Sentinel - Progression Series 10 Pilgrimage Part 1

by Beth Manz

  Eli moved haltingly forward, his gaze shifting from Blair to Jim and back again. “I was told that Andrew Rehse was found too. That he’s…dead.”

  “Yes,” Jim said apologetically. “I'm sorry, Eli. The other two boys are still missing. We’re holding out hope but it doesn’t look good.”

  Stopping at the side of the bed, Eli tilted his head to the left and stared down at the young man before him, seeming to almost study him. Tentatively, he touched the distinctive, rectangular irritation around the anthropologist’s eyes and mouth. “What’s this? What caused this…marking?” He looked up at Jim with obvious confusion.

  “Duct tape," Jim answered quietly, swallowing deeply. It was still difficult for him to see the rash, to know how that tape had been used on Blair. "Whoever did this not only bound Blair's hands and feet, but also put duct tape over his mouth and eyes,” he explained to Dr. Stoddard. “The Rehse boy was found the same way.”

  Eli shook his head slowly as his gaze wandered across Blair's unconscious form. “I've observed many cultures in my career, Jim," the elderly professor noted quietly, his gaze never lifting away from Blair, "and I've seen societies commit atrocities against their citizens for any number of reasons. Many of those reasons are even considered by the culture to be legitimate. But here…in our country…we hurt people out of greed, out of meanness, for fun or pleasure…” He brushed the back of his hand gently against Blair’s cheek. “We're worse than animals,” he breathed out.

  Jim bowed his head. The professor was right. He lived with the proof of the statement on a daily basis, saw how cruel men and women could be to each other. He'd spent his entire professional career working to stop such cruelty, but no matter how hard he worked, innocent people like his partner, like the young men he was with, were still hurt every day.

  "I’d like to sit with him for a while,” Eli's low voice scattered Jim’s dark reverie. “Would that be all right?”

  “Of course,” Jim agreed softly. “I need to clean up a bit and I didn’t want to leave him alone, so you’d be doing me a favor if you stayed with him.”

  “Thank you,” Eli whispered.

  Jim stepped into the hall and turned left. He rubbed absently at his aching back as he walked the short distance down the hospital corridor. Reaching the men’s room, he moved inside and crossed to the sink. He turned on the cold water and splashed his face, hoping the gesture would help to revive him a little. He was tired. Exhausted. But not from a lack of sleep. This weariness came from his soul. Sitting with his partner all night, listening to his labored breathing, seeing the bruises on his body…Jim gripped the sides of the sink, his knees suddenly weak. He squeezed his eyes shut against the swell of grief that welled up within him.

  “We're worse than animals.”

  And as Eli Stoddard’s words came back to Jim, the grief he’d been feeling turned to anger. Fury. He looked up into his own steely blues eyes reflected in the mirror above the sink. “I will find out who did this,” he promised himself silently. “They will be brought to justice.”

  Stepping out of the bathroom, Jim turned back toward Blair’s room. At the end of the hallway, the elevator doors opened and Simon exited. The captain had a folder tucked under his arm--information regarding the case, Jim was sure. As the captain drew closer, the sentinel couldn’t help but notice Simon was wearing the same clothes he’d had on the day before. In all likelihood Simon had not gone home last night, had probably gotten less sleep than he had.

  “How’s Sandburg doing?” Simon asked, stopping in front of Jim.

  The sentinel shrugged one shoulder. “The same. Dr. Stoddard is with him right now.” He nodded toward the file under Simon’s arm. “Did you find out anything more?”

  “Some interesting things have come to light.” Simon gestured toward the waiting room at the end of the hall. Once settled into the hard plastic chairs, Simon opened the folder and flipped through the information inside. “Search and Rescue found the other two boys early this morning,” he informed Jim. “Both are dead.”

  Jim rubbed at his eyes. “Yeah, well, that’s what we expected, right?”

  Simon nodded tiredly. “One of the boys actually managed to get the tape off himself. But both his legs were broken and he couldn’t maneuver himself out of the small ravine he was in. According to the rescue crew, the kid had tried to protect himself from the elements by covering himself with leaves and things. But it didn’t help. He died of exposure late the second day.”

  Jim shuddered at the words. “I knew it had to be cold on that mountain. How the hell did Sandburg survive?”

  Simon shook his head. “We were lucky, Jim. Damn lucky.”

  “Yeah,” Jim breathed out. He gestured toward the open file in Simon's lap. “What about the other boy?”

  “That’s the interesting part.” Simon looked down at the file, his brow creased. “He was dead before he was pushed. Single gunshot to the back of the head.”

  “Executed,” Jim muttered.

  “That’s what it looks like to me.” He handed a set of crime scene photos to Jim. “Forensics checked the boys' clothing, looking for any hair or fiber samples we could use. But the rain pretty much washed away anything that might have been left behind. We put out an APB on the missing vehicle, and we’re hoping to get a hit there.”

  Jim sorted through the photos, trying to look at the bodies of the students with a professional eye. But all he could see was his partner, bound the same way these bodies had been bound. His partner, helpless and in pain, slowly dying. He gave the photos back to the captain, unable to hide the minute shaking of his hand.

  “Which boy was shot?” he rasped out.

  Simon flipped through the pages again. “Meade. Peter Meade. Taggert ran his name but no record came up in the computer. Brown and Rafe are talking to his parents right now, trying to see if they know anything and hoping to get a list of his friends from the university that they’ll track down later.”

  “I don’t know, Simon. None of those kids struck me as being involved in illegal activities. I don’t want to make any kind of assumptions or accusations until we know something concrete.”

  “Agreed.” He closed the file again and slipped it under his arm. “Right now, the bullet from that boy’s head is our only solid piece of evidence. We’re running it through ballistics to try and get a match. We find the gun that bullet came from, we’ve found the people behind this.” He rubbed at tired eyes. “That’s really the only chance we have right now.”

  Jim shook his head. “You’re wrong there, Simon. We still have Blair. When he regains consciousness, we’re going to get a lot of answers--maybe all our answers.”

  Simon nodded. “Yeah. Good point.”

  But as Jim stared down at the file Simon still held, something else occurred to him. “Sir, if Search and Rescue just found those bodies this morning, how did you get the autopsy report and crime scene photos so quickly?”

  Reaching out, Simon laid a hand on Jim’s shoulder, squeezing gently. “Everyone down at the station is putting in overtime on this one, Jim. We all want the bastards who did this to Sandburg.”

  “Thank you, Simon. And please, could you thank everyone down at the station for me? Let them know how much I appreciate this.”

  “They already know, Jim. They already know.”

  /

  Jim allowed Simon to talk him into accompanying him to the cafeteria for some breakfast. As Simon had pointed out, he wouldn’t be much good to Blair if he collapsed from lack of food.

  Now, nearly an hour after leaving Blair, he approached his partner's room again. Simon had gone back to the station, wanting to see if anything new had developed in the time he’d been away. Jim had once again asked him to thank everyone in Major Crimes. But it wasn’t just Major Crimes. It was Serena and her Forensics people, Dan Wolf and his crew in the Coroner’s office. Clearly, Blair had become one of them. Jim had known it for a long time but this was concrete proof of his partner’s acceptance.<
br />
  Pausing outside Blair’s hospital room, Jim extended his hearing, wanting to make sure he wasn’t interrupting anything before entering. Eli Stoddard’s quiet voice reached him.

  “….so we spent nearly three days up to our ankles in mud because Roger dropped our only working compass in the swamplands.”

  Jim smiled. He was telling Blair a story, his voice filled with warm affection for the young anthropologist. Jim hesitated only a moment more before opening the door and stepping inside the room.

  Eli sat on the edge of the bed, Blair’s right hand enclosed in both of his. He glanced up at Jim as he drew near. “I was just telling Blair about some of the misadventures he missed in Borneo.”

  Jim nodded as he walked up and stopped beside Blair's bed. Reaching out, he brushed at his partner’s hair briefly before resting his hand against his forehead. He felt warm--too warm--the fever still raging through his body. “He’d like that,” he finally whispered.

  “He’s asked me about that trip so often….” Eli’s voice trailed off. He shook his head. “I kept putting it off, telling him that there was plenty of time to talk about that. I was more interested in his sentinel research. Now…now I wish I'd taken the time to tell him about it.”

  “There’ll be plenty of time to tell him all about Borneo…and all the other places you’ve been.” Jim placed a hand gently on the professor’s shoulder and squeezed it reassuringly. “He’s going to be fine, Eli. Blair’s a fighter. He always has been.”

  The older man nodded. “You know, I can still remember the first day Blair came to Rainier. It’s like it was just yesterday.” He looked at Blair again, smiling fondly. “He volunteered for every project he could, finagled his way into any trip that had an opening, and talked non-stop about anything that had to do with anthropology.” He chuckled softly. “He had such an enthusiasm for everything. I wish you could have known him then.”

  Jim looked down at his friend. “Has he really changed all that much?”

  “No,” Eli said thoughtfully. “No, he hasn’t. Somehow he’s managed to achieve all his goals and beyond…and still maintain that enthusiasm he has for life.” He visibly tightened his grip on the hand he still held. “I’m very proud of him.” He dropped his gaze, became silent.

  Jim wanted to offer comfort to this man who cared so deeply about his guide. But he was uncertain what to say, knowing there was really nothing he could say. But as the silence stretched on too long, he finally spoke. “Eli, Blair will pull through this.”

  The chancellor nodded, but his gaze remained uncertain. “I just wish I’d never sent him on that trip. I wish I’d gone myself.”

  “I doubt Blair would wish the same thing,” Jim said quietly.

  “Did you know I never married, Jim?" Eli asked unexpectedly.

  Jim lowered himself into the chair by the bed. He looked up at the professor and shook his head. "No, sir, I didn't know that."

  Eli smiled, his eyes taking on a distant look. "I just never met the right woman, was too busy out in the field, didn’t have the time.” He shrugged one shoulder. “For whatever reason, I just didn’t. But because I didn’t marry, I never had children.” He let out a long, rattling breath. “That was my one regret...until Blair came to Rainier.” He looked down at Blair's face, his eyes filling with warm affection. “This boy...” he whispered, “he’s like a son to me. To know this was done to him on a trip I sent him out on….” His voice cracked and he dropped his gaze again.

  “This is not your fault,” Jim said. “You can’t blame yourself. Not for Blair or any of the others.”

  “Andrew is dead,” Eli whispered. And as he looked up again, locking his gaze on Jim, the sentinel thought he looked old…old and worn out. “Andrew was just a boy,” he continued softly. “Barely twenty years old. And Stanley and Peter….I can only pray they’re all right.”

  At the mention of the other boys, Jim stiffened. He doesn’t know. Eli doesn’t know they’ve been found. “Eli,” he began slowly, but before he could say anything more the man before him dropped his chin to his chest and closed his eyes in obvious defeat.

  “They’re dead, aren’t they?” he asked flatly.

  “Yes. I’m sorry.” Jim shifted his gaze away, allowing the man a moment to digest this new information. He listened instead to the sound of Blair’s heartbeat, said a silent thank you once again that he was still alive.

  “I’m going to have to leave.”

  Jim looked up at the sound of Eli’s voice. The professor was looking at Blair but Jim knew the statement had been directed at him.

  “I have to talk to the families of those students,” he continued, his tone reserved, professional. It was the tone he would need to use when he spoke to the parents of those dead boys.

  “I’m sure the department has already informed the families,” Jim offered, hoping to relieve some of the man’s burden.

  Slowly, Eli’s gaze shifted to Jim. “Yes, I’m sure they have. But those boys were on a field trip I arranged and approved. I need to talk to them.” He looked at Blair again. “But I’d like to come back…sit with Blair again.”

  “Of course,” Jim said without hesitation. “As much as you like.”

  Part Four

  Jim exhaled a weary sigh. Three days. For three days Blair had lain unmoving in his hospital bed. The doctor had told Jim that Blair’s condition was improving…very slowly. Eli had come to see his partner each day, spending time sitting and talking with him, telling him stories about his many adventures. Jim had used Eli's visits as an opportunity to check in with Simon and find out how the investigation was going. But with each passing day, the trail only grew colder.

  He glanced at the clock on the wall. Andrew Rehse was being laid to rest right now. Jim had briefly thought about attending that funeral. Rehse was the only kid he could clearly remember--the one who had asked him so many questions about his work. But it would have meant leaving Blair for several hours this morning and he simply wasn't willing to do that.

  The other two boys had been buried yesterday afternoon. Eli had attended both funerals, relaying only the briefest of details to Jim when he visited Blair. And since then, Jim hand only been able to think about one thing--how would Blair feel when he finally regained consciousness and was told that he and he alone had survived?

  A low moan drew Jim’s attention. His gaze jerked toward Blair, hope rushing through him. Had he made a sound or had Jim, in his exhausted state, just imagined it? Blair shifted slightly and another moan escaped his lips.

  Jim surged to his feet. “Blair?” he called out, leaning over his partner, his hand coming to rest against his arm. “Blair, can you hear me? Can you open your eyes?”

  Slowly, as if the act took a monumental effort, Blair blinked his eyes open. He looked up and focused in on.... “Jim?”

  “Hey, buddy,” the detective whispered past the sudden lump in his throat. “Good to hear your voice.”

  Blair swallowed hard. “Thirsty,” he rasped out.

  “We can fix that.” Jim picked up the pitcher on the table and poured some water into a plastic cup. Dropping a straw into the cup, he held it to Blair’s lips. “Just take a sip or two for now.”

  Sandburg took two small sips before releasing the straw and relaxing back against his pillow.

  “Better?”

  Blair nodded, his eyes slipping closed again. “What happened?”

  Jim smiled down at him, running a gentle hand across his hair. “We can talk about that in a little while,” he said quietly. “For now, let me call your doctor and have her check you out.”

  He reached for the call button to the nurse’s station but before he could touch it, Blair’s hand shot out and grabbed Jim’s arm. “The others.…” His eyes flew open, locking on the sentinel above him, panic clouding the blue depths. “Are the others okay?”

  And Jim knew...he’s remembering. “Blair.…”

  “Jim, please,” he pressed, his voice holding a pleading tone. “I
need to know.”

  “I’m sorry, Chief,” Jim whispered. “They…they didn't make it.”

  The panic in Blair's eyes changed to sorrow, then he turned his head to the side and wept.

  /

  Blair sat in an upright position his hospital bed, his hands folded together in his lap, his gaze locked on the far wall of his room. Since waking a few hours earlier he had been poked, prodded and questioned almost non-stop by the doctors and nurses on staff. They’d come in and out of his room, each carrying a different tray, a new test, his updated chart. The only constant through it all had been Jim.

  The sentinel had never left his side, most times standing just as he was now at the head of the bed, with his hand on Blair's shoulder and a look of worry on his face. Jim's expression mirrored that of the other two men who were now in his room.