
"What are we waiting for? Let's go," Banks barked, bursting into a flurry of movement. Jim was right behind him as the two big men rushed from the office and toward the elevator.
Just as the doors of the conveyance slid closed after them, a phone began to ring. A second later the doors opened again, and Ellison stepped out of the car. He peered into the bullpen as he listened to the ringing. Piggybacking his sight to the sound, he zeroed in on which phone. His. Glancing back at Simon with a raised eyebrow, he hurried back into the room.
"Ellison."
"Hello, Detective," a female voice practically purred.
His jaw clenching in automatic reaction, Jim forced himself to take a deep breath. He answered with quietly controlled fury. "Alex."
"I presume you've discovered my little theft of this evening?"
"Yesss."
The woman laughed in amusement. Her contralto voice, while not unpleasant, grated against the Sentinel's nerves. It was all he could do to keep from exploding. A firm hand gripped his shoulder. While not Blair's sensitive fingers, the touch was a welcome grounding. He turned his head to look into the steady gaze of his captain. "What have you done with him, Alex?"
"Nothing, absolutely nothing." More amused laughter. "Other than kill him."
The jaw muscles were doing a staccato dance along his cheek now. "Then why take his body?"
"Because I'm not quite done with it."
"Why aren't you done with it?"
"You haven't suffered enough."
"Why?"
There was a pause. "You're a sentinel without a guide now. You figure it out."
Something caught Jim's attention and he quickly focused his hearing. He heard a gasp of pain, and a faint grunt as flesh contacted flesh in a slap, then.... There! A heartbeat as familiar as his own. His eyes blazed with triumph as he stared back at Simon, though he betrayed no sound of his own.
"Alex, where are you?" Ellison casually asked.
"Nice try, Detective." The amusement was back in the woman's voice. "Don't worry. You and I will meet again. Soon." With another chuckle, the line was disconnected.
Glancing at the receiver, Jim returned it to its cradle and turned his attention back to Simon. There was now a very faint quirk to his lips, though the jaw muscles still danced.
"What is it, Jim? What did she say?" The bigger man dropped his hold on Ellison's shoulder and waited.
"It's not really what she said, sir, it's what I heard. Sandburg is alive! I heard his heartbeat."
The captain looked skeptical, though also hopeful. "Are you sure, Jim? Are you sure it wasn't just a heartbeat?"
"It was his, sir. I know it as well as my own. I think he might have spoken, or tried to speak. Anyway, something caught my attention and my hearing focused. I heard a gasp, then a sound like a slap, then the heartbeat."
Simon lifted an eyebrow, then nodded his head in acceptance. "Did you get any clues to her whereabouts?"
Jim shook his head. "Not consciously, sir. Later I'll get the log tape and go over it again, but in the meantime, let's check out the lab."
Nodding agreement, Banks stepped aside, allowing Jim to go ahead of him. Once again they headed for the elevator.
When the elevator opened to the parking garage, the two men strode to Banks' car and got in. As soon as the captain pulled out into the street, he called Rainier University's security office. Despite the late hour, the night duty sergeant agreed to have two of his people at the Anthropology Lab when they arrived.
Jim remained mostly silent during the ride. Twenty minutes later his companion pulled into a parking space near Hargrove Hall. The detective looked out onto the familiar grassy lawn and its fountain. Less than twelve hours before, he and Simon had found Sandburg's body floating in that fountain. He shuddered involuntarily at the images that flashed before his mind's eye.
"Jim, you all right?" his captain asked.
Closing his eyes against those unwanted images, the Sentinel suddenly heard the wolf's cry, and just under that, the growl of a jaguar. His jaguar. He felt a calmness settle over him, a feeling that had been lacking for more than two weeks. A faint smile touched his lips as he turned to look at Banks.
"Yeah, Simon, I'm all right. Let's go have a look around that lab." With that, Ellison popped open his door and climbed out. Simon was right behind him.
The two men quickly crossed the grass to the science building. As promised, two campus security guards were waiting for them at the entrance. As they approached, Banks whispered, "Do you sense anything?"
"The guards and ours are the only heartbeats I detect in this immediate area." The Sentinel had no time to say anything further, as they had reached the two men waiting for them.
"Captain Banks. Detective." One of the guards spoke in greeting. "I'm Ben Danvers, this is Kyle Jennings. How do you want to handle this?"
"Danvers. Jennings. When was the last security check?" Simon inquired.
"About twenty minutes ago, sir."
"Did you see or hear anything out of place around the lab?"
"No, sir. All was quiet and as it should be."
"How often do you do sweeps around here?"
"Every two hours."
"Nothing unusual was reported?"
Danvers shook his head.
Jim caught Simon's questioning glance and simply shrugged. It's the only thing we have at the moment.
"Okay. Are the labs kept locked?" the captain questioned.
"Yes. I have the keys."
"Good. All right, Detective Ellison and I will go first. You two follow. When I give the go ahead, you can unlock the door."
The other two men nodded acceptance. "Captain? May I ask what we might be walking into?"
Banks sighed. "We suspect a murderer might have used your Anthropology Lab."
"A murderer, sir? Shouldn't we get more back up?"
Simon shook his head. "We're just going to check it out. We don't know if this person is here for sure. I think she's probably gone by now, if she was here in the first place." His voiced dropped to nearly inaudible. "Besides, if she was here, she'd already know we were."
Jim caught his commander's eye, and nodded in agreement.
Sighing again, Banks took out his pistol. "All right, let's get this show on the road."
Ellison moved smoothly beside him and the two security guards brought up the rear.
Cautiously they approached the designated door. The captain and detective took up positions on either side. Jim tuned his hearing up just slightly as Simon reached out to tap on the closed portal. Silence greeted him. He shook his head, indicating there was no sound.
Banks motioned to the security men, and Danvers stepped forward with the key. When the door was unlocked he returned to Jennings' side and let the policemen take over again.
In one quick motion, Simon turned the knob and threw open the door, leveling his gun. Ellison was right with him. The lab was dark. Relaxing his stance, the captain moved forward. Jim's eyesight quickly compensated for the lack of light, and he could already tell there was no one in the room. He flinched back when light suddenly flooded the space. "Sorry, Jim." He heard Simon's contrite whisper, and realized the other man had flipped on the switch.
