by Beth Manz
"Okay, Tom," Jim spoke into his mic, "he's moving in your direction."
"Got him," Brayden answered immediately.
Blair continued to scan the area with the binoculars, his shoulders hunched, tense. Jim reached toward him, wanting to offer his guide some reassurance, but his action was cut short when the mic came alive again. It was Tom's voice, edged with concern.
"I think we have a problem," the young officer said.
"What's up, Tom?" Jim asked, instantly alert, his gaze jerking toward the corner of the building around which Collins had disappeared.
"I think Collins' chair is stuck on something."
Jim's brow furrowed. He glanced at Blair and saw the same confusion he felt reflected in his partner's expression. "Say again," Jim instructed, shaking his head.
"One of the wheels of Collins' chair seems to be stuck in the pavement," Tom said in way of clarification.
Then, as if to confirm what Tom was seeing, Ryan's voice came softly over the line. "Sorry guys. My chair won't move."
"Everyone hold your position," Jim ordered, his mind racing. Dammit! Would they have to scrap the whole operation because of some crack in the pavement? Even as he was trying to decide what to do, he heard a rustling beside him. Turning, he saw that Blair had removed his ear piece and his Kevlar vest. And before Jim could stop him, Sandburg stepped out of the bushes and took off toward Collins' position.
"Heads up," Jim barked into his mic. "Sandburg's moving onto the scene."
Moments later, his partner's voice reached him.
"Hey, Dr. Collins," Blair's cheerful tone came across the mic. "What are you doing? You know you're not supposed to be out here alone."
"Blair!" Ryan's voice was stunned. Clearly, the professor had not expected this move.
Yeah, well join the club. Jim licked his lips, scanning the area again, the muscles of his back taunt, his stomach knotted with worry.
"He's got him moving again," Tom said over the mic.
Jim didn't like this. He didn't like not being able to see his partner. Moving slowly, using the bushes as cover, he moved to Brayden's position. But Blair and Collins had already made their way around the corner of the building and they were once again out of Jim's line of vision.
"I've got 'em," Brown spoke up a moment later. "They're moving slowly toward the professor's van."
"Any other movement?" Jim asked.
"Not that I can see."
"Stay here," Jim instructed Brayden, then he made his way around the next side of the building, joining Brown and Rafe. He could see Blair in the distance now, heading with Collins across the parking lot toward the isolated van.
Something's wrong.
The instinctive warning slammed into Jim's consciousness and an accompanying wave of apprehension slithered down his spine. His gaze locked on his partner as Blair left Ryan sitting near the side of the van and moved to the sliding door, pulling it wide.
Just as he did so, movement caught Jim's eye. Movement from inside the vehicle.
He's in the van. He's in the van! As the realization slammed into him, Jim stood and yelled, "Sandburg, get back! He's in the van!"
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Blair jerked toward the sound of Jim's voice, his heart slamming into his rib cage. But the warning came too late. He turned back toward the van to see a man in a ski mask jumping from the darkened van and racing toward him.
"Dammit!" Whirling around, Blair grabbed the handles of Ryan's chair and began propelling the disabled professor away from his vehicle. Behind him, Blair could hear the pounding footsteps of the assailant giving chase.
"Sandburg!" Jim was running toward him from the other side of the parking lot, Rafe and Brown at his heels.
But the timing was off, the man in the ski mask too close. Shoving Dr. Collins wheelchair forward, Blair yelled, "Keep going!" Then he turned to face the man chasing them. A fist struck him hard in the face. His head snapped to the side and before he could even register what was happening, another fist struck him in the stomach, doubling him over.
"Sandburg!" Jim's voice came to him again, the sound nearer this time.
The attacker landed one more blow. Putting his hands on Blair's shoulders, he brought his knee up into the anthropologist's stomach. All the breath went out of Blair at once. He dropped to his knees and collapsed onto his side, clutching his aching stomach, struggling to breathe.
Then the man was gone, sprinting in the opposite direction, escaping safely into the shadowy darkness.
"Blair!" Jim loomed above him, his face a mask of concern.
"Go," Blair gasped out, nodding in the direction the attacker had taken.
"Sandburg--"
"Jim! Go!"
Jim's gaze jerked up, searching for.... "Tom! You stay with him!" Then he was on his feet again and running in the direction of the man in the ski mask, Brown and Rafe still with him.
Even as they disappeared from sight, a hand touched his shoulder. "Blair?" It was Tom Brayden.
"Help me sit up," he said, finally able to draw enough air into his lungs to form a whole sentence.
Tom took hold of Blair's arm and pulled him up until he was sitting cross-legged on the pavement. His stomach was tender and his jaw ached, but overall he was okay.
"Blair, I'm so sorry. Are you okay? I can't believe this." Ryan wheeled close to Blair and leaned down toward him, reaching a hand out to rest on his shoulder.
"I'm fine, Ryan, really." Blair looked up as a bright sweep of headlights illuminated the scene. Simon's car jerked to a halt just a few feet away and Eli was out of the passenger seat and rushing toward them an instant later.
"Blair, are you all right?" The professor crouched down in front of the anthropologist, his hand gripping Blair's shoulder, his face lined, worried.
"I'm fine. Just got the wind knocked out of me." Blair's gaze shifted from Dr. Stoddard to Simon. Tom Brayden had moved to stand beside the captain, the two men clearly listening to what was being said over the ear pieces they still wore.
Blair turned his attention back to Dr. Stoddard. "Help me stand up, Professor. Please." He leaned heavily on Eli as he got to his feet, wincing as his stomach protested the simple movement. Keeping a steadying hand on his arm, Eli helped Blair cross the short distance to where Simon stood.
"What's going on?" Blair asked the captain. "What do you hear?"
Simon turned a disappointed gaze toward Blair. "Sounds like they lost him."
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Jim crossed the parking lot, angrily yanking the ear piece away from his head. Brown and Rafe were still checking the area, coordinating with the other patrol cars that had arrived on campus. Simon and Tom were also working the scene, the two men joining in the search for any possible evidence.
Jim didn't expect anything to turn up. The guy's long gone and he sure as hell didn't leave anything behind. Disappointment rippled through him at the thought because he knew that the man hadn't simply disappeared from Rainier's campus for the night--no doubt he'd more than likely move on from the area completely. He's knows we're on to him now. He won't wait around to be caught. They hadn't just blown the setup but the entire investigation.
Ahead, Jim could see the small group of men who waited for him, wanting to hear whatever news he had to share. Eli was bent over in front of Ryan Collins, his hand resting on the man's knee. Collins' expression was miserable--it was clear the man felt responsible for this entire disaster. Behind them, leaning against Collins' van, gently probing the side of his face where he'd been struck again, stood Blair. At least one good thing has come out of all of this, Jim thought as he studied his partner. More than likely, I don't have to worry about Blair's safety anymore.
As if sensing his presence, Blair looked up, his gaze locking with Jim's. He smiled and pushed away from the vehicle, starting toward the sentinel. "Hey, man, you okay?" he asked, coming to a stop in front of the taller man.
Jim
nodded. "Just wish this had all turned out better." He narrowed his eyes as he looked at Blair. "How's your face?"
"Bruised...like my stomach."
Jim clapped him on the shoulder, smiling down at him. "All in a day's work, right, Chief?"
"If you say so, man. But personally, I'd rather see this day end, if you know what I mean. I am so ready to go home."
"I hear that," Jim muttered as they headed toward Professor Collins' vehicle. "Did Serena go over the van?"
"With a fine-toothed comb," Blair said. "But she wasn't very hopeful. She picked up some fibers and a few prints but more than likely they'll turn out to be Ryan's or any number of friends he's had in his van with him." He looked up at Jim. "The guy was wearing gloves, Jim. We all saw them."
Jim nodded. He didn't think they'd get anything from the van but it had been worth a shot. "Well, gentlemen," he said, stopping in front of Eli and Collins. "I think we can officially call it a night."
"I'm sorry about all this," Collins offered immediately, his words laced with regret.
"Don't beat yourself up over this, Dr. Collins," Jim said reassuringly. "It wasn't your fault things didn't work the way we had hoped."
"But if I had just seen that rut in the pavement-"
"Listen," Blair cut in. "That rut may have saved your life. If you had gone right to your van there's a good possibility you would have gotten in without realizing that guy was waiting inside." He gestured toward Jim. "It was Jim who saw him. If I hadn't gone to help you, we would still have been in position one and Jim wouldn't have seen anything. So it all worked out for the best."
"Blair's right," Jim added. "Tomorrow we'll put out a warning bulletin to the surrounding universities, let them know this guy may be targeting their campus and wait to see what happens."
"You think he's going to move on from Rainier?" Eli asked.
"Most likely." Jim ran a hand over his face and back across his hair. He suddenly felt tired, exhausted. "I think this guy moved on from UW to Rainier because the cops were closing in on him there. Now he knows we're doing the same thing here, so he'll probably move on again."
"I wish I could say that was a relief," Eli said softly. "But it's not. Knowing he could strike at another school.... I shudder just to think of it."
Blair reached out and squeezed at the older man's arm. "We'll catch him, Professor."
Jim glanced past Blair as a police cruiser drove slowly by, the spotlight mounted on the side of the vehicle sweeping over the bushes at the far edge of the lot.
"They won't find anything."
Jim turned back to Collins. The professor was watching the patrol car too, his gaze intense. "Why do you say that?"
Collins looked up at Jim. "Whoever is behind this is a clever man, Detective Ellison. He's not going to be careless enough to leave clues behind. He's too much in control to make a mistake like that."
Jim frowned; the look on Collins face, the tone of his voice rubbed him the wrong way. "If I didn't know better, Professor, I'd think you admired this guy."
"On the contrary," Collins assured the detective. "But as a psychologist, I have to admit to a bit of fascination toward him." He turned his attention back to the patrol car, watching until it drove out of view. "This man may be dangerous, even deranged...but he's also meticulous, disciplined, intelligent." He shifted his attention back to Ellison. "Doesn't it make you wonder what made a man like our suspect turn to crime? Was he born with a predisposition toward violence? Or was he pushed into a life of crime due to environmental factors?"" He smiled and held out his hands in supplication. "Wouldn't you like to find out?"
"No," Jim answered bluntly. "It may be your job to try and figure out why these psychos behave as they do. But my job is far simpler--I stop them and put them away. And that's what I plan to do to this guy."
Collins smiled easily. "I admire your determination, Detective. I'm sure it serves you well." His gaze shifted to Blair who stood beside and slightly behind Jim. "You must know what I'm talking about though, Blair. With all your studies regarding what shapes a culture and its inhabitants, you must find the criminal mind fascinating."
Blair shifted slightly where he stood, clearly uncomfortable. "Um, actually, Ryan, when it comes to the criminal mind, I'm with Jim. I've seen what these people are capable of, and I'd just as soon they be put behind bars."
Collins nodded, his gaze shifting between the two men. "Well, I see now why the two of you make such a good team. You have a single-minded desire to see justice prevail. That's admirable."
But as Jim stared at the wheelchair bound professor, he got the distinct impression that Collins' words held a false ring to them. "Why don't we pack it in," Jim said finally, attempting to shake off his sudden annoyance with the psychology professor. "I think it's been a long night for all of us."
Jim and Blair waited until Ryan had driven away in his van before escorting Eli to his car. Now, as Jim and Blair approached the truck, Jim found himself thinking again about the questions Collins had asked....
"Doesn't it make you wonder what made a man like our suspect turn to crime? Was he born with a predisposition toward violence? Or was he pushed into a life of crime due to environmental factors?"
Collins questions gave Jim the impression that the man felt as if the crimes of others could be blamed on society--thereby negating personal responsibility. Jim found the concept repugnant. Without personal responsibility there could only be chaos....
"Jim?"
He looked down at his partner, Blair's voice drawing him away from his thoughts. "Yeah?"
"You gonna unlock the truck or are we just going to stand out here all night?"
"What?" Jim looked around him confusedly. Just as Blair's words suggested, they stood beside the old Ford. Jim shook his head, pulling out his keys. "Sorry, Chief. I was just thinking."
"About what Ryan said?"
Jim nodded, pulling open Blair's door for him.
"So was I," Sandburg admitted before climbing into the cab of the truck and pulling the door shut behind him.
As Jim slid behind the wheel of the Ford, Blair spoke again. "Listen man, don't let Collins' nature versus nurture ramblings put you off. All psychology professors are like that. They think everyone's fascinating. No matter who you are or how you act, to them we're all a case study in abnormality."
Jim snorted. "Some of us more than others," he intoned just under his breath, casting a sly glance at his roommate as he said the words.
"I heard that," Blair replied petulantly as he drew the seat belt down across his lap and latched it into place.
Jim chuckled and reached out to crank the engine of the truck to life. Shifting into drive, he pulled out of the parking stall and proceeded toward University Avenue. It had been a long and unfruitful day--and he was glad to be heading home.
Part Five
Blair checked the clock at the back of the lecture hall as the last of his students filed out. Seven-thirty. He crossed to his desk and began stuffing his class notes into his backpack. He'd promised Jim he would be at the station by eight o'clock so they could conduct some additional research into the notes they'd accumulated during their investigation of the assailant who'd menaced UW and Rainier.
It had been two days since their failed attempt to catch the man attacking the handicapped students and staff. No other beatings had been reported...until today. Blair exhaled a long breath as he thought about the phone call he'd received from Jim just before his late afternoon class began.
"He's struck again, Chief. This time at Evergreen State College down in Olympia."
Blair wasn't completely surprised by the news, just disappointed. Jim had told him he thought the man would move his attacks to a different university following their failed attempt at apprehending him. But Blair had held out hope that the man would stop the beatings entirely, that he would realize that sooner or later he was going to get caught and would just give up.
"Very realistic, Sandburg," he muttered, zipp
ing his pack closed. At least he'd received some good news today--Jack Kelso was on the mend and would be going home tomorrow. Blair had talked to him on the phone just two hours ago, promising to give him a ride home from the hospital first thing in the morning.
As Blair swung his now filled pack over his shoulder, he caught movement out of the corner of his eye. He turned toward the open door of the lecture room. Ryan Collins sat there in his wheelchair, watching him. "Hey, Ryan, what's up?" Blair greeted the professor.
"I was sitting in on a lecture up the hall. We were just dismissed," Ryan explained. "When I saw your door still open, I thought I'd see if we could walk out together."
"Sounds good. I was just heading over to the station to meet Jim." Blair crossed the lecture hall and stepped into the hallway. Turning, he locked the large double doors behind him. Together, the two men made their way toward the exit. As Blair pushed out the door, he stopped for a moment and let the warm spring air waft over him. "Three more weeks," he said lightly.
Ryan looked up at him. "What's that?"
"Three more weeks until the end of the school year," he explained, smiling. "And I am more than ready for summer. I need those three months to catch up on my sleep."
"You don't teach summer courses?" Ryan asked as they crossed the campus toward the parking lot.
"Not this year. I plan to spend most of the summer down at the station with Jim." He looked down at Ryan again. "I'll bet you're more than ready to be finished with this assignment, huh?"
Collins shrugged one shoulder. "Not really. I've enjoyed the time I've spent here.... Well, except for the attacks of course." He glanced up at Blair. "I have to say, Blair, that I've been giving a lot of thought to the attacks." Collins laughed at his own statement. "I suppose after our conversation the other night you could have guessed that, right? Anyway, I'm still trying to understand what makes a person commit crimes like this. I mean, I understand what we're dealing with here. I can quote you all the underlying motivations and neuroses and so forth. But what I'm asking is 'what makes a person bad in the first place'?"