Mistake

by Kristine Williams

  "Maybe it was too close a call, and the 8 million sounded like a good deal when there were no partners to split with?" Mills turned slightly to project his voice to Jim in the backseat.

  "If we don't get some leads soon, this guy's gonna be in Cancun or somewhere with his 8 million all to himself." Simon pulled into the parking garage and shut off the car. "Jim, why don't you give that car a good look when they bring it in, see if you can pick up anything. I'll check with records, see if anything's come up yet on Edwards or Patterson."

  "So far, we've found nothing on either of them." Mills got out of the car and glanced at Jim. "If I can use your computer, I'll bring up what little we have."

  "Of course." Jim turned to Simon. "So far, it looks like a small charge, remotely set off, was in the right rear tire. I'll go see if I can get any more from the forensics team."

  "Right."

  Jim turned to leave and Mills followed the Captain to the elevators. He crossed the garage, then walked around the back of the building to the forensics garage. Agent Mills' car was just being towed inside when he arrived. While he waited for the car to be set down, he pulled out the cell phone and called Blair.

  "Hello?"

  "Hey, Chief. I'm gonna be a little later getting back."

  "What's up?"

  "Agent Mills had some trouble transporting Edwards and Patterson back to Olympia."

  "Is he all right?"

  "Yeah, he's fine. The kidnappers are dead."

  "What?! Jim, what happened?"

  "Mills' car got a flat. When he got out to change it, he was blindsided. By the time he came to, Edwards and Patterson where dead."

  "I knew there had been another one."

  "Looks like it. Listen, I need to go over the car, do some checking. Are you going to be okay for a few more hours?"

  "Yeah, I'm fine."

  "I can stop by the U on the way home, but I don't know what time that will be."

  "That's okay, Jim. I can have someone drop the papers by. Is Agent Mills okay?"

  "Yeah, just a bump on the head. If you need anything, call me."

  "Right."

  Jim hung up, then walked to the car that was now being examined by several members of the forensic team. He stood behind the officer who was examining the blown tire and concentrated his sight on the fragments of rubber that were obviously facing outward, as if from an internal explosion. Jim let his vision focus on the inside of the tire, trying to get a closer look at the edges of the torn rubber. As his sight narrowed in, Jim felt the blackness reach out, taking hold of his sight. Before he could blink, his eyes were drawn inside, pulled in by some outside force that drew his focus completely into the hole. Jim suddenly lost sight of everything else around him, even his peripheral vision was filled with the blackness. His ears began to ring, and he heard again the deep growling from somewhere nearby. He tried to blink, to bring his focus back out of the black pit it had fallen into, but he couldn't. Sweat was beginning to build on his upper lip, and the growl grew in volume and intensity. Just when he thought he could feel himself physically falling, there was a hand on his shoulder, and his eyes snapped back into focus, making him shake his head with the dizziness that followed.

  "...if there was to begin with." The officer who had been talking to him finished his sentence, then walked over to the workbench. He realized the hand on his shoulder was still there, and Simon was standing beside him.

  "Whoever it was, he must have taken the device out before leaving the scene. Leaves us damn little to go on."

  Jim realized they had found nothing inside the tire. "I don't like this, Captain. Why leave Mills alive? If they were willing to kill me, as well as one other man along with Raymond, then why not kill one more?"

  "I don't know, Jim."

  "And right there in the open? It's a sure bet, given some time, we'll find someone who saw something." Jim shook his head, then followed his Captain back out of the garage.

  "Maybe he's already on a plane out of the country, with the money. Figured by the time we found a witness, or enough evidence, he'd be lounging on a beach somewhere."

  "Yeah." They went back into the Station, and Jim found Mills still at his desk. "Any luck?"

  Agent Mills shook his head, then leaned back and stretched, popping his knuckles. "Nope. Dead end here. Neither Edwards or Patterson had any kind of record. No family ties. Both residents of California, both unemployed for the past five years. Basically, these men are unremarkable in every way."

  "Except they kidnapped three people, and beat them all to death. Including a 16 year old girl." Jim glanced from Mills to Simon. "I want this one, Simon. He's got to have been the brains behind the whole operation. Edwards and Patterson were the muscle. That would explain how those two idiots could mistake Blair for Raymond. And, it would explain why the directions for the deliveries were so convoluted."

  "How do you figure that?" Mills asked.

  "He must have been following, keeping an eye on your agents as they kept an eye on the delivery. Maintaining contact with the other two, so that they could change directions often enough to lose all the tails."

  "Jim, that sounds an awful lot like you're suggesting someone on the inside." Simon shook his head. "The profilers would have taken that into consideration." He looked at Agent Mills.

  "Yes, they would have," Mills agreed. "But, that doesn't rule out the possibility of someone trailing. He'd just have to know who we were." He turned back to Jim. "You're sure you saw nothing in that club?"

  Jim shook his head. "No, nothing."

  "And I never caught a glimpse out there on the highway."

  "But then, that doesn't explain why he'd take me and Sandburg in the club, but leave you behind."

  "There's a lot about this case that isn't making sense." Mills shook his head slowly. "I'm afraid we may never know the facts. He's most likely already out of the country."

  "Probably," Simon agreed.

  "We might get more when forensics is finished with the car, but I'm not holding out much hope." Mills reached around to the back of Jim's desk where he'd set his coat. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got more paperwork to fill out." He pulled on his coat. "I was looking forward to heading home today. I guess that's not going to happen."

  "Yeah." Jim nodded, then glanced at the clock. "Simon, I'd better to check up on Sandburg. Let me know when the forensic report is in on the car?"

  "Sure thing."

  "Ellison, I'd like to stop by in the morning, maybe go over this whole thing once more with your partner. He might just recall something."

  "It's worth a shot," Jim replied. He left then, pulling his cell phone out of his jacket pocket as he crossed the hall. It took three rings before he heard an answer this time.

  "Hello?"

  "Hey, Chief. I'm on my way home. Do you still need those papers from Professor Kinyon?"

  "Oh, no, man, thanks. I had someone bring them over."

  Thank God. "Okay. I'll be there in a few minutes."

  "What did you find out?"

  "Not much. I'll fill you in when I get there." Jim ended the call and put the phone back in his pocket as he reached the truck. Blair sounded like he was in a better mood. Maybe he was realizing the new arrangement would work out. No, he never would realize that. Of that, Jim was certain.

  When he pulled in to his usual spot across the street, he noticed a young, attractive woman leaving the building's apartment entrance. He thought she looked somewhat familiar, and she smiled at him as he caught her eye. Must be the person Blair had deliver his papers. He'd been to Sandburg's office often enough to begin to recognize several people by sight, but her name was escaping him.

  The front door was unlocked, so Jim came inside, finding Blair still sitting at the kitchen table, glasses on, with papers strewn about the table.

  Part 11

  * * *

  "Hey, Jim."

  "Who was that just leaving?" Jim shut the door and secured the locks.

  "Oh, t
hat was Molly. She brought the papers and stayed for lunch." He pulled off his glasses and set them down. "What happened to Agent Mills?"

  Jim hung his coat up and walked into the kitchen. "He never saw who did it." He reached into the fridge and retrieved the deli meats he had put in there just yesterday. They hadn't been touched, so what Blair and Molly had eaten, he didn't know. "Looks like there was a remote charge in the tire, forensics is still working on the car." He found the bread and started to make a sandwich. It was 3:00 PM, so this would either be a late lunch, or early dinner.

  "Did you find anything?"

  Jim's mind flashed immediately back to the blackness of the tire...the feeling of being drawn into the dark by an unseen force. "No, nothing." He blinked the memory away and busied himself with making his lunch.

  "I don't get it, Jim. Why leave Mills alive? They brought you along from the club, which meant they were most likely going to kill all three of us, right?"

  "Right. The only reason I can think of is they thought I had seen something." He finished putting the sandwich together and returned what was left to the refrigerator. "He might have been ready to finish Mills off when he got interrupted, or just nervous about being out in the open like that." Jim picked up his sandwich and the glass of milk he'd just poured and walked out to the living room. Blair's paperwork was spread all over the table, so Jim sat on the couch with his lunch on the coffee table.

  "What about those DOT cameras on the overpasses?"

  "Already tried that, Chief. He timed it right in between two of them." He took a large bite out of his sandwich.

  "So we've got nothing?"

  Jim had his mouth full, so he just nodded. After he swallowed, he looked at Blair. "That's about it. Unless we can find someone who saw our third man, or we get lucky with forensics. But chances are, whoever he is, he's out of the country by now." He reached for his milk and saw Blair turn around in the chair to face him more. As he did, he winced, clenching his jaw tightly, but said nothing. Jim once again felt a flash of guilt, seeing his friend still in such pain. When it passed, Blair looked up.

  "You know, I've been thinking about that third man. I think ..."

  Blair's thought was interrupted by the phone. It was still on the table, next to his computer, so Blair picked it up. "Hello? Oh, sure Captain, he's right here."

  Jim stood and crossed the room, taking the phone from Blair's outstretched hand. "Ellison."

  "Jim, forensics came up empty. No fingerprints, no sign of whatever blew out that tire, other than some powdery residue the lab is testing. So far, the canvassers have come up empty. No one saw or heard anything."

  "Looks like our third man may as well have been a ghost." Jim caught Blair's gesture and pulled the phone away from his mouth, raising his eyebrows.

  "I think we can find him, Jim."

  "Hold on a second, sir, Sandburg has an idea." Jim brought the phone down and looked at Blair. "What are you thinking, Chief?"

  "Jim, when you came into that bathroom, your senses were on full alert. Whether you realize it or not, your eyes saw everything in there before you were hit."

  "So, what good will that do us? I was hit from behind."

  Blair nodded, his normal level of enthusiasm building up. "I know, but you were facing the mirror when you came in. We just have to make you remember, Jim."

  Jim brought the phone back up. "Simon, Sandburg's had one of his ideas."

  "That can't be good," Simon teased.

  Jim laughed a little, but knew better than to relay that little tidbit. "He thinks maybe I did see who hit me, and just don't remember it."

  "So, what good will that do?"

  "I think I know what he's planning. It's worked before, Captain. If he's right, we just might have a face to go by, if not a name."

  "Hang on, Jim."

  He heard the phone click onto hold and moved the mouthpiece away. "You really think this will work, Chief?"

  "I do, Jim."

  "Jim, Agent Mills is here. I've told him you have a plan, and he wants to be there when you try...whatever it is you're going to try."

  "Sure thing, Captain."

  "He'll be over in an hour. Keep me informed."

  "Yes, sir." Jim hung up the phone and set it back on the table. "Mills is coming over, wants to be here when we do this. Maybe it will work for him, too. He was facing the car, might have seen something reflected in the paint."

  Blair made a face, then ran a hand through his hair. "I'm not sure that will work, Jim. If he's here and you can't concentrate?"

  "Well, we can give it a shot before he..." Jim was interrupted by the phone. He let Blair pick it up, then sighed in relief at his own foresight.

  "Professor Kinyon, hello." Blair looked up at Jim and rolled his eyes. "Yes, thank you."

  Jim laughed and returned to the couch to finish his lunch. From the sounds of it, Blair was going to be a while. He removed his gun and cuffs and set them on the coffee table so he could sit back and be more comfortable. The sun was streaming in, hitting him as he sat there. His sandwich finished, Jim leaned back on the couch, listening to Blair's half of the conversation. It took mere minutes for the combination of sun, lunch, and stress to put him to sleep.

  The press of bodies was overwhelming, and Jim was glad he had taken off his jacket. He didn't remember taking it off, but he was clad only in jeans, a shirt, and shoes, with his gun in a shoulder holster. Why he was wearing it that way, he didn't know, but with the noise and confusion increasing with each hour, he was glad he had them. The music was getting louder, and the crowd wouldn't move or even acknowledge his presence as he searched for Blair. Jim was certain he had to be nearby. Blair was always nearby. Something close growled, like an animal, and Jim's entire body was on alert. He reached for his gun, pulling it slowly out of its holster and holding it ready as he scanned the darkness around him. He couldn't focus through the blue haze of the club, and the strobe lights above sent lightning flashes of blue all around him, making it harder to see through the people. His hearing refused to pinpoint the animal that he now realized was stalking him. Why wouldn't these people move? He tried to shout at them, but he couldn't get the words out over the deafening roar of the band. His hearing refused to block out the noise, and his head was spinning with the blue lights.

  "Sandburg!" Jim shouted. Nothing. There was movement behind him, and Jim spun around, gun raised. He expected an animal. The animal that was stalking him. What he saw startled him for an instant, and he lowered the gun instinctively.

  "You sent him away."

  It was him. The man Jim had seen in the jungle, when Blair told him to follow the panther. The same man who had been the panther. "You?" Jim lowered the gun all the way. "Where is he?"

  "It was not your decision to make," the man replied.

  Jim looked around the club at the people pressing in around him. None of them seemed to know he was there. They didn't even look at the native man standing there, spear in hand, talking to him. Jim's gaze returned to where his Spirit Guide had been, and found no one.

  "Sandburg!" What the hell was going on? Jim turned around, searching the crowd. Something black moved just out of his vision, and he chased after it, pressing through the throng of club goers who still ignored him. The blue flashing lights were bathing everything in their glow, making even Jim's skin glow blue. When he neared the edge of the room, he found the man again, standing against the mens room door.

  "Where is he?"

  "You sent him away."

  "You mean Sandburg?" How did he know? "I sent him away for his own good. It's not safe. He's not safe." Surely he understood that? Someone had to understand that.

  The man shook his head slowly, then turned to leave.

  "Wait! You can't leave. My senses--I--I'm losing control." Jim felt desperate, alone. He couldn't move, couldn't follow after the man who was still walking away. "You told me I had to commit, well I did!" Damn him! What more did he want? "What do you want from me?!"

 
; At that, the man stopped, but did not turn. "What do you want from yourself?"

  Jim paused, breathing heavily in the sweltering humidity of too many humans in a small room. "You said it would require my soul, now you've taken it away."

  The man turned slowly, looking at Jim for a long moment before speaking. "I took nothing."

  Jim listened, trying to understand what he wasn't saying, but there was a buzzing in his head, and it was growing louder, making it hard to concentrate. "I never wanted them in the first place, but I understand now, they're a part of me. I took that step, I made that decision to stay with them. I can't make that decision for Blair as well."

  "No, you cannot." With that, the man turned again, and walked into the mens room.

  "Wait!" Jim shouted, reaching out. He couldn't move, couldn't follow the man as he disappeared into the darkness. He was alone. And the confusion was all around him, pressing in. The club and the crowd began to grow up before his eyes as if to drown him into insignificance with their size. He watched in horror as the people and building suddenly and inexorably grew around him. The heat became unbearable, and it was getting harder and harder to breath. Jim couldn't move, couldn't run, and the pounding of the band was growing in volume as it grew in size. He swallowed, trying to push down the feeling of panic that threatened from deep within. The blue lights filled his vision.

  "It's about friendship."

  The voice caused Jim's head to spin around, and he locked eyes with the panther as it stood behind him. His first instinct was to let out a sigh of relief. His Spirit Guide hadn't left, just turned back into the panther. But, even as Jim exhaled his relief, he noticed, with a chill that shot down his spine, the eyes. What had once been, and should still be, green cat's eyes, were now blue. His heart stopped, and the eyes drew him in. He couldn't move, couldn't take his eyes off the blue cat's eyes staring back at him, hypnotizing him. He felt the club fall away in a blurred rush, and felt himself being drawn into the blue. His heart began to race, and he saw the tension building in the muscles of the big cat's legs. Oh God, he's going to strike! He could sense the cat preparing to leap, but his eyes wouldn't move, nor would his legs. Sweat was building on his upper lip, and he heard the cat growl deep within its chest. Before he could react, it leapt, striking Jim full in the chest. His arms locked around the beast, and the force of the impact pushed Jim backwards. Claws began to dig at his chest, tearing at his heart, and teeth came for his neck. Jim fought to remain on his feet, sensing the mirror right behind him, but the claws were searching for something, trying desperately to tear his heart right out of his chest. The teeth were so close to his eyes he couldn't move. He fell, praying the impact of them hitting the floor would break the cat's hold. Just as Jim lost his balance, he felt the glass of the mirror slam into his back, shattering as he and the panther fell into, and then through it.