This takes place after the episode "Hear No Evil", and before the story "Trust."

by Anne Murdoch

I.

It was uncommonly pleasant for February. Blair wandered out on to the patio and closed his eyes. Warm air caressed his face and brushed tickling strands of hair against his cheek. Tucking the errant hair behind an ear, he moved to face the sun, feeling the warmth kiss his skin and penetrate him until his whole body felt warm and alive. He never realized how much he missed the sunshine until days like this. Cascade was rainy and grim so much of the time, but his travels had taken him to places where the sun shone almost 365 days a year. The jungle could be humid, stifling and uncomfortable, though. This day was perfect. Wispy clouds scooted lazily across a dazzling blue sky, birds were singing, boats were out on the water...

Blair chuckled. Any minute he was going to break out in song.

It was so nice that Blair considered blowing off his afternoon class, grabbing a lawn chair, and basting out on the balcony all day. No doubt many of his students had already made that decision. Maybe he'd hold his class out on the commons today. The few students dedicated enough to show up ought to enjoy that. It would be a nice change that would energize everyone. Winter wasn't over yet, and he was sure that this warm weather wouldn't last.

Blair's thoughts were interrupted by the sounds of Jim preparing to leave. He might be able to blow off a class or two, but there was no question of going with Jim. Even if his partner understood perfectly the urge to drop everything and spend a day goofing off, he would expect Blair to overcome it and do his job; especially since they'd both had some extended down time lately, recuperating from the effects of Cascade's latest designer drug. It was precisely because of that experience that Blair would rather take the day to enjoy life.

Sighing in resignation, Blair turned from the sun, capturing the good mood he was in and trying to hold on to it.

Blair was feeling so high that he sprung for breakfast on the way to work and refused to be disgusted while Jim wolfed down a greasy looking breakfast burrito. He stuck with a whole grain muffin and some coffee. "So how did it go with Margaret last night?" Blair took a sip from the large Styrofoam cup as they walked into the station. The other officers they passed seemed to be uncommonly cheerful.

Jim beamed. "Great. She's a fantastic woman. I don't know where you've been keeping her all this time."

"I didn't think you guys would hit it off." Blair had to admit that he'd jumped at Margaret's suggestion that they use reverse psychology to trick Jim into meeting her, although he still questioned the wisdom of fixing up two friends. Still, she was an open, loving woman. Blair thought they'd be good for each other. "You were out pretty late last night..."

"It's none of your business, Sandburg."

Jim's current facial expression was one that Blair had tried once or twice to duplicate. Standing in front of the bathroom mirror one day, he'd tried to remove all emotion from his face. It was easy enough. Blair could even mimic the big cop's twitching jaw. What confounded him was the eyes. They were the mirrors of the soul, but with little effort Jim could remove any trace of emotion from them. It was a look that could chill Blair to the bone.

And yet, there were subtle degrees to it. The blank stare Jim had just graced Blair with was not filled with anger, but simply a message that his question had stepped over that invisible boundary that meant he was asking too many personal questions. There was even a hint of good humor in it. Blair wondered if anyone but him could have made the distinction.

Like a little kid, Blair sometimes felt the urge to step over that invisible line. "Awww, c'mon man..."

The whoosh of the elevator doors diverted Blair's attention, and he stepped inside. At that moment, his heart became an obstruction in his throat and his cheerful smile stiffened into a grimace. The soul occupant was Officer Jerry Dorsey, a 20-year veteran of the Cascade PD. He was standing rigidly in one corner of the small space and staring at Blair with open hostility. The cop was one of the few men in the department who held Blair responsible for his actions in the parking garage after he'd eaten a piece of drug-laced pizza. Apparently, Blair had come very close to ventilating the guy, and it was only the quick actions of other officers that had prevented this man from putting a hole in his head. Blair flushed and stared at the floor of the elevator, his emotions at war with each other. He was pissed at the cop for daring to blame him and angry at himself for not having the guts to look the man in the eye.

Doubt flooded him. Maybe he could have controlled himself. If he'd been smarter and stronger he would have been able to deny the visions that had assaulted him that night...

Get a grip Sandburg! You know that's complete bull.

He'd been under the influence of a powerful hallucinogen. The chemicals had altered his reality and it was a miracle he'd been able to remain lucid enough to hand the gun over to Jim. Blair looked up sharply and met the officer's accusing eyes.

Jim's look could have turned molten lava to ice. "You got a problem, Dorsey?"

Dorsey's gaze broke from Blair and focused on Jim, his voice a study in casualness. "No, Ellison. No problem."

The elevator glided to a stop and the doors opened. Blair immediately stepped out, eager to avoid a confrontation. Having Jim fight his battles for him would just make things worse. All he wanted now was to walk to the bullpen, get started on some paperwork, and put this lovely little encounter behind him.

Yeah, like that will ever happen.

Jim's hand clamped down on his shoulder. "Dorsey is a jerk. Don't let it bother you."

It did bother him, though. Why were his intellect and emotions so separated that he continued to feel guilty for actions that he knew were beyond his control? Jim and Simon had refused to tell him how much damage he had done to the parking garage, but he knew it was significant. Regardless of the fact that he was drugged when it happened, he had fired a gun at cops and come damned close to blowing up the garage. Falling to pieces in front of the entire Cascade Police Department was not going to improve his image any, either. It was all the more disturbing because he knew that his hallucinations had come from something dark buried deep within his psyche, and he'd revealed it to Simon and Jim.

A vision of a human form, covered in flames, rising from the floor and moaning flashed in his memory. 'They think they're ashes, but they're real.' Blair shuddered, wishing that the horrific events of that night would fade.

"Sandburg?"

Startled, Blair almost dropped his coffee. "Oh, sorry." The Doc had warned him about flashbacks, but this had seemed like nothing more than a vivid memory. He didn't want to know what a real one felt like.

"Blair?"

"What? I'm fine."

"You've gotta stop beating yourself up over this. None of it was your fault. You were attacked, just the same as if you had been mugged. You had no way of seeing it coming."

Anger, which had been lurking just below the surface, exploded. "I might as well be a cop killer as far as some of these guys are concerned. I'm sick of people looking at me like I'm some kind of crazed lunatic!"

Jim caught Blair's gaze and held it. "Listen to me, Blair. You are blowing this way out of proportion. I know you're embarrassed by what happened, but the people who are your friends, the people you work with here almost every day, don't blame you for it."

Detective Brown, who had undoubtedly been listening to the entire exchange, looked up from his desk and smiled. "Hell no! Sandburg, what do you think would have happened if I'd chowed on that pizza? I'm a crack shot. For sure, I would have taken a couple of people out before anyone had a chance to drop me. Even worse, what would have happened if a lot of the guys were here when it was delivered? It would have been a blood bath. We were lucky it was you, if you want to know the truth. You can't aim worth a damn, Hairboy." The young detective snorted at his own joke and returned his attention to his work.

Blair allowed himself a small smile of relief, feeling his mood lifting again.

"See?" Jim patted him on the back. "So there are a couple of morons on the force. They probably didn't like you before this happened and now they're happy to have a reason to give you grief."

"Gee, thanks. I feel so much better now."

It was true, though. He did. As Blair sat down in the chair next to Jim's desk he decided that it was time to let it go. It had occupied his thoughts for the two weeks he'd spent recuperating and he was tired of worrying about it. His friends were still his friends, and that was all that mattered. He took a deep breath and tried to push it behind him. "So what's on for today?"

"Just some routine stuff. Everything's been pretty quiet lately."

The door to Captain Banks' office opened, and the tall man emerged, chomping at an unlit cigar and looking more peeved than usual. Blair sometimes imagined that Simon only had one cigar, like a security blanket. He didn't think he'd ever seen the captain actually smoking one.

"Ellison. Sandburg."

Blair swatted Jim's arm with the back of his hand. "Now look what you did."

When the two men had entered the office and closed the door, Simon handed Jim a piece of paper. "There's been an arson. A lawyer by the name of Brickler."

"Anyone hurt?"

"No. The owners were away for the weekend when it happened. There's a twist, though. The fire marshal found a piece of paper in the Brickler's mailbox with the words 'End Tyranny' typed on it. Forensics is checking for prints and typeface now. Looks like we may have another nut case on our hands."

Blair snorted.

Simon fixed the younger man with a withering look. "What's so funny, Sandburg?"

"Sorry. I was just wondering what the ratio of nut cases per thousand is in Cascade. Might make an interesting study."

"Too damned high! Now why don't you two get out there and do something about it?" Simon bit down hard on his cigar.

Blair decided that the wise course of action at this point was to keep his mouth shut.

Jim regarded his captain with concern. "You OK, Simon?"

Simon's shoulders slumped in resignation. "I'm sorry guys. Did you see this morning's paper?" He tossed the Cascade Examiner, folded to the editorial page, onto the edge of his desk.

The detective picked it up and Blair stood beside him to look. A prominent local businessman had written a letter to the editor on the growing crime rate. Blair read part of it aloud. "'In the last year, the fair city of Cascade has been subject to unprecedented numbers of gang wars, bombings and serial killings. How do we account for the severity of these crimes? Other cities our size may deal with one or two incidents like this over the course of ten years. We seem to attract them all in one. There can be only one reason for it. Our police force is woefully inadequate and inept. They are very good at cleaning up the mess after tragedy strikes, but they do nothing to prevent it.'"

Blair grunted in disgust. "What a load of bull!"

"The mayor doesn't think so. If we don't get a handle on this arson thing right away, it's just going to add fuel to the fire."

Blair grinned at the pun, but stopped short of commenting. Simon was glaring at him again.

"I'm serious here! If we don't solve this case quickly, heads are going to roll, and you'll be studying Jim while we're all standing in the unemployment line." The pencil in Simon's hand snapped as he spoke.

"You need to relax, man. All that stress isn't good for you. I speak from experience here. Take a couple of deep breaths." Blair gestured with his hands and inhaled deeply.

"Sandburg, I'm in no mood for your new age mumbo jumbo."

"Ask Jim. It really works." Blair walked behind Simon's desk and gestured for him to take a seat. "C'mon, sir," he cajoled. "If you keep on stressing like this you're going to end up like that pencil."

Jim nodded, trying to hide the amused expression on his face. "I promise I won't tell anyone, Captain."

Simon growled and sat. "OK, now what?"

"Umm, you're going to have to put the cigar down." Blair cringed, waiting for Simon to bellow that he'd had enough and kick him out of the office. It didn't happen. Instead, the captain impatiently set the cigar in the ashtray and raised his eyebrows, waiting.

Blair perched on the edge of the desk. "Close your eyes." Simon glared at him one last time before he shut them.

"Now, breath deeply and feel your chest rising...Let it out slowly through your nose." As Simon reluctantly obeyed, Blair lulled him into a state of slow and steady breathing, urging him to release the tension in his muscles. The captain's brow had been furrowed with worry, but as he breathed, Blair could see his face soften and begin to look peaceful. He waited quietly as several minutes passed, trying to ignore Jim, who was leaning against the table, arms folded, looking at them with an enigmatic smile on his face.

Probably expecting me to yell and scare him. Yeah, like I'm really into having Simon throttle me to death.

"OK, now take one last deep breath and open your eyes."

Simon opened his eyes, the beginnings of a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth.

"Feel better?"

"Much." He sat up straight, a tone of wonder in his voice. "Thanks, Sandburg."

There were plenty of other techniques Blair knew of to help Simon deal with the hassles of his job, but he'd been surprised to get this far so he decided not to press his luck.

"OK, you two. Time to earn your paychecks."

Blair looked at Simon inquisitively, biting back a smile.

"You know what I mean. Out!" II.

The first order of business was to go to the scene and canvas the area around the burned house. Jim knew that officers had already done a preliminary inquiry and had turned up no witnesses. The house was set far back in a heavily wooded lot and it would have been easy for an intruder to get in and out without being seen. People in this upscale neighborhood rarely sat on the front porch watching the comings and goings of their neighbors.

Blair had been quiet during the drive, and Jim knew it was the incident in the elevator that was causing it. He was going to have to pull Dorsey aside for a serious talk one of these days. The kid was having a hard enough time dealing with what had happened without some ignorant bastard like that making it harder on him. At least Brown had overheard the conversation this morning. He'd seen the positive effects of his comments on Blair.

Simon had a hand in it, too, unbeknownst to Blair. Jim had heard about his captain's actions through the grapevine. While Jim was riding in the ambulance, fighting panic because Blair was no longer breathing on his own, Simon had gathered the men who had witnessed the incident and read them the riot act. The captain had told them in no uncertain terms that Blair was a victim, and that it easily could have been any member of the department on the hood of the car. According to Joel, Simon had put the fear of God into them, telling them that if he heard of anyone giving Blair a hard time about it, "I'll have your ass for dinner and give what's left of it to Ellison for dessert."

The one thing that kept haunting Jim, and had hurled him out of a sound sleep more than once since that night, was the horror in his friend's voice. He'd seen many emotions in the kid since they'd met, but nothing that came close to the raw fear he'd heard as Blair described the 'golden fire people'. Jim's lingering blindness had caused him to focus more intensely on his sense of hearing, and that had imprinted every word of Blair's hallucination in his memory. Even now, weeks later, the memory of it caused icy shards of fear to run up his spine.

Jim still wondered at the fact that his partner hadn't been killed after he had fired the first shot. In future, he would have to remember to give his fellow officers credit for having some restraint.

"Whoa, Jim. We just passed Sprucewood."

Jim looked in the rearview mirror and saw that he had indeed driven right past it. He made a U-turn in the wide, tree-lined avenue and headed back. There was a gate almost as soon as he turned the corner. A large sign made of carved wood announced that they were entering Evergreen Hills. A small guard post was just outside the gate, manned by a burly, slightly overweight man in his mid 30's. When Jim showed his badge, he was not immediately admitted. Instead, the guard, whose name tag read W. Anklam, phoned the police department to verify Jim's identity. Jim's badge number was confirmed and the man pressed a button causing the gates to roll slowly open. The detective was impressed with the security so far, and he asked the guard how far around the housing development the high wrought iron fence went.

Anklam shook his head in disgust. "Only about 500 yards, then it becomes a cheap chain link. This is all for show. The people who live here are middle class pretending to be high class." He sighed. "I do my best here," He gestured to his small cubicle, which contained two TV monitors showing views from the security cameras. Barely enough to cover the front gate, let alone the 30 or so houses that were beyond it. "But all I'm really doing is filtering out the stupid criminals."

"Did you see anyone coming in or out last night?"

"Just residents."

"How about anyone driving by out here more than once?"

"Not that I noticed, and I think I would have. Traffic is pretty light after 11."

"Were you ever away from your post?"

"Nope." He pointed to a small door that led to the other half of the cubicle. "Bathroom's right here. All the comforts of home. I suppose it's remotely possible that someone climbed over the fence while I was in the can, but not likely. Why climb over here when you've got hundreds of feet of unguarded fence all around this place?"

"You've got a point. Thanks for your help, sir. And if you remember anything, please give me a call." Jim handed the man a card and drove into the housing development.

Turning onto a road that seemed to wind through a small forest, he noticed that all of the houses were tucked back into the trees. It was a peaceful place to live. Well, almost. The sound of chain saws, which Jim had been ignoring for the last mile became louder as they turned a sharp bend, coming to a lot in which branches were being cut from several fire-damaged trees. Looking down the drive, Jim could see the burned shell of what had once been a large home.

Jim drove onto a brick driveway and parked the truck. Pulling a small blue case from his pocket, he plucked out two small earplugs and put them in. He really didn't need the white noise generators now that he had his hearing under control again, but it was nice to have them in situations like this. Blair had already chastised him for using them and had even threatened to take them away, saying that they were the lazy way out, and if Jim ever wanted to control his hearing the right way, he couldn't start falling back on artificial methods. The kid would probably needle him about it until he gave them up.

Blair fixed Jim with a disgusted look until his attention was diverted by the smoking ruins. "Wow, major destruction! Jim, Simon said that the arsonist used gasoline. Can you smell it?"

Blair pointedly kept his voice at a normal level, and Jim was finding it difficult to hear him over the white noise and the cacophony outside the truck. The detective had learned months ago that certain battles with the stubborn anthropologist required more energy to fight than they were worth. He returned the earplugs to their case.

The two men got out of the truck and approached the scene. Jim stepped gingerly over the charred remains of a support beam. The fire had obliterated everything.

"There's not much left here. I don't think it will do any good."

"Yes, but Jim, fire has a different effect on everything it touches. We've been over this before. Plastic has a unique chemical smell when it burns, just like different types of burning wood create different scents. You might be able to pick up on something here."

"I'll buy that. But gasoline is different. I'm sure it's completely vaporized by now, and we've got a good breeze blowing out here." As if to punctuate his statement, a gust of wind kicked ashes up into the air.

Blair turned his back to the wind, rubbing grit from his eye with his fingers. "Humor me, OK? If nothing else, we'll see whether or not you can distinguish between things that have been burned."

Jim sighed and closed his eyes, trying to pick out the all too familiar scent of gasoline. He really wasn't in the mood for this today, but he'd do it for Blair, if only because the sight of the burned house brought back memories of the fire at Tommy's. His partner had saved his life, nearly at the cost of his own. That was worth at least five minutes of his time.

Individually he was able to pick out dozens of different smells. Some he recognized immediately. Others were more difficult. Sorting through everything he was sensing here would require sitting down with different materials and burning them so he could tell what each one smelled like. Jim seemed to remember Blair suggesting an experiment like that before, but somehow he'd avoided it. After today, though, a battery of tests was inevitable.

Shaking his head, Jim said, "Nope. Nothing unusual. No gasoline at all."

"Could you tell what burned here?"

"Yeah. A lot of stuff with artificial smells, like plastics and polyester. Also, a lot of pine, which I assume was used in the construction of the house. Some faint traces of chemicals, maybe cleaning supplies."

"Awesome."

Jim could see Blair mentally adding several pages to his thesis. He interrupted the anthropologist before he could suggest anything else. "C'mon, Chief. Let's go talk to the neighbors."

It was still early in the morning. Jim was lucky and caught some of the Brickler's neighbors at home. They were polite and cooperative, but hadn't seen anything. The fire had been started late at night, and most of the residents could recall being awakened when the fire trucks began to roll in, but not before that. No suspicious activities, no strangers in the neighborhood. Jim suspected that most of these people wouldn't be able to give an accurate description of the men who mowed their lawns. Many of the residents spent long hours working so that they could afford to live in a house they spent very little time in.

One man admitted that he only slept at home and spent most of his waking hours at the company he was vice president of. Twice during the short interview, they'd been interrupted by the executive's cell phone. When Jim finished with his questions, the man jumped into his BMW and sped off. Blair watched him go with a look of awe and disgust.

"If I ever get my priorities screwed up like that just shoot me, man."

"Sandburg, I don't think it's humanly possible for you to become a yuppie."

Jim truly believed that. For Blair, money was a tool to be used to further education, make discoveries, go on expeditions, and pay for the bare necessities of life. It was not a goal in and of itself.

The next order of business was checking the perimeter of the fence for any signs of the intruder.

Jim and Blair hopped in the truck and traveled a short distance down the road to an unused back entrance. A poorly hidden security camera was perched in a tree opposite the gate.

The boundaries of the housing development were natural. A steep, rocky hillside rose up on the east side while a deep ravine wound it's way along the north and west sides. As the two men followed the fence, Jim realized that the natural barriers were probably a more effective crime deterrent than the artificial ones. Anyone wanting to gain access from the East would need climbing gear, and access from the bottom of the ravine was almost as bad. It was possible to climb the steep incline, but it would take more dedication and hard work than the average burglar would be willing to go to, and carrying anything of a significant size back out would be virtually impossible.

It soon became apparent that they would not be able to follow the fence from the inside. Overgrown with trees, vines and bushes, they'd need a machete to hack their way through. The two men drove around and parked near the main road outside the development. As they made their way to the bottom of the ravine, Jim assessed the possibilities.

"You think the arsonist came from this side?"

"Probably. This is the most accessible area we've seen so far, unless the intruder sneaked past the gate somehow."

Blair looked at the relatively gentle slope that had led them from the road to the small creek and then up at the dauntingly steep incline that led from the creek to the high fence. "Are you sure that house wasn't torched by a mountain goat?"

Jim didn't answer. To find any signs of illegal entry he would have to look at the fence, but it would be dangerous and damn near impossible to climb up and walk the length of it.

Blair seemed to read his thoughts. "If you focus in on each section of fence from down here, you're going to have an awesome headache by the time you're finished...three days from now."

"I don't see any other way to do it, short of climbing up."

"Maybe..." Blair's eyes lit up and he stood silently for a moment.

"What?"

Blair waved his hands at him. "Shhhh...I'm thinking."

"Try not to wear out the hamsters."

The comment caught Blair off guard. He almost laughed out loud, but recovered at the last second and scowled at Jim instead. "What specifically would you be looking for? A hole?"

"Basically. It's a high fence so it would be more practical for an intruder to cut his way through. An opening large enough to squeeze through."

"OK, so you know what it would look like..."

"What are you getting at, Chief?"

"Normally when you use your enhanced sight you are using it to focus in on one specific thing. What if you programmed yourself to scan the fence?"

"I'm not sure what you mean."

"I'm not sure either. Let's try something. You know the drill, man."

Jim closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Whenever Blair used a certain tone of voice these days it seemed to automatically trigger a trance-like state.

"OK, now picture an opening in the fence. Fix that image in your mind. You want to remember to stop scanning when you see it. OK, open your eyes." Blair gestured upwards. "I want you to focus your sight, but not on any specific part of the fence, look at the whole thing. We're going to walk along the length of it and you aren't going to focus on any one area. Don't worry about looking where you're walking, I'll help you there." Blair grabbed Jim's arm and pulled him slowly along. "Stop me if you see an opening."

Jim focused on the bottom part of the fence and let his eyes drift along it. At first he had trouble focusing. His line of vision was frequently broken by tree trunks and other plant life, but eventually he was able to convince his mind to ignore everything but the fence. He felt a little dizzy as Blair pulled him gently forward, but then something in his brain clicked and it seemed as if he could see each link individually as it flicked past his vision. They had walked about halfway down the length of the fence when Jim abruptly stopped. An opening about four feet high appeared in front of him. It had worked. As he looked at it, he could see marks where the tool used to cut the links had pinched the metal, and the stress points where the fence had been folded back to make a sort of doorway...

An anxious voice brought him back to the present.

"Jim! C'mon, man! You're zoning out."

Jim felt two hands on his chest and saw that Blair was leaning on him with his entire weight to keep him from falling over. He straightened, wobbling a bit, then blinked and looked at Blair. "Wow."

"Did you find it?"

"Yeah. That was strange." The world was spinning slightly.

"What did it feel like?"

"I dunno. It's hard to explain. A little like looking at a slot machine. You know how everything flies by in a blur? Then it suddenly stopped and I was looking at a hole in the fence."

"It worked! Oh man, this is great!"

Jim began walking back and forth, eyeing the incline and trying to locate the best path, then began making his way up.

"We're not going up there, are we?"

"You can stay down here if you want, Chief." Jim made sure there was no challenge in his voice. "I'm just going to take a quick look."

Blair stood indecisively for a moment and then started up after him, his instincts as a guide winning out over his fear of heights. Jim knew Blair didn't want to risk him zoning out at the top. Weaving their way through trees and shrubs, they managed to find a way to the top of the incline that wasn't impossibly steep. By the time they got there, Blair was out of breath.

"You OK?"

"Hey, man, next time slow down a little. It's not a race, you know."

Jim just smiled and turned to the fence. Sure enough, there was a spot where the links had been cut and pulled back, leaving a hole large enough for a man to get through. As he looked he heard a tiny cracking sound. Turning swiftly, Jim grabbed a handful of his friend's jacket and pulled him forward to more solid ground just as the dead tree root Blair was standing on gave way.

Blair glanced down nervously at the path his fall would have taken. "Thanks, Jim." He stepped over and laced the fingers of his left hand in the mesh of the fence.

Returning his attention to the hole, the detective focused on the jagged edges of the links. It was unlikely that anyone could have squeezed through the hole without leaving a trace. He was soon rewarded with some red fibers, which he placed in an evidence bag. As Jim crawled through the makeshift doorway, he heard Blair let out a sigh of relief. He hadn't been looking forward to climbing back down again.

It was easy enough to follow the arsonist's trail. Broken branches and trampled bushes marked the way, and it wasn't long before Jim found a perfect footprint in a patch of mud. It wouldn't do him any good unless he had a suspect, but he stepped carefully over it, making a mental note to have Forensics get a cast of it. When they emerged from the wooded area, which was deeper than Jim had expected it to be, they were in a back yard about five houses down from the torched one. Jim walked through the yards until he came to the charred remains of the Brickler's home, finding no more clues along the way.

"What next?" Blair asked.

"We'll call Forensics and let them know about the footprint, then go over to the Regency and have a talk with the Brickler's. See if they have any enemies who would do something like this to them. Maybe a disgruntled client, or someone Brickler faced in court."

"Oh, I'm sure a la"Oh, I'm sure a lawyer doesn't have many enemies."

The meeting with the Brickler's was uneventful. They were less upset than Jim expected about the loss of their home. Insurance would cover most of it, they said, although Mrs. Brickler was teary-eyed when she mentioned family photographs and heirlooms that had been destroyed. The phrase 'End Tyranny' rang no bells with anyone, and Brickler could not tie it in with any of his cases. Jim thanked them, then he and Blair headed out for a quick bite to eat, bypassing the expensive restaurant in the hotel in favor of a grungy burger joint. The incident in the parking garage was still fresh in his mind from this morning, so when Blair ordered an inexpensive salad and complained about the price Jim was reminded of one of the first things his friend had said when he came out of his drug-induced coma. Blair had been absolutely convinced that the pizza delivery man had spiked the pizza in retaliation for the lousy tip Blair had given him. Jim laughed to himself as they found a booth and sat down.

"I've got an idea about how we can discover the significance of 'End Tyranny'. Aside from the usual check with the FBI, I mean." He wiped sauce from his mouth with a paper napkin. "You're familiar with the Internet, right?"

Blair grimaced at Jim's meal. "That is so disgusting, man." He was picking brown lettuce leaves and dried up shaved carrots from his salad. "Sure. I'm not an expert on it, but I know my way around."

"There are a lot of fringe groups out there."

Blair took a sip of soda. "That's an understatement."

"So you could look around and see if there are any particular groups that have something against lawyers and have used the slogan 'End Tyranny'"

Blair almost choked on his drink. "Let me see if I've got this straight. You want me to look on the net to find people who don't like lawyers?" He burst into laughter.

"OK, stupid idea." Although computers themselves presented no problems for Jim, he'd never taken much of an interest in the Internet, and he usually deferred to Blair's judgment.

Blair took a deep breath and shook his head. "No it's not, Jim. It's just that with the CDA and people being sued left and right by big companies who want to show their muscle, lawyers aren't very popular there right now. If they ever were. Corporations are trying to take over a place that was once the domain of academics and government agencies. Some people aren't too happy about it."

Warming to the subject, Blair filled Jim in on the history of the Internet, it's original purpose and the commercialization that was taking place in it now. Jim had never had much interest in the net, but Blair was passionate about his subject, so Jim tried to pay attention. It was a losing battle.

"OK, OK, Chief. I get your point. So you're saying it would be almost impossible to find the information there."

"It's possible, it's just a bigger task than you think it is. The person or people responsible for this fire might not even be connected, you know. It may seem like it, but not everybody has a web page."

"Do you?"

Blair smiled enigmatically and ignored the question. "I've got a friend who is really into it. I mean a major computer geek..."

"As opposed to an anthropology geek?"

Blair narrowed his eyes and continued. "I'll give her some background on this and see what she can come up with. She lives for conspiracy stuff."

"You mean Area 51, aliens abducting Elvis, the grassy knoll?"

Blair's eyes twinkled. "No. She thinks Elvis is dead." III.

"Hi Audrey. What's up?" Blair entered the cramped efficiency apartment, climbing over piles of papers and boxes full of the skeletal remains of computers. Audrey was the only person he knew who led a more cluttered existence than he did.

"Hey, baby." She didn't taker her eyes from the computer monitor she was hunched over, but held her hand, palm up, over her shoulder. When Blair had finally navigated his way through the room he slapped it lightly.

There was folding chair next to the computer desk, and Blair picked up a large stack of papers from it, dumped them unceremoniously into the nearest box and sat down.

"What are you working on?" Her screen was filled with incomprehensible symbols and numbers.

"Somethin' y'all are better off not knowin' about, considerin' the company you keep these days."

"Gotcha."

"So what do you need?"

"Need?" Blair asked innocently. "I just came here for a visit."

Audrey turned to look at him. Jet black hair framed her delicate oval face. Large brown eyes were hidden behind a pair of thick glasses. She was wearing jeans with holes in the knees and a faded U2 T-shirt with no bra beneath it. "Darlin', you don't come 'round here anymore 'less you need somethin'"

"Did I ever tell you your accent drives me wild?"

"Yeah, I know. The paradox of a southern accent and an intelligent mind just turns you on." Her voice was dripping with sarcasm.

"I'm sorry I haven't been around lately. I've still got a full workload at the university, and I spend a lot of time working with Jim. I can barely find time to eat and sleep."

Her lips turned upward in an evil grin. "Y'all better stop lookin' at me with those sad blue eyes of yours or I won't be responsible."

"How long since you've been outta this apartment, anyway?"

"Too long. Went back to Birmingham a while ago to see mama and my sisters. That was nice, but they're all married and so...so..."

"Domestic?" Blair offered.

"Exactly." She shuddered. "Mama and Gran spent a good deal a time askin' me if I had any beaus. I gave 'em your picture, sweetie. Hope you don't mind."

Blair rolled his eyes. He didn't know whether she was serious or not, but it sounded like something she'd do. "Oh man. I bet they freaked."

"Well, yes. You aren't exactly the model of a fine Southern gentleman they were hopin' for." She giggled evilly. "I think on my next trip I'm gonna take you along with me." She got up and wormed her way expertly through the piles to reach the refrigerator. Blair couldn't tell where the living room ended and the kitchen started. "Want somethin' to drink?"

"Sure." Audrey came back with two no name beers. Blair grimaced as he took one. "On a budget?"

"You know I am. I need some new equipment. I'm not livin' in some fancy loft like you are."

"Come over for dinner tonight. We'll hang out like we used to."

"Ahh, here it comes. Dinner in exchange for....?"

Blair grinned. "A little help on a case Jim and I are working on."

"Oh, so now you're a detective? I thought you were workin' on a thesis, not playin' Sherlock Holmes."

Blair shrugged. "I saw a way I could help him out. He doesn't know much about the Internet."

"Neither do you, sugar."

Audrey knew as much about computers as Blair did about anthropology. He lowered his head. "I bow before your superior knowledge."

"Butter me up any more and I won't be able to concentrate on workin'" She gazed around the room.

"What are you looking for?"

"My bed. I haven't seen it in a while and I'm thinkin' I might need more than dinner." IV.

Jim heard laughter coming from the loft as he headed up the stairs. Blair had company. He braced himself to encounter a chain on the door, although that hadn't happened for quite a while. Blair usually found someplace else to go when he planned on getting serious with his dates. His nose caught a tantalizing aroma and he realized that someone was cooking. This might not be so bad after all. He and Blair had been eating out a lot lately.

Entering the loft, he tried to identify the smells. Shrimp, tomatoes, spices, and something he hadn't smelled in a long time; okra. He tossed his keys down and gazed into the kitchen, seeing a striking woman with shoulder length black hair, wearing a tight-fitting black sweater with black jeans and boots. Her face was so pale it was almost translucent. She was stirring a steaming pot.

She turned to him smiling and said, "You must be Detective Ellison. I'm Audrey Drouchat." Walking over to him, she held out her hand and shook it firmly.

"Nice to meet you, Audrey. Call me Jim." Her grin was infectious, and Jim found himself returning it.

"It is a stereotype that all Southerners know how to cook gumbo, but in my case it happens to be true."

Jim glanced at the piles of open cans and dirty dishes littering the counter.

"Don't blame Blair for the mess. I haven't seen my kitchen in months, so when he invited me over and I saw this lovely place I just had to cook somethin'. Hope you don't mind."

"Not at all." Jim inhaled deeply, catching a hint of perfume. "It smells terrific."

"Blair didn't tell me you were so charmin'"

Blair emerged from his bedroom with his laptop and some telephone wire. "Laying it on a little thick, aren't you Audrey?"

She ambled over to Blair and kissed him on the cheek. "You know I only have eyes for you, baby, but you didn't tell me he was so handsome."

Blair rolled his eyes and began setting up the laptop. "Audrey's going to help us check the net for any 'End Tyranny' references."

So this was Blair's computer geek. Jim wouldn't have guessed in a million years.

"...and try to find any groups that hate lawyers." Audrey and Blair exchanged amused looks.

Blair attached one end of the phone line to the computer and then walked over to the wall and inserted the other end into the socket. "Remember to unplug it when you're done, Sandburg. I almost broke my neck tripping over it the other day."

Audrey leaned over and whispered in Blair's ear. "You're right. He is anal."

Jim heard it perfectly and was slightly amused when Blair's eyes shot up to meet his, a pained look on his face. Jim looked levelly back at him and raised his eyebrows.

Blair cleared his throat. "So, ummm, when's the gumbo going to be done, Audrey?"

"Oh, another hour at least. We have time to work on this some."

Jim grabbed a beer while Audrey and Blair finished setting up the computer and logging on, then stood behind them while Audrey began to work. "Boys, I love all the attention, but why don't y'all have a seat in the livin' room? I don't work well with an audience."

Blair hopped off the chair, not offended by her dismissal. As he turned away, Audrey reached out and goosed him. The anthropologist jumped and let out a little yelp, throwing a dirty look at her. Jim thought that things were getting more interesting by the moment.

"She doesn't get out much." Blair mumbled.

"I heard that, and y'all will be payin' for it later."

Jim couldn't think of any way to describe Audrey's smile but wolfish.

While Audrey worked, Jim filled Blair in on what he'd learned from the lab people. It was now definite that the fire had been started by nothing more complicated than a gallon of gasoline and a match. There was nothing traceable in the method used to start the fire. Jim had learned over the years that the simplest crimes were often the most difficult to solve. When a criminal tried to be clever, he usually tripped up and left clues.

No fingerprints were found, either on the mailbox or on the paper that had been left in it, which was not surprising. The typing paper was the most common size and weight. Very cheap, so there was no watermark. A laser printer had been used and it would be almost impossible to match the type with the machine used, even if there had been more than two words to work with.

The FBI was running the phrase 'End Tyranny' through their database and should be able to tell them if there had been any arsons in the United States with similar MOs.

Jim had spent part of the afternoon looking for similar cases in Cascade over the last several years. There had been quite a few arsons, as there always were in big cities, mostly in abandoned buildings. Many had been solved, and of the few that hadn't there were only two that looked like they might be related. One was a fire started in the basement of an insurance company, which had been put out early enough to save most of the building. The other was in a government building that housed offices for Social Security, Medicare, Worker's Comp, etc. That fire had been started in a trash can late at night and had resulted in damage to only one room before the sprinkler system kicked in and put it out. Jim didn't think there was a connection.

"Are you sure about that?" Blair asked.

"No. Why?"

"Well, look at the slogan the arsonist used. 'End Tyranny'. What if this person has a grudge against bureaucracy and authority. Both of those places have a bad reputation as far as most people are concerned. The insurance companies have outrageous rates and unpopular policies, the government offices are huge, slow and full of red tape. They seem like perfect targets for someone with a bone to pick."

"But Brickler is an individual, not a large entity. How does torching his house fit in with your theory?"

"Because he's a lawyer?"

"That's real helpful, Chief, but I see your point. It's possible that the first two fires were bungled attempts to make a statement, and that our arsonist set his sights a little lower for this one. It's easier to set a house on fire than a government building."

Audrey stopped typing for a moment and interjected. "Does your lawyer engage in any copyright work? Anythin' where he might represent a corporation against an individual or small group?"

"Brickler is retained by at least one large company, but as far as copyright goes, I don't know. I'll have to ask him tomorrow, although he may not be very helpful. It's a good idea though."

"'Course it is." She turned back to her work. "Daddy is a lawyer. He's a kind and decent man. It has always bothered him that people lump all lawyers into the same smelly heap, as if none of them had an ounce of compassion or integrity. My father hasn't got a greedy bone in his body. Trouble is, lawyers who are in it for the money or the power can border on bein' downright evil."

"One bad apple..." Blair offered.

"You got it, baby." Audrey shifted in her chair, never taking her eyes from the screen as she spoke. "A preliminary search of your phrase isn't coughin' anythin' up. The word 'tyranny' by itself brings up quite a bit, but those two words together...nothin'. I knew it wasn't gonna be easy. Blair, sugar, do me a favor while I'm workin'?"

"Sure."

"Whip up a batch of cornbread. It's real easy, I'll walk you through it."

Jim leaned back on the couch and propped his legs up, listening to Blair clatter around in the kitchen as Audrey instructed him. He had always enjoyed solitude before he'd met Blair, but the warm cooking smells and the friendly chatter were comfortingly familiar. He'd forgotten that sometimes a little noise could be more peaceful than silence.

"Jim."

He felt someone prodding at his arm and his eyes flew open.

"Hey, man, you crashed. Dinner's ready." Blair was leaning over him, smiling. "You're gonna love this, Audrey's a great cook."

Jim shook the fuzziness from his brain and stood, seeing that the table had been set with candles, a table cloth and linen napkins. "Very impressive, Audrey."

Blair frowned and stared up at him. "Uh, that was me, Jim. Audrey is my guest, even if she insisted on cooking dinner."

Audrey winked at Jim and put her hand on Blair's cheek. "And it was so kind of you to let me. You can pay me back by cleanin' everythin' up afterwards."

Blair caught the exchange and his frown deepened. "Swell."

Jim didn't need any heightened senses to detect Blair's jealousy, but he couldn't help himself. Sometimes teasing the guy was so easy. He walked over and pulled out a chair for Audrey.

"Thank you kind sir." Audrey batted her eyelashes, effecting an even deeper drawl.

Jim grinned and sat down. Blair was right, the food was wonderful and he found himself opening up his senses to appreciate it fully. The smell of the cornbread mingled with the taste of shrimp, tomato and spices. He didn't realize he was losing himself until he felt a sharp pain in his shin. His friend had kicked him just a little harder than was necessary.

Two and a half bowls later, Jim was satiated. He offered to help with the dishes, but Audrey insisted that he relax.

Despite her earlier comment, Audrey joined Blair in the kitchen. By the time they were done it was getting late. Blair still had papers to grade and Audrey had some top secret project she needed to be working on.

"It was nice meetin' you, Jim. I'll keep lookin' for anythin' tyranny related 'n let you know if I come up with anythin'."

Jim shook her hand again, holding it a bit longer than he should have, judging by the look on Blair's face. "Dinner was wonderful, thank you."

The detective tried to maintain an innocent expression as Blair shot him a dirty look and led Audrey to the door. She slid her arms under Blair's untucked T-shirt and around his waist, pulling him close and kissed him warmly on the lips. "See ya 'round, sugar."

Blair entwined his arms around Audrey's waist and pulled her even closer, affecting a southern drawl. "You bet, darlin'." He kissed her back and they both broke into giggles. Blair was grinning ear to ear as he closed the door.

Jim wondered just how well these two knew each other. As Blair turned around with a goofy grin on his face, Jim raised his eyebrows at him.

"None of your business, Ellison." Blair failed miserably in his attempt at a stone face. He walked to his room and shut the door, whistling to himself. V.

Blair was in a very good mood as he walked out of his morning class. Audrey always left him feeling that way. Sure, her teasing got on his nerves, and he'd been a little ticked when she had flirted with Jim last night, but he could never stay angry at her for long. She was smart, nice looking, and she chose her few friends very carefully. Blair counted himself lucky to be one of them. If he was forced to admit it, he had a little bit of a crush on her, even though their relationship had never passed the flirting stage.

Flirting. Yeah. With Audrey, it was a high art form. But the kiss last night at the door had felt different somehow, and on a certain level, Blair feared taking the relationship farther.

Good friends were harder to find than dates.

Blair was so lost in his thoughts that he was totally unprepared when Tom Mason grabbed the front of his shirt and slammed him into the wall.

"Stay away from Audrey, Sandburg. I mean it this time. I'm through asking nicely." Tom kept his hand on Blair's chest and balled his other in a fist, lifting it menacingly.

"What the hell is your problem? Just chill out, man." Blair had known Tom for a couple of years, but they weren't what he would consider friends. He had dated Audrey on and off during that time, but it had never been very serious. Well, at least not to Audrey. Blair had always suspected that Tom's feelings ran a little deeper. The fact that the guy was about to clobber him pretty much confirmed it.

"You OK, Mr. Sandburg?" One of Blair's students, a large muscular young man, looked ready to flatten Tom. A small crowd was beginning to gather.

"I'm fine." The last thing Blair needed right now was to be involved in a public fist fight. He looked at Tom pointedly. "You gonna let me go so we can talk?"

Tom growled in frustration and released his hold on the anthropologist. The people in the hallway began to move on. "I want you to stop seeing Audrey."

"First of all, I'm not seeing Audrey. She's helping me out on a project and I invited her over for dinner. Even if I were seeing her, what would it matter to you? I thought you two were kaput."

"Well, we're not, OK? Every time I start to make some headway with her, you show up and she loses interest in me again."

Tom tensed up again, and Blair mentally prepared himself for the blow.

"I'm sure beating the crap out of me would guarantee you a special place in her heart."

"That's not funny. Why don't you just go away and leave her alone?"

"You make it sound like I'm harassing her. She's my friend, and I'm not going to abandon her to make room for you. Whatever weird love/hate thing you two are involved in has nothing to do with me."

"You really believe that? She's crazy about you. If you walked over to her apartment right now and proposed to her, you'd be married before the day was out."

"No way. We're just friends." Blair listened to the words come out of his mouth and wasn't really sure he believed them himself.

"Yeah, right."

The next thing Blair said was closer to the truth. "I'm not into marrying anyone right now, and I don't think Audrey is, either. Have you tried asking her?"

The man's shoulders slumped in resignation. "Several times. The answer is always no."

"Sounds to me like you have some things to work out with her." Blair turned and started to head to his office. He was already late getting to the station to meet Jim. Looking back, he said, "Audrey is my friend. That's just the way things are. Threats won't do you any good, man." VI.

Jim looked impatiently at his watch. Sandburg was late again. He sympathized with his partner's insane schedule, but he had a lot to do today and he couldn't wait any longer. Blair caught up with him just as he was getting into the truck.

"Hey, Jim. Sorry I'm late."

"Cutting it a little close, aren't you, Chief?"

"Sorry. Class ran over." Blair plopped into the passenger seat and tried to catch his breath. "Any new leads?"

"Maybe. The FBI turned up a reference to 'end tyranny' in one of their unsolved case files. A judge's house was burned to the ground near Boise about five years ago. A similar, but longer, letter was found in the mailbox. They had a couple of suspects, but there was never enough evidence to convict anyone."

"That's never stopped the FBI before." Blair observed wryly.

"The brother of one of the suspects lives in Cascade."

"That where we're going?"

"Uh-huh."

Earl Durfey lived in what had once been a working class suburb of Cascade. The houses here were nearly identical two-bedroom ranches with single car garages. Only the color of the siding differentiated them. Two of the houses on Ames Avenue were boarded up and abandoned; crack houses that had been confiscated by the city. One showed signs of a recent fire, and Jim made a mental note of the address to check later against police reports. Durfey's house was two doors farther down, a dilapidated place with avocado green siding and a storm door that was missing the screen. Weeds grew up in random clumps, surviving against the odds in the trash-filled yard. A low chain link fence surrounded a patch of yellow grass.

The two men walked through the gate and up to the front porch. Jim knocked and got no answer.

After a few moments he banged on it louder. "Mr. Durfey?"

Jim tensed as he heard the sound of the back door being opened. "Blair, stay here and keep knocking. I'm going around back. Call for backup while you're at it."

Jim pulled his gun from his holster and walked slowly around the side of the house. Focusing in on the sounds, he heard the unmistakable squeak of a door being carefully closed. As he crept along the side of the house, he ducked beneath a window, concerned that there might be someone else inside who would see him. He was so focused on the sounds emanating from the back of the house that he didn't hear the dog until it was almost on him. Jim turned in time to see the Doberman leaping into the air. Instinctively he put his arm up to fend off the powerful jaws, gasping in pain as the animal clamped on to his wrist. His gun fell from his hand and he swung his arm, slamming the dog against the side of the house. The dog retained its grip on his wrist, and he turned to take another swing just as a second dog leapt on him from behind. He was knocked off balance and fell forward to the ground, using his free hand to try to protect the back of his neck from the second dog. Struggling to his knees, Jim yelled out for Blair. The second dog, which had abandoned its attempts to get at Jim's neck and now had a firm hold on the other arm of his jacket suddenly disappeared with a startled yelp. Jim looked up to see his partner wielding a two-by-four like a baseball bat, a look of undisguised fury on his face. The first dog growled and increased its iron grip on Jim's wrist sending sharp jolts of pain through his arm. Blair lifted his weapon and was about to strike the animal when his attention was diverted by the unmistakable sound of a shotgun blast.

"Put that down, boy. Right now." The warning voice and the shotgun belonged to a man of about forty who stood several yards away. He was wearing dirty grey slacks, and a white T-shirt covered with oil stains. A cigarette dangled from the corner of his mouth.

Blair wavered for a moment, eyeing the barrel of the shotgun that was pointed at his midsection, then steeled himself and spoke. "Not until your dog let's go of my friend, man."

"You ain't in no position to argue."

The dog had stopped worrying at the leather cuff of Jim's jacket and stood stock still, inquisitive eyes looking up at his master.

"Heel!" The dog released its grip and obediently went to its master's side. The dog that Blair had hit limped over and sat, licking its haunches and whining. Blair sighed in relief and let the board drop to his side. Jim surreptitiously picked up his gun as he stood, holding it out of sight behind him.

"You hurt my dog."

"It hurt my friend." Blair said simply, trying to control the shakiness in his voice.

The man seemed to accept that, but didn't lower the gun. "You're trespassing. What you want?"

Jim made his face a polite mask, as if he were conducting an ordinary interview and hadn't just been mauled by attack dogs. "I'm Detective Ellison, Cascade PD. I'm looking for Earl Durfey."

"What you want with him?"

"We just need to ask him a few questions. Are you him?"

"Depends. What's the question?"

Jim smiled, "Mr. Durfey, my partner here called for backup just a few minutes ago. It would be in your best interest if you weren't holding a shotgun on us when they arrived."

Blair muttered under his breath. "I didn't have time."

Durfey eyed Blair suspiciously. "He ain't no cop."

"There's always a chance they'll shoot first and ask questions later, Mr. Durfey. Why don't you put the gun down?"

The man snorted. "More than a chance. The pigs murder people all the time. Decent law-abiding citizens just trying to protect their rights." He pointed the shotgun at the ground, holding it casually in the crook of his arm. "You come here to arrest me for something I didn't do?"

"No sir, we're looking for your brother, Kyle."

"What you want him for?"

The man was a broken record. "We need to talk to him about a case we're working on."

"I bet."

"So, have you seen him?" Jim heard a rustling movement in the back yard. Whoever had sneaked out the back was still there, watching them.

"Naw. We don't get along too good anymore since he started going to school and acting all stuck up. Thinks he's gonna be president of the NRA some day."

"He goes to Rainier?" Blair asked.

Durfey recognized his slip up and tried to recover. "Naw. He goes to some technical college in Iowa."

Jim holstered his gun in one smooth motion as he produced a card from his jacket with his other hand and gave it to Durfey. "If you do see him, tell him to give me a call."

"Sure." The man noticed the blood trickling down Jim's wrist. "You ain't gonna take my dogs away fer that are you? T'wasn't their fault, they were just doing like I taught 'em."

Jim was focusing behind him, and almost didn't hear the question. A gentle jab from Blair's elbow brought him back. "Put a sign up. And keep them inside or chained up unless you're with them to watch them. If I hear of them attacking anyone else, I'll send Animal Control up here to put them to sleep. Have they had their shots?"

Patting one of the dogs absently on the head, he said, "Yes, Sir. I love my dogs, they get all their shots." Durfey pointed to the tags around the animal's necks and Jim focused in on them, seeing that they were up to date. He breathed a mental sigh of relief, but wondered why a man with anti-government leanings would pay for tags for his pets. Maybe he'd had trouble with the animals before.

Jim handed the man his card and turned abruptly, heading back to the truck. He tossed Blair the keys. "You drive. Someone was in the back yard watching us. I want to know who. Pull the truck around the corner and stop when you're out of sight of the house."

Blair looked at him, unspoken questions on his lips. When he got behind the wheel, he let loose. "What's up? What did you hear? Are you OK, man?" Blair snagged the cuff of Jim's jacket and pulled it toward him, gingerly lifting the sleeve to look at the small puncture marks from the dog's teeth, then fumbled under the seat for the first aid kit.

"I'm fine, we don't have time for that. Drive."

Blair pulled around the corner, parked, then resumed his search for the first aid kit. "You need to wrap that up, and if you don't clean it right away it could get infected even if the dogs have had their shots. Aha!" The young man held up the white plastic box triumphantly. Producing an alcohol wipe and a roll of gauze, Blair hastily cleaned and wrapped Jim's wrist.

The feel of alcohol on his wound hurt like hell, but Jim was too focused on the alley to care. "Hurry up, we're going to lose him."

"OK, OK! Geez, man, you don't want to get bloodstains all over the upholstery do you?" Blair grabbed the medical tape and tore a piece off with his teeth, securing the bandage.

"Finished, Clara?" Jim removed his arm from Blair's grasp and got out of the vehicle.

Blair grabbed the cell phone and hopped out of the car, barely able to control his pent up nervous energy. Jim smiled inwardly. It didn't seem physically possible given the kid's usual state, but fear and adrenaline made the anthropologist even more hyperactive.

"Keys?"

Laughing self-consciously, Blair reached back into the car and removed them from the ignition, shoving them into the pocket of his jeans. Suddenly, his eyes widened. "Oh, I get it. Clara Barton. Red Cross. Ha ha."

The detective drew his gun and started down the alley, focusing in on the cluttered yard three houses down. There were enough bushes, trees and monster weeds in the alley to cover their approach and they would go unnoticed as long as his partner didn't trip over any garbage cans. He heard Durfey call his dogs and the back door swing shut, but Durfey remained in the yard. Now Jim could hear him talking. "Cops're lookin' for you, Kyle. I don't want no trouble."

"You won't have any. Don't worry about it. I haven't done anything and they don't have any proof that I have."

"You sure? I don't want the FBI crawling around like they did when we was in Iowa."

"I'm sure."

"Then why was you hiding back here?"

"Didn't feel like talking to them, that's all. The minute you talk to them, they start trying to figure out a way to hang something on you."

"Ain't that the truth. I thought for sure they was gonna take my dogs away. That hippie boy near killed Bobo. I liked to shot him for it."

"That would've been a bad move, Earl. Just chill out and lay low. This'll blow over in a couple of weeks."

"You know, you don't fool me. Just 'cause you been to college, don't make you any less white trash than I am. You're up to something bad agin'."

Kyle's voice rose in anger. "White trash is somebody who lives in a run down house with auto parts and old refrigerators all over the yard. Somebody who thinks they need Dobermans to protect their worthless garbage. Our fathers may have been the same, but I have good gKyle's voice rose in anger. "White trash is somebody who lives in a run down house with auto parts and old refrigerators all over the yard. Somebody who thinks they need Dobermans to protect their worthless garbage. Our fathers may have been the same, but I have good genes on my mother's side. You, Earl, are an example of what happens when cousins marry."

"Take it back!" There was a grunt and the sound of flesh hitting flesh, and a crash as someone fell. The dogs, trapped uselessly inside the house, began to bark and yelp anxiously.

"You can't even fight, Earl. What the hell happened to you? When we were kids you used to beat hell out of anyone that looked at you funny. Now you're just a big ugly jellyfish."

"All I want is to live here with my dogs and tinker on my cars. I don't want to be worrying about no cops. And I ain't hiding that stuff in the basement no more neither. Get it out. I don't want none of it."

"You're going to have to hold onto it a while longer. I can't exactly store it in my apartment, now, can I?"

"'Guess not. But it ain't legal to have. I could get in big trouble."

"It's only illegal to have it if you've made it into something. Separate, it's just some tools and some gardening supplies."

"I don't have no garden."

"If someone asks you about it, claim you're going to start one. Get some seed packets and a rake to show them."

"That's smart. OK, I'll do that. But I still want it gone quick!"

"All right, big brother, just another week or so."

"Watcha gonna blow up? Post office? Court house? IRS?"

"Who said I was going to blow anything up?"

"I ain't that stupid."

"You just worry about your dogs and I'll worry about my business. 'K?"

"Yeah, sure."

The storm door squeaked and Jim heard Earl retreating into the house. Kyle was heading towards the alley. Jim pushed Blair back behind a bush and waited until the suspect had walked through the back gate, then moved into full view in the alley. "Kyle Durfey?"

The man was about Blair's age, with short brown hair and raggedly cut short bangs. A style that up until now Jim had only seen on ill-advised movie stars. He was shorter than Jim, and thin, like his brother. "Who wants to know?"

If he'd had any doubt that Earl and Kyle where brothers, he didn't now. "I'm Detective Ellison with the Cascade PD. I'd like to ask you a few questions."

"This is a strange place for an interrogation."

"Well, sir, if you'd like to come back to the station, I'm sure you'll be more comfortable."

"Yeah, right. So what's this about?"

"There was a fire this morning at the home of a lawyer named Brickler."

"Sorry, can't help you. Look, I'm going to be late for class. I didn't have anything to do with whatever you're trying to pin on me, and unless you have a warrant, which I don't think you do, I'm leaving."

"If you really want to be arrested, I'm sure we can arrange that for you."

"Piss off." Kyle turned to walk away and then stopped and turned around. "You guys are gonna hound me until I come in, right?"

"No sir, that would be harassment."

"Right. I'll come quietly officer." Sarcasm seemed to run in the family.

Jim spent most of the rest of the afternoon interrogating Kyle Durfey. He didn't get far. Kyle seemed to have an air-tight alibi. Jim used his lie-detecting abilities and found that the man was telling the truth. That, combined with his instincts, told him that Kyle was not involved in the arson. His mind kept racing back to the conversation he'd overheard in the back yard. If Kyle wasn't involved in this crime, he was definitely planning one. Something big, probably involving explosives. Getting a search warrant for Earl Durfey's house was problematic, considering the way he'd come across the information, but Jim did have contacts in the FBI, and he phoned an acquaintance there and filled him in. They were keeping tabs on Kyle, and now they would be keeping an eye on Earl. Reluctantly he released Kyle. Back to square one. VII.

It was about 7:00 when the phone rang. Blair was busy writing up notes about Jim's experience finding the hole in the fence. Jim was heavily engrossed in a book. When the older man made no move to answer the phone, Blair sighed heavily and got up.

"Hello?"

"Hey, gorgeous."

"Audrey." Blair's face erupted in a smile. When he noticed Jim looking at him he flushed in embarrassment and turned his back to the detective.

"Can you come over? I've had a little bit of trouble with Tom." Blair could tell by the sound of her voice that Audrey was crying.

Blair's delight turned to anger. "What did he do? If he touched you..."

"No, no. Nothing like that. You know he wouldn't hurt me. Just a lot of yellin'. He left here cryin' and I'm worried 'bout him. Can you come?"

"I'm on my way. Hang in there." Blair hung up and reached for his coat.

"What's wrong, Chief? Did someone hurt Audrey?"

"No, she had an argument with an ex-boyfriend. It's nothing serious, but she's a little upset. Don't wait up for me."

"Take your phone."

"OK." Blair snatched it out of his open back pack.

Blair made it to Audrey's in record time. If Jim had seen the traffic laws he broke getting there, he probably would have revoked Blair's observers' pass. When he got to Audrey's everything seemed normal, but he could see that his friend had been crying. He gathered her in a hug and they stood there silently for several minutes. Finally she pulled back and they made their way to the couch. Blair was amazed to find a place to sit. She must have cleaned up a little for Tom. As he sat, he felt something jab his leg and stood up again, pulling a small screwdriver from between the cushions. Audrey laughed a little.

"This place is dangerous."

Audrey grabbed Blair's hand. "Next time I'll have a crisis at your place."

Blair squeezed her hand as he sat back down, and she lay her head on his shoulder. "So tell me what happened."

"It was about you. You probably figured that, since you saw him this mornin'."

"Oh, man! I tried to tell him..."

"There's no use tellin' that man anythin'. He believes what he believes, and nobody is gonna tell him different."

Blair wondered if Tom would still believe there was nothing going on between them if he happened in now and saw Audrey snuggled against his shoulder. He put his other arm around Audrey and gave her a little squeeze.

"He's jealous?"

"Yeah, but you know, it's been more than a month since I told him I didn't want to see him any more. He's been tryin' to start things up again ever since."

"So what happened tonight?"

"Well, first he came to propose to me. Came with a gorgeous bouquet of red roses and baby's breath, dressed in a tux of all things. I'm ashamed to say it, but I almost laughed when I saw him. Tuxedos do not become him at all."

"Wow."

"No kiddin'. Then he got down on one knee, still outside in my hallway, and professed his undyin' affection for me. He had a ring, a big one. I can't imagine how he could afford it."

"Sounds romantic."

"Yeah, it surely does. It would have been if I'd been madly in love with Tom, but I'm not. I'm not sure I even like him any more. When he asked me to marry him, I had to say no. It 'bout broke my heart."

Audrey's voice shook and Blair put a comforting arm around her shoulder.

"I've always been attracted to him in a physical way, and for a while I really was in love with him, but then he started gettin' possessive. You know me, Blair. I can't stand anyone tryin' to tell me what to do or who my friends should be. Look at me." Audrey gestured to her outfit: navy blue sweats with a large bleach stain down one side, an oversized grey sweatshirt and a pair of white tennis shoes. Her hair was pulled back in a disheveled pony tail. Crying had made her eyes swollen and red. "Do I look like a gentle Southern belle?"

"Not at the moment, but you sure do clean up nice." Blair leered at her suggestively and wiggled his eyebrows.

Audrey sat up and punched him in the arm. "I'm serious, now."

"I'm not sure what you mean by 'Southern belle'. If you mean retiring, shy, polite, and obedient, then no. I always kind of thought of you as a Scarlet O'Hara."

Audrey narrowed her eyes. "I don't know whether to be flattered or insulted."

"Be flattered. I just meant that you're strong-willed and have a mind of your own. I never could picture you with Tom. That guy is such a humorless pud."

"A humorless pud?" Audrey looked as though she were trying very hard not to smile.

"Uh-huh. The guy's got some major problems. So what happened when you said no?"

"He got angry. Said I was 'probably screwing that Sandburg asshole'" Audrey imitated Tom's voice. "He said, 'You know all he wants is a quick lay. He'll leave you once he finds someone prettier.'"

"Nice."

"Yes, all his many charms fly out the window when he's angry. I told him it wasn't true, that you and I were good friends and had been since before I met him, but he wasn't listenin', he'd already made up his mind."

Blair remembered the potentially violent encounter he'd had with Tom this morning. "He didn't hurt you?"

Audrey leaned her head on Blair's shoulder again and put both arms around his waist. "I told you he didn't, but honestly, I was afraid for a moment he would. I've never seen him so angry. When he started sayin' those things about you I told him to leave. Said I never wanted him to darken my doorstep again. That's when he started cryin'. Well, blubberin' might be a better word for it. I know that's a harsh thing to say, but it was almost embarassin'. I prefer men with a little more backbone than that. I mean, he was on his knees beggin' me to marry him, makin' promises there was no way he'd be able to keep. Sayin' he'd change for me, not be jealous any more. When I saw him like that, I knew that whatever I'd felt for him before was gone. I tried to be kind to him, Blair, really I did. I loved him once and I didn't want him to be hurt like that, but he just wouldn't stop, makin' more and more ludicrous promises and grovelin' like a small child. By that time, I was cryin', too, and I think he thought that meant I had feelin's for him. I finally told him I didn't love him any more and he had to leave."

"Did he?"

"Yes, he did, but he looked devastated. I feel like such a bitch."

Blair was fuming. He'd never been particularly fond of Tom, but hearing how he'd tried to manipulate and pressure Audrey really pissed him off. Now she thought it was her fault. "In all the time you were dating, did you ever give him any reason to think it was serious?"

"No. We never dated very regularly, just when we were at loose ends. I always told him I wasn't ready for marriage yet, and that I liked him, but I wasn't in love with him. I said if I ever fell madly in love with anyone, that's when I'd consider marryin' We were never even very good friends. He never had an interest in my work, or much respect for my other friends. I don't know why I spent so much time with him."

"Pheromones."

Audrey lifted her head again. "What?"

There was an urgent knock at the door and Audrey hopped up, giving Blair an odd look as she went to answer it. She opened it to a young man of about 20. He was wearing a tie-dyed bandanna on his head and a Grateful Dead T-shirt.

"Hi, Benny. What's up?"

Blair got up and joined them.

The young man's shoulders were hunched, and he almost cringed as he spoke. "Ummm, Tom's on the roof. I think maybe he's gonna jump. I already called the cops, but he wants you to come talk to him."

Audrey put a hand over her mouth, tears filling her eyes. "Oh my Lord. We're comin'"

When they reached the roof, Blair saw Tom, sitting on the edge of the roof and looking down. It was ten stories to the bottom, more than enough to kill him if he went over. There were a couple of teenagers dressed similarly to Audrey's neighbor standing a short distance away, trying to talk to him.

Tom glared at them and yelled, "Shut up! If you say one more thing to me, I'm gonna to jump. Get out of here." He flung his arm out to shoo them away and Blair saw a half-empty bottle of Jack Daniels in his hand.

"Audrey, let me talk to him first. Seeing you may not be the best thing for him right now."

"I don't think he'll be too wild about seein' you either, Blair."

Blair knew she was right, but he kept having visions of Tom jumping and taking Audrey with him, or maybe just jumping as soon as he knew she was there to witness it. "Let me try to stall him, OK? The cops will be here in a few minutes, and they'll have someone who knows how to deal with him."

Audrey looked at the drunken man and said, "OK. Thanks, Blair." She leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. "Y'all be careful now, understand?"

"I will."

Blair walked up slowly, but in full view of Tom, trying not to startle him. The man was still wearing his tux, although now the tie was gone and the ruffled shirt was loose and unbuttoned. Blair schooled the smile from his face. Audrey hadn't told him the tux was burgundy. With his preppie hair cut, and his bland good looks, Tom looked like a low-rent lounge singer.

"Hey, man, how you doing?"

"Get the hell away from me, Sandburg. You've caused enough trouble. Where's Audrey?" He took a swig from his bottle and looked around. Audrey had ducked back into the stairwell.

"Audrey's not coming. You scared her."

"Aw, I didn't mean to do that. Tell her I'm sorry."

"OK, but why don't you do that? She's right downstairs."

"No!" He sobbed. "The only way I'm leaving here is that way." He gestured to the street below.

Blair was standing several feet from the edge, his vertigo starting to kick in. "Why would you want to go and do that? How's Audrey gonna feel if she has to watch the cops peel you off the sidewalk?"

"She'll prob'ly laugh. She hates me now."

"That's such a load of bull, man. She's your friend, she always has been, but you tried to make it something more, even when she's been telling you all along she doesn't want it. Stop feeling sorry for yourself. There are plenty of women out there who would be more than happy to get their hooks in you."

"Fine for you say. She loves you."

Blair walked casually closer. "Of course she does. We're friends. We love each other, but we're not in love. There's a big difference there, man."

"She doesn't even love me that way anymore."

Tom tilted his head back and took another slug of whiskey, swaying erratically. Right now, Blair though there was more chance that he'd fall off accidentally than jump. Blair felt butterflies in his stomach. He was a lot closer to the edge now, and could see the squad cars and fire department below. "You upset her, but if you get yourself together and try to make it up to her, you might be able to be friends again. She's a very forgiving woman."

"Screw it. What does she see in you anyway? You're short and puny, and you wear glasses. I'm tall and athletic, and a damn good looking guy if I do say so myself. Must be the blue eyes. Women love guys with long hair and blue eyes."

Blair smiled and shrugged. "It helps. Ever considered letting your hair grow out?" He was close enough to touch Tom now, but he really didn't want to try. Where were the cops? They always had someone trained to talk down jumpers.

"Yeah, right. Wouldn't work." Tom belched loudly and said, "I don't feel so good." At that moment he swayed dangerously and started to fall.

Blair leapt forward, his fear of heights momentarily forgotten, and reached for the drunken man's arm, grabbing a handful of Tom's garish jacket. Tom kept going over, and for one sickening moment, Blair thought he was going too, but he dropped to his knees and the low brick wall that surrounded the roof stopped him at the last moment. The drunk's weight pulled Blair's upper body hard against the ledge. Blair heard a grunt as Tom slammed against the side of the building. Omigodomigodomigod. The jacket was loose under Blair's fingers, and he could feel it sliding off the larger man's arm.

"Grab my hand!" Far below, Blair could see the flashing red and white lights of the emergency vehicles, then everything started to tilt and he closed his eyes. I will not have a panic attack now! He opened them again and focused on the man who was slowly but surely slipping from his grasp.

Tom looked stupidly up at him, his other hand still holding the whiskey bottle.

"Listen, Tom, man..." Blair adopted his patient classroom voice. "If you don't drop the bottle and grab my hand, you will die. It won't feel good. You're going to hit the sidewalk...oh man..." The ground below suddenly looked very close, and Blair felt his stomach lurch.

Do not panic!

"If you fall, it's gonna hurt. A lot!"

The arm of the jacket was almost over Tom's wrist, and Blair gripped tighter, digging his fingers into flesh to try to get some sort of purchase on him.

"Ow!" Tom glared at Blair, then seemed to realize for the first time that he was in trouble. "Oh shit."

Oh man, I'm losing it. "Hey, is anybody still up here? I could really use some help." Where were those kids who'd been talking to him just a minute ago? Tom had told them to get lost.

Great. Just great.

As Tom began to reach for Blair's hand, his features changed. He no longer looked frightened, but pissed. "You took Audrey away from me!" Tom swung the bottle at Blair's head, missing completely but managing to drench both men's arms before it went crashing to earth.

The wetness reached Blair's hand and he started to lose his already tenuous grip. "Tom, man," Blair gasped as he used his last bit of strength to swing the man away from the building. "you are a total asshole."

He let go. VIII.

Jim entered the station wondering if he should call Blair. His friend hadn't come home last night, but the way he and Audrey had been acting together the other night, it wasn't surprising. He'd probably left for his morning class straight from Audrey's.

As he walked into Major Crimes, Joel walked over and clapped him on the back. "Pretty impressive, Ellison. You must be proud."

Jim raised an eyebrow at the captain, wondering what in the hell he was talking about. He passed Brown's desk and heard yet another comment.

"I didn't know Sandburg minored in psychology. He's a man of many talents."

Ryf nodded. "Stronger than he looks, too."

Brown smiled in agreement. "And a good shot. He hit dead center."

Jim shook his head, "What in the hell are you guys talking about?"

Simon appeared out of his office. "Hey, Ellison, when you see Sandburg, tell him good work. Mason's gonna be in the county hospital for a few days for observation, then it looks like he'll be going back to Pennsylvania to live with his folks for a while."

Ryf chuckled. "He doesn't know about it, Captain."

"What?" Simon's cigar seemed dangerously close to falling out of his mouth.

"Will someone please just spit it out. What was Sandburg involved in last night?" Many things were running through his mind at that second, all of them involved Blair doing something foolish.

"He saved a jumper at an apartment building on 8th."

Brown had a look of awed admiration on his face. "Guy was drunk, and Blair caught him as he fell over the edge. Held him there long enough for the fire department to finish blowing up the air bag. Then he actually swung the guy out and dropped him dead center into it. X marks the spot, man. It was amazing."

Simon chuckled. "Not bad for someone who's afraid of heights."

Brown said, "You should've seen his face. He must've lost a couple of years off his life."

"Who was this guy? What was Blair doing on the roof?"

"It's a long story, Jim. Come on into my office and I'll fill you in."

After Jim was seated and had a cup of hot, almond-flavored coffee, Simon relayed the story. 9-1-1 had received a call about a jumper on 8th, and officers had been dispatched. Ryf and Brown had been nearby, and heard the call. When they got there, they saw Blair talking to the man. The fire department had already arrived and were blowing up an airbag when the man had lost his balance. Ryf and Brown didn't even have a chance to enter the building before Blair started to lose his grip and tossed the man into the bag. The drunk man in question was an ex-boyfriend of Audrey's, according to Blair. Apparently he was reacting badly to a spurned marriage proposal.

"From what Ryf told me, Mason was babbling on about how it was Sandburg's fault and he hated his guts."

Jim was already reeling from the possible things that could have gone wrong. "Did Blair know that?"

"Apparently so. Ms. Drouchat said that she and Mason had argued about her relationship with Sandburg before he left."

Then why in the hell would he risk going out there to talk the man down? Of all the foolish things Blair had done in the past, this was one of the worst. Tom Mason could have pulled Blair off the roof right along with him.

"I know what you're thinking, Jim, but the kid did good. Mason wanted to talk to Ms. Drouchat, and Blair stopped her from going out. He was right not to let her go."

"Why didn't you call me?" What he really wanted to know was why Blair hadn't.

"I figured Sandburg would. It was late before everything calmed down, and his friend was pretty upset. Maybe he just forgot."

Forgot that he'd just saved a man from committing suicide? He'd have to have a long talk with his friend the next time he saw him.

As it turned out, he didn't have to wait at all. Sandburg came strolling in, looking a bit haggard and wearing the same clothes he'd worn the day before. Jim wondered if he'd taught his morning class that way. As Blair made his way through the bullpen, the other detectives came up to him, teasing him and clapping him on the back. By the time he got to Simon's office he was looking puffed up and grinning ear-to-ear. That smile disappeared as he saw the look on Jim's face.

"Oh, hey...Sorry man..."

"You didn't think it was worth a phone call?"

Blair looked down at his feet and shuffled guiltily. "It was 3 a.m. by the time everything calmed down, and Audrey was really shaken up, and I knew you'd be asleep. I meant to call you this morning, but I fell asleep at Audrey's and I barely made it to class..."

"I'm not talking about that. You should have called me as soon as you found out that guy was on the roof."

"What, and waited for you?"

"Yeah."

"He would have been a spot on the sidewalk by then, Jim. I had to do something."

"He could have killed you, pulled you over the side."

"Hey, man, it was fine. He missed me by a mile."

"Missed you?" Jim drew a hand over his face. It just got worse and worse.

"Yeah, um, he tried to hit me with a whiskey bottle, but he was drunk and he missed. Of course, spilling all that booze down my arm didn't help my grip any."

Jim closed his eyes and shook his head. He didn't think he wanted to hear any more of this.

"Hey, I told you I was sorry. There wasn't time to call you. I couldn't let him jump. Audrey would have been devastated."

"So this is about a woman? What if you'd gotten dizzy up there on the roof. I don't relish the idea of having to scrape you off the sidewalk."

"No, Jim, this isn't 'about a woman.' This is about a friend. I don't think Tom was really going to kill himself. He was drunk and obnoxious and trying to manipulate Audrey into changing her mind about him. I couldn't let him do that. She already felt guilty about turning him down."

Simon shook his head. "Dare I ask? How did Mason think he was going to get her to change her mind by pretending to be suicidal?"

"I didn't say he was smart. It's the old 'You'll be sorry when I'm dead' scenario. He thought he could guilt her into loving him."

Jim clenched his jaw and tried to calm down. What a nightmare. Of course Blair had done the right thing, and he shouldn't be angry, but he hated the idea of the kid handling something like that on his own. "You call me next time you encounter any suicidal drunks, OK?"

Blair laughed. "Sure, man. Whatever you say. So, what's up on the Brickler case?"

What was up was that they would have to start over again. As tempting as it would be to hang the arson on the Durfey brothers, Jim was sure they weren't involved. They were definitely up to no good, but he couldn't do anything about it until they made a move. Brickler had provided Jim with a list of people who might have enough of a grudge against him to want to burn his house down. It was a long list. First, though, he wanted to head back to the crime scene to see if he'd missed anything. Something had been nagging at him about it since yesterday, but he couldn't put his finger on it. Maybe going back would jog his memory.

On the way back to Evergreen Hills, Blair filled him in on the events of the night before. In one sense, Jim was as proud of his friend's cool-headedness as the guys at the station, but in another, fearful that Blair might become too cocky in other dangerous situations and get himself seriously hurt. Finally Blair ran out of steam on that subject.

"You don't think I messed up that dog too badly yesterday, do you?"

Jim was lost for a moment, and tried to adjust to the sudden shift in topic. "You did what you had to do."

"I know, but it really sucks. It's not the dog's fault."

"True." Jim had not thought a lot about the events of yesterday, but now they came clearly into focus. Blair had quite possibly saved his life. More proof, not that he needed any more, that he could trust his partner to watch his back. "That's quite a swing you have."

Blair still looked glum. "Thanks."

"Those dogs were trained to attack humans. You don't have anything to feel guilty about."

"I know. And if the situation happened all over again, I'd still pick you over a dog."

"I'm honored."

"You know what I mean. I'm just not into beating up animals."

Maybe teasing him would pull Blair out of his funk. "But impaling them with fishing spears is OK."

Blair sighed in exasperation. "Killing animals for food is a completely different concept than deliberately causing them pain."

"You know, Chief, I don't get you sometimes. That animal, however innocent of malicious intent, was ready to rip my throat out. You stopped it. That should be the end of it."

"Jim, I told you I don't regret helping you. It's more complicated than that. Can't I just be allowed to feel bad for hurting the dog?"

"Sure, Chief, but don't let it eat at you. You've got to try not to let the things that happen on this job affect you like that. Eventually it will wear you down. One of the things you haven't learned to do yet is put some emotional distance between yourself and the cases we work on."

"I know, Jim. 'Check my humanity at the door if that's what it takes to stay present.' "

"Right."

"Well, I've tried and I can't do it. I know it's a huge character flaw, but you're going to have to learn to live with it."

"It's not me I'm worried about."

The conversation ended as Jim pulled up to the guard post at Evergreen Hills. The guard there was not the same one who had been there on his last visit. "Is it Mr. Anklam's day off?"

"What, you mean Bill? Nah. He quit end of his shift yesterday."

"Any idea why?"

"Yeah. I think he asked the boss for a raise, and when he didn't get it he walked out. This job don't pay squat."

The new guard gave Jim's badge only a cursory glance and waved him through. As they pulled up to the ruins of Brickler's house, Blair asked. "What do you think you missed?"

"I'm not sure. Something didn't fit, but I can't quite remember what it was."

"Was it something you saw or smelled?"

"Saw, I think."

The two men got out of the truck and walked up to the now cold remains of the house. There were no workmen here today and no distractions. Blair gestured Jim over to a nearby tree stump. "Sit down."

"I don't need to sit, I need to think." Jim had said that a little more harshly than he had intended. The thought of Blair's close call last night was still fresh in his mind.

"I can help you do that."

"Not every problem can be solved by deep breathing, Chief."

"Well, you haven't remembered it yet, have you?"

"Not with you jabbering away at me."

Blair threw up his hands in exasperation. "OK, man, have it your way."

Jim wandered aimlessly around the ashes and debris, trying to recall the elusive clue. He knew Blair was watching him, and it just made him try harder to find it. It could be very frustrating when the kid was always right. "Dammit!"

Blair smiled calmly and asked, "Ready to try it my way?"

Jim thwacked his partner lightly on the side of his head. "Don't gloat, Sandburg, it doesn't become you."

Blair grimaced in imaginary pain and pulled at his earlobe, looking for all the world like a small child with his hand caught in the cookie jar. "Ow!"

Jim sat and Blair squatted in front of him. "Any idea where you saw it, whatever it was?"

"I think it had something to do with the ravine." Jim closed his eyes and took a deep breath that was filled with more exasperation than calm.

"OK, picture yourself standing at the bottom of the ravine. Play it back in slow motion, looking for anything out of the ordinary. Like you did when you were trying to remember Jack's phone message."

As Blair waited silently, Jim began to think, picturing everything that had happened two days ago. He saw the ravine, the trees and undergrowth on the steep incline, the clipped links of the fence...

"That's it!" Jim stood and walked through the backyard, headed toward the path the arsonist had made.

"What?" Blair stood and followed, running to keep up. "What, man? What did you remember?"

Jim kept going, trying to preserve the idea that had just occurred to him. He followed the rough path through the bushes, registering briefly that Forensics had indeed been back to get an imprint of the muddy footprint. When he reached the fence, he stopped and focused on the cut links.

"Jim? C'mon, you're driving me crazy here. Tell me what's going on."

"It's these links, see? The way that they're cut. Someone made this opening from inside the fence, not outside." Jim crouched down and ducked through, looking down to the bottom of the ravine. "I can see the path you and I took climbing up, but there's nothing else."

"Maybe we took the same path?"

"No. When I replayed it in my mind there was nothing to indicate that we weren't the first people to climb up here in a long time. With all that undergrowth there would have been plenty of broken branches and flattened plants if someone else had gone this way, and with all the recent rain there would have to be some footprints on the way up. Whoever did this wanted us to think that they came through here."

Blair looked excited, "And the only reason to do that is if they came in through the front gate."

"Exactly." Jim waited for his partner to put the next puzzle piece together.

"And the guard who we spoke to that day just quit, and he was on duty that night."

"Yep. Looks like we have a suspect, Chief."

To Part II