by Cindy Combs
"But Sam didn't do this," Father Frank replied, puzzled.
"Of course he did, Father! He's dirt."
"MOTHER!"
"Mom should be back from Atlanta in a few hours," Terry quickly whispered to his friend. "We'll get this cleared up."
Sam sighed. He had a very bad feeling about all this.
Sister Steve ran up behind them, drawn by the shouting. "What's going on?"
"The police want to question Sam about the bomb," Terry growled.
"What?" Steve exclaimed.
"Here," Sam quickly handed Steve a card from his wallet as the detective approached. "On this side are Blair's home, university, and cell phone numbers. Call him for me."
Steve stared at the card, then watched as Sam was lead away. That detective looks familiar
Back in the car, Fraser quietly stated, "He didn't do it, Ray." He then shot a glare at Dief, who was licking his chops after finishing Ray's forgotten doughnut.
Ray laid his head on the steering wheel, ignoring the wolf. "Fraser, he has motive, means, opportunity, and if I didn't get him away from there, that mother of the bride would've torn him to pieces."
Fraser lifted his eyebrows. "True, that woman did seem to be a threat, but I doubt she is correct in her assumption of his guilt. If one wants to stop a wedding, there are usually more direct ways than destroying the church two days before the blessed event."
"Perhaps he's not too bright," Ray pointed out as he shifted the car in drive and followed the patrol car with the suspect.
Fraser paused a moment, then shook his head. "There were many things I noticed about the young man, but lack of intelligence was not one of them."
Ray spared a glance from his driving. "What did you see?"
"Mr. Malloy is very comfortable and friendly with the engaged couple, as you would expect since he is the best man."
"Not always," Ray replied darkly. "You wouldn't believe some of the weddings I've been in."
"Perhaps, but if he was upset about the bride marrying someone else, he didn't show it. In addition, he seemed very relieved when the bomb expert said the bomb was defused. You would expect him to be a little disappointed if it was his bomb. In fact, why would he tell anyone about the bomb at all if he set it?"
"Maybe he was playing the hero," Ray suggested. "What better way to get a girl back than to show her you're brave and heroic?"
"Hmm."
"Was that a good 'hmm' or a bad 'hmm'?"
Fraser briefly lifted his eyebrows, not realizing he had said anything. "Neither. However, I did not see the young man displaying his bravery in front of the young woman. He did not strike me as having a personality that would brag about himself. Though that might have been due to his headache."
"Headache? How could you tell he has a headache?"
"He was pale, his eyes were squinting, and he was rubbing his forehead. All are signs of a headache."
"What do you want me to do, Fraser? Give our suspect an aspirin?" Ray asked sarcastically.
Unperturbed, Fraser replied, "Well, you may get more answers that way."
The discussion halted as they pulled up to the station.
Ellison's loft, Cascade, WA
Jim Ellison relaxed against the counter holding his coffee cup. With ease, he stretched out his hearing. His roommate's regular morning scramble was in progress. Drawers were hastily pulled out and pushed back, hurried steps dashed across the floor, books and papers shoved out of the way, shoes pulled out from under the bed, all accompanied by soft swearing. The hands on the clock confirmed that Blair was even more behind than usual. Megan Connor would be there to pick them up before Blair had time for one of his algae shakes. Jim smiled. As grateful as he was that his friend was alive, well and back living in the loft, there was no way Jim was going to make him one of those disgusting green shakes. They smelled horrible, especially to Jim's sensitive sentinel nose.
Stretching further, Jim picked up the elevator's climb to their floor. "Hurry up, Sandburg! Connor's almost here!"
Blair's bedroom door flew open as the young anthropologist/police consultant/guide rushed into the living area, pulling his thick curly hair back into a ponytail. "I'm ready." Before Jim could point out that Blair's shoes were untied, the phone rang. Jim winced a little, his hearing still turned up. He quickly concentrated to dial it down.
Noting his roommate's reaction, Blair quickly grabbed the phone before it could ring again. "Hello? I'm Blair Sandburg."
Jim walked over and opened the door for Megan. "Are you ready?" the slim redhead asked.
Behind him, Blair was asking, "Is Sam in trouble?" At the tone, Jim turned away from the Australian exchange officer to focus on his friend. "Where are they holding him?"
"Jim?" Megan whispered, "Who is that?"
Jim shrugged his shoulders as Blair hung up and immediately began searching around the phone. "Jim, do you know where my phone numbers are?"
"Under the phone," Jim replied as he walked over and pulled out the list in question. "What's going on?"
"Sam found a bomb this morning in a church in Chicago. For some reason they're holding him as a suspect."
"What?" Jim exclaimed in surprise. "Sam wouldn't bomb anything."
"Apparently, Cascade cops are smarter than Chicago's," Blair replied as he searched through the numbers.
"Who are you calling?" Megan asked.
"I'm going to try to get a hold of our Dad," Blair absently explained as he picked up the phone again. A few moments later, he stated, "Mac, this is Blair. Please call me as soon as you get this message." He hung up and searched the list again.
Jim frowned. "Not at his apartment?"
Blair shook his head as he dialed another number. "Hello, I'm trying to reach MacGyver. He's not? May I speak with Pete Thornton, then?"
Megan picked up on Jim's concern. "What's wrong?"
Jim shrugged. "Mac usually calls Blair once a week to chat, but he missed last week."
Blair hung up the phone and swore quietly. "No one knows where Mac is and Pete's on a fishing trip with his son. Guess I'll try Dalton."
As his roommate searched for another number, Jim picked up his cell. A few minutes later, Blair shook his head in frustration. "Jack's out on a flight. I had to leave a message at Mac's emergency number."
Jim flipped his own phone closed. "You now have a flight to Chicago, if you can pack your bags in ten minutes."
Blair flew into his room. "You got him a flight?" Megan asked. "If his brother is innocent, he could be out before Sandy leaves Cascade."
"True," Jim admitted, "but with the MacGyver family, it's usually not that easy. If Sam sent an SOS, he's probably going to need some help."
Chicago PD, 27th precinct.
After several hours of gathering information, statements, and interrogating the suspect, Ray and Fraser stepped outside to confer.
"I still don't think he did it," Fraser picked up from where they had left the conversation in the car. "He has no clear motive, plus most of the witnesses said he found the bomb by chance. I doubt he would risk a promising photo-journalism career just to impress an old girlfriend."
Ray sighed and ran his hands through his blond hair. "Yeah, but it is amazing what a guy would do to impress a girl when he's desperate. Besides, he may have done it simply to cover it. Other reporters have created a story just so they could report it."
"He left his camera in the car, Ray. It seems unlikely he would commit a crime for the news value, then leave his camera behind."
"Yeah, yeah," Ray slowly nodded his head, admitting defeat. "I don't think we have the right guy, either. He doesn't strike me as the bomb type."
"Guys," Francesca Vecchio called, walking up to them. "You may want to check this out."
"What?" Ray asked.
"Your suspect's brother just showed up."
"Brother? The bride's mother has been raging about how Malloy is an orphan bastard. How'd he get a brother?"
"I don't know, but he is k
inda cute and really raising a fuss."
"Okay, why don't we try and get his name, so you can run a background check."
Ray and Fraser followed Frannie to the front. A man in his late twenties was pacing furiously in front of the desk, his pony tail of curly brown hair swinging as he turned. He paused when he spotted Frannie. Large blue eyes inspected Ray. "Are you the detective working on the bombing case?"
"Yes," Frannie replied, "this is Detective Ray Vecchio."
"And you are...?" Ray added, noting the 'brother' didn't resemble their suspect in the least.
"Sandburg, Blair Sandburg."
"From...?"
"Cascade, WA." Turning to Frannie, who had been writing all this down, "When you do the background check, ask for Captain Simon Banks in the Major Crimes division of the Cascade PD. He will vouch for me."
Both Frannie and Ray blinked. A twinkle appeared in Fraser's eyes, but he managed to keep the smile off his face. "Are you his informant?" Ray asked, making a sweeping head to foot inspection of the blue jean and T-shirt clad young man.
"No, I work for him as a consultant," Blair stated quickly. "Now can we get back to my brother?"
"I can vouch for Mr. Sandburg," Fraser smoothly interrupted. "Or is it Dr. Sandburg now?"
Blair finally took a good look at the guy in red behind Det. Vecchio. "Constable Fraser?" he exclaimed in disbelief. "What are you doing here?"
"I came to Chicago on the trail of my father's killers, and for reasons too lengthy to explain at this juncture, I am now Liaison Officer with the Canadian consulate and aid the Chicago police."
"Wow," Blair replied, looking impressed for an instant before turning serious. "Can you tell me anything about Sam? Has he been charged?"
"Mr. Malloy? We were just discussing that." Fraser looked at Ray and raised an eyebrow.
"Okay," Ray threw up his hands in defeat. "I'll arrange his release. But he's still a suspect, meaning he better not leave town."
"Deal," Blair replied. "I'm sure Sam wants this cleared up as much as you do."
"Would you be interested in something to drink?" Fraser asked, wondering how the anthropologist had suddenly acquired a brother and why he was now working with the police.
"Sounds good," Blair replied, wiping back a damp strand of hair from his face. "I forgot how hot Chicago is this time of year."
Around the corner from the precinct, a small man with big, worried eyes stepped into a phone booth. Nervously, he slipped a quarter into the slot.
"Chicago PD," a voice answered.
"Hello, I want to report something suspicious."
"What is your name?"
"Ch- John. John Fish."
"What did you see, Mr. Fish?"
The man glanced at another man standing just outside the booth. The tall, dark-haired man made rolling circles with his hands, urging the other to hurry up.
"I -I saw someone on top of a roof across from your building. I think he had a gun."
"What type of gun?"
"How should I know? I didn't ask."
"You know, Mr. Fish, it is a crime to make a false report."
"I am not making this up!"
"All right, I will see if we can have someone check." The operator hung up.
As the man stepped out, his friend asked, "Well?"
"I don't think they bought it, Gare."
Swiftly, the tall man pulled a newspaper out of his hip pocket. The headlines read:
Wedding Bomber Suspect Killed in Front of Police Station
Grieving brother declares his innocence; Police suspect conspiracy
"Damn it, Chuck, it didn't change."
"Okay, so the police don't want to listen to either of us. We gave it our best shot. Back to the restaurant?"
"No, I'm just going to have to do this the hard way."
"Gary, are you NUTS!? The guy is probably guilty, anyways."
"According to the article, the guy's brother says he's innocent."
"What, like he wouldn't lie?"
Gary shot his friend a dirty look. "Besides, I know what it is like to be accused of wrecking an ex's wedding when you actually wish her well."
"It is one thing to sympathize with someone, but totally another to risk your life " Chuck suddenly realized his friend had turned his back and was running towards the precinct. "GARY!!!!!"
Holding a glass of juice, Blair joined Fraser at Ray's desk. "This is great," Blair declared after taking a sip. "That was really nice of Ms. Vecchio to find me grape juice instead of a can of pop." He reached down and patted Diefenbaker on the head.
"It is amazing what acts of kindness Francesca is capable of when she wishes it," Fraser commented. He glanced at Blair, "Are you still working on your Sentinel research?"
Blair barely controlled a jump, then quickly responded, "No, that wasn't working out. Right now I am working on subcultures within a police department."
Fraser's eyes narrowed at the obvious lie and swift change in subject. "That is a shame. I really enjoyed your Master's work, especially since I was one of the test subjects."
"Yeah, you were my only one with three enhanced senses," Blair smiled reminiscently.
"Didn't you tell me during the tests that you were an only child?"
Blair chuckled. "Well, I'm my mother's only child. I didn't know anything about my father until this last winter."
"So you didn't know Malloy until last winter?"
"Actually, I met Sam last fall. We just didn't know Mac was my dad, too, until a few months later. Yet it seems longer than that. He and I just clicked."
"Will your father be coming?"
Blair frowned, concern swirling in his big blue eyes. "I don't know. I tried to call before I left, but couldn't reach him. Jim, the detective I'm working with, is still trying."
"That worries you?" Fraser asked, wondering why Blair would be concerned over the lack of contact with a father he had known for less than a year.
"Mac usually calls me on Sundays, but he missed this last week without explanation. And before when Sam was nearly abducted, Mac raced half-way around the world to reach him. This silence just isn't like him, especially with Sam in trouble."
"Do you think something has happened to him?"
"I don't know," Blair replied slowly. He sighed, then looked at Fraser. "Mac is one of the good guys, but he has done work in the past where it wasn't a good idea for the bad guys to know he's a good guy. Does that make sense?"
"Yes," Fraser said thoughtfully, his mind briefly replacing his current blond, blue-eyed partner with another whose dark eyes and hair matched Frannie's. "So you are leery of digging further, in case he may be on another such assignment."
"Right, although he has said he didn't do that kind of work anymore."
Before Fraser could ask anything more, Ray brought Sam out of holding. "Sam!" Blair exclaimed, standing to greet him with a hug.
Sam smiled in relief at the sight of his older brother, enjoying the rare security in his brief embrace. "Man, am I glad to see you, Indy."
"Indy?" Ray questioned.
"Short for Indiana Jones," Blair explained with a roll of his eyes.
"Oh," Ray caught on, "because you're an archaeologist."
Fraser gave him a baffled look. "Blair is an anthropologist, and what does that have to do with one of your states?"
"I'll explain later," Ray assured him.
Blair noted the weariness and pain in Sam's eyes. "Why don't I take you back to the hotel and let you get some sleep?"
He was rewarded with a grateful smile. "That sounds good."
Blair draped a protective arm around Sam's shoulders, guiding his taller brother to the door.
"Remember to stay in town!" Ray called after them.
As the two men walked around the corner, Ray thoughtfully turned to Benton. "So, how long have you known this Sandburg guy?"
"Well, Ray, approximately three years. I met Mr. Sandburg when he was with an anthropology group from his University studyin
g survival techniques of Inuits. They ran afoul of a group of poachers, who abducted everyone with the exception of Mr. Sandburg. He had managed to elude capture but became lost trying to find help. When the group didn't report in, I was sent to check on them and found Mr. Sandburg. Together, we were able to stop the poachers and rescue his group."
Ray's eyes widened. "That guy helped you capture poachers? He doesn't look the type."
"Oh, Mr. Sandburg is quite an intelligent, quick-thinking young man. Appalling sense of direction, though."
Det. Dewey skidded around the corner. "There's shooting out front!"
Gary Hobson quickly studied the pictures of the soon-to-be victims in his newspaper, then searched the rooftops again, looking for the shooter. He still couldn't spot him from his position on the street.
Chuck ran up to him. "This is ridiculous, Gare. We know that pretty soon someone's going to fill this area with bullets. It seems like a dumb spot to be in."
At that moment, Gary saw two young men step out the main doors. "Well, you better find a place to hide, because this is it."
Catching a flash from the roof across the street, Chuck shouted, "There he is!" as Gary raced across the steps, tackling the two young men. They landed in a pile behind a cement planter as bullets showered the cement.
Hearing someone shout, Sam had just started to turn when someone slammed him into Blair, forcing them all to the ground. It wasn't until the shock of the impact eased that Sam realized he had heard gunshots.
"Are you all right?" their dark haired rescuer asked.
"Yeah," Sam said slowly, then winced when a bullet struck the planter next to them. He shifted on the hot sidewalk to look at his brother. "Blair?"
"Yeah," Blair gasped. "I just cut my shoulder on some glass." Another bullet whizzed over their heads. Blair looked over Sam to the other man. "Thank you."
The man smiled. He wasn't thanked very often. "You're welcome. How bad is your shoulder?"
Gripping his shoulder tightly, Blair gave him a weak smile. "Definitely better than getting shot, trust me." They all winced again as another bullet struck the planter.
Sam glanced back over to Blair. "You've been shot before? How'd that happen?"