A Deadly Game

by khollie

A simple game of Hide and Seek gets mixed up in the Sandburg Zone.

A DEADLY GAME

Deanna Jordon

"I don't know about this, Chief." Jim Ellison put down his fork and looked at his roommate. Blair was practically bouncing in his chair, his bright blue eyes wide with anticipation.

"Come on, man! We have to find out what your limits are so you can use your senses more effectively. Think of it as a challenge rather than a test." The grad student pushed back his dark, shoulder length curls and put his glasses on the table.

"OK, Chief." Jim raised his hands in surrender. "What are the rules?" His own blue eyes twinkled as he listened.

"It's simple. I go to the mall and get lost. You follow half an hour behind me and try to find me using only your sense of smell. You complain enough about how my shampoo stinks up the loft that it should be a cinch."

"Are you gonna stay in one place?" Jim asked, warming to the idea.

"Nope," the smile in Blair's voice matched the mischievous gleam in his eyes, "but I will stay inside the mall. The parking lot is too wide open for what I want." Blair looked into space, plotting out his latest research test. He had planned and carried out an incredible number of such tests since finding Jim Ellison, a living, breathing incarnation of his doctoral thesis. Blair was a doctoral candidate in anthropology who had chosen to study Sentinels, ancient tribal guardians. His research had been a blessing to the stressed cop who thought he was going insane. Now the two were partnered, Sentinel and Guide, and neither was sure who was the luckier man in the partnership.

Jim, seeing the far off look that meant another trip to the "Sandburg Zone", cleared his throat to get Blair's attention back. "I do have one condition to this little outing." Jim nailed the younger man with his best 'I'm not fooling' look.

"Sure, what?" Blair asked.

"You keep your cell phone on," the cop in Jim warned, having had far too much experience with his roommate's ability to find trouble.

With one look at Jim's determined face, Blair gave in. "Done, and we'll even put a one hour time limit on it. If you don't find me in an hour, I'll go to the station and bug Simon or something." A goofy grin crossed his face.

"Deal, since that's where we'll both end up anyway, finishing up the paperwork on the Grebner homicide."

"Not if I win." Blair's grin turned devilish. He knew how badly his friend hated the mounds of paperwork his job generated.

Jim stood up and headed for the sink to deposit his plate. "I'll do the dishes. You've got half an hour, Chief."

Blair stood and grabbed his worn leather backpack from the hook beside the door. He checked for his cell phone, holding it up for Jim's inspection before slipping out the door.

Jim listened as Blair made his way down the three flights of stairs to the parking lot, his enhanced hearing easily following his Guide's footsteps down the first flight of stairs. Once again, Jim marveled at how easily the 28-year-old grad student had wormed his way into his life. What had started out as a simple trade, control of Jim's senses in return for a dissertation, had turned into a deep bond of friendship. Blair had become Guide to the Sentinel, helping him to strengthen and control his senses to protect his tribe, the city of Cascade. In return, Jim had introduced the 'neo-hippie witch doctor, punk' to the stark realities of police work. Blair had used his knowledge of people and cultural studies to Jim's advantage. Between them, Jim had compiled an impressive arrest record. Their unusual partnership baffled the other detectives in Major Crimes, but didn't stop any of them from adopting Blair as the unit mascot. Blair had once complained that he felt like everyone's kid brother.

"More like a new puppy, Chief. Always eager to please and into trouble every time you turn around." Blair had smacked him before offering to finish up the outstanding paperwork.

Blair parked in the far north parking lot of the mall, making sure to lock the Volvo's doors behind him. Fleetingly, he wished that someone would steal the car so he could use the insurance money to buy another. "Naw. What would be the fun in that?" he chuckled to himself, as he strode toward the mall entrance. The summer sunshine was hidden by a fleet of rain clouds making their way across the sky.

The newly built mall was huge. It had three floors and over 300 different shops, which were tucked into a confusing network of twists, turns, and dead ends. It was still early, with only half of the shops open for business, including most of the food vendors. Blair planned to circle the food court several times before heading for the herbalist shop in one of the dead end corridors. The herb shop had only been open for a week; too new, Blair figured, for Jim to guess where he was. The Sentinel's sense of smell would have a hard time separating out his Guide's herbal shampoo from the other herbs in the small shop.

Humming to himself, the young man ambled slowly around the wide food court, stopping now and again to sniff appreciatively at the warm pretzels and pizza dough before buying a mocha latte to enjoy. Checking his watch, he realized that it was nearly time for the game to begin.

Finishing his coffee, Blair made his way through the sparse handful of early morning shoppers to the far east wing of the mall. None of the stores here were open yet. The herb shop Blair was heading for was situated on the first floor beside a small jewelry store. He nearly passed by the partially opened gate of the jewelry store, until he heard the voices from inside.

"Hurry up, man! Timmons'll be here soon to open up," he heard a nervous voice say.

"That's got it. Now sit down, I'll tie you up and we'll meet at the house later. No one'll suspect a thing." The answering voice was deep and rough.

Blair pulled back out of sight as he pulled his cell phone out of his backpack. Hurriedly, he dialed 911 as he eased forward again, trying to get a glimpse of the thieves. He finished up the call, and crept forward a bit more. He couldn't see anyone inside and ducked under the edge of the garage-door type security fence. Maybe he could see them leaving and just 'happen' to find the one pretending to be a victim. The hapless anthropologist had barely entered the store when he felt the cold muzzle of a gun on his neck.

"Hold real still, buddy, or I'll give you a new part in that hair of yours." The gunman's mocking tone sent chills down Blair's spine. He felt a hand ripping the backpack off his shoulder, then patting his pockets. "You a cop or something?"

"No, man! I was just passing by," Blair answered, hoping against hope that his assailant wouldn't search the backpack. His police ID was in there. "The police are on their way though. You might want to get out of here before they show."

A young black man stood up from behind the counter and slung the small duffle bag he carried over his shoulder. "Time to go, Jake. We'll take him with us. He's seen just enough to be dangerous."

"Good idea, Dean. He just might come in handy," Jake answered.

"You don't need me. I make a lousy witness. I don't have my glasses on. Everything's just a blur." Blair gestured to his jacket pocket with his upraised hands. "Look for yourself, man. My glasses are in my pocket." He very carefully didn't mention that the glasses were for reading and watching TV.

The gun clicked ominously as Jake cocked the hammer. "Walk, or die right here." Blair stumbled forward as the gun shoved him toward the back of the store. He heard the crunch of plastic as his captor ground his booted heel into the discarded cell phone.

A small pickup with a decrepit looking camper shell on it was parked outside of the jewelry store's back entrance. Dean opened the door and dumped the filled duffel bag inside. He turned to face his partner just in time to see him bring the gun down forcefully on Blair's head, catching the unconscious captive before he fell. Working together, the men stuffed Blair into the camper. Dean climbed in with Blair as his partner got behind the wheel. As Jake pulled out of the south end of the multi-acre parking lot, he could hear sirens approaching the north entrance. Calmly and safely, the pickup eased out into traffic and made its leisurely way down the road.

Jim was nearly to the mall when he heard the report of the robbery in progress at the jewelry store. He flipped on his lights and siren as he reached for the radio mike to call in his response. Technically, he was off duty, but he knew instinctively that his Guide was somehow involved, even though the radio report hadn't given out many details.

Parking the truck near the mall's north entrance, Jim strode inside, stopping when he spotted a portly man wearing a mall security uniform. "Ellison, Cascade P.D." Jim showed his badge as he identified himself.

"Watkins, Mall security. Right this way. My men have just gotten to the store, but I told them to stay out and wait for you guys. I want to know how they got in and out without us even knowing they were there." The broad shouldered security officer was clearly angry. His dark green eyes flashed with suppressed fury.

"We'll find out." was Jim's terse comment. Watkins' anger at his own perceived failure boosted Jim's estimation of him. Clearly the thieves had known enough about mall security to circumvent the precautions with ease.

"How did you find out if no alarms were tripped?" Jim asked as they made their way through the mall.

"Same way you did. I have a police scanner in my office. By the time my men got down there, the place was empty." He indicated the size of the mall with both hands. "This early on a Sunday morning, I only have two officers on duty. They were both on the other side of the mall checking out a short in the security camera system. I was in the security office on the third floor west. Price Jewelry is on the first floor east wing and none of those shops open till 8:30 or 9:00 on Sundays."

Several moments later, their quick pace brought the two men to the store. The two security officers had opened the gate fully, but hadn't gone into the store. Jim's blood ran cold when he saw the discarded backpack and the destroyed cell phone. "They've got a hostage," he announced to Watkins, who had followed him in.

"I figured that when no one met my men. Any ID in the backpack?" he asked, nodding at the pack swinging in Jim's hand.

"Yeah, my partner, Blair Sandburg." Jim snapped as he reached for his cell phone. "Simon, it's Jim. I hate to call on your day off, but Sandburg's in trouble. Yeah, again. Spotted a robbery in progress and called it in. We found what was left of his cell phone inside the jewelry store. Looks like he tried to get an ID on the thieves and got caught. No, that's OK. Forensics is on the way so I'll meet you back at the station. OK. Yes sir." Jim closed the phone and turned at the sound of familiar footsteps in the corridor. A pair of men strode up to him, one white and dressed smartly in a tie and jacket while his partner, a bulky black man was more casually dressed in jeans and a African print shirt.

"Hey, Jim!" Thought today was your day off." Henri Brown commented jokingly, pulling his badge out of his shirt and hanging it around his neck. The gold shield really accented the print shirt, lending credence to Brown's statement about never needing to wear jewelry to dress up.

"It was, but the Sandburg luck struck again." Jim held up the backpack as he explained what he thought had happened.

"Jim, you have got to put a tracking bug on that kid." Rafe shook his head before pulling on a pair of latex gloves and bending to examine the display cases.

Jim walked to the back of the small shop and used his enhanced vision to look for fingerprints on the rear door. Finding none, he opened the door and stepped outside. Employing his Sentinel senses again, he found a faint tire tread in the dusty alley. His sharp sense of smell caught the distinctive odor of burnt oil. Examining the ground more closely, he found a small patch of oil on the hot concrete. It had the fresh burnt smell he was searching for. With the scent locked firmly in his memory, Jim turned to re-enter the store and stopped as he became aware of a high pitched buzz. Normal hearing would have missed the drone of the security camera Jim found hidden in the roof line. He headed inside to find Watkins.

"I know that camera." Watkins said as he gave Jim a long, questioning look. "We can get the tape from my office. We have found it helpful to include a few cameras that aren't in plain sight. We don't advertise that we have them and offhand, I'd say only one or two people in each store even know about them." Watkins said as he led the way to the security office. He pulled a small keyring from his pocket and ushered the tall detective through the door. The security man walked over to the wall cabinet and opened it, revealing a bank of tv monitors and video recorders. Wordlessly, he punched a few buttons and gave the ejected tape to Jim.

"You're welcome to it. I hope it helps find your partner. I lost a partner when I was an MP in the army." Jim recognized the flash of regret and loss that crossed the officer's face. It was the same look that Jim carried after losing a partner himself.

"Thanks. If you come up with anything else, give me a call." Jim handed the security chief one of his business cards, then left, taking the tape with him.

Back at the station, Jim wasn't surprised to see Simon in his office. The tough black captain would never admit it, but Jim knew that he counted Blair as a friend, not just a police observer. It still surprised him how easily the hippie grad student had blended into the tight-knit group of tough-as-nails detectives. From his first day at the station, Blair had proven himself to be a fast thinking and dependable member of the team.

Jim knocked once on Simon's open door before entering the office. Holding up the tape, he walked over to the TV/VCR in the corner and popped it in. "This is from the surveillance camera outside the alley door to the store. As smart as our thieves are, Watkins says they didn't know about that camera." He stepped back and handed Simon the remote, leaning back against the desk with his arms folded over his chest. Simon adopted a similar pose as he hit the play button.

There was no sound, but the black and white picture was very clear. It showed the door to the store and the side rear of the pickup camper. Simon stole a glance at Jim as he watched the store door open and a young white male go in. Minutes later, the door opened again, showing Blair and his two captors. Simon kept one eye on the videotape and one on the Sentinel, wishing he knew what to do to help Jim concentrate better.

"Son of a bitch!" Jim shouted and jumped as he watch his Guide crumple under the head blow. "He didn't have to do that! Blair!!"

Simon grabbed Jim's arm, pulling him back from the TV screen. "Jim! Jim! Settle down! This isn't helping Sandburg a bit. Now focus, can you get anything from those two?" Simon fought to keep his voice low as he tried to keep Jim calm. Under his hands, he could feel his friend relax slightly.

"No, nothing. They never face the camera directly. They're leaving, let me see if I can get a plate number." Though Jim tried as hard as he could, the rear end of the truck never came into view. Jim rested his hand over his eyes for a second, willing his budding headache away before running both hands down his face and sighing.

Simon too, was silent for a moment. He had no idea of when Blair had changed from 'pesky kid' to 'one of the men', but he had, and now Simon was feeling a building anger at the ones who had dared to hurt a member of his team. Taking a deep breath, he forced down that anger and hit the stop button on the remote. "OK, Jim. Take this tape down to forensics and get a copy made, as well as still shots of both our perps. Take those over to the mall and see if can get an ID. I'll run the pictures through the system here and see what we can come up with."

"I'm on it." Jim was glad of the assignment. He would feel a lot better doing something rather than sitting and brooding.

Blair woke slowly, feeling the too familiar pain of a head wound and knew the best remedy was to keep as still as possible. Gradually, he became aware of movement and sounds. He forced his eyes to open and took in his surroundings. He was lying on the dirty floor of the small camper. Trying to move, he discovered his arms were tied behind him and his ankles were bound. A thick gag filled his mouth, making breathing difficult. He fought down the panic in his gut and started thinking. Straining, he could just hear the voices of his two kidnappers as they stood outside the open door of the camper.

"We can't just kill him!" one shouted. Blair guessed him to be Dean, the clerk from the store. "I don't mind a little extra cash, but I'm not into killing a guy!"

"Look!" Jake snarled. "He saw us, he can identify us. We have to kill him."

"No! How about if we just leave him here? We were planning to dump the truck here anyway. By the time anyone finds him, we'll be in Canada. My friend up there can get us new ID's and every thing." Dean's voice dropped almost to a whisper. "Besides, if we leave him alive, the cops won't care so much about finding us."

Jake took his time to respond. The captive could hear him pacing back and forth. Finally, Blair heard him. "OK, you win. We chain him to the truck and park it down in the old quarry. That place is off limits so no one will find him. Maybe he'll get out and maybe he won't."

"The next thing we need to do..." the voices died out as the two men walked away from the truck. Blair twisted his wrists frantically trying to loosen the ropes that bound him. After several long minutes, he felt the bonds give and he reached up quickly to remove the gag. Watching for any signs of his kidnappers return, Blair untied his legs and flexed his arms and legs, trying to regain feeling in them.

Reaching for the counter that ran along the side of the camper, Blair pulled himself up from the floor and looked out the window. What he saw surprised him. The truck had been parked in front of what appeared to be a forest ranger station. A second truck, minus a camper, was parked beside the one he was in. A quick search revealed a few helpful items that Blair quickly pocketed. A hunting knife and sheath, a canteen, a roll of fishing line, and a stash of jerky filled out his cache of emergency supplies. Blair silently thanked Jim for all of the camping trips and the lessons on survival.

Feeling bolder, Blair cautiously exited the camper. He knew that he had no way to contact Jim and likewise there would be no way for Jim to track him to this remote location. He would have to find a way to get his kidnappers to go back into town. A gleam sparkled in his eye as he realized just how he would do it. Crouching down by the second truck, Blair took the hunting knife and plunged it into the nearest tire. Working quickly, he slashed the other three tires before standing up to make a run for the woods. His luck ran out at that moment as Jake came out of the cabin.

"Hey!! Dean!! He's loose!!" The bark of gunfire echoed Jake's words, lending speed to Blair's legs. Blair felt, rather than heard the high pitched whizz as the bullet missed him before striking a tree behind him. A second shot sounded, followed closely by a flash of pain in his left arm. Blair went down, rolled, and fought back up, holding onto his injured arm as he ran.

"I hit him!" Jake's voice was full of glee. Blair wondered briefly if all crooks got such pleasure out of causing pain.

"Jake! Come look what that little shit did!" Dean's voice cut through the air, stopping Jake's pursuit of Blair.

As Blair ran through the trees, he tried to remember Jim's lessons in wilderness survival. He kept to the clearest paths he could find and angled down the slight incline, remembering that water could often be found in small gullies and creeks at the bottom of hills. He finally stopped and listened for sounds of pursuit. Hearing nothing but a few birds, he sat down heavily and inspected the wound on his arm. Ripping the bottom edge off of his T-shirt, he fashioned a makeshift bandage for the bullet wound. The bullet had gone completely through the fleshy part of his upper arm without hitting the bone. He bound it up as best as he could and resolved to wash it throughly later on.

"OK, Jim. I know you're going to be looking for me eventually, so how do I leave a trail for you and not those two Neanderthals back there?" Blair looked around the small clearing before settling his gaze on some bear claw marks on a well grown tree nearby. "Bears mark their territory with scent, so can I." With that, he took off his bandage and rubbed it against the bark of the tree, hopefully leaving his scent on the tree. He knew that his overprotective roommate had had lots of occasions to smell his blood and hopefully would be able to pick up the scent. Rewinding the bandage loosely, Blair continued his trek into the woods, looking for a small cave or other shelter. Every few feet, he would stop and rub more blood on a tree, never realizing that the wound hadn't stopped seeping blood.

Jake and Dean exchanged angry insults as they surveyed the damage Blair had done to the truck tires. "We'll have to go back to my place and get Sheryl's car." Dean decided. "Then we buy tires and come back to fix your truck." Dean looked at Jake for his opinion.

"Great, so we drive a stolen truck back into town and just hope that no cop recognizes it."

"You got any better ideas?" Dean's voice rose in anger. "I told my little brother that I would get rid of the truck for him so the cops couldn't trace him to that drug deal. That's why I brought it out here to dump."

"Whatever." Jake spread out his hands in a gesture of dismissal.

"What if the cops have already decided that you're involved and start snooping around your place?" Jake asked, sarcastically.

"Look, the last place the cops are going to think to look for me is at home. As far as they're concerned, we've skipped the country already." Dean tried to feel as positive as he sounded. "Besides, no one saw us. Just that hippie and he's as good as gone. He'll bleed to death before anyone finds him out here. No one uses this part of the forest any more, since the logging company took over the contract. It's all off limits to the public."

Jake didn't say anything more, but merely scowled as he and Dean climbed back into the camper for the trip into town.

Jim had taken the surveillance camera photos of the kidnappers back to the mall and showed them to Watkins. He had been unable to identify the white male, but knew that the young black man was a clerk at the jewelry store that had been robbed. Now, Jim was standing in the store, waiting for the owner to finish up with a customer.

"I'm Gene Timmons. How can I help you, Detective..." he trailed off, waiting for an introduction.

"Ellison, Cascade P.D. I'd like you to look at a couple of photos for me and see if you recognize either one.

Jim handed both of the surveillance photos over and waited for Timmons to inspect them. He didn't have to wait long.

"I don't know this young man, but this is Dean Wright, one of my clerks." Timmons held up the photo of the young black man. "In fact, he was supposed to open this morning. I've tried to call his house, but I didn't get an answer." Timmons handed the photos back to Jim.

"Do you have an address on Wright?"

"Of course. Wait right here." The owner walked back to the office and returned moments later with a file. "This is his employee jacket. You are welcome to it for as long as you need."

Jim thanked the man and left the store. When he reached his truck, he spent several moments reading the file. A glance at his watch reminded him that he was due to call Simon with a preliminary report. He dug out his cell phone, continuing to read as he hit the speed dial button for Simon.

"Simon, it's Jim. I've got an ID on one of our perps. His name is Dean Wright, age 22. I'm going over to his home now to see what I can find." Jim scanned the report and relayed the address to Simon.

"Be careful. I'll send Taggert to back you up."

Jim knew it was useless to argue when Simon used that tone of voice. "Yes, sir," he answered dutifully as he hung up. He started up the truck and left the parking lot, trying to convince himself that Blair was capable of fending for himself.

Wright's home was a two-bedroom trailer house with a free standing garage in a run down section of town. The yard was overgrown and the trailer, as well as the garage, had definitely seen better days. Jim parked across the street and waited for Joel Taggert to arrive. Taggert was a former Captain of the bomb squad, now attached to Major Crimes. He had been one of Blair's staunchest supporters in the department from the beginning, taking Blair's side in discussions with Simon and some of the other brass in the department. For his part, Blair had likened the burly black detective to an overprotective teddy bear, though he had never mentioned that fact to anyone but Jim one dark night over a few too many beers..

Pulling up behind Jim's blue and white truck, Joel got out and walked up to Jim's window. "Whatcha got, Jim?"

"One of our perps lives here. I want to check it out, then put a surveillance team on it in case he comes home. He's bound to know that we suspect him, but I'm hoping that he is just stupid enough to come home." Jim got out of his truck and walked up to the trailer. Knocking on the door, he used his hearing to ascertain that no one was home. Jim did a slow scan of the yard and driveway using his sight dialed up as high as he dared. This was not the time or place for a zone out and he knew it. Seeing nothing helpful, Jim and Joel returned to their cars. Joel drove back to the station, promising to work on identifying the second suspect.

Jim drove his truck around the corner and parked where he would have a clear view of the house. Settling in for a long wait, Jim became aware of the lonely silence. Blair generally accompanied him on long stakeouts, his constant chatter a soothing sound to the once lonely sentinel. Jim felt a fresh pang of worry for his missing friend and sent a silent prayer for Blair's safety to whomever might be listening.

Barely an hour had passed before his patience was rewarded. The same camper from the robbery drove up and parked in the driveway. One man jumped out and opened the garage doors, allowing the other to park the camper inside, hiding it from view. Jim dialed up his hearing to listen to what they were saying inside the garage.

"Now we call Shel and have her come over here. I'll go buy the tires and then we can get back. This would have been a lot easier if your tires would have fit on my truck," the black man said.

"Just hurry. The longer we wait, the more time he has to find his way out."

"I told you, that land is off limits to the public. No matter how far he runs, he ain't going to find help."

Jake's voice was full of sarcasm. "And what if one of the logging company people happen to show up? Or he finds that old hiking trail that leads to the highway? It's only five miles away and he looked like he could do that easy."

Dean's voice answered. "But you're forgetting something, you put a bullet in him, remember, for slashing your tires?" Anything else was lost as the sound of a slamming door ripped through Jim's head.

Wincing in pain, Jim fought to turn down the imaginary dials that controlled his hearing. While he was fighting the pain, he missed seeing the car that pulled up to the trailer, and the young woman who ventured inside. Nor did he see the car that pulled up behind him. He jumped at the voice at his elbow.

"Jim! Man are you OK?" The speaker was Henri Brown.

"I'm OK H, just one of my migraines. Is Rafe with you?" Jim asked, rubbing his forehead.

"Yeah. Simon sent us to take over the stakeout. What's going on in there?"

Quickly, Jim outlined what he knew, leaving out the part about hearing the men talking. "I'm afraid that they either left Blair tied up somewhere or..."

"Or dumped his body?" Brown's voice was soft. "You can't think like that, Jim. That kid can take care of himself. He'll show up and help us nail these two." Brown lay a hand on Jim's arm. "Now, what do you want us to do?"

"I'd say take them now, but I'm hoping that they will lead us to Sandburg. Just keep watch and tail them wherever they go. The truck from the robbery is in the garage. It looks like they were driving over dirt roads or something. Maybe they have a cabin up in the woods or somewhere they're keeping Blair." Jim started the truck. "I'm going back to the station. Keep me posted."

"Will do, Jim." Brown walked back to his car to fill in Rafe as Jim drove off.

Jim's plan was to go over the list of stolen jewelry and contact some of the fences he knew who dealt in stolen goods. A couple of them owed him favors, and he planned on calling them in. He also wanted to see what the background checks on the two suspects had turned up. Maybe he would find a place to begin searching for his missing friend.

Two hours later, Jim thought he had found what he needed. He had gotten lucky when a computer search had identified the second suspect. Jake Hanson had a record for petty theft with a couple of cases pending against him. He also had one charge of assault listed. Jim clenched his jaw as he continued to read the file.

Jim printed out the information and gathered it into a file folder. He carried it over to Simon's office, knocking twice before entering. "Captain, I think I found something."

Simon looked up, removed his glasses and laid them on the desk. "What have you got?"

"Records ID'ed the second perp. His name is Jake Hanson. Got a record for petty theft and assault. No current address, but get this. He used to be an intern for the wildlife service. Served up in the Eagle Crest area. Now that whole area is closed to the public since the logging company leased it out. There was a ranger station up there a few years ago. If Hanson were familiar with it, it could be where they holed up."

"And where they took Sandburg." Simon put his glasses back on and leaned back in his chair. "Good work, Jim. One thing bothers me though. Why risk coming back into town?"

"I heard them talking about needing new tires for a second vehicle. Hopefully Rafe and Brown can come up with something to go with that. I'm going back to Wright's house now and take over the stakeout. With any luck, I can tail them back to wherever they left Sandburg."

Simon nodded his approval. "What do you want Rafe and Brown to do?"

Jim headed for the door and paused with his hand on the knob. "I want them to head back to the mall to see what Watkins has come up with on how these two got into the store without setting off the alarms."

"Let me know what you come up with." Simon watched as Jim left the office, hoping against hope that Blair was still alive. He didn't want to see what would happen to the Sentinel without his Guide.

Blair wiped his forehead as he gazed at the cave. It had taken him a long moment to realize what the dark spot in the cliff was and even longer to climb up to it. His left arm was nearly useless. He had finally rinsed the wound with cold stream water and had gotten the bleeding to stop. He had taken off his jacket and fashioned a sling from his shirt. As he tried to put his jacket back on, he realized that his hand was beginning to feel numb and heavy. He had just enough first aid experience to know that he had to have medical attention, and soon.

Blair entered the cave cautiously, listening for any sounds that would indicate the cave was occupied by an animal of some kind. "All I need now is to get bit by a snake. Jim won't have to hurry to find me, I'll die before he gets here." Unscrewing the top of the canteen, Blair took a small sip before capping it tightly again. Deciding that the cave was empty, he went in, ducking his head to fit through the small entrance. He found a level place and lay down, promising himself that he would rest for just a bit. In spite of his promise, sleep claimed him in seconds.

It was nearly seven in the evening when Jim parked his pickup behind Brown's car. He got out of his truck and climbed into the back seat.. "What did you guys come up with?"

"Don't know if it means anything or not, but they left and went to buy a set of tires. We tailed them and just got back a few minutes ago." Rafe turned around in his seat to talk to Jim, making a minute adjustment to his striped silk tie. "We think they may have another vehicle somewhere and are getting ready for a trip."

"How about you? Any luck?" Brown asked, not taking his eyes off the trailer.

"Maybe." Jim proceeded to fill them in on the information in Hanson's file. "I'm hoping that Hanson and Wright will lead us there. I know the area in general, but I haven't been up there in years."

"Well..." Brown broke off as he spotted the trailer door opening. He held up his hand. "Something's up."

The three detectives watched in silence as Hanson opened the garage door, revealing the truck from the robbery. Wright and a girl exited the trailer, locking the door behind them before climbing into the truck. Jim clapped Rafe on the shoulder, "We can't wait for backup. I'll follow them. You call Simon and get a helicopter to help. He can fill in Joel then have him join the chopper. After that, you two go back to the mall and talk to Watkins again. See if he has found out how our two perps managed to get around his security system."

"I'm on it, Jim. Stay in touch." Rafe reached for his cell phone as Jim got out of the car and hurried to his truck.

Following the suspect's truck was easy through town, but Jim was forced to fall far back when the road led into the surrounding countryside. He knew that he couldn't afford to lose the suspect's vehicle, but on the other hand, he didn't want them knowing they were being followed. His dilemma was solved by the arrival of the police helicopter.

"Chopper 4 to Echo 7. We have you in sight. Back off and we will track the suspect vehicle for you. Over." came Joel Taggert's welcome voice over his radio.

"Echo 7 to Chopper 4. I read you. Falling back now. Suspects may be heading into the forest near Eagle Crest." Jim listened as the chopper acknowledged the information, then pulled over on the shoulder of the road to give the fleeing vehicle more room.

Throbbing pain in his arm and shoulder woke Blair from his dreamless sleep. The cave was dark, with only a sliver of light from the setting sun making its way into the dark recesses. Trembling with exhaustion, Blair pulled himself to his feet and exited the cave. Working slowly, he managed to drag in several fallen branches and piles of dried leaves. To his dismay, starting a fire proved to be impossible. In his quest for survival supplies from the camper, he hadn't found matches. Swallowing his disappointment and fear, Blair used the leaves to make a slightly more comfortable resting place for himself. He made a meager meal of the jerky and water, then lay back down, promising himself to find a way out of the woods tomorrow.

The sun was setting when the chopper finally called in the location of the perps. Jim recognized it as the abandoned ranger station that he remembered, and called in ground directions to Simon. Knowing that Simon was at least an hour away, Jim decided to park his truck and hike into the area to search for any sign of Sandburg. Joel and the chopper crew had found a clearing to set down in to be close and keep an eye on the cabin until the calvary arrived. Taking his emergency backpack out from behind the seat, Jim settled it on his shoulders and began the mile-long hike. He didn't want his suspects to hear anything that might spook them into running again

Reaching the cabin, Jim stashed the pack behind a tree and took out his gun to make a quick sweep of the area. He smiled when he saw the four slashed tires on the second pickup. "No wonder they had to buy tires. Blair must have been a busy boy." The tires also gave him new cause to worry. Was Blair hiding nearby, had he run into the woods for shelter, or had he been recaptured by his kidnappers? The toughened cop didn't want to think about the fourth possibility.

Finding nothing outside the cabin, Jim made his way under an open window in the cabin. Turning up his hearing, he heard the three making dinner and discussing their planned escape into Canada. There was no sign or noise to indicate that Blair was in the cabin. Jim's blood froze at the next part of the conversation.

"So what about that dude you shot, man? Are we gonna look for him before we leave?"

"Naw, I hit him, I'm sure of that. He'll die before he finds any help out here."

"Fine. Then in the morning, we change the tires on the truck, dump the camper down in the quarry, and head for Canada. By this time tomorrow, we'll be home free."

Pulling away from the window, Jim put his military training to good use. Making his way silently around the cabin, he searched for signs of where his partner must have made his escape. The unmistakable smell of blood tingled in his nostrils. Dialing up his vision, Jim was able to find the trace amounts on the ground that showed where the grad student must have been hit. Following the trail by scent and enhanced vision, the Sentinel made his way down the ravine, finding the faint marks and smell of blood on the bear clawed tree. "Good boy, Sandburg. You're trying to leave a trail."

Realizing that his backup would be arriving shortly, Jim reluctantly abandoned his search and returned to the cabin, hearing the sounds of cars and vans making their way down the rutted dirt road. He jogged over to meet them before the cabin's occupants became aware of the line of police vehicles invading the forest.

"Whatcha got, Jim?" Simon stopped in the road just long enough for Jim to climb into the car.

"Two men and a woman holed up in a cabin about half a mile up ahead. Sandburg isn't with them. He escaped, but not before getting himself shot. I found a trail he left for me."

"How easy will it be to surround the cabin?" Simon asked, his dark eyes scanning the darkening woods.

"Not possible by a large force. The cabin backs up to a large wooded area. As far as I can tell, the cabin has one large room with living areas and kitchen. There is a back door on the far side of the kitchen. I can get around back and you just come in through the front. At least one of them is armed." Jim resettled his Jags baseball cap as he considered the options.

"That's how we'll do it then." The big police captain drove to the side of the road and parked his car under the cover of a big fir tree. The two police vans and three marked units followed suit with the officers inside taking up positions behind them. Jim got out of the car and made his silent way over to the cabin, using the underbrush for cover.

He barely had time to turn down his hearing before the shrill screech of a bullhorn broke the calm night air. "This is the police! Come out of the cabin with your hands up!" Simon's deep baritone echoed through the forest.

Jim froze under the one open window and listened to the sudden commotion inside the cabin. "Cops!! How the hell did they find us?" Gunshots broke the stillness of the night air, forcing Jim to duck down lower and sending the uniformed officers scrambling for cover.

Crouching down behind the engine of his sedan, Simon could see Jim's hiding place under the open window. Glancing around to ascertain the status of his force, he noticed that none of the officers with him were closer than five feet away. Ducking down a bit lower and turning off his earpiece, Simon waved his arm to get Jim's attention.

"Jim," he whispered, "can you get into the cabin without being spotted?"

Jim shook his head grimly. He would be spotted instantly if he tried to enter the cabin.

"OK, make your way around to the back. I'll have Brown and Rafe circle around and meet you there. In two minutes, I'll try to talk to them again. You hit them then." Simon waved his hand around in a circle to make his meaning plain.

Reactivating his compact earpiece radio, Simon issued instructions for Rafe and Brown to make their way to the rear of the small cabin. Jim was waiting for them, counting down the final seconds on his watch. Silently, he mouthed the countdown. "5,4,3,2,1." Right on time, Simon addressed the fugitives again.

"You in the cabin!! We can do this the easy way or I can send my men in to collect you! The choice is up to you." A fresh hail of bullets was the only answer.

Crouched beside the back door, Jim grinned at his two friends. "Seems our friends in there want to take the hard way out. Do it!" He led the way, kicking the door open and rushing inside, with Brown and Rafe hot on his heels.

"Cascade P.D.! Freeze!!" Jim shouted as he aimed his gun at the three suspects. Taken by surprise, first Dean, then Jake slowly lowered their revolvers and put their hands above their heads.

Thunder rumbled in the distance as the suspects were being driven off, with Taggert going with them to do the paperwork. Watching lightning flash across the night sky, Simon, Brown and Rafe searched for Jim in the confusion around the crime scene. They found him back at the camper, scanning the ground carefully. "Can you tell what happened to Sandburg?" Rafe asked.

"Blair got away, slashed the tires on the second truck, and fled into the woods. One of our perps admitted to shooting at him. I found traces of blood on the ground and on a tree just down the hill. I think Blair was trying to leave a trail for me to follow."

"You can't follow it now, it's too dark and we have a big storm front coming in. It'll be pouring before you can get organized." Simon lit the cigar he was holding. "We'll set out first thing in the morning. That'll give me time to go pick up some gear and meet you back here. The chopper can't go up til sunrise anyway." Simon could see that Jim was all set to argue. "That's an order, Detective. Sandburg is a very resourceful kid. He'll be fine until morning."

"Sir, he's hurt. I can't just..."

"You can't go out there without backup." He gave Jim a knowing look. "I am not listening to the kid rant and rave about me letting you go off alone. Now settle down and we'll go at first light. The storm should be over by then and I won't have to worry about you out there by yourself." Simon drew himself up to his full six foot four height and managed to glare down at his detective.

"Simon," Jim began.

Simon took Jim by the arm and walked away from the others. "Look, I know you want to get out there, but what if you zoned looking at the lightning flashes or something? What good is that going to do Blair? We'll set out just after dawn, rain or no, deal?"

Jim held up his hands in surrender. "OK, you win. But I'm leaving at first light, storm or no storm, with or without you." He stomped off to his truck, not seeing the looks of sympathy from his friends.

A flash of lightening and the rumble of thunder woke Blair, causing him to sit up in fright. He spent several seconds trying to remember where he was and how he had gotten there. When he did get his bearings, he lay back down ruefully, rubbing his forehead. "Trouble magnet, huh? Well this time, Jim, I sure beat my own record. You can pull your rescue any time now, my brother." Blair forced himself to sit up once again and reached for the canteen of water. He tried not to look at his left arm. The pain had gotten worse and even in the semi-darkness he could see that the wound had turned an angry, red color. He knew that blood poisoning would begin set in soon and that he was in danger of losing his arm, if not his life.

Blair drank more of his dwindling supply of water and chewed on his last piece of jerky. He knew that this time he was going to have to rescue himself. His plan to have the suspects lead Jim to the woods had failed and he was on his own. Blair hoped that he was up to the challenge.

Seeing that the rain had stopped, Blair made his unsteady way to the cave opening The morning sun was just rising but the dark storm clouds kept the light at bay. Ignoring the pain in his arm and the growing dizziness in his head, Blair began the climb down the rise to the forest floor. Halfway down, he slipped and began to fall, hitting his head on an exposed tree branch. Tumbling uncontrollably, Blair fell the rest of the way to the bottom of the small ravine, coming to rest under a thick hedge of blackberry bushes. Cursing his luck, Blair got to his feet once more and picked his way down the hill to the stream. His plan was to refill his canteen, then continue on away from the cabin. He fancied that he could hear his abductors coming for him and knew that he had to outpace them.

Reaching the stream, Blair knelt down for a drink. He splashed water on his wound and hissed at the new stab of pain. He unslung the canteen and opened it, holding it in the running water. As he was trying to stand up, something in the water caught his eye. Blair leaned forward for a closer look, and backed up in horror at the sight of the dead body floating in the water. The terrified grad student began looking around for any sign of the killers as he scrambled away from the body. Determined not to leave a trail for the killers to follow, Blair splashed downstream trying to put as much distance as possible between himself and anyone following him.

For the rest of the day, the injured man made his way deeper into the woods. He stopped to rest frequently, and drank sparingly of the water in his canteen. By mid-afternoon he was deep in the woods. He found a large fir tree and curled up at its base for a rest.

Earlier that same morning, Jim was awakened by the sound of doors slamming and footsteps filing into the cabin. Unwilling to make the trip back to town with Simon, he, Brown and Rafe had spent the night on the wooden floor in front of the fireplace. While the other two slept, Jim had spent most of the night staring into the fireplace, straining his hearing to pick up the sound of Blair's voice in the woods. He had fallen asleep just a couple of hours before dawn.

"Here, Jim. Try this." Simon handed over a thermos of coffee and a small bag of fast food sausage rolls to share with his friends. That attended to, he turned to the group of men who had followed him into the cabin.

"Jim, I want you to meet Sheriff Ron Hadley. He and his men will lead the search and rescue operation."

Jim reached over and shook hands with the tall black-haired man. "Nice to meet you, sir. Did you bring a map of the area? It's been a long time since I was out here." Jim poured himself a cup of coffee from the thermos as he listened. Brown and Rafe joined him as the sheriff answered.

"Sure did." Hadley strode over to the table and unfolded a small map. "This whole area is under lease to the Dutchman lumber company and they've put in a couple of new roads. For the most part, though, the whole area is off limits. Show me where you think your man headed."

Looking over the map, Jim traced the most likely route with his finger. "Here's the cabin, and the direction of the blood traces I found show that Sandburg headed for the gully. He's not the best with directions, so he could be anywhere from that point. His main objective would have been to get away from here, especially since he was hurt."

Simon spoke up. "We have a med-evac chopper on standby but they can't help with the search due to the weather. That storm front that came in last night is still hanging around and may cause us more trouble." A flash of lighting interrupted him. "Correction, will cause us more trouble."

As the rain began pouring down, Brown and Rafe left, then re-entered the cabin moments later, carrying loaded backpacks. Going into the bedroom, both reappeared minutes later in jeans, flannel shirts, and wet weather gear, "Ready to go, Jim?" Brown asked.

"Let me grab my gear, H." Jim started for the door only to be intercepted by Hadley.

"I'd say wait, but somehow I don't think you'd listen. Where are you going to search first? I'll deploy my men out to flank your search area." The understanding in the sheriff's eyes shone brightly.

Nodding his thanks, Jim pointed out the area he intended to work on. Tuning his radio to the frequency used by the search and rescue teams, he left with his friends. He could hear the sheriff on the radio detailing other search grids to other two and three man teams. Mentally he went over the search area and found himself highly impressed with the sheriff's tactics. The search pattern would take the form of a 'V' with Jim and his team at the point. Hopefully, that would let them cover a lot of ground quickly and double check the rough areas.

Sheriff Hadley caught up with Ellison and touched his elbow to hold him back. "I'll go with your group. I've had a little experience being a guide myself." The twinkle in his eye and his mysterious smile filled Jim with questions he didn't have time to ask. Before Jim could say anything, the sheriff went on. "My people, the Umatilla, have lived in this area for generations." He went on ahead to where Simon stood, leaving Jim shaking his head in wonder.

The sun was up but hidden behind the omni-present storm clouds as Jim set a quick but cautious pace down the hill in the pouring rain. He pointed out the first of the signs that Blair had left and explained the training that he had been giving his partner.

"Blair would've headed down to the gully to find water, first. My guess is that he followed the ravine till he found a cave or something." Jim kept his eyes on the track in front of him as he spoke. The rain was making it difficult to keep their footing and Jim didn't want to risk a fall. The smell of blood was becoming fainter and he was afraid he was going to lose the tenuous trail before he could find his friend. After one stop to examine a tree, Jim was startled to hear Hadley behind him. "Open your senses to your friend. He has left a trail only you can follow. He is still guiding you." Hadley continued on, his long black hair swinging behind him.

As the morning wore on, the image of a hurt, cold, and wet Sandburg continued to haunt Jim. Occasionally he would find a bent twig, a piece of fabric, or other clue to show to the other searchers as proof that they were on the right track. Hadley made it a point to stick close to Jim, pointing out likely trees where Jim could use his extraordinary gift to assure himself that Blair had passed that way.

At mid-day, Simon called a halt. The rain had let up, and the weary searchers found a semi-dry spot under a huge fir tree. Dropping their packs, each man found a place to sit that was reasonably dry. Wordlessly, they pulled out water bottles and packages of dry trail food. Rafe was first to break the silence.

"I think I remember some caves just ahead. I came here camping once with my dad and his friends. Do you think Blair could have done any climbing? The best caves are pretty high up."

"I don't know. It depends on how serious his injuries are. I think he would have stayed near the gully for water." Jim answered thoughtfully.

"But it'd be drier farther up the hill. You know how the kid is about being cold and wet," Simon contributed.

"That's true." Jim conceded. "Let's split up. Simon, Sheriff Hadley, and I will follow the ravine and you two climb up and search for those caves. Does that sound like a plan, Sheriff?"

"I agree that the young man could have gone either way. He is weak and hurt, his thinking is confused." The Native American sipped at his canteen, seemingly unaware of the looks of wonder and curiosity that were shared by the big city officers.

Jim broke the uncomfortable silence. "Okay then, Brown and Rafe can go up and the rest of us will check the gully. Let's meet back here in two hours."

"Gotcha." Brown nodded to his partner and the two began to backtrack, looking for a way up the steep hill.

As soon as the two detectives were out of sight, Simon turned to Jim. "OK, Jim. Can you find any trace of Blair around here? You've been really quiet."

Before the detective could answer, Hadley spoke. "Trust your instincts. Reach out with your senses. What do you see, smell, hear?

"I don't know." Jim was so used to responding to Blair when his Guide asked the same questions that he didn't censor his answer. "The blood smell is too washed out in all this rain. I have tried and tried but it's no good. Vision isn't any better. This rain has washed out any prints that might have been left." Jim rubbed the back of his neck, trying to massage out the stiffness.

"Can't you hear anything?" Simon asked, frowning. He had not missed the significance of Hadley's question but was unwilling to break Jim's concentration.

"Nothing, Simon. It's just no good."

"Come on, man. I've seen you listen to a fly on a wall in a hailstorm. Why not now?" Simon's brow was furrowed in confusion.

"There's nothing to focus on, nothing to hear. We'll just have to look for him till I find something to focus on." Jim hitched up his pack and started off down the muddy trail, listening to Simon muttering under his breath behind him as he and the sheriff followed.

For nearly an hour, the three men followed the little creek, examining the plants and the mud for any signs that Sandburg had been there. Jim stopped once again to scan the area. His nostrils flared at the all too familiar smell of a dead body.

"Simon, there's someone in the creek up ahead. Call Rafe and H. Have them meet us here." Jim dropped his pack and ran towards the deeper pool of water that he had spotted, and the floating mass tangled in the surrounding brush. His heart beat frantically as he reached the pool and plunged in. The floating mass was a body, face down in the cold water. By the time that Simon had caught up, Jim had freed the body and was dragging it to the shore.

"Sandburg?" Simon asked quietly.

"No, thank God. Looks like this guy's been here for a day or so. Contact base and see about getting a team here to examine the place." Jim turned the body over and ran his hands over the dead man's pockets, looking for any identification.

"He's Taylor Johsen. He is... was the ranger stationed here." Hadley leaned on a stout tree branch that he had picked up earlier. "He and I went to school together on the reservation. His wife reported him missing yesterday. She said he had gone into the woods to investigate some reports of poachers. He often stayed out for two or three days at a time but always kept in radio contact with her. She hadn't heard anything from him since early Saturday."

Sheriff Hadley contacted the base camp at the cabin and reported finding the body. He was told that the nearest SAR team was only thirty minutes away and that the chopper was being dispatched from town, ETA 15 minutes.

"Look here, Jim. This man was murdered." Simon pointed to the bruises on the man's neck and the gunshot wound in the chest.

"Do you think our perps did this?" Jim asked.

"Could be. I'll have Rafe and Brown go back with the body and start work on it. They can question the guys we caught and see if they can come up with anything." Simon pulled off his glasses and wiped the lenses dry on his shirt. "Technically, this isn't our case, but with Blair's disappearance, I want our people on this. With your permission of course, Sheriff."

Hadley flashed a wide grin. "Always happy to give the big city boys a chance to use those fancy toys of theirs."

The next hour was spent looking for clues around the area and waiting for the SAR team to arrive. The team arrived at the same time that Rafe and Brown made their way to the site. Simon made the decision to have the two detectives ride back to town with the body and begin the investigation. Both men protested but saw the wisdom in their captain's orders.

As the helicopter left with Rafe, Brown, and the body of the ranger, Sheriff Hadley turned to the men of the Search and Rescue team and spread out his map. He assigned them a new area to search and watched as they left. He then turned back to the 'big city boys' to see what their plan of action was going to be.

"Where do we go from here, detective?" the sheriff asked.

Ellison shrugged his shoulders. "Your guess is as good as mine. I'm not picking up anything any more. The rain has washed out any prints there might have been and I can't find any sort of trail. Blair could be anywhere." The grim tone of his voice matched the visions that were beginning to plague him. The image of Blair lying in a creek had supplanted the memory of the murdered ranger.

"What would your friend tell you to do now?" The Native American man's voice was low and measured. "He would tell you to look with more than just your eyes. He would tell you to use all your senses together." Hadley returned Jim's look of surprise with a look of calm surety. "I tell you to listen to the forest, the animals, the trees. Take a deep breath and look."

Responding to the authority in the older man's tone, Jim took a deep breath, then began to scan the surrounding forest. He was aware of Simon standing tall and quiet, listening with him. Jim did a full circle before stopping, staring down at the shallow creek at his feet. He stared fixedly at one spot several yards down for so long that Simon turned and looked as well.

A rustle of leaves drew the attention of all three men. A large grey wolf stepped out of the bushes to get a drink at the stream's edge. It looked at the three officers, whined, and then limped downstream till it was lost around a bend.

"That's it! Blair must have walked in the water to hide his tracks. He must have seen the body and thought the killer was after him as well. Come on, we can't be far behind him now." Jim settled his pack then struck out downstream, not bothering to wait for the others.

Simon picked up his pack to follow, giving the sheriff a long, speculative look as he did so.

"It is his way," the sheriff said cryptically, as he too shouldered his pack and set out after the tall detective.

Blair stopped and lowered himself down to sit on a fallen log. After leaving the stream he was now trying to climb a rise to see if he could spot a shelter or a road. Surely if this land belonged to a logging company, they would have built a road into the tract. If he could find one, perhaps he could walk to help. At least the rain had stopped and the day was beginning to warm up.

He reached for his canteen and unscrewed the cap to take a drink. As he tried to replace the cap, he dropped the canteen behind the log. Swearing an oath, Blair bent down to retrieve it. As he started to straighten up, a shot rang out in the quiet forest and a bullet buried itself in the log that Blair was sitting on. Almost by instinct, Blair squeezed himself as close as possible in the hollow underneath the log. The pain in his arm was temporarily forgotten as he tried to hide from his attackers. It wasn't long before he heard voices.

"You missed, stupid. You couldn't hit the broad side of a barn." A tall white man with a full growth of beard cradled his rifle as he turned to his companion.

The second man, big and burly, growled back. "Shut up. It was a bear I'm telling ya." He spit out a wad of tobacco juice. "It must have gone on back down the hill. We need one more to fill that last order." He too, cradled a rifle. Both men were wearing light hunting clothes with heavy boots and baseball style caps. Now the second spoke up again. "Help me look for him."

"I ain't doing no such thing. I don't want to get too far away from the truck. We have to be able to hear if someone comes looking for that ranger you shot. I ain't goin' back to jail for your stupidity." Beardface's voice dripped with contempt.

"I told you, these woods are off limits. No one is going to come looking for him for a long time, and even then, there won't be enough of him to find by the time the animals get done with him." The sound of crunching footsteps passing by forced Blair to hold his breath, as the two poachers passed him, going down the hill.

Blair counted to one hundred before he came out of hiding. "They have a truck nearby, huh? Now to find it and hope they left the keys in it." Blair reset his sling before he began his slow climb up the hill, and to safety, he hoped.

After following the stream for two hours, the small group of lawmen had headed into the woods. Jim had found a trail of footprints that he was sure was Blair's. The prints led up a gentle rise. The consensus was that Blair might be looking for a road or just a good clearing where he could be easily seen if a search team was looking for him from the air. Jim had called a halt and was listening for any sound in the quiet woods when he heard the shot ring out. From the set faces of his two companions, he knew that the shot had been audible to them as well. Hadley moved up beside Jim and whispered, "That was close. Maybe a couple of hundred yards. Target shooters maybe?"

Jim shook his head. "Your guess is as good as mine. Could be target shooters or it could be the perps who shot your friend. Either way, I think we should get a look at them."

Simon spoke up. "We'll split up. Jim, you go straight ahead. Sheriff, you go left, and I'll go right. No heroics and yell if you need help. Why don't you call your helicopter and have them stand by just in case we need them?"

Hadley nodded and pulled out his radio while Ellison and Banks pulled their weapons and started up the rise.

Minutes later, Jim stopped and hid behind a large pine tree. He saw the two men walking toward him, rifles held loosely. He listened to their conversation.

"You musta been seeing things, Tom. There ain't no prints, no claw marks, nothing. No bear." The taller of the two men said.

"I'm telling ya, I saw something on that log," Tom argued.

"Well, whatever it was, it's gone now. Let's get out of here. We can come back tomorrow. That shipment isn't due for two days yet. It'll take most of the night to dress those two deer we got, not to mention skinning that wolf."

Jim readied his weapon. Though he was out of his jurisdiction, he had heard enough to prove that the two men were poachers. He decided to take them into custody and let Sheriff Hadley deal with them. He knew that it was very probable that the poachers had been the ones who had killed the ranger, as well. He wondered just where Simon and the sheriff were. He would need them for back-up if the two decided to fight. Taking a deep breath, he stepped out into the open.

"Freeze! Cascade police! Put down your weapons!" Jim stood beside the tree, training his service revolver on the two poachers.

"Cops!" The bigger of the two men raised his rifle and let off a snap shot before dodging behind the nearest tree. The other man had already taken refuge behind a second tree and loosed a volley of shots in Jim's direction. Jim answered their fire with several shots of his own, hoping that the sheriff was calling in the cavalry.

Blair had made his way to the top of the rise and found the poacher's truck parked there. The doors were locked, but a few minutes of searching yielded a hidden key in the front tire well. Blair had just gotten the door open when he heard the shooting from below. He grinned widely as he identified he sound of Jim's weapon. He had heard it often enough to be familiar with its deep sound. "Way to go, Jim."

Blair fitted the key into the ignition, and then stopped to ponder his next move. He listened to the shots being exchanged for a few moments, then silence. Who had won? Did he dare go back down to see? He stared at the steering wheel as he pondered his next move, then an idea formed.

Jim ducked behind the tree as the two poachers fired at him. He put a new clip in his weapon and readied himself to fire again. Just as he poked his head out, a new shot was heard behind the suspects. "He said freeze! Lower your weapons and lay down on the ground." Jim saw Sheriff Hadley walking up to the poachers from behind, his gun held high and aimed at the taller of the two men. Jim stepped out from behind his tree and saw Simon emerging from a third tree higher up the slope.

Jim and Simon kept their guns trained on the suspects as the sheriff cuffed them. "Now what are you boys doing out here this time of year? I know deer season isn't for a few months yet. And I'll just bet that one of these rifles fires a bullet that matches the one that killed Taylor Johsen."

The two poachers glared at the officers and each other, but neither said a word. Jim put away his gun and looked at Simon. "They said they saw something further up the hill. It might have been Blair. I'm going up to look."

"There's a road about a mile or so up this hill. My bet is that these two have a vehicle parked there. Maybe your friend can find it." Sheriff Hadley said as he dug out his radio. He had just started to call his men when all five heard the SOS being sounded out with a car horn.

"Blair!" Jim took off up the hill without bothering to see if Simon was following or not. His only thought was for Blair.

Blair measured out the beats on the horn as he sounded the SOS that Jim had taught him. The pain in his shoulder had returned and his last reserves of strength were running out fast. If help didn't arrive soon, he would have to try and drive down the mountain. He was so tired. He stopped honking the horn and laid his head against the seat back. Maybe he would rest for just a minute, then he would drive down to find help. Blair closed his eyes. It felt so good to just rest somewhere dry and comfortable. In seconds, he was snoring softly.

Jim topped the hill and saw the old white truck with the driver's door standing open. Blair was inside, not moving, and Jim could see the bloody shoulder of his shirt and the makeshift sling. Moving quickly, he reached the truck and put a hand on either side of his Guide's face.

"Blair, can you hear me? Come on, buddy, time to wake up here."

Blair opened one eye groggily and looked at the anxious face of the Sentinel. "Man, am I glad to see you. I guess you win the game."

"We both won, Blair, we both won."

Two days later, Jim opened the door and escorted his Guide into their apartment. "Sit down, Chief and I'll make you some tea. I've already called the university and told them that you would be out for a couple of weeks."

"Thanks, Jim. I'm still beat. Next time I go to the woods, I'm taking a tent." Blair seated himself at the table, taking care not to bang his arm against the table top. "You never did tell me how you found me."

"It was thanks to that sheriff. He helped me a lot, reminded me a lot of you. He knew what I was doing and helped me." Jim shook his head in wonder.

"I'm not surprised. Many cultures have their own version of a Sentinel. Maybe he was a Guide in another time." Blair grinned at Jim. "Maybe you aren't the only Sentinel running around Washington."

"Maybe. By the way, you did good out there. You kept your head, made the suspects tip their hand, left a good trail. Good job, even Simon thought so." Jim brought the cups and steaming teakettle to the table.

"You never did tell me how they managed to get around the security system at the mall." Blair commented as he took a sip of his tea.

"Watkins found out that they had paid off one of the security guards to cut the wire. He's in custody as an accomplice." Jim took a sip of his own tea.

"You know what this means don't you?" Blair asked, with a mischievous glimmer in his eye.

"What?" Jim was instantly suspicious.

"We never finished the test. How about trying it again this weekend?" Blair ducked as Jim threw a mock punch at him.

The End