No Center Line

by Lois RH Balzer

  The guide nodded, then grabbed hold of Ellison’s hand as he went to pull it away. “No. No. Jim ���”

  “I’m here. I’m not going away.” He kept one arm around Sandburg’s shoulders, and placed his other hand where the young man could grasp hold of it.

  Simon Banks returned, lit cigar in his mouth, probably equally to calm his own nerves and also to cut through the rank smell around Sandburg. “Okay, Amy knows which doctor to contact. They’ll be ready for us — a private room near emergency. She’ll be waiting for us at the side entrance off Burris Street. The only ones initially aware of our presence will be the two of them and whoever they choose to do the x-rays.” Simon smiled down at Sandburg. “Glad to have you back with us, Blair.” He rested his hand on the young man’s forehead.

  “Mmmm ���” Sandburg’s eyes opened a fraction, then drifted shut again. A moment later, he coughed abruptly, gasping from the sudden pain that caused. “Jmmm?” he whimpered, his head resting on Ellison’s shoulder as the sentinel rubbed his back soothingly.

  Banks jumped backwards, hastily putting out the cigar. “Damn. Sorry, kid. I never thought—”

  “It’s okay,” Ellison murmured. “It’s probably the night air as much as the cigar smoke, Simon. He’s got a couple bad ribs. He’s cold, too. Give me a hand; I’m going to wrap him up better. His hair is holding most of the smell so I’ll put my jacket around the top of his head. I can turn down my sense of smell, but I don’t want Bridges passing out while he’s driving.”

  “I warned Amy about it. She said they’ve got some good soap that’ll help get the smell out of his hair. He doesn’t have any clothes to burn, but I think I’ll leave my coat in the back of the truck until I see how it’s fared.”

  “He really stinks, doesn’t he?” Ellison said, gathering the Sandburg closer. “How many bodies did you say?”

  “Four. Wrapped up pretty well, but they’re a few days old. Pretty ripe in there, regardless.”

  “Sandburg was right by the rear door. How far away from them was he?”

  “Six feet from the closest ones.”

  “Do you think they’re the four detectives we’re missing?”

  “Jim, to be honest, I didn’t check. Neither of us did. I don’t know if we’d be able to identify what’s wrapped up. By now—” He shook his head in remembered horror at other times in his career when he had the misfortune to be on the scene of week old, untreated corpses.

  “So he doesn’t know if Cortez is one of them?”

  “I think he’s convinced himself that he isn’t.” Banks watched as the sedan slowly approached them. “Jim, what are we going to tell Bridges about your senses? About you two? He’s not stupid. He knows something’s up.”

  “When he asks, we’ll tell him what he needs to know.” Ellison hoisted Sandburg into his arms. “Let’s go. I’ve got everything I came for.”

  *

  *

  Nash Bridges watched them carefully set the police observer in the back of his rented sedan, Banks’ supporting him while Ellison moved around the car and crawled in from the other side.

  “Okay, I’ve got him.” Ellison eased the young man closer, murmuring apologies as he arranged his partner to recline against him.

  There was no hesitancy in the Cascade detective’s actions, no thought of hiding such blatant intimacy. Sandburg lay enfolded in Ellison’s arms, snug against him, held with all the tenderness of father with a drowsy, sick child, with all the possessiveness of a lover. Bridges diverted his gaze and stared at his map of the area, studying the freeway’s turnoff for Bellevue, as they settled into the back. Well, if they were lovers, then Banks was in on it, too, as the man leaned over them, tucking the blanket closer, arranging the extra jacket and coat to best offer comfort and warmth. The heater was already turned up full blast, taking the spring chill from the car.

  “Drugged, you say?” he heard Banks ask. “Concussed at all?”

  “Drugged, I think. It’s clearing slowly.” Ellison tilted the bruised face back to look in the young man’s eyes. “He’s pliant, though.”

  Pliant? Bridges turned around. “Drugged with what?”

  Banks shook his head. “Anything to make him not resist them. Rohypnol or GHB. Even alcohol or chloroform.” Banks frowned. “At least he’s not frightened — yet. I’m sure he’s going to be when he starts registering everything.” He carefully shut the back door and slipped into the front seat, taking the map from Bridges and folding it to show the section of freeway they’d be using. “Follow me, but in case we get separated, take the 405 exit, then stay on it until you get to Bellevue. Here’s the route to the Bellevue General Hospital from the freeway. There’s a service entrance accessible off Burris Street. Jim knows what Amy looks like. If you need anything, here’s my cell phone number.”

  “I’ll take care of them,” Bridges said.

  Banks nodded, then looked back at his two men. “Jim?”

  “He’s sleeping at the moment. Let’s get going.” There seemed to be a few unspoken words passed back and forth between Ellison and Banks, but finally the tall police captain sighed and, with a last look at Sandburg, got out of the car.

  They waited for him to get into the pickup, put his seatbelt on, and warm the truck up for a minute, then followed him north onto the freeway. Half a mile up the road was a turnoff where they were able to exit the I-5, take the overpass, then come back on the freeway heading south.

  “Warm enough?” Bridges asked, as the car settled into the journey.

  “Yes. Thank you.” Ellison met his eyes in the rear view mirror, then looked down. “He’s sleeping. His fever isn’t any worse.”

  “Do you mind if I open the window a bit?”

  Ellison smiled, a flash of white teeth in the dark interior of the car. “Go ahead. He still smells.”

  “Not his fault.” Bridges rolled down his window just a crack. “Let me know if it gets drafty.”

  “It’ll be fine. You can roll it down even more. The fresh air is good.”

  He rolled it down an inch and left it. The pickup was easy to follow, keeping to the right, its speed never varying from the posted limit. “Do you mind me asking what’s wrong with your partner? Besides being drugged?”

  “Exposure. I doubt if he’s had any food or water in the last few days.”

  “And?”

  “And ��� he’s been worked over. They had fun with him,” Ellison answered, carefully.

  “Raped?” He had to know.

  “I think so. It looks like it.” Ellison’s reply was quiet. “That doesn’t mean that Cortez was.”

  “I saw the ad on the Internet. If he wasn’t already, he probably will be in the next few days, if we can’t find him.” Nash kept his eyes on the twin red tailgate lights of the truck in front of him.

  “Would you be able to handle it, if he was?” Ellison asked, a few miles later.

  Nash felt the bite of tears, then blinked his eyes clear. “No choice. We’ll deal with it. You’re dealing with it.”

  “I haven’t begun to deal with it,” Ellison said, his voice suddenly icy cold.

  Nash glanced quickly to the rear view mirror. None of Ellison’s hostility was aimed at his partner. In fact, if anything, the look on the Cascade detective’s face as he gazed down at Sandburg was more vulnerable than before. “What do you mean?”

  “When he’s awake, then we’ll deal with it together.” Ellison looked at him again in the mirror. “Together. That’s the only way. Step by step.”

  The miles sped by. They turned onto the 405. Ellison seemed preoccupied with keeping his partner warm and quiet, murmuring reassurances when Sandburg stirred at all, occasionally coaxing him to drink a few mouthfuls of water.

  “Tell me about Cortez.”

  Ellison’s request took him off guard; he had been trying not to think of Evan. Nash shrugged, shifting his grip on the steering wheel. He’d driven the Cuda for so long that any other steering wheel just felt wrong. “What
do you want to know? You read the file.”

  “Are you his partner?” Ellison wasn’t backing down on it. But anyone could see how much his partner meant to him, so he deserved some kind of answer.

  The difficult part was that there were no simple answers to his questions. “Yes and no. I’m his boss. Technically, we work as a unit, and I assign work depending on each individual case and the skills of those in my unit. Evan’s the youngest — we call him the ‘kid’ sometimes. He’s a good ten years younger than any of us. Sometimes he works as my partner, as Joe’s partner, but usually I team him with Harvey Leek, another guy in our unit.”

  “Are you close to him?”

  Images crossed Nash’s thoughts. Evan, shot through the neck, bleeding on the floor of the bank. Sitting by his bed in the ICU, waiting for him to wake up, wondering for a while if he ever would. Evan talking to him, lying in the bed, drugged, crying, saying he was going to quit. Two years ago. How much had happened since then?

  Cassidy. Cassidy had happened since then, although something had crackled between the two of them since Evan joined SIU and they first met. Back when his daughter was still in high school. And now they were in love. Much as Nash hated the idea, he knew there was little he could do about it. And never would he have wished this on Evan.

  “Yeah, I care about him. More than I’d like to admit it. I never had a son, and in some ways—” Nash stopped on the thought, surprised by his own revelation. “In some ways, he’s the son I would have had. Would have wanted.”

  The answer seemed to appease Ellison, for he said little the rest of the trip, just alternately stared out the window or down at his partner. Twenty minutes later, Bridges paused at a light when they turned off the freeway at Bellevue. He turned to say something and saw Sandburg was awake, eyes half lidded, contentedly resting against Ellison’s chest. Again, the intimacy of the level of trust was jarring. Ellison’s rather cold, distant persona, taken into consideration with what Bridges knew of a dangerous track record and military past, seemed so at odds with the man sitting in his back seat.

  He flashed on an image of himself sitting there, Evan in his arms, and the scene dissolved. It wasn’t right. Something was missing. “How long have you been partners?” he asked.

  “A few years.”

  “And roommates?”

  “The same. He moved in shortly after we began working together.”

  “And it’s worked out okay?”

  “What’s worked out okay?” Ellison asked, looking up, as though he’d missed the question.

  “Working together? Living together?” Bridges asked, carefully.

  Ellison didn’t answer right away. A smile crossed his face, as though he recognized the question Nash hadn’t asked. The shadowed eyes looked down at his partner, at the bruised hand that rested against his chest as he dozed. “It’s working out. Hard work sometimes, but yeah, it’s working out. I wouldn’t have changed it.”

  The light became green and Nash followed the road to Burris, then turned down it into the hospital loading zone. Simon Banks stood at the side doorway, already moving out to the car as he pulled into the driveway.

  *

  *

  “Is that them?” Amy’s soft voice behind him.

  He reached back and grasped her hand, grateful for the comfort it gave him. Simon could feel his heart pounding in his chest, too recent memories of the last time they had brought Sandburg to a hospital front and center in his thoughts. Amy’s other hand found the small of his back, pressing firmly as though grounding him.

  Relax. Everything’s going to be fine. He’s back. We got him back.

  “It looks like his car ��� Yes, it’s them. Hold the door.” Simon slipped out the side entrance, bending to peer into the back seat of the car as it stopped just a few feet from the door. His heart was still racing, and he wondered suddenly if Jim could hear his heartbeat the same as he could hear Sandburg’s. The thought was oddly disturbing. It didn’t really bother him that Jim could zero in on his partner’s heartbeat, or even on Simon’s own heartbeat, if the situation demanded it, but that Jim would know when he was frightened was something he would prefer to keep under wraps. He had a cool, tough image to maintain, after all.

  Jim was slowly setting the kid upright, Blair’s head lolling on his shoulders. There was a firm gentleness about Jim’s actions, a confidence in how he handled his partner that Simon found calming. Jim was focused. Sandburg would be okay. Even if he looked like hell, and smelled like it.

  “I got caught at the last set of lights,” Bridges said, rolling down his window all the way. “We made it here with no problems, though.”

  “That’s good news, at least. I listened to the police scanners on the way here. No mention of the semi-trailer.” Simon opened the back door. “So he traveled okay?”

  Bridges nodded. “He slept most of the way.”

  “Need help?” Simon asked Jim.

  “I’m going to get out on this side and bring him with me.” Jim stepped out with his left foot, sliding to the edge of the seat, then drawing Blair toward him. Sandburg’s eyes were closed, but he was frowning at the unwanted movement. One hand reached for Jim, clutching hold of his shirt as he was lifted and brought into the hospital. Amy pointed down the corridor, and Simon watched until his two friends disappeared down the hallway into the room set aside for them.

  Leaning on the car’s door frame to mask his trembling hands, Simon spoke quickly to Nash. “Go ahead and park in the regular lot, then go in through Emergency. I’ll meet you there.”

  “You mentioned getting a motel room for the night, Simon. I saw a place just where we turned off the freeway. Stay-N-Save. It’s getting late — Why don’t I get us some rooms? It’ll give me a chance to air out the car.”

  “That bad, eh?” Banks nodded, smiling grimly. “Good idea. Get a double room for us, maybe adjoining to yours, if possible. Or a suite, if it’s available. That would make it easier.” Simon smiled again, this time in humor. “I’ve stayed there before. Get the side away from the freeway. It’s quieter.”

  “Will do. I’ll come back here as soon as I’ve checked us in.”

  “Ask for Amy if I’m not in the waiting area.” He watched Bridges drive off, scanned the area for anything suspicious, then went into the hospital.

  So far, so good.

  Amy had showed Simon which room they had reserved, a private examination room set aside for emergency situations. This certainly constituted one as far as Simon was concerned. He knocked on the door and entered quickly, shutting it behind him.

  Sandburg was sitting on the edge of the examination table, his head forward. He would have pitched off the table, if not for Ellison’s firm grip. The room was warm, the extra coats and jackets that had kept Sandburg from getting chilled had been removed, and a thin paper sheet was draped over his lap.

  “Can you help him lie down? The doctor — Dr Morrison — will be here in just a moment.” Amy smiled gently at Blair, whose eyes still weren’t focusing quite right. “He’s just arranging to take a dinner break.” The nurse patted the top of the examination bed.

  Jim started to ease Blair to lie flat when his partner suddenly exhibited signs of life.

  “No,” burst from the cracked lips. “No.” Blair pulled away from Jim then, eyes blinking furiously. Even Simon could hear the frantic breathing, could see the panic in his muscles as he resisted. “No table.”

  “The doctor’s just going to check you out, Chief.”

  “No.” Blair worked his way off the table, landing on his feet, his knees immediately buckling from his weight. “Please,” he whispered, as Jim caught him. “No.”

  Jim took him by the waist and hoisted him back onto the table. “It’ll be faster this way, buddy. I’ll be right here.”

  “No!” Blair’s arms flailed out, trying to push himself off the table, frantic in his attempt.

  Jim let him go, watching carefully as Sandburg stumbled blindly away from the examinati
on bed, ready to catch him as he faltered and began to crumble. “It’s okay. I won’t put you back there.” Blair’s legs gave out, and Jim lowered him to the floor as Amy moved the bed aside. Ellison looked up at her. “I’m not sure what’s wrong, but can this Dr Morrison check him out down here instead?”

  “I’ll speak to him about it. He’s aware of the situation.” With a last look at Simon, Amy left the room.

  Simon crouched down beside them. Jim was sitting back against the wall now, Blair scrunched up into a foetal ball facing him. Sandburg’s hands were in two tight fists, pressed against his eyes, his body rocking wildly as he tried to calm himself. Ellison had one hand on his back, the other on his shoulder, slowly drawing him closer. “Hey ��� Just relax. We’re not putting you on the table, okay?”

  “No table,” Sandburg panted. “No table.”

  “No table,” Ellison repeated, glancing up to the captain, sharing a look of puzzlement.

  “Hurts,” Sandburg whispered. “Hurts. Hurts.”

  “What hurts, Chief?”

  “Breathing.”

  Jim shook his head in frustration, but his voice stayed calm. “Let’s get you turned around then. If you sit straight, your ribs won’t hurt as much, okay?”

  “Kay.” Eyes still closed, Blair allowed them to reposition him to sit on the floor in front of Jim, leaning back against the sentinel. His body was fraught with tension, moving stiffly as they coaxed him to work with them. Simon grabbed the cotton blanket from the examination table, setting it on the floor beneath him, and they wrapped another blanket around him. The entire time, Blair’s eyes didn’t open, clenched tight, his breath coming in short, gasping pants. He clutched Jim’s hands on either side of him, pulling the older man’s arms around him.

  Dr Morrison entered the room and Simon stepped back, quickly assessing this physician. Amy had said his name immediately when Simon had told her what they were facing, and Morrison had a high recommendation from her, which went a long ways in Simon’s books. Morrison was a middle-aged Native American man, his long hair pulled back into a pony tail. His dark eyes fastened on his patient immediately, and he took off his white lab coat and placed it, and his clipboard and stethoscope, on the examination table. He turned on two lamps in the room and switched off the overhead fluorescent lighting.