Blair Sandburg paced up and down the main room of the attic, his eyes flitting nervously to look at the clock hanging on the wall. His friend, his partner, was an hour late and that just wasn't like Jim. If Detective James Ellison gave you his word that he would be somewhere at a certain time then he would be there. It wasn't just that Jim was late though; Sandburg knew that Jim was more than capable of taking care of himself. There was this sense of danger nagging, well more like screaming, at the back of Blair's mind. He knew something was up; he just knew it. Jim had only been late once before and the thought of what had happened that time made Sandburg shiver. Something was wrong but who would believe him?

"Banks!" Blair took a deep breath before responding to the gruff voice on the other end of the phone.

"Hey Simon, it's Blair."

"Sandburg!" 'Shit,' Blair thought, 'Simon's angry.' "Look Sandburg. I've had a long day and I'm leaving now so whatever it is, it can just wait."

"No, Simon, you don't understand," Blair tried to reason, "Jim's late and that's just not like him man. I know something's up." He spoke quickly as he wanted to get all of his words out before the man on the other end hung up on him.

"Okay Sandburg, how late is he?" Deep breaths Blair, Simon's got to understand that Jim is never this late. It's not like he's only fifteen minutes late or anything, Blair told himself.

"75 Minutes but that's…" Blair didn't get chance to finish his sentence.

"75 Minutes! Jesus, Sandburg! Jim is a grown man! He can take care of himself."

"Simon…" Blair began but it was too late, the man on the other end had hung up. Listening to the dial tone for barely a second, he ran a hand through his shoulder-length curly brown hair and pondered his next move.

Moments later found him striding decisively towards the door, his already packed bag slung over his shoulder. He had thrown a few changes of clothes into the bag, along with a medical kit (he had wanted to be optimistic but he had spent too much time around Jim and the rest of the Cascade PD not to know that optimism was no good if you couldn't be practical too), ready for their camping trip.

As he left the attic and moved to close the door behind him, he could hear Jim's voice in his head, reminding him 'don't forget you keys Sandburg'. He smiled slightly as he grabbed them off the small table by the door. "I've got them," he whispered to the memory.

The empty space that should have been occupied by the truck seemed to taunt Blair, reminding him that his friend was missing and he had no idea where to start looking. Well that wasn't strictly true. He pulled the slip of paper out of his trouser pocket as he sat in his car.

'Sandburg,' it said in Jim's neat handwriting, 'I'm just popping out to the fish market to get some bait. Make sure you're packed. Jim.'

The fish market was only five blocks from their home. Sandburg closed his eyes as he started the engine. He was hoping that it would start without a problem, although he had to admit it had been running a lot better since Jim had insisted upon getting it serviced. The engine started beautifully; maybe it understood how much Blair needed it to work today. His tires screeched as he tore down the road towards the fish market, the photo of Jim and his army buddy sitting in Blair's jacket pocket, where the he had put it, at the same time as he had grabbed his bag.

The stench of the fish market clogged his nose as it latched on to his clothes and skin, the noise assaulted his ears and he wondered if Jim had dialled his senses down to one of their lowest settings when he had come in here, assuming he had made it this far. Blair shook his head; negative thoughts were not welcome there. Walking up to a stand that looked as if it might contain something suitable for fish bait, Blair dug into his pocket and pulled the picture out.

"I'm looking for this man." He showed the picture to the man next to the table and pointed to Jim. "Have you seen him?" The man looked at him suspiciously.

"What do you want with him?"

"He's my friend and I think he might be in trouble." Blair said. His arms were hanging by his side because his shoulders were so tensed up he couldn't have moved them if he had wanted to. Mentally he willed the man to understand the urgency he felt. Blair wasn't sure what convinced the man to talk to him but he knew something had when he saw the man's face soften.

"He was here."

"Yeah? How long ago?" Blair asked, shifting from foot to foot; now he couldn't stand still.

"I dunno. About 2 hours ago I think."

'Okay, so Jim came straight here,' Sandburg thought, 'now what?'

"Great, thanks man." He was about to turn and leave when another thought came to mind. "Hey, I don't suppose you saw which way he went, did you?"

"Sure I did." The man's tone suggested he thought Blair was seriously unhinged. "He went out that way." He pointed to the back entrance. "I thought it was weird because I remembered how he'd parked that really nice looking truck out front." Blair's head was spinning now. Why hadn't Jim gone back to the truck?

"Was he with anyone else?"

"Not when he arrived but when he left he was flanked by two military looking men. One of them had a tat of a red leaf on his arm, you know, the one with three pointy bits?" Two military looking men? This stank of déjà vu and Blair didn't like it, not one bit.

"A maple leaf?" The fisherman shrugged. "Ok thanks, you've been a great help." Blair left out of the back entrance, maybe he would be able to find some clue as to where Jim had gone out there.

He was surprised to find that there was a lot worth noting out back. None of it looked promising but it was somewhere to start at least. The scuffed up dirt looked as if there had been a struggle. Blair was glad Jim had fought back but he wasn't so glad about the splatters of what looked like blood on the floor. The car had left thick strips of black rubber and deep grooves in the layer of grime and filth that coated the ground; Blair guessed this was from wheel spinning when the driver accelerated away.

He looked up from where he was crouched next to the tire tracks and spotted a scrap of metal glittering in the sunlight, next to a broken brick wall. Jumping up, he moved quickly and was soon standing next to the metal. He scooped it up, he had been expecting it to feel warm from lying in the sunlight but it was cold. Surely that meant that it hadn't been here very long? Blair turned it over in his fingers; it was a piece of a badge or something. It was part of a circle with a gold crown in the middle. The circle was red with yellow writing which read 'CANADIAN LIGH'.

Blair shoved the metal in his pocket and ran and looked around the rest of the alley. At the end of the alley he saw a man sitting, wrapped in a blanket, watching him. Blair questioned the man and, after handing over $30 he learnt that three large men with military hair cuts had bundled his friend into a dirty white van with Illinois plates.

"Illinois?" he asked nobody in particular, after thanking the man. "What is a van from Illinois doing in Cascade over 2,000 miles away from home?"

As he ran down the street towards his car something parked on the side of the road caught his eye. Snapping his head around so fast his hair whipped his face and the muscles in his neck protested, Blair stared at the Blue and White Ford pickup before him. He moved over to it as if in a trance. He knew that he stood a better chance of getting to Illinois in Jim's truck than in his car. There was no way his car would make the 2,000 mile drive in one piece. Jim would probably give him hell for driving the truck but Blair would worry about that later, when Jim was back safe.

It was only as he was sitting in the truck, noticing that Jim had left the keys in the usual place that Blair thought about using a plane to get to Illinois. It would be quicker surely? He called the airport to find out when the next plane was leaving for Illinois. He was told that the next one would be leaving for Chicago at 1030 the following morning. Blair hung up the phone and sighed, he knew it would be quicker to drive. Making a mental note to stop at a 7/11 on the way to the interstate, Blair started the engine and pulled out into the quiet mid-morning traffic.