There was no time to shout. Jim grabbed a handful of Blair's shirt and pulled him to the ground, hearing the hot metal fly over their heads. It missed them both by mere inches.
"Call for backup!" Jim drew his gun with one hand and pulled out the cell phone with the other. "And stay down!" He was instantly on his feet, racing across the lawn in the direction of the muzzle flash. Zeroing in on the sounds ahead, he heard footsteps. The shooter was running for the parking lot behind the two-story building he'd been on. Jim altered course and headed straight for the cars.
He burst around the side of the building in time to see a red jeep speeding down the north bound lane. Blair suddenly appeared beside him, looking at the car as it neared a sharp right hand turn that would take it completely out of Jim's range.
"Jim!"
Blair's urgency was unnecessary. Jim trained his vision on the license plate of the jeep. He'd just focused on the numbers when a flash of sunlight bounced off the metal, blinding him in a sharp, painful explosion of magnified light. He cried out, shielding both eyes.
"What happened? Jim, are you all right?" Blair's hands were on his arms, trying to pull the hands from his eyes.
Jim nodded, lowering his arms. "The sun blinded me for a second." His eyes were watering, but the sting from the flash of light dissipated.
"Did you get it?"
He shook his head sharply, then holstered his gun. "Dammit!"
Part 5
* * *
Blair followed Jim and Simon off the elevator. They had just spent the better part of 2 hours searching the University campus for evidence and trying to trace a red jeep with only 2 letters of the license plate. Jim had been quiet during the entire drive to the Station and Blair could see the working of his jaw as he chewed the inside of his cheek in frustration. He wanted to tell Jim it wasn't his fault the shooter had gotten away, that it hadn't been his fault the sun flashed at exactly the wrong time. He wanted to, but he didn't. Instead, Blair remained silent, knowing that anything he said right then, would be ignored. No, he'd have to wait until Jim had cooled off just a bit.
They had found nothing on the campus. Even the spent shell from that one round wasn't anywhere to be found. Jim's senses hadn't picked up a thing, aside from the residual smell of gunpowder where the shooter had been. Forensics had gone over every inch, and come up just as empty.
"You're sure that was a Washington plate, Jim?" Simon strode straight to his office, with Jim and Blair close behind.
"Positive, sir. That's one of the few things I was able to see before the sun blinded me." Jim sat down facing Simon's desk and Blair stood behind him, glancing out into the bullpen. "A Washington plate that starts with BA."
Blair caught sight of Carpenter and his partner at the far side of the room, both men looking in their direction.
"Well, that puts the jeep at least 7 years old, since they changed the plate sequence around." Simon pulled a cigar from his pocket and rolled it around between his fingers.
Carpenter's eyes met Blair's through the glass of Simon's office. The hostility in his gaze gave Blair chills.
"That narrows it down to a few hundred, no doubt." Jim shook his head and sighed.
Blair had to pull his attention back into the room and shake off the feeling that was creeping up the back of his neck.
"What do you think, Jim? A copycat? Just a fluke? What?" Simon thrust the cigar into his mouth and began to chew the end with frustration.
"I don't know, sir."
"What about murder?" Blair glanced from Jim to Simon.
Simon stopped chewing his cigar and stared at Blair for a minute, then looked at Jim. "What's he talking about?"
"Sandburg, I know what you're thinking, but I don't think you're right." Jim looked up, then glanced out to the bullpen. "He didn't have time, and he'd been in uniform all since this morning. I'd have noticed a uniform."
"What the hell are you two talking about?" Simon looked from Jim to Blair and back again. "Who didn't have time?"
Jim wasn't explaining, so Blair decided he should. It might be better coming from him, anyway. Simon was more used to discounting what he said, and Blair was getting accustomed to voicing the unpopular topics. "Carpenter. He and Jim got into it yesterday over this whole business." Blair looked at Jim. "He threatened you, didn't he, Jim?"
"What?!" Simon stared at Jim. "Ellison, what's this about?"
Jim shook his head. "You know Carpenter, Captain, he's full of hot air and some of it escaped yesterday." He glanced at Blair, then continued. "He made a threat and I punched him."
Simon nodded. "I'd heard." He put the cigar back in his mouth. "Jackass or not, Jim, he made a threat and someone took a shot at you today. I want to know what he said."
Blair sat down, more to keep himself from glancing out into the bullpen than anything.
"He threatened Blair, Simon, not me."
Jim's sentence didn't sink in for a full minute. When it did, Blair's eyes shot up, looking from Simon to Jim.
"All right, I want you two out of here. I need to talk to Carpenter, then his buddies. I'm sure they'll back him up, but if we can get something from this partial plate, we may have a start." Simon removed his cigar and thrust it roughly back into his leather case.
"Captain, I don't think he or his pals have the nerve to follow through with anything like this."
"Jim, any cop making threats against another is enough to get my blood boiling." Simon's voice took on an edge that made Blair cringe slightly. "You two get that list of red jeeps matching the partial from the DMV and go through them. Right now, that's our only lead."
"Right, sir." Jim stood and put a hand on Blair's arm, ushering him toward the door.
Blair reached for the handle and heard Simon on the intercom, buzzing Carpenter's desk. He opened the door and headed straight for Jim's desk, doing his best not to look in the direction of the officers watching them. Jim reached out for a file on the desk, then walked toward the elevators without a word. Blair followed. He could feel a tension in the air that was making his heart begin to race, but it wasn't dissipating as they left the bullpen. Jim's jaw was working overtime, and when they stepped into the elevator, Blair felt the air almost physically thicken.
"Jim, I..." Blair faltered, wondering if apologizing was going to help, or hinder. God, he'd been stupid! What was he thinking? He knew, almost more than Jim, what a taboo it was to accuse one of your own. And although he wasn't one of them, Jim was. Blair had no business accusing a fellow officer of having fired a gun at Jim. At them. It might have been okay to mention his concern to his partner...but to say that to Simon, when Jim obviously had more reason to suspect Carpenter than he did, and had said nothing.
Jim just looked at him, chewing the inside of his cheek. Before Blair could try again, the elevator doors opened. "Come on." Jim stepped out of the car and headed down the corridor at a brisk pace.
Blair had to hurry to stay even with the taller man. They retrieved a computer printout of every red jeep in Cascade with the partial license plate matching the one Jim saw, as well as another list of close matches. Jim handed the stack to Blair and led the way to the garage. He couldn't help but feel grateful they were taking this work home, instead of back upstairs where Carpenter and the others would be watching. Right now, Blair wanted nothing more than to just go home and stay there, and maybe forget today even happened. But he knew he couldn't do that. Jim wouldn't do that.
They drove home in silence, and twice Blair tried to apologize to Jim for having told Simon about the threats, but twice he stopped himself. His partner was angry, and he knew some of that anger was directed at him. When they got upstairs, Blair felt a little more comfortable.
"Jim, listen..." Blair reached into the refrigerator and pulled out two bottles of water.
"Sandburg, I don't have time for this." Jim took one of the bottles and walked straight to the table, slapping the printouts down hard. "I've got a lot of work to do."
Dammit. "Jim
, I'm sorry, all right?" Blair crossed the room and set his bottle on the table, looking at his friend. "Maybe I had no business telling Simon."
"That's right, Chief, you didn't." Jim glanced up, then flipped the printout over and looked at the list of names there.
"Well, someone had to." Blair was getting frustrated now, both with Jim's attitude and his own hesitancy. "Jim, I don't know what Carpenter said to you, but I don't have to know what it was to know it was bad. Man, you just don't go around punching people who say things you don't like. I know you, Jim. Whatever he said, if it was enough to get you that mad, then it was probably enough to get Carpenter out there with a gun."
"Sandburg, just drop it." Jim looked up. "What's done is done. Simon will talk to Carpenter, then his partner, and by now, the whole department knows I think he took a shot at me."
He looked back at the papers and Blair sighed, then ran a hand through his hair. God, he'd blown it. Now Jim would have trouble with every officer there, instead of just the handful who didn't want Blair around. What was he thinking? Here he'd been trying to convince Jim it would be in his best interest to side with his fellow officers, and Blair had--in less than five minutes--alienated his partner from the entire Station. Maybe Simon would make it known it was Blair who made the accusation? Maybe it was time for Jim to change sides, before he was pushed out by the entire Precinct?
"Jim, I'm sorry. But you have to admit you were thinking the same thing."
Jim said nothing as he continued to scan the sheets.
"I know, that whole blue brotherhood thing. I blew it, and now you'll have to face the consequences, and I'm sorry. If I could take it all back I would."
Still nothing. He flipped the printout over, scanning the second page.
"If it's any help, I can stay away from the Station for a while. There's some work I can get done with the research group this week." Blair's heart was beginning to pound somewhere close to his feet, where it had slowly been sinking since they left Simon's office.
Jim sighed and rubbed his eyes. When he looked up, Blair could see the stress of the past few days reflected in the deep blue. Stress he had just added to.
"Sandburg, this is more complicated than just one side against the other." Jim leaned forward, one hand open in an effort to explain. "I've been making it clear all along where I stand with this. Now, we've got someone out there either trying to copy our sniper, or trying to kill one of us. Either way, we've got a killer on the loose and I lost him. Whether or not I think it could be a fellow cop, someone out there took a shot at us."
"Come on, Jim, who else could it be?" Blair took some comfort in the fact that Jim's voice was calm, but his eyes still had an edge that could go either way. "I know you. There's no way some smart remark from Carpenter could set you off unless it was really bad." Why wouldn't Jim just tell him what was said?
"It could be anyone, Chief. Do I suspect Carpenter? Sure, maybe. But there are other ways to go about finding out. Bringing Simon into this is asking for more trouble than we want."
Blair sighed, staring at his water. "I'm sorry, man. I blew it, didn't I?"
Jim shook his head. "Listen, whatever happens now, we'll deal with it." He looked up and met Blair's eyes. "But I'll be damned if you're gonna run off to the University and leave me to deal with this alone."
Blair nearly flinched from the finger Jim stabbed in the air. He nodded, then sat down. "What do we look for with these?"
"Any name that looks familiar, first. Then, we go through the list one car at a time and call the owners." Jim tore off half the printout. "Just see if any name rings a bell."
Blair took the pages and glanced at Jim. That famous Ellison jaw muscle was still clenching, and he didn't have to see his eyes to know they were still as cold as steel. He flipped the papers around and stared at them, trying to concentrate on the names listed there. Jim was still angry, and had every right to be. Carpenter had disliked Blair from day one, and from what he gathered speaking to the other officers, that patrolman pretty much hated everyone. But Jim knew him, he'd been working around the man for years now. So that attitude couldn't have been a surprise. What could he have said that would make Jim angry enough to lose control like that? He'd said something about a threat to Blair.
God. Jim had been in there, defending his partner to the point of physically striking a fellow officer, and what had Blair done? He'd gone blabbing to the Captain, who then had to confront Carpenter about the possibility of him having tried to exact revenge. Now, instead of helping Jim, Blair had set the entire Precinct against him. After all this--Officer Simmon's death, and Jim taking a stand over the incident--after Jim had found some small balance again, and Blair has to screw it all up. The more he thought about it, the worse he felt. But dammit, if someone was out to kill Jim because of Blair...
"Sandburg, you helping or what?"
Blair started, then realized he'd been staring at the same page for the past ten minutes. "Sorry, just thinking."
"Well, thinking isn't helping right now, Chief." Jim took a long drink of water, then set the bottle down. "I've gotta start making calls. You still have that grocery list somewhere?"
"Yeah."
"Why don't you go shopping then? I've got a lot of calls to make."
Blair sighed. "Yeah, okay." He walked to the kitchen and found his grocery list still stuck to the refrigerator where he had left it.
"Take the truck." Jim reached for the phone, glancing up at Blair. "And put gas in it on the way back."
"Right." Blair found the keys on the table by the door, then with one last look at his partner, he left.
Part 6
* * *
How was he going to make this one up to Jim? Unless Carpenter suddenly confessed, and admitted he'd been on the roof of that building with a sniper's rifle, Blair didn't see any easy way out of this one. The worst of it was, everything had been smoothing itself out. Much quicker than Blair had expected, too. Having Karen Blake speak to them at the funeral that morning had done a lot to improve Blair's own outlook on the whole mess. And her show of support for Jim couldn't have been lost on the other officers there.
All he could hope for now, was for them to know where the blame belonged. It wasn't Jim who had accused anyone. If there was heat--and God knew there would be--it needed to be directed at him, not Jim. By the time Blair reached the store, he had a splitting headache. He was grateful for his list. Without it, he would have spent 30 minutes walking up and down each aisle, trying to remember why he was there. As it was, shopping took more than 40 minutes. After squeezing up and down the aisle past middle aged women who continually ran into people they hadn't seen in "ages" and men who couldn't find the right can of peas, his headache was raging as he loaded Jim's truck.
He put the last bag in and found the aspirin lying on top. In no mood to wait this pain out, he reached for the bottle. He'd brought along his water, and warm as it was, it washed the pills down all right. That done, he tossed the bottle back into the bag...and missed.
"Great." Blair sighed. There just wasn't going to be anything about this afternoon that was going to go well. The bottle had fallen on the floorboards in the back seat, where it could stay, if he thought he'd remember to find it when he got home. Blair knew himself better than that. He recapped the water bottle, then bent over to reach for the aspirin.
The bullet pierced the window, two inches above Blair's head.
"What the hell happened?" Jim charged out of the patrol car almost before it stopped, looking first at Blair with searching eyes. "Are you all right?"
Blair looked at Simon, hoping the Captain would explain why Jim's truck was now missing a passenger door window, and the interior was dusted with shards of broken glass. He'd tried to call Jim after the attack, but his partner had been on the phone, making those calls, so Blair had been forced to call Simon. Of course, that was after he'd crawled back out from under the truck, ten minutes after the single shot that had taken out the window instead of hi
s head.
"Looks like whoever took a shot at you both back at the University mistook Sandburg for you and tried again." Simon took the cigar from his mouth and pointed with it to the truck. "Must have followed him here." He glanced behind them to the store across the street. "I've had a team scouring the area for a spent cartridge, but I have a feeling we're dealing with a neat freak here."
Jim looked at Blair. "You're all right?"
"Yeah, I'm fine. I don't suppose..." Blair let his sentence trail as he looked from Jim to Simon.
"He was in my office when the call came through. He and his partner," Simon replied, somewhat hotly.
Blair looked at Jim and saw the blue anger flare. He didn't care. Someone was trying to kill Jim, whether it was Carpenter or not. Blair didn't care how mad he got. He didn't care if they kicked him out of the Station and took away his observer ID. Someone wanted Jim dead.
"Jim, did you get anywhere with the license plates?"
He shook his head, shooting one more look at Blair before turning back to the truck. "No, sir, not yet. I've made it about halfway through the list and so far come up empty."
"That plate is our only lead." Simon stabbed the air with his cigar. "I want you back at the Station working on those license plates. You get as much help as you need, but you get through that list."
Simon shot Blair a look that made him flinch. The Captain's eyes all but accused him of not helping Jim.
He turned back to Jim. "We've got a nutcase on our hands, and I think we can rule out random shootings or copycat snipers. This guy, whoever he is, is after you, Jim." He glanced at Blair again quickly. "And I want you both where I can see you until we get a lead on this guy."
"Right, Captain." Jim nodded toward the truck. Let's go, Chief."
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