"You hungry?" Blair started to put the groceries away.
"Not very." Jim kept searching for the aspirin he knew he'd asked Blair to put on his list. "You did get aspirin, didn't you?"
"Oh, yeah." Blair reached into his pocket and produced the bottle. "There ya go."
Jim took the pills, but decided against asking why they were in Blair's pocket, and not a bag. It probably wouldn't work anyway. But if it could just last long enough to let him get a handle on the rest of this day, then he could be free of the headache. He took two pills out, then washed them down with some tap water, grimacing at the metallic taste.
"So what now? We just sit here and wait?" Blair closed the cupboard and looked at Jim, eyebrows raised.
"Not exactly, Chief." He checked the cell phone battery, then put it in his pocket.
"Well what, exactly?"
"You're going to wait here. Simon might call, and if he does, he'll use the regular line." Next he checked his gun out of habit. "I'm going back to the car rental agency to meet this Steve Perry."
"Jim, that doesn't sound like a good idea, man. Let me come with you, at least."
"No." Jim shook his head and reached for a light jacket against the evening chill. "I want you here in case Simon calls." If his growing suspicions were correct, he needed to get to Perry while Simon was with Karen. "You stay put. I need you by the phone. If Simon calls after talking to Blake, I need to know about it." Jim pointed a stern finger at his partner, emphasizing his point.
Blair reluctantly nodded.
"I'll be back. You call me if you hear anything."
"Be careful, Jim."
"Yeah." He left quickly and hurried down to the truck, scanning the area as he approached. The area was clear. Driving to the agency, he fervently hoped this lead wouldn't pan out. As much as they needed an answer, and an arrest, he still didn't want any officers to be involved, however secondhand. But it was beginning to look more and more like cop killing cop. Or at least trying to help. If it was true--if Blake was feeding information to a distraught boyfriend--Jim didn't want Blair there when the arrests were made. His partner was in it deep enough around the Station. First an officer's death, with implications about Jim having saved Blair while letting Simmons die. Then, just when Jim thought that might blow over quickly, this whole mess with Carpenter started up. If indeed an officer was responsible for trying to kill Jim, he didn't need Blair there when it went down. For his partner's sake, if not his own.
His headache wasn't going away. In fact, when he pulled into the lot for the second time that day, it was raging quite nicely. Inside the office he found a man behind the counter.
Jim produced his ID. "Pardon me, are you Steve Perry?"
The middle aged man looked up, squinting at the badge and Jim's photo. There was a pause, while he pulled thick glasses from his pocket and put them on. "No, officer, I'm not." He removed the glasses, but continued to squint as he looked at Jim. "I'm Sean Perry." One chubby finger pointed to the name tag he wore on his shirt pocket. S. Perry. "Can I help you with something?"
Jim's headache was pushed to the side as the pieces tried to fit into place. "I was here earlier..."
"Oh, wait..yes. You must be the one who took my '96 Jeep? The red one? She told me the police took it for evidence or some such thing."
"That would be me." Jim put his ID back into his back pocket and looked once again at the name tag. "Miss Peters tells me there's little access to the vehicles when they're not in use here. Can you tell me where you were this afternoon, first at noon, then again around 3:00?"
Mr. Perry pursed chubby lips for a moment. "Well, I woke up around 8:00. Breakfast was at home. After the morning news, channel 4, I drove in here to work on payroll. I was here from 9:15 until noon exactly. At that time, I went to my mother's for lunch, then took her shopping. Dinner was out, with mother and my maiden aunt. Then I came to work."
Jim had a brief flash on a certain Professor he knew, then shook himself back into the conversation. "Can you tell me, does Miss Peters have access to the vehicles during the day? Could she arrange for someone to use a car and keep the records from showing that use?"
Perry frowned. "Well, technically she could. She certainly has the keys available. But the mileage would show a use not logged in the computer. But I should think Susan would have said something, had anyone taken a car out. She's the bookkeeper."
"Susan?"
"Yes. Susan Petrochinie. She worked today for a half-shift. Susan and Steve have a time share worked out."
"Susan and Steve?" Jim's headache was completely forgotten as the pieces all fell into place sharply.
"Yes, Steve Peters. You spoke with her this afternoon."
Jim dialed the loft and again heard a busy signal. Frustrated, he canceled the call and dialed Simon's office.
"Banks."
"Captain, it's Ellison."
"Jim, did you find anything out?"
"Yes, sir, I did. This Steve Perry, she's the woman we spoke with today."
"She?"
"That's right. Did you get anything from Blake?"
"As a matter of fact, she's here now."
There was a pause, and voices could be heard. Jim stopped at a red light and focused on the conversation in Simon's office. The Captain had set the phone down, instead of putting Jim on hold. He could hear the entire conversation.
"All right, Blake. Who exactly is Steve Perry?"
"She and Janet were lovers. They wanted to marry if the law ever passed. We never talked about their relationship. Janet feared what would happen if the other cops found out she was gay."
"She works at the car rental agency on Yessler?"
"Yes." There was a pause and Jim could hear the shuffling of feet on the floor. "You have to understand, Captain, she was completely distraught over Janet's death."
"What I understand is that someone took a shot at Detective Ellison. And again at his partner, Blair Sandburg, thinking he was Ellison."
"No, she wouldn't make a mistake like that."
"What?" Jim flinched at the sudden increase in volume with Simon's question.
"I mean, she's too experienced with firearms not to know who she's shooting at. Captain, I don't know that it was her. I just know that she was devastated when Janet was killed, and like the rest of us, she needed someone to blame."
"And what would give her a reason to blame Ellison?"
"She didn't blame Ellison." There was a pause and Jim realized he'd just sat through a green light. "Look, Captain, I admit I may have started a few rumors the other day. But I was upset. And Carpenter didn't help much, what with him so eager to spread around what little I did say."
"Just what are you saying now, Blake?"
"I'm saying that Steve doesn't blame Ellison. She blames Sandburg."
Jim had heard enough. He canceled the call and hit the speed dial for the loft as he floored the truck through the newly changed light.
"Dammit." The phone went unanswered. He hung up and called again, dialing straight this time in case he had made a mistake. Still nothing. He'd told Blair to stay put, and wait for Simon's call. Someone must have called earlier for the line to have been busy. Or Blair had called out. Damn him! If he suddenly remembered a date for that night, Jim was going to skin him alive! He parked the truck and hurried up the stairs, all senses fully open to the room at the end of the hall. There was nothing to hear. No movement. No talking or heartbeat greeted Jim as he opened the door, gun drawn.
"Sandburg!" The loft was in perfect order, no windows broken or doors kicked in. Blair's keys were gone, and so was the baseball jacket that had been hanging by the door. "Dammit!"
Part 8
* * *
Blair left the doughnut shop only slightly happy to have been in there. Not only did he hate the smell of cooked fat, he really disliked Jim's snitch. Losing his best pair of Nikes the last time they met had really left a lasting impression. That, and the sore spot on his ankle that took weeks to go away
while breaking in the new replacement shoes. But this time, it had been worth it. He'd kept his shoes by wearing hiking boots, and he'd been able to pick up some information Jim was going to be happy to have. Of course, Sneaks would rather have given the information directly to Jim, and it had taken some convincing to get him to open up. But Blair had finally learned what he was sure would solve this case.
Who knew, Janet's lover, Steve, was a woman? And, stranger still, that she had been the woman at the rental agency, Miss Peters. It was obvious now that Steve, upset over Janet's death, was blaming Jim. And, he'd learned, Steve was as good a markswoman as officer Simmons had been.
It was dark, but Blair could see Jim's truck parked on the street when he rounded the corner. He was relieved to see his partner had made it back without trouble, especially now that he knew Steve had been right there, leading them on a merry chase, all along. When he started to open the door he heard Jim on the phone.
"He's here, Captain. I'll call you back." Jim hung up the phone and turned to Blair.
"Hey, Jim, you wouldn't believe what I found out, man."
"Where the hell have you been?!"
Jim's shout took Blair completely by surprise, leaving him speechless for a moment as his friend's anger registered. "Jim, I--"
"I told you to stay here! What the hell's wrong with you? We've got a sniper out there who's already taken two shots at you!"
He moved closer and Blair backed up. "Jim, I tried to call you, but the line was busy." He was against the closed door now and Jim's eyes were flashing. Blair didn't understand this reaction. All he'd done was go around the corner and meet with Jim's own snitch. "Jim, relax, man. I was just down the street." He thought that should help, but the ice didn't leave those eyes. Blair felt his heart begin to race; his head was spinning with confusion.
"Relax?! Sandburg, we've got a killer out there." Jim's head shook once and his hands came up.
Blair flinched, then felt his face redden. "Jim, if you'd just listen to me--"
"No, you listen to me. I told you to stay here in case Simon called. I needed you here, Sandburg, not off traipsing around the town when I'm trying to meet with a suspect."
Jim's voice had lowered, but the edge was sharper. Blair searched his eyes, hoping he could find something behind that anger that would tell him this wasn't happening. He'd just gone down the street, for Christ's sake! And it wasn't for himself. "Jim, would you just calm down for a minute, so I can explain?" Blair tried to reason his way through the steel trap that was pressing down on him.
"Sandburg, I don't understand you sometimes." Jim turned suddenly and took a few steps away, then spun back around before Blair could move away from the door.
Blair's eyebrows creased and he opened his mouth to speak, but Jim's hand came up again, stabbing a finger in the air.
"This whole mess could have been avoided if--" Jim stopped himself, jaw clenching tightly. He shook his head sharply and turned away, then walked into the living room.
Blair's heart was pounding now, and the fear that had been churning in his gut froze in place. "If what, Jim?" He pushed off the door and took a step into the room, stopping short of actually following Jim. "If I had been killed instead of Simmons?"
Jim spun around, eyes flashing. "I never said that, Sandburg."
"You didn't have to, Jim." Some small part of Blair's mind was surprised at his ability to look his partner in the eyes. "There's plenty of "ifs" to go around." He held up a hand and began to check off the points. "If I hadn't been there at the campus. If Simmon's hadn't died. If I had kept my mouth shut about Carpenter." The news he had from Jim's snitch was completely forgotten now. Steve, his discovery, all of it--gone. Right now, Blair was looking a very cold truth in the face, and he wasn't sure if he should be scared, upset, or just plain pissed.
"Stop putting words in my mouth, Chief. If I felt any of those things, I'd have said as much." Jim turned back to the living room.
"Would you?" Blair stayed where he was, fighting the urge to just turn and leave the loft entirely.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Jim faced him again, standing beside the couch.
"It means sometimes I just don't know you, man." Blair took some courage in his anger and started to pace a few feet, still not moving toward the living room. "I've seen you put up with a lot when you have to, and sometimes I wonder if that's not what you're doing with me."
"Sandburg, I don't know where you're going with this." Jim ran a hand over his short cropped hair and looked at the far wall for a moment.
"I just told you, Jim. You and me. This is what it all boils down to, isn't it?" Blair's voice got quiet. Watching Jim's reaction was beginning to put a few pieces into place. But they were falling into places he'd never thought they'd go. "Jim, can you look at me and tell me I'm wrong? Tell me this isn't about you regretting what happened." His pounding heart threatened to stop, and he idly wondered if his friend was bothering to listen to it.
Jim looked in Blair's direction, but the icy eyes seemed to focus somewhere behind him. "You're wrong."
He was right. First, his heart stopped. Then, it sank into the cold pit that was his stomach. All of his imagined fears and insecurities had just become reality. Blair looked at the floor, coming to the only conclusion he could. When he looked back up, Jim was wearing a puzzled expression. "I meant look at me, Jim. Not through me." Jim opened his mouth to reply and Blair held up a hand, silencing him for once. "No, man. Forget it. I just need some air."
He turned to leave and Jim crossed the room quickly. "You're not going anywhere, Sandburg. Weren't you listening to me?" Jim grabbed Blair's shirt, pulling him around.
Blair's anger flared over the fear as he faced the larger man, feeling the fists pressing into his chest. "Apparently not, Jim! I've been listening, but not hearing." He tried to pull out of Jim's grasp, but he couldn't.
Now, it was Blair's turn to clench his jaw against the anger that wanted to be expressed. He failed. "You know, Jim, someone should talk to you about this might makes right problem you have." He finally wrenched out of Jim's hold and backed away a few steps, taking his jacket off with a flourish. He knew better than to try and barge through that granite mountain, but he'd be damned if Jim was going to win on points. "Fine. You're bigger, stronger, and you own this place. I get it, man. I don't have to like it, but I get it." He slapped his jacket down on the table, frustrated that such a light-weight coat made little noise.
"No, I don't think you do get it, Sandburg." Jim stepped away from the door, but remained between Blair and the exit. "There's a woman out there trying to kill you. I've lost her and she could be anywhere. On top of that--and one officer's death--I've got a cop who's probably going to be implicated in this mess."
Blair's anger stalled and he looked at Jim, finding eyes that met his. Eyes that bore into him, instead of through. When he found his voice again, he remembered the snitch. "No, Jim, that woman, Steve, she's after you. That's where I was, meeting your snitch, Sneaks."
"What?"
"He called, while you were gone. He said he knew who was trying to kill you." A small sense of helpfulness tried to resurface, but Blair could feel how weak it was.
"Well, then, he was only half right."
Now he was just confused. "No, Jim, he said this woman is ex-army. She's a trained markswoman." Jim's jaw muscles flexed again and he walked to the windows. Blair followed but stopped halfway into the living room, watching his partner close the blinds. "She's been asking around about you, Jim. What kind of record you had, how many partners you'd had." Blair watched as each shade was pulled.
"It's not me, Chief." Jim finished the last window and turned. "She's after you." He walked back to the kitchen and picked up the phone. "You think someone that well-trained would mistake you for me?"
Blair froze in place. He hadn't thought about that. After learning what he had from Sneaks, he'd been so relieved about having something that would finally help Jim, he hadn't thought past it. And the
n, having come home to this explosion, he'd stopped thinking altogether.
"Captain, it's Ellison. Yes, he's here."
Jim shot Blair a look that made him mad all over again. Most of the voices in his head told him to hold tight and calm down. But there was still one small, insistent one, speaking from that part of Blair that warned him when the going got tough, get the hell out.
"What about an address?"
A few months ago, Blair would have been out that door and never looked back. But a few months ago, he hadn't known Jim Ellison. He was mad, frustrated, upset, and not just a little scared. The perfect combination for the "it's over" signals blaring off in his head. But he couldn't just walk through the door and leave.
"Anything at the rental agency?"
Jim might be mad at him, angry with what he had done, upset at the position he'd been forced to take back at the Station. And he might very well be disappointed in Blair. But if there was any chance--any chance at all--of salvaging this partnership, he couldn't leave. Jim had proven himself able to forgive a lot of things. But cowardice wasn't one of them.
"Yes, sir. What about Blake?"
If he stayed there, and toughed it out no matter what the outcome, he might still be able to forge some small bit of respect. If he left--if he ran--it would be over. All of it. But, there was a small, rebellious part of him that wanted to know he could leave, if he wanted to.
"Right. We'll be here."
Or not. Blair sighed, pushing his hair back. The momentary confusion about Steve was being lost again in his frustration. "Well?"
"We lost her." Jim shook his head and set the phone down. "No sign of her at her apartment and her bank account has been emptied. She's either skipped, or gone into hiding until she gets another chance."
Blair watched Jim pace back into the living room. His face was a wall of frustration that added to Blair's own volatile emotional state.. "Maybe I can just walk around Cascade with a target on my ass, then you and Simon can track the muzzle flash."
Target Page 7