No Center Line

by Lois RH Balzer

  “Yes.” Blair peeled off his sweat shirt and helped Evan sit up and get into it. “Jim sorta has this arrangement with me. I get myself into a mess, and he comes and gets me out of it.” He laughed, then repeated, “He’ll come.”

  “Nash used to. I don’t think I’m high on his priority list at the moment.”

  “I find that hard to believe. Hell, even if something happened to Jim, Simon — he’s the captain of Major Crimes where Jim works — Simon and the others would come looking for me. I’m sure it’s the same where you work.”

  “Then what’s taking them so long?” Evan hissed.

  “You’ve got to give them time, man.”

  “I’m running out of time.”

  “Do you think they’ve given up? I can’t imagine that.” Blair’s voice softened. “Tell me about them,” he asked, settling next to Evan, his arms wrapped around his bare chest to warm himself.

  “Why?”

  “I’m just curious who you work with. Tell me about your partner.”

  He didn’t want to talk about them, but he found himself speaking, sharing about the SIU, how they worked together, and how a month before he had almost lost his partner. “It was terrifying, you know?” he whispered. “There I was, yelling into my cell phone that an officer was down, and Harv just lay back in my arms with this crazy, bewildered look on his face, like ‘what the hell just happened’. He just kept staring at me, then looking around him, then back to me.”

  “Did you catch the shooter?”

  “Yeah. But only after more people had been killed.”

  There was a pause, then Blair said quietly, “Sorry to hear that. That must have been awful.”

  “So where are they?” Evan asked, moving closer to Blair.

  “Out there. Looking for us.”

  They sat side by side for several minutes, shivering from reaction more than the cold.

  “Maybe I got too good at hiding,” Evan said, finally.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I told you about Cassidy. She’s Nash’s daughter. He didn’t want us going out so we spent several months hiding from him.”

  “But he found out?”

  “Yeah.”

  “And?”

  Evan shrugged. “He didn’t kill me. But he wasn’t happy about it, either.” Evan pressed his fingers over his eyes. “I love her. I love Cassidy. But I hated the hiding. I hated lying to Nash. It goes against every instinct I have. I really respect him, you know? He’s damn good at what he does. And he believed in me. In my abilities. He believed in me before anyone else did. And how did I reward him? How did I thank him? I lied to him. I deceived him. I stole from him the one thing he really valued above anything else.” Evan bit back the tears, angrily rubbing them from his eyes. “I fucking deserved this.”

  *

  Present

  Bellevue, Washington

  “Evan didn’t,” Sandburg whispered, shaking his head.

  “He didn’t what,” Ellison asked.

  “Deserve what happened to him. He loves her.” Sandburg’s words faded out altogether as he slumped against Ellison, giving in to the exhaustion.

  The Cascade detective caught him, holding him upright, but it was apparent that his guide’s energy had been used up, his mind and body demanding rest.

  “Evan didn’t deserve what?” Bridges asked softly, helping Ellison wrap a blanket tighter around his partner.

  “You’ll have to ask him later. First I want to get him to the motel and get him cleaned up.”

  Bridges nodded, his thoughts clearly elsewhere.

  Ellison ignored him and concentrated on his guide’s pulse and body temperature, relieved that both seemed fine. “Well, Chief, it looks like you’re going out the same way you came in. There better be a jacuzzi in this motel. My back’s going to need it.” Ellison scooped up his partner, struggling to get a good grip on him. Bridges helped him through the doors, then Simon Banks helped Ellison place the young man on the front seat of the truck. Ellison leaned across to do up the middle lap belt, then got in beside him, leaning Sandburg back against him.

  “I’ll meet you there at the motel. Park around the back. It’s easier,” Bridges said, heading to the hospital’s emergency parking lot.

  Simon shut the passenger door, then turned to say goodbye to Amy and Dr Morrison. “Thank you both for all your help. I can’t begin to tell you how your discretion in this is appreciated, how many lives it might save.”

  “I’m on duty until 8:00 a.m. Call me if there are any problems. I can also stop by your motel on my way home after my shift, if you need me,” Morrison said, then shook hands with Banks and went back inside the hospital.

  “Do you want me to come with you?” Amy asked, one hand slipping into Simon’s.

  “Thanks, but we’ll be fine.” Simon glanced back at Jim. “We’ll call if there’s something we can’t handle.”

  “Take care of him,” she said, softer.

  “We have every intension of doing just that,” he answered. “When do you get off work?”

  “I was actually off at midnight, so I’m heading home now. You know where to reach me.” She waved at Ellison in the truck, and Jim waved back and turned away, allowing Simon and Amy a moment of privacy.

  And taking a moment for himself.

  Blair was asleep. Alive. Jim eased the dark head back to his shoulder, relishing the chance to touch, to feel that Blair was not in pain at the moment. To feel the body’s echo, the regular pulse, the even breathing. His guide was back; he felt whole again. He put his arm around Blair’s shoulders, drawing him closer yet, and closed his eyes, relaxing, taking advantage of the brief respite.

  And he tried to shake off the growing feeling that things were going to get worse before they got better.

  Chapter Seven

  *

  “Hello?”

  “It’s Nash.”

  “What is it? Wait a sec — It’s Nash, honey.”

  “Tell Ingar I’m sorry it’s so late.”

  “She was still up, don’t worry about it. We were actually talking about Evan.”

  “Well, that’s what I’m phoning about. This may turn out to be nothing, but I had to talk to someone.”

  “Then I’m glad you called, man. I just wish I was there with you. What’s wrong?”

  “I may be reaching at straws here, but I have a good feeling about this one. Blair Sandburg, the Cascade man who was kidnaped, said that Evan is still alive.”

  “Had he talked to him?”

  “Not only that, Evan gave him some messages to pass on.”

  “Like what?”

  (Pause) “He wanted me to— to look after Cassidy. He wanted her to know that he loved her.” (Long pause) “Sorry.”

  “That’s cool, man. You’re not alone — I’m sitting here blubbering like a baby.”

  “I just wanted to tell you that before you went to bed.”

  “Do you want me to tell Harvey?”

  “I don’t know ��� yeah, tell him. I’ll be calling him in the morning before he leaves, but maybe it will help him sleep a bit better tonight. I know this doesn’t prove anything, but at least we know he was alive recently.”

  “Yeah.”

  “What is it? What are you thinking, Bubba? I know that tone of voice.”

  “It’s nothing. The news is great, Nash. It sounds great.”

  “And? Come on, what is it?”

  “No, really. It sounds great.”

  “Joe ���”

  “Okay, okay. It just ��� well, it just sounds like Evan’s giving up, man. He’s saying his goodbyes. He doesn’t expect to survive this.”

  “Then I’m going to have to surprise him.”

  *

  “Need any help?” Nash leaned against the doorway of the small bathroom, his arms crossed, a tired smile on his face.

  The two Cascade officers, sleeves rolled up, had the police observer sitting in the bathtub, Jim supporting Blair while Simon sc
rubbed down his back amid a cloud of bubbles. Blair was half asleep as they worked, hardly aware of what was happening as the water around him gradually muddied from dirt and dried blood. His head lolled forward and Jim’s right hand came up to support his partner’s face.

  The detective glanced up at Nash. “You said you had bought some vinegar?”

  He handed over the bag. “Shampoo his hair, put the vinegar on, then rinse it well.”

  “Thanks.” Ellison set the white plastic bottle on the rim of the tub, then looked back at Nash. “Give us about ten minutes and he should be relatively cleaned up enough to talk—”

  “Ouch!!” Blair jerked forward in the tub, gasping for breath, his eyes opening. “Ouch,” he repeated. His hand rose from the water to grab hold of his partner’s forearm, the wide, unfocused gaze seeking Jim’s reassurance.

  “What’s wrong?” Ellison asked, looking to the police captain. “What happened?”

  “My fault,” Simon muttered. “I pulled a small piece of duct tape off his lower back. Better to do it when he was relaxed.” Simon rested his hand on the police observer’s back. “That was the last of it, Blair. Sorry about that.”

  “S’okay.”

  “At least warn me next time,” Jim said softly, as he reached down and pulled the plug to drain the water, letting cleaner water fill the tub partway. As he turned, Nash saw the exhaustion on Ellison’s face, the dark circles beneath his eyes, the tension across his forehead as he struggled to keep his eyes open.

  Their captain noticed, as well. “Jim, take this,” Simon said, passing a soapy washcloth to him. “Do his face and neck. We all need to get some sleep. If we can get him marginally clean, that’ll be good enough for tonight. He can have a hot soak in the tub tomorrow morning.”

  “What are his injuries?” Nash asked.

  Simon rested back on his heels, slowly stretching his back muscles. “He’s got two bruised ribs and one cracked rib, all on the left side. Mild concussion. His wrists and ankles have cuts and bruises. Skin rubbed raw on his right ankle. As you can see, he’s covered in cuts, scrapes, and bruises, but nothing serious. And the rest of it, of course — the drugs and the other assault,” Simon finished, his voice lower, glancing to Nash, who nodded his understanding of what Simon was not saying. “The doctor felt he should be okay tomorrow,” the captain said, louder. “Right now, he’s struggling with not only the drugs, but also he’s exhausted, dehydrated, and hungry.”

  “Hungry,” Sandburg nodded, water dripping from his hair. Then he shook his head. “No. No food.”

  “Okay. How about some tea?” Ellison asked. “We can get you some of your tea.”

  “My tea?”

  “I brought some. What kind do you want?”

  “My tea? Sleepy Time.”

  “No problem.” Jim glanced up at Nash. “Could you put some water through the coffee maker in the other room?”

  “I’ll do a pot of it.” At least it gave him something to do. Nash filled the coffee maker with water, then waited until it had started dripping through before going back to the bathroom door.

  Blair looked back quickly as he caught sight of Nash, then closed his eyes as the washcloth was re-soaped and once more traveled over his neck and face. “I tried to tell him. I tried ���”

  “Tell him what?” Jim prompted, rinsing the cloth and wiping the soap from his partner’s face.

  “That he didn’t deserve it.” Blair’s eyes opened then, and Nash saw the look the young man directed at his partner. “You found me.”

  “I did,” Jim said, then took the re-soaped cloth from Simon and started to wipe down Blair’s shoulders and chest, while Simon worked shampoo into his wet hair.

  “I told him you would,” Blair murmured, with a faint smile. “It’s our deal.” The smile faded, a frown creasing the exhausted face.

  Jim froze. “What is it?”

  Blair shook his head, then shrugged. “I didn’t like the man with the rough hands.”

  Jim flinched as though physically struck, but kept working on his partner, gently cleaning the bruised abdomen. “How do your ribs feel?”

  “Okay.” Blair sleepily followed the progress of the washcloth. “I’m tired.”

  “We’ll get you in bed soon, kid,” Simon promised. He traded looks with Nash, then took a cup and eased Blair’s head back to rinse the shampoo from his hair.

  Nash flashed on another scene, but he could not picture himself bathing Evan, even with Harvey’s help. There was a different dynamic here. These men had crossed lines that he had never approached. Even with Joe, he couldn’t imagine this. A lifetime of roles had not prepared him for the simple task of ministering to another male.

  Such a damn simple thing.

  They made it look so natural: Simon working more shampoo into Blair’s hair, trying to erase the smell of death. Jim helping his partner soap down his legs and feet. It wasn’t a parent bathing a child. Or a lover his beloved. But yet it was both. An extension of one being to encompass another. It was almost as though there were no lines dividing them. No walls to say where one began and the other ended. Strength flowed from one to the other, particularly between the partners, but also between them and their captain.

  Trust.

  The absolute trust.

  To look at these men, he would not have suspected it. Jim Ellison, even now, his face carved in stone, his jaw clenched in anger at whoever had done this to his partner, yet with gentle hands supported the young man’s shoulders while Simon Banks poured clean water through the tangled hair. Simon managed to have a slightly perturbed look on his face, but it was at what had transpired to put him in this situation, not directed at Blair.

  And Blair was the enigma. Wiry and strong. Abused and exhausted. Trusting not only his life, but his body to these men, when God knows what had happened to that body at the hands of other men in the last few days. Accepting it not as a frightened child, but as an exhausted soldier who can go no further, knowing he is now in home territory and he can let go of the fight to survive and place himself totally, absolutely, into the hands of another.

  And it would have worked no matter which one of them was in the tub. If necessary, Nash knew Jim and Blair would not hesitate to help Simon, or Blair and Simon would help Jim.

  Nash stood silently at the door, not moving as Jim and Simon conferred briefly, then Jim stripped down and joined his partner in the tub, gently maneuvering Blair upward to stand beneath the shower spray, turning him to let the water wash the soap away from his bruised skin. Blair stood passively, eyes closed, letting the warm water pound his shoulders and the back of his neck, a faint smile touching his face. Jim let him stay there for a minute, then turned the water off. He wrapped a towel around his own waist, then, with Simon’s help, assisted his partner in stepping from the bathtub and settled him on the towel-covered floor beside it, leaning him back so his hair hung over the rim of the tub.

  Simon took another towel and draped it over Blair, covering him more for warmth than modesty. “Okay, let’s do this.” He supported the young man’s head with one hand, reaching for the vinegar bottle. “Can you open that for me?”

  Jim took the lid off the vinegar and promptly sneezed.

  “Dial it back,” Blair whispered, not opening his eyes.

  Jim nodded, sneezed one more time, then poured the vinegar over his partner’s hair, letting the liquid drip into the tub. Only then did he look over to Nash, still standing silently in the doorway. “How long do we leave this on?”

  I’m acting like a damned voyeur, and they haven’t said a word. Nash had to clear his throat. “Uh, sorry. Leave it on a few minutes. Give it time to work.”

  Blair sat up straight suddenly. “Wait — what day is it?” he whispered, grabbing at Jim’s arm.

  “Saturday. Early in the morning.”

  “Fuck. Jim— Jim! Evan — he’s going to be sold on Tuesday.”

  “What?” Nash moved closer and would have grabbed the young man’s shoulder,
but Simon was in his way, blocking him in the small bathroom. “What are you saying?”

  Blair looked over at him, registering his presence again. He took a deep breath, trying to control his breathing and talk clearly. “Someone is buying Evan on Tuesday. We have to help him — find him before that. He helped me, Jim,” he said, looking back at his partner, anxiety and terror stamped on his face, his breathing more ragged. “Evan ��� made them stop. We have to help ��� him.”

  “We’re going to, buddy.” Jim placed one hand on Blair’s chest, the other at the back of his neck. “Just relax. Breathe in and out. You’re safe.”

  “Evan’s not!” Blair stiffened, not allowing himself to be soothed. Blue eyes opened to find Nash again. “He needs you.”

  “Where is he? Who did they sell him to?” Nash asked, leaning forward to look into the still-drugged eyes.

  “On Tuesday,” Blair murmured, as the last remnants of energy left him. He sank back against Jim, his body trembling from the effort to stay awake, breaths coming in short gasps. “He stopped them for me.”

  “I’ll have to thank him later,” Jim said softly, his voice strained, and Nash could see him visibly absorbing his partner’s pain, Blair’s body relaxing, calming, even as the lines on Jim’s face deepened as the detective became weaker.

  “It hurt,” Blair whispered, his eyes closed, fingers again clutching Jim’s arm, then slumped forward, leaning against his partner.

  “Sandburg?” Simon checked him quickly, then turned his attention to Ellison. “He’s pretty well out of it. How are you doing?”

  “I’ll be fine.” As though dizzy, Jim sat down beside the younger man, one hand going to his face, taking a breath and letting it out slowly. “I’m surprised he was able to tell us that.”

  They continued speaking together quietly as Nash stared at Blair’s sleeping face. Someone is buying Evan. How? Nash stood slowly, bracing himself against the door jamb, then cleared his throat. “How accurate do you think—?”

  Simon shook his head. “There’s no way of knowing for sure, but Blair seemed pretty clear about which day this is happening. He must have heard something. I’d say we need to proceed on that information.” He stood and washed his hands in the sink, drying them and then tossing the hand towel to Jim. “You okay here?”