"A ride-along pass? You sure you want to do this, Jim? What's this paper on, anyway?" Simon Banks asked his lead detective, leaning back in his chair and rolling a cigar between his long fingers. "What's the subject again?"
"He couldn't tell me what it was about, Simon. Said it could bias my attitude or something like that. And yeah, I'm sure. He seems like a good kid, and he's been a big help already. Hell, he can come to the stakeout this weekend and free up someone to cover another location. And I'm not proposing anything permanent, Sir. Just a temporary pass, he won't be any problem at all, I'm sure of that."
"You'll damn well make sure of that, Jim. I got a feeling you aren't being totally straight with me, but there's too much going on to worry about that now. Get the kid his credentials, I'll sign off on them. But next week I want both of you in here to explain in more detail just what exactly an anthropology grad student wants from a Major Crimes detective. Is that clear?" Banks wasn't thrilled with this suggestion, but Jim was not only his best detective, he was a good friend, and Simon trusted him. If Ellison wanted the kid as a ride-along, it didn't seem too much to ask.
"Thanks, Simon. I appreciate it, you'll never know he's here," Jim replied, standing to leave. He glanced at his desk, expecting to see the younger man there, since it was now well after three. The twinge of disappointment he felt when he saw the vacant desk was as unexpected as it was sharp.
Still, the grad student was only slightly late, so Ellison took the time to drop by and pick up the forms he'd need before settling down to clear out some routine paperwork. Usually, with a stakeout coming up he'd be heading home for some rest, but he wanted to get the kid squared away first, so it was with mounting irritation that he saw the clock move toward four o'clock with still no sign of Sandburg.
"Dammit, this is exactly what I was afraid of," the Sentinel muttered to himself darkly as he threw another file into his out box.
"What's that, Ellison?" Brown asked as he wandered by. "Who's got you riled up now?"
"Oh, that witness from last Sunday, he was supposed to meet me here an hour ago," the big man grumbled, standing and reaching for his coat. "The hell with it, I need to get ready for tommorrow."
"You mean that longhaired kid, 'bout yay high?" the dark skinned detective asked, holding his hand out shoulder height to Jim.
"Yeah. Why?"
"I saw him come in around three, I guess. McConnel stopped him, I think, asking about something. Maybe he knows where the kid went," Henri informed Ellison with a shrug.
A sick worried feeling hit Jim's stomach at the thought of Blair encountering the unpleasant Homicide cop, remembering the officer's comments earlier regarding the information Sandburg had provided. Responding to an instinct he didn't even realize he had, the former Ranger hurried toward the elevator and down to the floor that housed the Homicide Division.
"Hey, Jim, long time no see. You take a wrong turn somewhere and get lost?" the middle aged officer at the reception desk greeted him.
"Only way anyone ends up here, isn't it Bart?" Ellison shot back with a smirk. "Actually, I'm looking for McConnel, you seen him?"
"Oh, he took some guy back to the interrogation rooms some time ago, haven't seen him since then. Check with Peterson, he probably knows more than me," Bart provided, indicating a desk at the far side of the bullpen.
"Will do, thanks."
Homicide was set up much like Major Crime, though over a larger area, and the cacophony of noise from a dozen or more conversations drove through the Sentinel's skull like a dull drill. Peterson confirmed that McConnel was still in with a 'suspect' and waved the Major Crime detective on through to the interrogation rooms. It took only a moment of listening to find they were in the last room on the left.
Jim gave a perfunctory tap on the door before opening it to find McConnel standing over the smaller man, leaning down while the kid tried to back as far away as possible. A look of trepidation made the grad student look even younger, and even without Sentinel vision Ellison could see a bruise forming on the young man's cheek.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" the enraged detective roared, startling the Homicide detective into stepping away from his intended victim.
"Back off, Ellison, this isn't your division," McConnel ground out, stepping backwards reflexively.
"And this isn't a suspect," the Major Crime detective shot back with a glare. "You have no business detaining him."
"Hey, he agreed to this interview."
"That right, Chief?" Ellison asked, his tone automatically softening a little as he looked down at his new friend.
"He…he said he had some questions. I wanted to help," Blair replied a little shakily, running his left hand over his long curls. "But I didn't have anything to do with the killings, I liked Councilwoman Meadows.." his voice trailed off with a small sigh.
"Come on, Sandburg, you're done here. Simon's waiting for us upstairs," Jim said, glaring at the Homicide detective until a soft clinking sound brought his attention back to the anthropologist. "What the hell? Unlock those cuffs immediately! And don't think your captain won't be hearing from Captain Banks about this little display. Come on, Blair," he urged, ushering the grad student out ahead of him. The only thing that prevented him from further expressing his opinion of McConnel's actions was the obviously upset young man at his side, and the faith that Simon Banks would agree with his assessment of the Homicide officer's actions. Now was definitely NOT the time to get himself suspended or disciplined.
"Thanks, man," Sandburg said quietly as they rode up the two floors to Major Crime, alone in the elevator.
"Chief, what were you thinking, letting him question you like that?" Though the question seemed harsh on the surface, it was softened by the big man's gentle tone.
"I didn't know he wanted to question me as a suspect! I thought he wanted to discuss the article, get my ideas on where Mrs. Pinero may show up, you know. Not cuff me to a table and keep asking me about why I did it. He's not real stable," Blair said with a shudder.
Jim reached out one cautious hand and tilted his companion's face up toward him, frowning a little as he did so. "He hit you?" he asked, indicating the darkening bruise.
"Not exactly. I tripped going into the room, hit the wall pretty hard," Blair explained with lowered eyes. "An accident."
Ellison considered Sandburg's obvious discomfort, his instincts all screaming that the younger man way lying, but decided against pushing it; the kid had been subjected to enough aggressive behavior for one day.
"I've got some paperwork for you to fill out, and I want you to come on in and meet Simon if he's still around. If we can get you cleared you can go on the stakeout tomorrow night. If you're still interested, that is."
"Interested? Interested?! Of course I'm interested. This is great man," Blair enthused, bouncing a bit on the balls of his feet as they approached Major Crime. Jim couldn't help but smile at the kid's quick recovery; he was impressed actually. Maybe the kid would be able to stick it out long enough for the Sentinel to get a handle on his senses.
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After introducing the obviously wary Simon Banks to his future department observer, Jim ushered the grad student out to attack the necessary paperwork. He returned to Simon's office and closed the door firmly, turning to his captain with anger filled eyes.
"That son-of-a-bitch McConnel was interrogating Sandburg, Simon. He had the kid cuffed to the table for God's sake! And that bruise on his face? Said he 'tripped' going into the room. Right. Sure. Probably tripped over McConnel's foot, assisted by a firm shove in the back. I want that asshole off this investigation, Simon," Jim demanded.
"I think you are getting a little above yourself, Detective," Captain Banks ground out, sitting up straight in his chair and fixing Ellison with a stern look. "Sit down, and let's take a look at this."
"Sorry, Sir," Jim apologized stiffly as he sat in the indicated seat. "It's just this whole situation with McConnel was been grating one me, right from the beginning. And if you could have seen how he was looming over Sandburg, using his size to intimidate the kid…well, I saw red."
"You didn't do something that's going to have IA visiting, did you?" Banks asked sharply.
"No, Sir. I just got Blair the hell out of there. Come on, the kid goes out of his way to be helpful, and that prick treats him like he's the next Charles Manson. McConnel had no RIGHT to treat him that way." A sharp slap to the arm of the chair punctuated his comment.
"What is it with this kid, Jim? I've never seen you this protective of anyone, least of all someone like Sandburg. Come on, he looks like the kind of hippie wannabe you'd normally eat for breakfast," Simon countered, sitting back and studying his detective objectively.
"Is your opinion of me that low, Captain?" Jim asked tonelessly.
"I didn't mean it that way, Jim. But…come on…this isn't like you."
"Regardless, does that mean you sanction McConnel's treatment of Sandburg? He didn't read the kid his rights, he detained him without due process, he was questioning him alone, it wasn't even official and he had the kid cuffed. I know for a fact you would never allow one of your officers to pull a stunt like that," Ellison pointed out.
"Well, you're right about that. I'll give Captain Jones a call; tell him I want McConnel removed from this investigation. I'll give him the full story of what McConnel did," Simon added, holding up one long fingered hand to forestall any comments from his subordinate. "Now, why don't you make sure Sandburg's got all the forms filled out, and as soon as the background check and drug test results come in I'll sign off on him. I've already given Personnel the word to put this one through immediately. With any luck he'll be official tonight. Now get going. And don't forget, as soon as things calm down more I want the full…the whole…story from the both of you," he reminded Ellison as he waved him toward the exit.
"Thank you, Sir," Jim said as he stepped out of the captain's office. Blair was just straightening the stack of paperwork Jim had set him to, his attitude indicating he'd finished the forms.
"Here we go Jim; all filled out, not spindled nor mutilated, and all in triplicate. What next?" he asked with a grin.
"Next, we test your aim," Jim informed him with a grin.
"Oh, man, I don't think I want to have to handle a gun. That's not necessary is it? What're you laughing at?" Blair asked the chuckling detective.
"Not that kind of aim, Dead Eye. They need a urine sample for a drug test," the larger man laughed.
"Well, you could have just said so," Sandburg groused good-naturedly as they headed out the door.
"Nah, that would have taken all the fun out of it," Jim replied, cuffing the curly head lightly as they strode toward Personnel. "You're just too easy, Sandburg."
"Hey, man. It's my first day here, let's not ruin my reputation yet, okay?" Blair countered ushering his companion through the door ahead of him. "I haven't even had a chance to see if there are any likely dating prospects here."
"Just remember, Chief. Most of the women here will be carrying a gun," Ellison reminded him cheerfully.
"Oh. Well, then, guess I'll have to be careful." The grad student took the sample cup the clerk handed him and headed toward the door to the restroom.
"Hey, Chief!"
Blair turned back to the detective expectantly.
"Don't forget to re-holster your weapon when you're done."
Even the clerk laughed at the one-fingered salute Sandburg gave Ellison as he walked out the door.
"Looks like he's going to be a handful," the middle aged woman said with a smirk.
"You could be right," Jim agreed, an unconscious smile softening his features. He couldn't help but feel that this was just the beginning of a strange phase in his life, and he felt an odd wonder at the warmth he felt toward the younger man.
"You could be right, indeed."
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"Welcome aboard, Mr. Sandburg. Read over the rules and code of conduct, and remember that Detective Ellison is responsible for you, so if you screw up it'll come out of his hide," Simon said gruffly, handing over the observer permit to the smiling anthropologist.
"Great. Thanks, man, you won't regret this," Blair grinned, bouncing a bit as he clipped the pass on his shirt pocket. It was Saturday morning, and his energy and enthusiasm were at their usual high level.
"I'd better not. But know this: I will only regret it once. After that you'll be gone, understand?" he glowered at the young man.
"Yes, Sir!" Sandburg replied jauntily, not at all intimidated by the tall captain. He'd already seen through Banks' gruff exterior to the honorable man inside who would stand by his men against all comers.
"Get him out of here before I really begin to regret this," Simon growled at Ellison, who had the wisdom to marshal his new unofficial partner out with all haste.
"Geez, Chief, how about not trying to get fired on your first day, huh?" the detective commented as he ushered the young man to the chair beside his desk.
Ellison immediately picked up the file on the Sunday Strangler murders, ready to review them a final time before the task force meeting later that morning. Simon had told him privately that McConnel was off the task force, and though he was not officially reprimanded for his handling of Sandburg he was told to take three personal days off. It seemed the officer was facing some sort of personal crisis and Captain Jones of Vice had requested Simon be content with that for now. He assured the Major Crime captain that he would monitor McConnel more closely, and if he stepped out of line again he'd be disciplined to the maximum possible. Jones honestly believed the detective was not a threat to the public, and that pursuing further action at this time would cause more harm than good.
Simon had reluctantly agreed, understanding his fellow captain's desire to help and protect his man in any way possible. And the fact was, Sandburg was not looking to press any sort of charges against the officer. In fact, the newly minted Police Observer seemed to have already forgiven and forgotten; an attitude Banks appreciated.
"Hey, man, what can I do to help?" Blair asked before Jim got too fully ensconced in his study of the file. "Maybe I can…I dunno…bring in a fresh perspective?"
"Help yourself to the individual files, just don't mess anything up," Jim instructed him, indicating the four files that had specific information regarding the four victims.
"Cool," Blair muttered, opening the first file and idly thumbing through the information. He noticed copies from the victim's weekly planner, going back four months, and on a whim checked if similar information was available for the other three victims. Finding what he needed, he located a notebook in his pack and started writing.
"What're you up to there, Chief?" Ellison asked over an hour later.
"Check this out, Jim. I took Gayle Meadow's schedule, according to her dayplanner, and charted it out. Then I did the same for the other three, covering at least three months before the first murder. Here, I circled the events they attended together, which of course includes City Council meetings and other public events. But look at this, there are some that had nothing to do with the City Council that all four of them attended," Blair pointed out, shuffling through numerous sheets covered with charts filled with Blair's busy handwriting.
"Geez, Chief, I'll just bet you're the kind of student that LOVES when they assign homework, right?" Jim teased him gently, though he was impressed with the young man's intuition and took the charts to look more closely at the results.
"You may be on to something here," he murmured after a moment's study. "Some of these events are understandable, like the opening of the new multiplex downtown. But it does seem odd they attended so many of the same social gatherings. From what I understood, William Bryant hated the social scene, but according to this he was at two…no, three…parties that the other three attended. So either his reputation was wrong, OR there's something special about these particular get-togethers," Jim mused, studying the charts carefully.
"Come on, Ellison, the meeting is about to start," Simon called over, interrupting Jim's train of thought. He gathered up Blair's handiwork and smiled down at the observer.
"Come on, Chief, meetings wait for no man," he joked, leading the way into Simon's office. Henri Brown was already there, as way another detective Jim recognized vaguely.
"Jim, this is Detective Stan Bruinswick, he'll be replacing McConnel in this investigation. Bruinswick, this is Detective Jim Ellison, and the observer who is assigned to him, Blair Sandburg," Simon introduced the men before settling down in his seat at the head of the table.
"Brown, this is Blair Sandburg, Blair, this is Henri Brown. Do not believe any more than half of what he might tell you," Jim grinned, as the large dark skinned detective reached over to shake the grad student's hand.
"Who'd you piss off to get assigned to Ellison?" Brown wondered with a wide grin and a wink as he settled back into his seat.
"That's something I haven't figured out yet," Blair shot back with a grin of his own, sitting down beside his Sentinel.
"Settle down, let's get to business," Simon interrupted, indicating the files the detectives had brought in with them. "First order of business should be to confirm we have all the possibilities covered. That was your assignment Brown, so what's the status there?"
"We have at least two officers assigned to each location," Brown began as the others settled back to listen carefully. Time was running short, and this was the best chance they'd had so far to catch the killer or killers.
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"I think Simon was impressed with your cross referencing of the victims social calendars," Ellison commented to his companion as they sat in his truck watching the front entrance to Pets-R-Us.
"Really? How can you tell? His scowl gets less menacing?" Blair asked with a quirky grin. "Though if I'd had more time I could have put the information into a database program and cross referenced it six ways from Sunday. Uh…no pun intended."
"Well, let's hope we don't need to have that done," Jim replied easily.
"Yeah. You know, it's pretty creepy, this guy has kept dead bodies for up to three days. You gotta wonder: where he's keeping them? They've got to have one heck of a big refrigerator," the younger man mused. "I mean what? He puts them in the fridge with his beer and milk? Geez, anyone who could do that would have to be one sick puppy…" Sandburg's voice trailed off slowly, as a look of apprehension crossed his face.
"What? What's wrong?" the detective asked, turning his attention to the grad student.
"Sick puppy. Damn, Jim, we may have missed something important here. Veterinarians. I don't remember anyone talking about vets. Is anyone covering those?"
"Shit!" Jim swore, pulling out his cell phone and dialing Simon, who was coordinating everything. The conversation was brief and terse, with all the officers being put on standby for possible new assignments. They had enough out there – barely – to cover five additional locations if necessary. Fortunately it was still fairly early evening, barely seven thirty, so it wasn't that difficult to bring in some new bodies as well.
Fifteen minutes after his call to Simon Banks, Jim's cell phone rang. Simon's harried voice informed the Sentinel that he and Sandburg were being reassigned to the England Veterinary Clinic, a small veterinary hospital on the outskirts of Cascade. Finding a vantage point that allowed them to observe anyone approaching either entrance to the building, they settled back in to wait.
"Hey, man, we could do some work on your senses here," Blair suggested, looking eagerly at the older man.
"Listen, Darwin, we need to keep alert and focused. This isn't a game; this is the best chance we've had to get a real break on this case. I can't take any chances here," Ellison told him sternly.
"I'm not suggesting you do. Look, you're going to want to be able to USE your senses in your work, right? To do that you need to practice them when you work. I can keep an eye out for approaching vehicles, or anyone sneaking into the place. But honestly, you have to work on this, and now is a perfect time," the anthropologist said persuasively.
"What did you have in mind?"
"Great! Um…let's try hearing, okay? Now we know animals have faster heartbeats than humans, right? The smaller the animal the faster the heartbeat is the usual rule. So, focus your hearing on the building, IN the building, and pick out the heartbeats. Try to determine if any are human. See if you can figure out how many animals there are in there. Those are your goals: any human and how many total. Just concentrate, breathe deep and slow, and focus. You can do this, man," the mellow voice smoothed out even more, soothing the Sentinel.
Despite his reluctance Ellison was not the sort of man to give something only a half measure of effort. He'd learned some degree of deep relaxation and autohypnosis in his covert ops training, and he called on those seldom-used skills now. Carefully extending his hearing he sought out the sounds his Guide had requested, screening out the occasional whimper, the buzz of a refrigerator, the purr of a content cat. All the beats he heard were too fast to be human-normal, though he screened and cataloged each one, finding the rhythmic thumping to be oddly soothing. He was floating along on the waves of sound when a discordant sound disrupted his enjoyment.
"Jim! Dammit, Jim, come back," Sandburg said frantically, rubbing one hand over Ellison's nearest arm.
"Wha…what…what just happened?" the older man asked, pinching the bridge of his nose.
"Oh, man, you zoned again. I'm sorry, I thought I saw a car approaching, I was distracted, but it went on by and when I turned back to you, you were zoned. Are you okay?" Blair ran his hand through his curly hair, looking worriedly at Jim.
"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. That was actually kind of pleasant, but I think I'd rather not have it happen again."
"You and me both. But, did you hear the heatbeats? Could you distinguish them?" Blair held a pen poised over a blank page of his notebook, using the sparse moonlight to write by.
"Yep. None sounded human, and there are nineteen animals inside the building," Jim reported.
"Oh, man! That's awesome! Do you realize that if you knew the regular heartbeat for particular size and breed animals you could possibly even determine their breed just from the heartbeat? See now what I've been saying? This is a gift! You can USE this, man. You can be a one-man crime lab; faster and more accurate than any forensics unit available," Sandburg enthused, bouncing a bit on his seat in his excitement.
"I think you're getting a little ahead of yourself here, Darwin," the detective countered, shaking his head with amusement at the grad student's enthusiasm.
"I don't think so. Sure, you're going to have to practice, AND you're going to have to study, learn to distinguish between various chemical smells for instance, but I can't see a limitation on what you can learn to do. We're barely starting out here!"
"Settle down, Junior. There's a car approaching."
A dark sedan pulled into the parking lot and circled around to the back entrance before parking right beside the door. Jim picked up his radio and spoke softly into the microphone, reporting the visitor and indicating they were moving in closer to investigate, even as he moved the drove toward the back entrance, blocking the other vehicle's exit.
The man, who was just fitting his key in the lock, looked up with considerable surprise, changing rapidly to fear as Ellison leveled his gun at him and demanded he turn and put his hands up on the wall. The suspect obeyed without hesitation, speaking over his shoulder even as he spread his legs in the classic position.
"I'm Doctor England, I run this clinic. I had a patient call me with an emergency, I'm meeting her here, officer. What is this all about?"
Ellison had removed the man's wallet and checked his ID, verifying that he was indeed Hiram England, DVM. "I'm sorry, Sir. I'm Detective James Ellison of the Cascade PD, this is my associate, Blair Sandburg. We're working on a case, and had reason to suspect you might have an uninvited visitor tonight. This client who called, do you know them well?" Jim asked.
"Quite well. Her family has been coming to me since I first opened this clinic fifteen years ago. Her elderly cocker spaniel is having seizures, I suspect I'll have to put him to sleep, which is upsetting for everyone, but the poor thing's been sick for months now. I'd appreciate it if we could avoid upsetting the owner any more than she's going to be," the silver haired man asked gravely. By that time he'd opened the clinic door and turned on the lights in the back examination room.
"I understand, Dr. England. We didn't mean to cause you any problems," Jim assured him.
"Hey, Jim, how about I just take a quick look around? Make sure everything's okay?" Blair offered, indicating the two doors that led to kennels. He'd already surreptitiously counted the cats resting in the cages he could see, and was anxious to take a quick count of the dogs housed here to confirm if Jim's count had been correct.
"Okay, Chief, but make it quick." He turned his attention back to the veterinarian. "Do you get a lot of late night calls?"
"Not as many as you might think, usually one or two a week," the vet replied. He looked ready to expound more on the subject but was interrupted by Blair's strained voice.
"Jim. You better come back here," the young man said, his face shining paper white in the fluorescent light.
"What is it?" the big man asked moving toward his Guide.
Blair didn't speak, just swallowed hard and pointed into the room he'd just exited. The room was square and bordered on each side by four enclosures, obviously meant for large dogs. There were two German Shepherds and a Boxer filling three of the cages on the north side, and a Golden Retriever and a Black Lab in the first two on the south side. In the fourth kennel on the south side was Antoinette Pinero, arranged in a seated position, her legs emerging bare from her sensible knee length skirt were splayed out in front of her, and a neon green shoe lace embedded in her neck. Her dark eyes looked lifelessly at the ceiling; her bloodless hands were primly folded in her lap.
"Aw, Christ," Ellison sighed as he pulled out his cell phone and called Simon again, this time to arrange for a forensics team. He had to step out and close the door to mute the barking of the five dogs inside; barking that was echoed by however many dogs were in the other kennel, even though they couldn't see anything.
"Jim, I have an idea," Blair said quietly. "Use your senses, man. Look, smell; try to find something that doesn't belong there. Well, besides her, of course. It's a clean scene, man, you should do it now, before the others get here."
"Fine, okay. Meanwhile, you tell Dr. England he needs to see his patient up front, not back here, unless he wants her really upset. Don't give him any details, just tell him the kennels are off limits for a while," Ellison directed him before turning to go back into the kennel area containing the dead councilwoman.
Ignoring the barking dogs, Jim focused first his sense of smell, nearly gagging at the stench of urine and feces still prevalent in the kennel despite the frequent cleaning. Underneath that were various chemical smells, and the musky canine scent of the animals that occupied these cages, but nothing that stood out as not belonging there. Kneeling down in the narrow corridor he carefully examined the corpse and the surrounding enclosure. There were a few bits of debris on the floor, just twigs of some sort that he noted should be picked up by forensics. The body had no signs of trauma save the strangulation, and the clothing was clean and relatively unwrinkled. His penetrating gaze fell on the right sleeve of the woman's blouse, noting a slight discoloration, barely discernable. Something else to be sure forensics tagged and tested.
"You get anything?" Blair asked from the doorway, his voice pitched to just carry over the noise from the dogs.
"Not much; a stain on her shirt, some small bits of debris on the floor. I'm not very hopeful much can be garnered from this," Ellison replied.
"The doc took the patient up front, and I think the Calvary just arrived," Blair reported as the detective again exited the kennel.
"Fine," the big man sighed as he spied Simon's tall figure out amongst the milling people waiting to come in. "Let's go face the music, Chief."
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Blair's fingers flew over the keyboard as he sat at Jim's desk in Major Crime. He'd taken the copies of the day-planners, diaries, calendars or whatever else the victims had kept and was entering the information into a database. He'd already called all the surviving council members to request the same sort of information, and was pleased that all but two of them had agreed to send the information over to the PD as soon as they could. Most of them, still shaken by Ms. Pinero's death, had provided the information within an hour of being called.
Sundays were usually quiet at the precinct, so the young man was not disturbed as he worked, his forgotten cup of coffee sitting cold and neglected on the corner of the desk. He'd been at the project for over four hours when he looked up to find Jim staring down at him with a half smile.
"Getting hungry, Chief? You've been at that for hours."
"Yeah, I could eat. Did forensics come up with anything?" he asked as he pulled on the jacket Jim handed him.
"Well, there IS something on her sleeve, some organic compound Carolyn is still trying to pin down. That's the only useful thing they found so far. No hair, no finger prints, nothing. The higher-ups are really getting the heat turned on them, and make no mistake, totally contrary to the laws of physics, that heat won't rise, it'll trickle right down to burn our asses. How's your project coming, anyway?"
"I've got all four of the victims in, and about half the survivors. Got maybe another half dozen to enter, then I can start doing the cross-referencing. My thought is, if we can a common factor between all the victims and some of the other council members, then maybe we can determine who might be the next target. Maybe we can even get some sort of an idea of who's behind all this. At least that's what I'm hoping," Blair explained at they headed down the street to a nearby coffee shop for a quick meal. All the members of the task force were working on various angles of the case, with a group meeting planned for late that afternoon.
"Sounds good, Chief. I spent the morning going over the physical evidence from the earlier victims. I was hoping I could use my senses, but I didn't have any control. This isn't going to be any good to me if I can't control it," Jim groused.
"Geez, man, it's only been a couple of days, give yourself a break! It's like any skill; walking, reading, tying your shoes. You have to practice and practice, and fail a few times. AND allow someone to assist you, to guide you as it were. How about if I go with you and we look over the evidence again?" the grad student offered.
"That'd be fine, but we still need your database finished. Maybe we can get Gloria to help on that, it's just data entry at this point isn't it, Chief?"
"Well, yeah. But how's Simon going to feel with you taking his assistant so I can go over evidence with you? How're you going to explain that to him?" Blair asked.
"I'll just tell him I want an…I don't know…an anthropological outlook on the evidence. See if there's any evidence of a ritual or something. That should do for now. But I'm thinking we're going to have to come clean with Simon. Let him in the loop. He deserves that at least, besides we're going to need someone else in the know. But that's for later. Come on, let's get this to go, and you can train Gloria while we eat," the Sentinel decided, signaling the waitress to change their order. Ten minutes later they were back in the station eating their lunch as Sandburg quickly coached Gloria on what data needed to be entered where.
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"Nothing, nothing, and more nothing," Jim sighed in frustration as he carefully re-bagged the evidence from the first murder. He could feel a headache looming like a large, dark cloud on his mind's horizon. The past hour he'd gone over all the evidence once again, this time with Blair prompting him, and still there was nothing to be found.
"Achoo!"
The big man's sneeze was so sudden and explosively loud Blair couldn't help but jump, turning wide eyes to his companion.
"Man, are those things properly listed as deadly weapons with the FBI?" he quipped as Ellison sniffed noisily. Seeing his friend's need, he promptly pulled out his handkerchief, handing the clean cloth over without further comment.
"Thanks, Chief," the detective commented, then he frowned unhappily at the now soiled white square. "What the hell do you wash this in? It smells like those old, stale pieces of bubble gum you used to get with baseball cards, back when I was a kid. You need to upgrade your detergent, Buddy." He complained.
"Fine, you can just show me how it's done when you wash THIS before returning it to me," Sandburg countered, holding up his hand to refuse the proffered cloth.
Ellison made no comment to Sandburg's comment, his eyes going suddenly distant as the trained, sharp mind behind the blue orbs picked up an odd thought. "They were all so clean…" he muttered, turning back to the neatly piled bags of evidence, which included all clothing removed from each corpse.
"What're you thinking, man?" Blair asked curiously.
"Laundry. They were all kidnapped several days before they were found, and most of them lived several days before the kidnapper killed them. But, they were all very clean when they were found. Their clothing was…fresh looking. Like maybe the killer laundered their clothes before dropping off the bodies. Probably even cleaned the bodies, though I'll have to check with Dan about that. He might have noticed," Jim rambled on, already opening the bag of clothing from the first victim.
"So, you're thinking if all the clothing smells the same…" Sandburg started.
"…then maybe we can determine what kind of laundry detergent the perp uses. Not a lot of help, but dammit, we don't have anything else," Ellison agreed, taking a careful whiff from the bag of clothing, and with Blair giving him guidance when needed, he traced down the scent of the soap used.
A half hour later they stood in the household cleaners aisle of the supermarket looking with some dismay at dozens of different types of detergents. With a rueful look they began at the top and worked their way down, carefully sniffing every form of each different brand. The one employee who approached the duo and questioned their odd behavior left a few moments later scratching his head at the strange methods the Cascade Police used.
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"Alright, people, I want some answers, and I want them yesterday. Ellison, what did you come up with after reviewing the evidence?" Simon questioned brusquely, his ever-present cigar clamped tightly between his teeth.
"It's not much, but I have forensics testing the victims' clothing for trace elements found in an industrial brand of laundry soap. I suspect the perp is washing their clothing before leaving the bodies to be found…" At Simon's puzzled look Jim trailed off uncomfortably.
"How did you reach THAT conclusion?" the tall captain asked.
"The clothing from each of the victims smells the same," Ellison replied, looking uncomfortable at the strange expressions the others sent his direction. "I traced it to a particular brand of detergent, though forensics will have to match it for certain. It's a type of detergent not used much by individual consumers, mostly it's sold for industrial use, so it may help narrow the search down a little," he concluded.
"Okay, well, anything is better than nothing," Simon agreed at last, though Jim was well aware his captain would NOT be letting this go. "Sandburg, you got your database working?"
"Yep. So far I have the three parties given in the last two months that all four of the victims attended. There are two other council members who attended these three parties, Daniel Webber and Georges Swenson. There are five others who attended two of the events, and seven who attended one of them. Next I'm going to go over the guest list and agenda for each event and see if there are any common aspects to the different events," the young man reported, seemingly all in one breath.
"Anything in common among these parties, outside the luminaries attending?" Brown asked.
"Nothing I could see on the surface," Sandburg admitted. "But I want to do some more digging into the reasons for the gatherings. All of them were held in private homes, invitation only, but with the guest list they have it's a good bet they weren't just casual get-togethers."
"I want that today, Sandburg. If you need more help from Gloria, just ask; we can't afford to lose another council member. Brown, I want double guards on …who did you say, Sandburg?…Swensen and who?" the captain asked impatiently.
"Webber. Dan Webber," Blair supplied.
"Right. Bruinswick, you're in charge of coordinating Homicide's assistance in guarding the remaining council members, work with Brown here to make sure we don't have anyone go missing. Okay, you know what we need to do, get me some answers, people!"
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Four hours later the tired members of the task force once again convened to compare their notes, and for a final review of what they needed to do before heading home, or to stakeout duty, for the night. It was hard to believe, but Simon Banks looked even more stressed than he had earlier, after spending the last two hours in a meeting with the mayor and the chief of police.
"Brown, Bruinswick, are the council members all under guard and surveillance?" he asked stabbing his cigar in the two detectives' direction.
"Yes, Sir," Brown said, his usual humor muted completely at the moment. "Not one of them complained or gave us any trouble. We have guards on every member; two teams outside, and one inside. Two teams inside in the case of Webber and Swensen."
"Electronic surveillance?"
Bruinswick answered that one. "As you know, we only have two surveillance vans available here at the PD, but we pulled in some favors, did some sweet talking and managed to arrange for three additional vehicles. Two from private detectives, and one from the FBI. Tomorrow we should be able to borrow another from the feds, and maybe one or two from Seattle or Portland. For now we have our vans covering Swensen and Webber, and the others assigned to those we felt might be higher risk because of their neighborhoods."
"Excellent. Good work, gentlemen," Simon noted, then turned to the other member of the team. "Jim, where's your shadow? You two get any information together?"
"Oh, yeah, Simon. Some interesting things have come up from this. Blair's checking out some final details, he'll join us in a few minutes, but I have most of the notes here. Okay, as Blair said before, he found three parties that all four of the victims attended, all of which were held at the homes of members of Cascade's 'high society', for lack of a better term. Though they were represented as 'parties', there was a particular agenda at the heart of each gathering. The first one was at the home of Arthur Dell, his wife threw it to raise funds to help save the old Movierama Theater downtown. Developers want to raze the old building and put up an office complex, but they're facing opposition from the historical societies, of which Mrs. Dell is a very active member. The fate of the old theater is still up in the air," he reported, pausing to shuffle through the papers again.
"What development firm is opposing the theater?" Simon asked.
"Kruse Construction, out of Spokane. But the thing is, it's not their fight, really. They would have the contract to build a new development, but Whispering Winds Development Corp, which is in turn owned by four other corporations, owns the property. We're still trying to untangle that web."
"So someone connected with the development corp would be anxious to get the city council on their side, right?" Brown asked with a pensive look.
"Yep. Or, barring that, removing members who were opposed to the demolition of the old theater," Jim agreed.
"What about the other two parties? Same purpose?" Banks asked.
"Not exactly. The second one was for the benefit of the proposed visitor's center/city park they want to erect where the old sheet metal factory is on the outskirts of town."
"I heard about that, sounds like a good plan to me. That old building, all that old machinery, it's an eyesore and a hazard. Who would be opposing that?" Bruinswick wondered.
"A company called Rook, Inc. They've made a very aggressive bid to buy the land from the Nickerson family, but the supporters of the visitor's center have found a way to block the buy from going through so far. Seems that Rook, Inc, has been given the contract to build and manage a toxic waste treatment center, and they want it on the old metalworks site," Ellison replied.
"Oh, boy. I can just imagine how much opposition THAT idea has!" Simon declared.
"Oh, yeah. That one's a hot topic. In fact, that's what the third party was about."
"Who hosted that second party?"
"Jane and Able Stanton; he's the new president of the Washington State Bank downtown, she's an attorney specializing in entertainment law. They just moved to Cascade from Beverly Hills, looking for the 'quiet life'," Jim concluded.
"Okay, who owns Rook, Inc?"
"Another conglomerate. Something like nineteen corporations listed as shareholders."
Simon sighed. "And the third party? Who hosted it?"
"The Carters, who else? Any ecological threat appears and there they are to oh-so-genteely raise a rukus about it," Ellison sneered, having had one too many unpleasant run-ins with the wealthy family.
"Ellison," Simon started to say warningly, only to be interrupted by a quick knock on the door preceding Blair Sandburg's energetic arrival.
"Sorry I'm late, but there was a lot to go through. What'd I miss?" he asked breathlessly as he sat down beside Ellison.
"I just gave them the rundown on the parties. How'd you do tracing the corporations?"
"Man, it's like playing the Six Degrees of Kevin Bacon, you know? But, check it out, man! Whispering Winds Development Corp, AND Rook, Inc, can both be traced back to Firestar Research and Management Company, which is owned by numerous businessmen right here in Cascade."
"You have a list of those businessmen?" Simon wanted to know.
"Of course." With a grin Sandburg handed out copies of a fairly short list of shareholders for Firestar. "As you see, all but two of them are local, and pretty well known, respected. The other corporations that Firestar is invested in are at best mildly successful, the bulk of them are inactive or actively losing money. At a glance it would seem this is a tax write off for the shareholders."
"But Rook or Whispering Winds are both in position to make large profits if things work their way, right?" Brown queried.
"Exactly. And both are dependent on the toxic waste treatment plant coming in," Blair confirmed with a nod.
"Both?" Simon put in.
"Yeah. The office building would house the business offices for the plant. They don't want them on-site, so it seems," the anthropologist put in.
"Okay, tomorrow morning I want you all in here first thing, we're going to be looking into these shareholders, we need to move fast. Good work today, people. Get some rest, I want everyone fresh and ready to put out 110% in the morning," Simon announced, ending the meeting.
Jim and Blair gathered up their jackets and trailed behind the others toward the elevators, talking quietly.
"Forensics should have the results of the tests on the clothes in the morning, if one of the shareholders in Firestar owns a business that had industrial washers, it might help focus the search," Jim said, punching the elevator button absently.
"I'll start checking out each shareholder's holdings and business activities. Most of that data is available online if you know how to look for it, though some details aren't available through…ahem…normal channels," Blair added.
"Chief, don't do anything illegal to get the information. Simon'd have your head if the case got blown due to using illegal procedures. We have ways of getting that information here, legitimately. Okay?"
"Got it, Big Guy. Nothing illegal. Go figure, a cop who doesn't want me to do something illegal. The very idea stuns me," the smaller man smirked, bringing a smile to the Sentinel's tired visage.
"Go home, Kid. Sleep. Meet you back here in the morning," Ellison said with a wave of his hand as he headed toward his vehicle.
"Gotcha," Sandburg replied opening the door of his battered 'classic'.
"Hey, Chief?"
Blair looked up from halfway into the seat of the low car.
"Thanks. You didn't exactly sign on for this much work, I know, but I really appreciate your help," Jim told him.
Blair's smile was blindingly bright even in the dim garage.
"You're welcome, man."
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Captain Simon Banks made it a point to be the first to arrive for the shift each day, firmly believing the 'boss' should be the first to come in and the last to leave. So he was surprised to see Detective Ellison's computer was already on and open to the database program. He looked around for Ellison, surprised to find instead Blair Sandburg entering the Major Crime offices with a coffee cup full of steaming liquid held in one hand.
"Oh! Good morning, Simon. I hope you don't mind that I got an early start, but I found some more information online last night and wanted to cross reference it with what I'd already had, so I came in before Jim so I could get back into my database. See, I checked out the officers in some of the other corporations…" he trailed off, hands stilled in mid-motion, when Simon raised a hand.
"Hold it right there, Sandburg. Now I appreciate your efforts, but you can't just waltz in here and use our computers whenever it suits your needs. This is a police department, not your private playground. These computers can access confidential information not intended to be seen by every Tom, Dick, or Harry who wanders in," the big captain was just getting up a good head of steam when he noticed the expression on the smaller man's face.
Blair had been excited about the information he was gleaning from cross-referencing his old database and the one he had created just that morning. Flushed with the success of his research, the last thing he had expected was to be reamed by the Captain who had requested the information. Realizing that in his enthusiasm he had way overstepped his bounds his heart sank, his excitement quashed very effectively.
"I…I'm sorry, Sir. I'll just wait downstairs until Jim gets here. I didn't mean to cause a problem, it won't happen again," he all but stuttered as he backed toward the door he'd entered moments before in such high spirits.
"Sandburg, wait a minute," Banks tried to stop him, but the sound of his phone ringing distracted him. Torn between trying to smooth over the situation with his new observer and the call, which was almost certainly the chief, he turned to get the phone, mumbling about sensitive civilians under his breath.
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"Idiot, idiot, idiot," Blair muttered to himself as the elevator slowly descended. "What the hell were you thinking, getting into the PD computer system without permission? You're lucky he didn't arrest your stupid ass. Geez, you'd think I'd learn." His one-person debate ended when the car stopped at the ground level and Blair got out, planning to walk around for a while until Jim arrived.
Keeping his head down and his eyes on the floor, the grad student hurried toward the exit, so engrossed in trying to be invisible he ran full tilt into a much larger body.
"Oh, sorry," he stammered looking up into familiar sky blue eyes.
"Leaving already, Chief?" Jim asked with a half smile.
"Jim! No, no, I was going to take a walk, wait for you to come in, you know. But, hey, now you're here, so we can go on up and get to work, right? Good, good, we have lots to do, you know," the smaller man babbled, turning back toward the elevators.
The Sentinel got on the elevator behind his Guide, subtly waving off the other officer who made as if to join them, then punched the button for the seventh floor.
"Okay, Sandburg, what's going on? Why were you slinking out of here like a kicked mongrel?" the detective asked, hitting the stop button and looking sternly at his companion.
Keeping his head down the grad student told Ellison about his encounter with Captain Banks, wishing he were anywhere but in that particular elevator.
"I'm sorry, man, I never meant to cause you trouble. I just didn't think, you know? I mean, the computers at the university are pretty much available for anyone to use, I just didn't consider I could get into things that could compromise the department," he concluded, looking up earnestly.
"Chief, settle down a little, it's not the end of the world. Simon doesn't know you yet, give him some time and he'll be more comfortable letting you have access to things. But in any case, I seriously doubt he was that angry. Really. There are times his bark is far worse than his bite, and early morning tends to be one of those times," Jim reassured his Guide.
"If you say so, man. But he sounded seriously pissed off."
"Chief, don't sweat it. Now come on, why were you here so early, anyway?" Jim asked hitting the button for them to continue on to the Major Crime floor.
"Oh, I did some more research at home, and I'd wanted to set up another database to cross reference, I think I found some stuff that might help," the young man reported as they strode toward Major Crime.
"I thought you were going to go home and relax, Junior," the detective commented.
"I couldn't stop thinking about the case, and other things," he said, his voice dropping to a whisper at the last, obviously referring to Jim's abilities.
"Well, why don't you go on with what you were doing, and I'll check in with Simon, we'll be meeting at nine to go over the evidence again," Ellison told him as he prodded the younger man toward the desk.
"Okay. And, Jim? I won't get into anything I'm not supposed to, honest," he told the detective.
"I know, Blair. Don't worry about it. And don't spill that coffee on my desk," he mock-growled at the grad student, getting a half smile in return. Satisfied Sandburg was no longer upset, the Sentinel knocked on the doorframe of the captain's office before stepping in and closing the door.
Banks glanced up at his visitor, then out at the bullpen, seeing Sandburg back at Ellison's desk. He met the cool blue gaze openly, holding up a hand to forestall any comment Jim might have been ready to make.
"I owe the kid an apology, I know that. He okay?" Banks asked.
"Yeah, but you spooked him pretty good. Simon, he's been busting his ass the last few days helping me out, he didn't deserve to be jumped on by you. For your own information, I ran him through the system before I even came to you with the idea of him being an observer. He's clean. Not so much as a parking ticket. The only 'blip' on his record was the notation that he'd been in and out of the country a lot, all his life. Seems his mom travels a lot, and he's gone on several expeditions since attending Rainer. Where, by the way, he is at the top of his class scholastically, and a much sought after teaching fellow," Ellison told his captain, looking out with an unconsciously proud expression at the younger man working at his desk.
"Okay, okay, the kid's a saint," Simon grumbled.
"I'd hardly call him a saint," Jim scoffed mildly. "But he does seem to be one of the good guys."
"That conversation we're going to be having about Sandburg is getting longer and longer by the minute, Jim. But for now I'm going to trust you on this, and you'd better not make me regret it," the big man said as he got up from behind his desk and opened the door. "Sandburg!"
Blair glanced up worriedly then hurried over to the captain's office, giving Jim a nervous look as he entered.
"You wanted me for something, Sim…Captain?" the young man asked.
"I may have over reacted a little this morning, but policy is clear on using the computer system for personal research. DON'T. Make sure you adhere to that policy and we won't have any problems. Now get your information together, I'll be interested in hearing what you've found out during the meeting, which commences in a half hour, gentlemen. Prepare to dazzle me," the captain ordered, shooing both men out of his office with a slight smile when he noticed the grin on Sandburg's face. He wouldn't have admitted it for anything, but he had felt ridiculously guilty about jumping on the young man earlier – like he'd kicked a cocker spaniel puppy or something - and was glad to see the kid seemed the type to bounce back quickly. He'd just have to grow a thicker skin if he was going to hang around the precinct with Ellison, they couldn't be treating their civilian observer with kid gloves.
"Hey, man, was that an apology?" Blair asked quietly, his serene demeanor belied by the gleam in his dark blue eyes.
"I'd say that's the closest you're ever going to come to hearing 'I'm sorry' from Simon, so savor it, Kid. It won't happen again in a hurry," Jim replied clapping his companion gently on the back.
"Trust me on this one man, I plan to stay on his good side. He's not someone I want pissed off at me," Sandburg insisted, holding his hands up as if in surrender.
"Good plan, Darwin. Now come on and get your act together, we have a lot of work to do today."
To be continued