by Carol Roi
Leaning forward slightly, Jim laid a hand on Blair's forearm. "Because you wanted to do the right thing, Chief. You're the kind of person who can't stand by and do nothing if it's within your ability to help." He realized those words were in direct opposition to what he was about to say next. "That not withstanding, I'm asking you to quit this assignment and come home." At Blair's vehement headshake, Jim continued. "Just hear me out. Whoever killed Cyndi was looking for something. I don't think they found it. And they've made it obvious they want you out of the way for whatever reason. The only thing that could tie you to her death is your knife. Whoever did this had to know it was yours. If I were them, my next move would be to come after you." Jim's eyes met Blair's, and the younger man could see his friend's fear clearly. "I couldn't take finding you the way you found Cyndi tonight."
"I know, Jim, and I don't ever want to put you through that. But I can't quit. I owe it to Cyndi, to the innocent people of Cascade, and to myself to find out what happened and put Cristo away. I can't leave the job undone just because I'm scared." Blair shoved his hair behind his ears nervously. "You may be the Guardian of the Great City, but sometimes there are places you can't go, people you can't help, but I can. I may not be totally at ease with being the Shaman of the Great City--god, that sounds so pretentious--but I know what I have to do here, Jim. You're not the only one who has a responsibility to the tribe. I am not quitting." He sat back in his seat, folding his arms across his chest, daring the sentinel to argue with him.
Ellison glared at him for a long time, his jaw muscles working and nostrils flaring. Finally he calmed down enough to speak. "Okay, okay. I can see you're going to be stubborn about this."
"I learned from the best, man." He gave his partner a cheeky grin.
"I'll let you continue on one condition& "
Blair snorted. "You'll let me!"
Jim ignored the sarcasm. "We have got to find a way to get you better backup. For all we know, it could have been someone inside Cristo's organization that killed Cyndi. You need someone in there with you, someone you can trust." Jim didn't like the way his partner's eyes were beginning to light up.
"We're on the same wavelength, man. I've already laid the groundwork to bring someone else in. Cristo and I have a meeting to discuss it in the morning."
"Good. I'm glad we agree on this. What time do you need me?"
The twinkle in Blair's eye was blinding. "Sorry to disappoint you, Jim, but you were not who I had in mind." Getting to his feet, he took his now-cold coffee to the sink and dumped it. He couldn't stop the grin spreading across his face as he turned back towards his friend. "Think Megan would be really pissed if I woke her up to tell her about her job interview?"
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Simon Banks stood just inside the doorway of Cyndi Blake's apartment, going over the information the beat cops he'd had knocking on doors had brought back. It was a whole lot of nothing. No one had seen or heard anything out of the ordinary. Taking the cigar out of his mouth, he dismissed the uniforms. He looked up to see the attendants from the coroner's office carrying the body bag out. Serena Chang waved her people on as she stopped when Banks asked, "Do you have a cause of death?"
"It looks like massive blood loss from the knife wounds. And she was beaten pretty badly, too. I'm thinking we'll find quite a few internal injuries at the autopsy." She looked up at the tall man. "Aren't you going to ask me what I didn't find?"
The captain frowned. "I'll bite, what didn't you find?"
"There was no gunshot wound to the head. This isn't the same MO as the other murders."
Simon scratched his head. "So we might be looking at a copycat here& ."
"Or someone who didn't have all the details. We really haven't released much info to the press, in case we were dealing with a serial killer."
"But they knew about the cross." That meant something, but Simon couldn't quite grasp what it was.
Serena nodded. "But from what I understand about these killings, anyone inside the drug trade here in Cascade would know about the cross. The only people who wouldn't know are the general public."
"So our killer's someone with ties to the trade." The nasty thought that had eluded him before became clear. "Or someone in law enforcement with access to the case files."
"That's a lot of people, Captain, from the first uniform on the scene 18 months ago to the DA. I'll call you as soon as I have the autopsy results." She headed out the door, bumping into the two people Simon had the least desire to see.
DEA Agents Manning and Collier entered, looking like fraternal twins in matching suits and trenchcoats. "What in the hell is going on here, Captain?" Manning snapped. "Don't tell me that was the Blake woman they just carried out of here!"
"Please, gentlemen, keep your voices down. Yes, that was Cyndi Blake."
Collier looked like he was ready to punch the wall. "Damn it, damn it, damn it. There goes our whole case. Without her connection to Cristo, we'll never find out when the drug deal is going to go down."
Banks raised an eyebrow. "Sandburg is still under, or have you forgotten about him?"
Manning's next words reminded Simon why he disliked these two so much. "Sandburg? That punk couldn't investigate his way out of a paper bag. All he's done is tag along on Cyndi's skirt tails--" His tirade was interrupted as one of the forensic techs approached Captain Banks.
"We're all through here, sir." He held up a plastic bag containing a Swiss Army knife. "Ms. Chang thinks this is the murder weapon. Do you want me to rush it to the lab for testing?"
Before Banks could answer the question, Collier snatched the bag out of the technician's hands. "I know this knife. This is Sandburg's knife!"
Simon grabbed the evidence back and handed it to the tech. "You can go, Johnson." Once the man had left, he turned a furious glare on the two agents. "Thank you for announcing that to everyone in the building! And how in the hell do you know that's Sandburg's knife?"
"We've seen him use it, cut bags open for sampling with it. Why are you just standing here, Captain? You should be arresting that screw-up right now," Manning said.
"Perhaps I would be, if I didn't know Sandburg has an alibi for the time of death. He was having dinner with his partner--" Manning opened his mouth to comment, but Simon cut him off, "--and me. I think we have the investigation well in hand. If I need any help from you, I'll ask for it."
Taking that as their cue to leave, the two Feds exited the apartment. Once the elevator doors closed on them, Collier swore. "Damn it! I thought you said the bastard was home all evening!"
Manning shrugged. "How the hell was I supposed to know? His car was parked at his place all night."
His partner swore again. "All that work wasted. Guess it was a good thing we kept Cyndi from blabbing to Cristo that Sandburg is with the cops. Back to plan A then?"
The dark-haired man nodded. "Back to waiting. We just better make sure Sandburg gives the date and location of the drop off to us, not Banks." They exited the elevator silently and disappeared into the night.
Part Four
Blair shuffled out of Hargrove Hall, his backpack hanging precariously from one shoulder. Covering his mouth with his hand, he stifled a yawn. The grad student by day, drug dealer by night thing was wearing on him. Since Cyndi's murder two days ago, he'd been afraid to go to sleep, afraid he'd have more visions.
It was nearly six pm as he crossed the darkened parking lot to his car. Thank god he didn't have to head over to Cristo's warehouse tonight. Unlocking the door, he climbed into his Volvo, stuck the key in the ignition, turned it, and nothing happened. He stared at the dashboard for several seconds, then leaned his head on the steering wheel. Mike had warned him the starter was going. Why, oh why hadn't he listened?
"Shit." This was great, just great. It couldn't get much worse.
Plop.
Plop.
Blair looked up at the windshield. Fat drops of rain wer
e beginning to come down. "It can't get any worse, Sandburg," he snarled to himself sarcastically. "Yeah, right." Getting out of the car, he popped the hood and began wiggling wires. One of them had to go to the starter, right?
His attention was so concentrated on the motor that he didn't realize someone had walked up until a warm alto voice said, "Hey."
Startled, Blair straightened up and bumped his head on the underside of the hood. "Oh, damn it, ow!" He turned toward the speaker, rubbing his head. Friendly blue eyes twinkling in merriment met his. At least she had the good grace not to laugh out loud at his predicament.
"Dee..." he breathed. Even though she'd left him two months ago, the sight of his ex-lover still made his pulse race and his body ache for her every time he saw her. He took a moment to just admire her, taking in the long chocolate hair spilling over her shoulders, the brilliant blue sweater that matched her eyes, and the painted on black jeans. The ever-present long black trenchcoat and an umbrella she held thoughtfully over both of them completed the ensemble.
The last time he'd seen her had been a couple weeks ago. They both worked in Hargrove Hall, but in different departments, he in anthropology, and she in history. They often passed in the hallway, but rarely said more than "Hi" to each other. It was simply too painful. "What are you doing here?" he stammered, suddenly nervous.
She smiled at him tenderly. "I was getting ready to go home, and I saw you were having car trouble. I'd offer to take a look at it for you, but you know me and cars." She shrugged in apology. "I can offer you a ride home, though."
Blair shook his head. "No, thanks, Dee. I'll be fine, really."
Cocking an eyebrow at him, she replied, "Jim on his way, eh?" When he hesitated a bit too long in his reply, she slammed the hood shut and took gentle hold of his arm. "Get your backpack, Lobo. I'll take you wherever you need to go."
Grabbing his pack out of the car, he followed the Immortal to her Cherokee, which was parked a couple of spaces down from his Volvo. Climbing into the passenger seat, he fastened his seatbelt, then sat with his bag on his lap, his arms wrapped around it as if it could protect him from the questions he was sure would come.
Dee started the Jeep, and pulled out of the parking lot. "To the loft?" she asked.
Blair swallowed past the sudden lump in his throat at the mention of the apartment he'd shared with Jim. He hadn't seen his home in over six weeks. Finally he managed to choke out, "No. I don't live with Jim anymore. I have a place of my own." Blair stared out the windshield, wondering what he would tell her if she asked why.
There was silence for a few seconds, then she said, "I need the address, Lobo. Otherwise we'll be driving around all night."
"1025 Forest Avenue," he managed, and she took a left at the next light.
Once again there was a short period of quiet inside the car, then Dee asked, "Do you want to talk about it?"
Biting his lip, Blair shook his head. "No. It's best if I don't." He felt her intense gaze on him, and he silently prayed for her to let it go, because if she pushed, he just might crack, and the last thing he needed was an enraged Champion tearing up Cascade's drug trade.
"Okay." She changed the subject. "Have you had dinner? No, of course you haven't. Do you have plans for dinner? Because if you don't, I know this great Indian place right off Forest. My treat."
This was just too surreal. He was living a double life as a criminal, separated from his Sentinel, his friend had been brutally murdered, and she was talking about eating out. Pressing his forehead against the cold window, Blair breathed through the nausea churning in his stomach. "You feeling okay?" Dee asked him, the back of her hand brushing against his cheek.
Her touch was almost too much. He couldn't deal with this, with her caring, not with all the ugly shit going on in his life. "I'm fine," he finally choked out. "Please, just take me home." Instead, Blair felt the Cherokee slowing as Dee parked it at the curb, leaving the engine running. He sensed her lean toward him, her fingers grasping his shoulder. He could feel her warmth even through the heavy jacket he wore, and then his spiritual bond with her flared to life. The rush of love and concern was overwhelming. Blair leaned back against the seat, breathing through his mouth, trying to maintain some kind of control over his emotions, to keep from losing it completely.
Several long intense minutes passed, neither of them saying a word, the only sound Blair's heavy breathing. Dee was holding his hand now, and he squeezed her fingers in a death grip. Finally, the storm inside Blair calmed, and he was able to speak. "Dee, please, I know you want to help me, but this is something I have to do on my own. Please don't ask me any questions. Just take me home." He felt strong enough to spare a look at her.
Her expression was one of caring, mingled with worry. "All right, I won't ask you for any specifics. But I want you to know if you need help, if you need someone to talk to, you can come to me." At Blair's nod, she put the car in gear and pulled back out into traffic. "Now, when was the last time you had anything to eat?" At Blair's shrug, she said, "That's what I thought. I'm going to run past the grocery and pick up some supplies, then I'm going to cook dinner for you. And I'm not taking no for an answer."
She flashed him a quick grin, and Blair felt one crossing his face in return. She seemed more than willing to forget she had been the one to walk out on him, and he had to admit he'd missed her presence in his life. Maybe, just for tonight, he could forget the life he was living, and lose himself in the one that might have been.
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Diandra stood in the hallway of Blair's apartment building, clutching two bags of groceries as he unlocked the door. The neighborhood was not the best, but the building seemed safe enough, if a bit run down. Once again, she wondered what could have happened to cause Blair to leave his Sentinel's side. She couldn't help but notice the dark circles and tired lines around his pain-filled blue eyes. He'd lost weight, too, and his whole posture indicated a deep and unrelenting weariness. Dee knew she'd promised not to pry, but she wasn't leaving here tonight without some answers.
Not for the first time, she regretted her decision to end their relationship. At the time, Diandra had thought she was doing the right thing. Her re-emerging Champion senses, and the fact she was unbonded, that she had no Companion, had been driving Ellison nuts. She had seen leaving as the only solution, the only way to keep her presence in Cascade from tearing Sentinel and Guide apart. Now it seemed as if her sacrifice had been for naught. If Jim and Blair were no longer partners, did that leave the door open for her to return? Goddess, that was the weeks of being without Blair talking. She could never do that to Jim, could never steal his guide away from him, not if she wanted to be able to look herself in the mirror each morning.
Blair finally got the door open, and Dee followed him inside, her quick gaze taking the apartment in. It was small; the front door opened into the living room and the kitchen was on the right. A short hallway led from the living room to what she assumed was the bedroom. Heading for the kitchen, she set her packages down on the counter, and began to pull out the ingredients for pasta. Blair took her coat from her, and she watched him hang it on the coat rack just inside the front door, noting the fighting staff leaning against the wall. "You keeping up with your martial arts?" she asked.
Blair walked back into the kitchen and began getting out pots and cooking utensils. "Yeah, living in this neighborhood kind of keeps me on my toes." Filling a large pot with water, he set it on the stove to boil.
Dee began to combine ingredients in a smaller pan for the sauce. "So how long have you been living here?"
"About six weeks."
"You like it?" Out of the corner of her eye, she could see him biting his lip. She turned to face him, leaning against the counter. "Lobo, please, I can see, I can feel you hurting. Talk to me. Tell me why Jim isn't here. Why he would let you leave your home?" As she said the words, she remembered Blair telling her about Alex Barnes and
how Jim had kicked him out then. "Jim didn't force you to leave, did he? Tell me this has nothing to do with my relationship with you."
Blair shook his head. "No, Dee, this has nothing to do with that. Jim knows where I am. I still see him, I'm still his guide, but that's kind of taken a back seat for the moment."
Stunned, Dee asked, "A back seat to what? What could be more important than your partnership?"
Folding his arms over his chest, Blair stared at the worn linoleum. "I'm undercover on a case," he finally mumbled.
"What? Why? Lobo, you're not a cop, and I mean that in the best way possible. This isn't your responsibility. This is Jim's job, and he should be the one doing it, or at the very least, he should be backing you up, not halfway across town."
Blair's head came up and Dee could see the agony in his eyes. "I know, but this is the way it has to be. Look, Dee, just drop it, okay? I can't talk about it. Not with you, not with anyone."