Chapter 14

Henry liked to think of himself as being in good shape for his age. He kept active and was rarely sick. But walking down the hospital hallway, he was pretty certain he was suffering a heart attack. He wiped at his eyes, almost grateful that the lingering gasoline irritation provided an excuse for why he kept having to swipe away moisture. It had been one hell of a morning to top off just about the worst week in a long time, probably since Maddie left...he sighed and rubbed his face with his hands. When he looked up again, he saw Lassiter looking at him with concern and discomfort, and he kicked himself for getting emotional.

"Here's the room," said Lassiter gruffly.

Henry was glad he hadn't asked what was wrong or if he was okay or any of those other ridiculous questions that had patently obvious answers. He nodded and opened the door of the room they'd finally gotten Shawn settled in. They'd all been at the hospital for almost four hours. Shawn had been moved to a room an hour or so earlier, and then they'd asked them to leave for a while so they could do some tests on him. Henry had gone to the cafeteria with Lassiter to grab some lunch that had tasted like sawdust.

Lassiter paused at the door. "I'm going to check on Juliet, then I'm going to the station to see if they've made any progress on tracking down Sinclair or his contacts."

"Will you let me know if they've had any breakthroughs?" asked Henry.

"Of course," said Lassiter with a nod.

Henry nodded as well. "If they chase me out of here again, I might stop by myself," he said gruffly.

Lassiter raised a hand as if he was going to pat Henry on the shoulder, but then a look of uncertainty flashed across his face and he just gave a small wave instead. "Hang in there." He turned and headed down the hallway to the stairs because Shawn's room was only one level above Juliet's. Henry drew in a deep breath and walked through the door. Shawn looked smaller, somehow, lying in the hospital bed. The wrapping on his arm reminded Henry of the time he'd broken his humerus when he was a kid. The look on his face did too. He looked scared and bored and pale and fidgety, and it made Henry want to go out and buy him some ice cream sandwiches.

"Hey, dad," said Shawn. "Guess what. I'm clotting. You should be proud. Apparently it's a good thing. I'm hoping they'll give me a Best In Clotting trophy."

"It's great," said Gus. "It means the venom hasn't affected you. Maybe it was a dry bite after all."

"That's good to hear," said Henry, feeling a small flash of hope. The dread was still overwhelming, though. The doctors had said it could take up to two days for the symptoms to show. Still, the longer it took, the more likely they'd be able to get a supply of the antivenom. "How are you feeling otherwise?"

"Starving," said Shawn. "I'm craving ice cream sandwiches. Remember that time I broke my arm?"

Henry smiled and nodded.

"Hey, I was thinking about that picture of Sinclair. There was a guy in it I said looked familiar."

"Yeah. I didn't get to look at the picture since you've said that," said Henry.

"I know. Lassie did, though, right before he took it to the station this morning. I think I know where I've seen him, now," said Shawn with a flash of excitement in his eyes. "There was this really old guy at the station when I was arrested, y'know, when we were talking. I saw him going into the bathrooms. He had a walker and an oxygen tank. I'm almost positive he's the guy in the picture."

Henry squinted. He remembered a pair of old men by the entrance of the station that day, but he hadn't focused on them. "Really?"

Gus's face brightened. "I remember now. Those two old men were sitting on that bench when we were talking to the desk sergeant. I got a pretty good look at them. The guy with the walker caught my eye because he was wearing Italian leather shoes."

Henry and Shawn looked at him with confused expressions.

"They were very expensive shoes. And I'm pretty sure he had a Rolex as well," said Gus who then shrugged. "It just seemed odd. Come to think of it, they were there when we arrived."

"Really?" said Shawn. "And there was two of them? Were they just hanging out, watching the action at the police station instead of playing Bingo or Shasta or whatever?"

Gus shrugged. "I think you mean Canasta. And I have no idea what they were doing there."

"Maybe we should find out," said Henry. He suddenly had a feeling about those men. If Shawn recognized one of them from the picture, they could both be in the picture. And if they'd had some kind of contact with Sinclair decades ago, they could be the ones who'd hired him now. He felt a tingling down his spine at the idea that the man who'd caused all of this might've been sitting in the station watching them that day.

"Oh my god," breathed Shawn. "Could that be the guy? I mean THE guy, the guy? And he was sitting right there..."

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves," said Henry, feeling his blood starting to boil as his own brain was doing just that. "I'm going to catch Lassiter and go to the station with him. We'll check this out."

Shawn started to sit up and swing his legs over the bed.

"Shawn! You stay here," ordered Henry, his voice sounded sharper than he'd meant, but his emotions were starting to roil.

"Are you kidding me?" argued Shawn, irritated by Henry's tone. "I'm not just going to sit here..."

"Shawn, please," said Gus as he stood up and put out his hands in a calming gesture. "You can't run around. It might aggravate the spread of the venom."

"We're not even sure I have venom!" cried Shawn.

"We're not sure you don't, either," said Gus.

"Look, Shawn," said Henry, making an effort to calm his voice. "I'm sorry, son, but I don't think you should go. I'm just going to catch a ride with Lassiter and we'll look at the picture. Maybe we can bring it back to you, okay? We'll talk to Karen and tell her what you said."

Shawn gave them both a look of agonized frustration. "Dammit," he hissed as he pulled his legs back up onto the bed. "Just, call us as soon as you've told them."

"I will," said Henry. "Please, try to relax." He walked over and gave Shawn a quick hug.

"You too," said Shawn. "You look a little stressed. You need a spa day."

Henry smirked and shook his head as he walked out of the room. He made his way to the stairs, hoping that Lassiter hadn't finished visiting with Juliet yet.

OoOoOoO

As Lassiter approached Juliet's room, he noticed a nurse walk out of her door and stride quickly to the desk. His heart skipped a beat and he quickened his pace, watching as the nurse began to dial her phone. When she saw him coming, she paused.

"Detective, I was just calling the doctor in. She's awake again," she said with a gleam in her eyes. Lassiter had come to appreciate how much the nurses who'd been working with Juliet seemed to be pulling for her and were almost as excited by good news as he was.

"Can I go see her?" he asked, feeling breathless. This particular dose of good news seemed to be making his heart skip even worse.

The nurse nodded as her call connected. He pushed the door open slowly, not wanting to startle his partner. She was still reclined, and her eyes were closed, so he was afraid she'd fallen back asleep. But at the sound of the door, she opened her eyes and turned her head towards him.

"Hey," she said softly.

"Hey," he said with what he figured was probably a goofy-looking grin, but he couldn't help himself. He stepped up to the side of the bed and put his hand on her shoulder briefly. "It's good to see you awake."

"Carlton," she said. She seemed hesitant and not 100% lucid, and he wondered if she wasn't certain who he was. The doctor had warned that her faculties might be impaired for a while after waking.

"Yes, it's me. Carlton," he said, feeling odd saying his own name like that to his own partner.

"Are you okay?" she asked, her brow furrowing.

He blinked. "Um, yeah. I'm fine."

"Is everything okay? I'm not sure what happened."

"Don't worry about that right now. Everything's fine," he fibbed. There was no way he'd tell her the truth in that moment. He couldn't allow her to worry about anything, or anyone, in her state. "You just need to rest and get your strength back."

"Did I get hurt?"

He sighed and felt suddenly helpless. "Yes, Juliet. You were hurt and you're in the hospital, but you're going to be okay."

"And everyone else is okay?" she asked with a tinge of fear and confusion in her eyes as she started to process everything. She glanced around the room vaguely, as if looking for more clues to her situation.

He just pursed his lips and nodded, hating to say the lie again out loud. Finally, the doctor entered, saving him from the discomfort of the situation even as he felt the regret that he was going to have to leave his partner again. The doctor nodded at him with that dismissive look they must learn in med school.

"Juliet, I'll be back later. Listen to the doc here, and get lots of rest," said Lassiter with a last touch to her shoulder. He forced a small smile. "That's an order, partner."

"Carlton," she said as he was turning to leave. He spun back, eyebrows raised. She gave him a concerned look. "Be careful."

His breath caught in his throat, but he forced the smile again and nodded. When he turned to the door, he wiped his hand across his face. How was he ever going to be able to tell her...what? He wasn't even sure what was going to happen. Maybe everything would work out fine, Spencer would be okay, and he wouldn't have to worry about telling her. He stepped into the hallway and saw Henry walking his direction with a determined look on his face. When Henry saw him, he stopped and waved him over. Lassiter felt a familiar flash of irritation, but he shook it off as he joined him.

"Lassiter, Shawn remembered something," said Henry, then he stopped himself when he saw the look on the detective's face. "Is Juliet alright?"

"Hmm? Oh, yeah, she's great. She's awake," said Lassiter.

"Wow," said Henry as his eyebrows shot up. "Thank goodness."

"So what did Shawn remember?"

"You know the guy that he said looked familiar in the picture? He thinks it was that old man who was at the station the morning he was arrested."

Lassiter's brow furrowed. "Old man," he said, trying to recall. He'd been pretty shaken up still, that morning after the explosion. Then he remembered the two geezers sitting near the entrance and the creepy, bug-eyed one giving him strange looks. "THAT guy? He thinks that's the guy in the picture?"

Henry shrugged. "I don't know. We need to go get it. Maybe we can bring it back here for Shawn to see again," said Henry hopefully, then he grimaced. "He wanted to come along."

Lassiter could just imagine Shawn's reaction to having to stay in the hospital. He realized Henry was probably worried that Shawn might skip out if they didn't try to include him in the investigation somehow.

"Okay, let's go. I want to see it again myself," he said as they started towards the elevators. "If he's in that old photo with Sinclair..."

"He might be connected to him now," finished Henry.

"It can't be a coincidence," growled Lassiter. The image of the old man laughing at them that morning reignited his fury, and he punched the elevator button harder than necessary.

"Easy, tiger," said Henry.

Lassiter glared at him. "You're kidding, right?"

Henry held up his hands. "Just hang on," he said in what he must've thought was his peacemaking tone. "I know what you're feeling, believe me. But if we're going to catch this guy, and Sinclair, we have to keep our emotions in check."

Lassiter bit his tongue and drew a breath in through his nose as the elevator opened and they stepped inside. He wondered if the elder Spencer even knew how condescending he sounded sometimes. He drew in another breath, not confident of having control yet over his reaction. He remembered all of the times O'Hara lectured him about sounding arrogant and condescending, and he sighed, finally getting past the flash of anger. He knew Henry had to be fighting his emotions as well with his only son's life possibly in grave danger. So, if Henry could do it, he wasn't about to be shown up. As they walked out to his car, he thought about the most recent developments in the case and what he'd learned in the meeting with the FBI earlier.

He cleared his throat and said, "I already pointed the guy out to the FBI. They were going to give his identification priority, so hopefully they've figured it out by now. I'm sure he's using an alias, here, but maybe we'll get lucky and they'll have something else we can use to track him down."

Henry nodded. "That's good. If we can find him, maybe he'll give up Sinclair and we can go to his place."

"Sinclair's?"

"Yeah," said Henry. "You mentioned that he had all of these bugs and snakes in a place before. I was thinking that if he has such dangerous stuff around, he might take precautions."

Lassiter's eyebrows raised. "Like keeping antidotes in stock? That's a good idea. We can check that file I read earlier and confirm. But we still have to find Sinclair's place. Even if we can find this old man, he might not give up the location, or even know it, for that matter."

Henry just grimaced in acknowledgment as they climbed in the car. They were both silent for the drive to the station.

OoOoOoO

Buzz was sitting on the low wall near the SBPD's front steps eating his lunch somewhat late and enjoying the sunshine. He'd seen Detective Lassiter and Henry Spencer arrive about a half hour earlier and wondered what they were doing inside. He felt so bad about what had happened to Shawn under his guard. The chief had even called him in to assure him that she believed he'd done the best he could, and who would've thought to check for snakes in the little blue car anyway? Still, he remembered the look on Shawn's face and felt guilty. He hoped Lassiter and Henry were figuring something out to catch the bad guys. As he munched on his sandwich, he noticed an old man walking uncertainly towards him. What he didn't notice, though, was another man on the other side of the street that adjoined the station's main drive. This other man watched the old man intently for a few moments, then turned and walked off out of view. The only thing Buzz saw in that moment, though, was the approaching man who seemed somehow familiar. Then he remembered he'd seen him at the station just the other morning.

"Excuse me, officer," said the man when he was close.

"Can I help you, sir?"

"I was wondering if a detective was here. Um, I think his name starts with an 'L.' He's kind of tall and skinny."

"That's Detective Lassiter," said Buzz, nodding. He waved vaguely at the blue Crown Vic parked on the other side of the street. "Yes, he is here. Do you need him?"

"Oh," said the old man as he turned to the car and then looked around, seeming confused. Then he patted at his pockets, his expression turning to embarrassment. "Actually, I don't right now. I was going to give him something, but here I've realized I left it at home. Damn senility." He gave Buzz a wry look and held out his hands in a helpless gesture. "Thank you for your help, though. I'll just have to come back again."

Buzz shrugged. "Okay, sir."

He watched as the old man crossed the street and pulled out a piece of paper from his pocket. He seemed to read it, and then he folded it as he reached the other sidewalk. The man walked next to Lassiter's car, pausing as he gazed into the windows. Buzz's brow furrowed. He knew that people liked to peep into police cars to look at the guns and other gear. The man dawdled for just a moment on the other side of the car and then turned to continue down the sidewalk away from the station. Buzz shrugged again and crumpled up the papers from his lunch. It was time to get back to work. He stood up and stretched, gazing once more at the old man who was disappearing around the corner at the bottom of the street. Once again, though, he didn't notice the intense man on the other side of the adjoining street who had reappeared and was walking quickly in the opposite direction from where he'd gone moments earlier. Buzz cleaned up his garbage and headed into the station. As he was tossing his trash, he saw something flash out of the corner of his eye. Then he heard, and felt, the boom.

OoOoOoO

Henry's nerves were beyond frayed now. He watched from the station steps as fire trucks and ambulances either arrived or departed, depending on what role they were playing in the latest explosion. The crowd of people on the other side of the adjoining street was building, now that the pyrotechnics seemed to be finished. He couldn't see the blackened hull of the car, but he'd walked down a few minutes earlier to catch a glimpse of it. No one seemed to know who it belonged to, so everyone was in a frenzy trying to figure out why another car had exploded. There was one fatality, this time, as well. The chief was busy counting heads to make sure the victim wasn't a member of the department. A forensics team had grabbed their gear and run over to document the scene, and Henry noticed one of the photographers returning already.

"Is the victim recognizable?" he asked.

The man looked uncertain about answering Henry, but he'd seen him around the station enough times that he apparently decided he could divulge a little information. He just nodded as he moved past and into the building. Henry turned and followed. Inside, Chief Vick was talking to Buzz in her office, getting his report as he was the only officer around to see anything outside before the blast. Henry hovered near Lassiter's desk as the photographer went into the office and showed the chief the images on his camera. Buzz's eyebrows raised and he started gesticulating, pointing towards the entrance.

Lassiter had been on the phone calling area retirement communities to ask about any residents named Morton Eisener. They didn't expect the man to be using his real name, but they were going to cover all the bases. Karen had told them when they'd arrived that the FBI identified the man in the picture. He'd been a mob lawyer for a powerful family in Chicago for many years before falling off of the map. The information they had was that family issues had caused Eisener to become untrustworthy to the mob, and he'd been in danger of getting killed off. The FBI's information about him had ended at that point. She'd told them that the agents were digging deeper and trying to find more connections to explain why he was apparently in Santa Barbara and hiring a hitman to go after Shawn and Henry. The other man in the picture had also been identified as Robert Gray, a longtime friend and associate of Eisener. Gray had disappeared at the same time.

Lassiter hung up the phone and sighed as Henry leaned back against his desk, watching the activity in the chief's office intently.

"What's' going on?" asked Lassiter.

"One of the photographers is showing them a picture of the victim."

Just then, the chief pulled out the old FBI photograph and held it up to the camera and to another picture that the station security cameras had managed to capture of the two old men on the bench. She looked up and met Henry's eyes, and he felt a shiver run down his spine.

"Uh oh," he said.

The chief waved him and Lassiter into her office.

"Gentlemen, there's been a development," she said, as if they hadn't figured that out already. Henry knew that Karen used those kinds of introductions when the information was either very confusing or very disturbing, or both. "The man who was just killed outside appears to be Robert Gray."

She waited as Lassiter and Henry both moved forward to compare the pictures to the shot of the body in the car. The man's face was still surprisingly recognizable, and Henry realized that the device in his car had been much smaller. It had apparently been something under the man's seat, because his lower half was much more damaged than his upper body. He thought that perhaps it meant Sinclair had been forced to do a more hasty and less thorough job in this hit, maybe even something spur-of-the-moment.

"That's him," said Lassiter. "Did they retrieve any identification yet?"

"No," said the photographer. "Well, what they found is unreadable at the moment, but they're going to try and restore the items in his wallet enough to read a name. It will take a little while."

Lassiter grimaced. "It looks like a slap-dash effort, considering how careful and thorough Sinclair has been so far," he commented.

"I agree," said Henry.

The chief nodded. "McNab here says this man approached him asking for you, Carlton, but when he was told you were here, he made an excuse and walked away."

"Maybe Sinclair saw him coming to the station and had to improvise," suggested Henry.

"So, he just has explosive devices that he carries around for emergencies?" asked Lassiter.

"I don't know," said Henry. "Why not?"

"I wonder why he came at all," said Lassiter. "And if he knew I was here, why did he leave?"

"Maybe he was going to turn himself in but he got cold feet," said Henry. "Why else would Sinclair be so quick to react?"

"Maybe he was going to turn in Sinclair," said the chief. They all raised their eyebrows and nodded. Then the chief dismissed the photographer and McNab. "I'm disturbed that this incident hit so close to home again, but at least we're getting closer to the who's of this case. We still need the why's."

"We'll figure them out, Chief," said Lassiter. "And now we know that Sinclair is still here. We've got the BOLOs out for his current description. If we can just track down Eisener's new alias and location, we can get him to give up Sinclair."

"If Sinclair doesn't get to him first," said Henry. He was starting to despair of finding Sinclair's location, and so the stash of antidotes he hoped was there. If Sinclair was still hanging around Santa Barbara and was caught, he was sure the hitman wouldn't give them any help. And the most likely scenario was that Sinclair would hit Eisener also and remove all possibility of being located. He decided he'd go back to the hospital as soon as he could to see how the search for other sources of the antivenom was going.

Lassiter grimaced and Chief Vick moved to sit down in her chair, rubbing at her forehead. "I'm not sure I have anything else for you to do, right now. I will call you if the agents get back to me with more information about Eisener's connections."

"Can I have a copy of those photos?" asked Lassiter. "I want to hit some of the higher-end retirement communities and see if anyone recognizes them."

She nodded and handed him copies of the older photo and the station security photo. "Good luck, detective."

"Can you drop me off at the hospital?" asked Henry.

He wanted to get back to make sure Shawn was behaving as well as to check on the antidotes. He'd called right after the explosion to update them and explain their delay. He was afraid Shawn would be getting antsy, but Gus told him he'd been sleeping most of the time which had made Henry even more anxious, if anything. It just wasn't like Shawn to be able to gear down like that when such craziness was going on around him. They walked out to Lassiter's car. The commotion down the street was still going on, but the column of smoke had finally disappeared. As Henry reached for the handle of the passenger door, something caught his eye. A piece of paper had been stuck down into the window so that only a small corner was visible.

"Lassiter," he said. "Don't get in the car."

"What?" said Lassiter as he released his own door handle as if it had stung him. "What's wrong?"

"Come here."

Lassiter walked around to join Henry and peered at the paper. "It looks like a note."

Henry nodded. "I guess we can just read it?"

Lassiter shrugged. He moved around the car again and knelt down to peer underneath. "I don't see anything blinking," he said wryly. "I doubt that a piece of paper like that would be a trigger."

Henry gingerly pulled the note out as Lassiter returned to his side. He unfolded the paper, which said, "SINCLAIR: Ten miles southwest of Stallion Springs, two miles east on old mining route 3568. Hurry. You're welcome."