Disclaimer: We do not own the Hardy Boys or any of the canon book characters, nor do we own the Sentinel or any of the canon television characters, and are making no monies from this story. Any Original Characters belong to the author(s). Co-written with Talefeathers of the HDA.
For those of you who are not familiar with The Sentinel's characters, we hope this will be a pleasant introduction to them for you. For those of you who are already acquainted with Blair, Jim, Simon and the others – enjoy! Trying to fit these four stories into two different story arcs [Hardy Boys and The Sentinel] just barely worked. Band of Brothers and Welcome to Cascade take place before September Song [Hardy universe] begins, and any time after The Perfect Partner [Sentinel universe]. Missing Persons happens right after Fanfare for June [Hardys]; A Matter of Public Record takes place any time between Death on the Fourth of July and February Flirtations [Hardys], and before Remodel and Rebuild [Sentinel].
The stories in the series were written in 2006 and 2007. Technology does not match today's levels. Nor does airport security!
Thank you so much, Sarai, for your feedback!
Welcome to Cascade
A Sentinel/Hardy Boys Crossover Story
By EvergreenDreamweaver & Talefeathers
Chapter 6
He'd been curious enough to do a little checking – and it was easy enough to find out who that big black man was who had seemed to be in charge, after the attempted assassination. All it took was a little computer work – and he was adept with a computer...
He pored over the data on the glowing laptop screen, his hotel room dimly lit by one small lamp and the computer screen itself. Simon Banks, captain in the Cascade Police Department, head of the Major Crimes division. Eighteen-year-old son, Daryl. Yes, it all fit. And apparently Daryl was friends with those two kids from the plane...the kids who had possibly gotten pictures of him leaving the Convention Center. The 'friends' they had come from Bayport to visit included the Banks kid – and his policeman parent.
He reached into the small sack lying on the tabletop near the computer, and took out a piece of red-and-white-striped candy. Unwrapping it, he put it in his mouth and sucked on it meditatively. He looked up more personal information on Simon Banks, and noted his home address. They might already be there – and if not, they'd have to get there some time tonight...
Best to eliminate all the possible hindrances, after all. He wouldn't get paid for them, this would have to be done gratis. And he wasn't sure what his employers might think...But better safe than sorry.
#####
Sitting on a highly-polished desk, a sleekly-styled modern telephone buzzed softly, and was answered after the first ring.
"Well?"
"Our man seems to have had a little trouble," the urbane voice on the other end said, without preamble. "He reports that he wounded the singer, but he's still alive!"
"Hmmm...that's unusual. He doesn't usually miss a target."
"Apparently one of the security people happened to see him, and moved quickly enough to deflect the shot." There was a pause. "He has another chance. The concert."
"That's cutting it fine. There had better not be any more slipups!"
"There won't be. Thor is as good as gone."
A muted click signaled the end of the conversation.
#####
"I didn't want to go home," Daryl complained sleepily, from the front seat of the patrol car. "Dad shouldn't have made us go home. We coulda helped..."
"He had a crew of people looking for anyone fitting Andy Martin's description checking into hotels," Frank replied from the back seat. "They know what they're doing, and they've got the authority to ask questions. We don't."
"Even Jim and Blair were going home to grab some sleep," Joe pointed out with a yawn. "And I, for one, am still on Eastern time; it feels like four a.m. to me, not one! I really want to crash and catch some Zs...assassin or no assassin!"
"You got...a point," Daryl conceded, with a yawn of his own. "You know where it is?" he asked the patrolman at the wheel, suddenly, recalling that as far as he knew, they hadn't given the man his home address.
The officer smiled and nodded. "Yes."
A few minutes later they pulled up in front of the two-story frame dwelling which Simon Banks called home – the house which Daryl had grown up in, save for the last four years, when he alternated between it and his mother's upscale apartment in another section of Cascade.
"See? Nice and quiet," Daryl said as they coasted to a stop on the peaceful street. "You can just let us out; it's not like you need to come inside or anything!"
Rookie officer Dittman hesitated only a moment before agreeing. He didn't mind running the captain's son and his friends home, but he did need to get back on patrol. "Goodnight, boys," he said, as the three exited the car.
"Goodnight," they chorused, and stood watching as the patrol car proceeded down the street. Daryl was the first to turn towards the house, fishing in his pocket for his keys.
"Keep it down," he warned in a loud whisper. "It's summer, so everybody keeps their windows open all night."
"Did we ever unpack?" Joe yawned as they waited.
Frank thought about it intently. "I did," he said finally. "I think I did. This morning. Yesterday morning, I mean."
The sudden yowling of an affronted cat in the next yard over startled all three teens, and Daryl dropped his key ring with a jingling clatter.
"Sheesh! Hush up, Midnight," he called softly, adding to Frank and Joe, "The cat that lives next door likes to roam around at night in the summertime." He bent down, fumbling sleepily to retrieve the keys.
An irritated hissing followed by a clattering noise came from across the street; evidently Midnight wasn't the only feline on the prowl.
"Great, now we've got a cat fight starting," Daryl grumbled. "SHHHH!" he whispered loudly at both the cats.
An instant later, an inky black form shot through the row of rosebushes separating the two lawns, and began winding about Frank's ankles.
"Hi there, Midnight," he murmured, and stooped to pet the furry creature...
...and something zinged! through the air like an angry bee, just where his head had been seconds before – and the front window of Simon Banks' home shattered into a thousand tiny pellets of glass!
"Somebody's shooting at us!" Joe yelped, and dove for the sidewalk. "Get DOWN!" He scrabbled towards the nearest source of shelter, a car parked alongside the curb near the driveway.
Frank and Daryl followed the younger boy's example and flattened themselves; Frank rolled towards the meager shadow provided by the roses; Daryl crawled rapidly in the direction of the garage.
"What's going on out there?!" a sleepy, irate voice demanded, and lights came on in the house next door. "Midnight! You fool cat, if you're causing a ruckus—"
"Judge Forrester! It's Daryl Banks – somebody's shooting at our house!" Daryl shouted, just as another angry cat-yowl sounded from across the street, followed by a second wasp-whine of a bullet – and to everyone's amazement, a hole surrounded by radiating cracks blossomed in the Forresters' front window! "Call the police!" Daryl frantically screamed.
Expecting to be annihilated at any moment, the boys were shocked to hear muffled cursing, followed by footsteps – receding footsteps – from across the street. Joe, closest to the street, glimpsed a dark-clad figure bolting down the block before it disappeared around the corner.
"Wow..." Frank sat up slowly as a large man in a bathrobe, clutching a cordless phone, came out of the Forresters' house. He was already talking to the 911 operator. "Th-thanks, Midnight," he whispered shakily, reaching to stroke the black cat, which purred loudly. "Thank you and your friend across the street! I think you just saved our lives!"
#####
Blair Sandburg arched his neck and lifted his shoulders, trying to loosen the knots of tension and fatigue which were turning his spinal column and all surrounding areas into one huge spasm. A real stretch wasn't possible, as he was currently behind the wheel of his Volvo sedan, driving with his roommate towards their loft apartment.
Having argued down Jim's automatic assumption that they'd be using his ancient Ford pickup the prior evening – using phrases like 'Beverly Hillbillies,' 'ancient relic,' and 'hayseed truck' – Sandburg had made sure that they used his car to attend the fundraising reception. Which meant that now he was the one driving home at one in the morning, and all Jim had to do was relax in the passenger seat and snooze! He sighed bitterly, and flexed his aching shoulders once more. If only we hadn't ended up having to do hours of stuff at the station...
"Next time maybe you won't say nasty things about Sweetheart," Jim murmured complacently.
"I thought you were asleep."
"Not quite – not for lack of try—"
"All units in the vicinity, we have a 10-71, shots fired, reported at..."
Blair heard the address, and stamped so hard on the brakes that he nearly sent Jim hurtling into the dashboard. "That's SIMON'S place!"
Jim was grabbing for the radio mike, bracing himself with the other hand on the dash, as Blair accelerated. "Turn onto Maplewood, we can catch the freeway!" he barked.
"Got it." Sandburg activated the siren, then flipped the switch to turn on the emergency lights. "Hang on." He shoved the gas pedal toward the floor.
###
They weren't the first to arrive – they'd been miles away, and a warm summer night in Cascade meant that there was more traffic to deal with than usual. By the time Blair pulled up in front of his boss's home, there were two patrol cars already there, lights flashing their eerie patterns across the quiet neighborhood – where, now, almost all the houses were lighted, their occupants awakened by the furor. Judge Forrester, accompanied by Midnight, was standing in his driveway, talking with one of the patrolmen.
Daryl, Frank and Joe had gone inside the house, and were huddled on seats in the living room under the watchful eye of a very nervous Officer Dittman. He had a feeling he was in for a serious load of trouble...although he hadn't been ordered to remain and guard young Banks and his friends, he realized now that he should have at the very least escorted them into the house before leaving! Dittman miserably awaited the coming of Captain Banks – knowing that he would be incredibly lucky to get off with a chewing-out and a reprimand.
But when the front door opened and two blue-eyed, grim-faced detectives from Major Crimes – clad in tuxedos, no less, and looking extremely tired – strode into the room, the rookie cop wished he could sink through the floor. A worried Captain Banks might have been fierce, but he figured he could live through it. Faced with a worried – and furious – Detective Ellison and his equally worried and furious partner, Detective Sandburg...well, Dittman, thought to himself, he might as well call his career over and done with. School-crossing-guard would be the highest he could aspire to, after this!
"Jim! Blair! Oh man, are we glad to see you!"
All three boys looked as if they wanted to lunge into the detectives' arms – that is, if they hadn't been working on acting as if being shot at was no big deal. Acting cool, however, didn't seem to occur to either Ellison or Sandburg; they both were across the room in a few strides, each grabbing for a teenager as if to make sure they were unharmed.
"You all right?" Ellison's voice was rough with concern. He kept an arm tightly around Daryl as he ran an assessing hand along Frank's shoulder. "You're scratched—"
"Rosebushes," the elder Hardy explained. "When the bullets started flying, I took a dive into the rose hedge!"
Blair, meanwhile, was looking searchingly at Joe. "You hurt anywhere?" he demanded.
"No – I'm fine," Joe assured him. "Just scared the hell outta me."
"I guess...I guess I must have been right," Frank gulped, feeling a little shaky, now that the danger was past and he realized just how close a call they'd had. "That guy...Andy...I guess he saw us take his picture, huh?"
"That's a pretty safe bet," Ellison confirmed. "Welcome to Cascade," he said dryly. "The most dangerous city west of the Rockies. You're here a day and already you're being shot at!" He straightened, still keeping his arm about Daryl, and turned towards Officer Dittman – who tried to meet his glacial blue stare, but couldn't quite manage it for more than a second or two. "You're the one who dropped them off?" the detective inquired in a deceptively mild tone. "Did it occur to you to make sure they were safely inside before leaving?"
"N-no, Detective Ellison...but—"
"But nothing!" Jim's voice lost its mildness; it was now like a whip crack. "What sort of asinine, irresponsible idiot—"
"Jim!" Daryl tugged on the big man's arm. "Don't! Don't blame him! We told him to leave, man! Everything was quiet, there wasn't any reason he needed to stick around!"
"We thought," Joe inserted with a tight little chuckle.
"He still should have made sure! Idiot!" Ellison snapped his mouth shut, gave the miserable Dittman a final glare, and turned away. He knew Simon would take over where he'd been forced to leave off, anyway.
"Jim – maybe we ought to check out where the shooter was...?" Sandburg suggested softly. He gave Joe's shoulder a soothing pat. "What can you tell us?" he asked the boys.
As quickly as they could, talking over each other and interrupting each other, they described what had happened, including the intervention of the two neighbor cats, one who had fortuitously invited Frank's stroking,
"Okay, I think we have the general idea," Blair sighed at last. He and Jim headed for the door – leaving the chastened Officer Dittman on guard.
Just as they were exiting the house, a familiar gold-colored sedan screeched to a halt in the street, and Simon leaped out. Seeing his detective team, he halted, searching their faces.
"They're all right?"
"They're fine, Captain, just a little scared," Ellison assured him. "The only damage is some rosebush scratches and two broken windows – yours and your neighbor's."
Banks sighed, visibly relaxing. "Thank God," he muttered. Then: "You're checking out the scene? Forensics here yet?"
"Yes, and no," Blair replied. He signaled Jim with his eyes. "Let's get on it before anyone decides to wander over there and mess things up." He started down the steps, then paused. "Captain," he added, "don't be too hard on Dittman – Jim already reamed him out pretty good!"
Banks just snorted. He watched his detectives walk across the street – and then he went inside to find his son.
As they neared the house, Ellison slowed his pace, pulling his senses up into a higher range. Blair moved a little closer, and rested a hand gently on his partner's arm as Jim started to go over the ground, step by step. The people who owned the house had courteously turned on some outside spots, but remained indoors, out of the way.
"Anything?"
"Mmmm...mmm-hmmm." Jim hesitated, then nodded. "Peppermint again. Faint, but definitely there. And more gun oil. If I made an educated guess, I'd say our friend Andy was here not long ago." He stared across the street, mentally calculating trajectories. "He stood approximately here...and fired. First at Simon's house – well, at the kids, but he hit Simon's house. And then – I don't know why his aim was so far off..." He stopped again, nostrils flaring as he tried to identify the myriad scents he was picking up. "I smell blood...just a little bit of blood."
"You think he was hurt?" Blair asked, startled.
"Not really hurt...it's just the slightest bit." Jim looked around, scanning the ground closely.
"The kids said they heard a cat," Blair volunteered.
"Mrrrrrrowwww!" They both turned at the sound, and beheld a smallish gray-and-white cat, sitting and observing them from beneath a rhododendron bush.
"Well, hello there, Lil Bit. Isn't she cute, Jim?"
Ellison couldn't quite bite back a grin. Sometimes his partner seemed about ten years old! "Cute, Chief, real cute."
The little cat got to her feet and trotted over to sniff at Blair's polished black dress shoes. She sneezed, daintily, and backed up.
Blair giggled – there was no other word for it. "Awww. Sorry about the shoe polish, Lil Bit."
Without warning, the cat made a leap – directly onto Sandburg's elegantly-clad leg – and dug her claws in. Blair emitted a strangled shriek, and grabbed for his tiny attacker.
"OW! Get off, you little demon! Ow!" Gingerly, he peeled the kitten loose from his pants and held her up to scold her. She immediately began to purr, and licked his thumb. "What, that's the way you ask to be picked up? Why, you..."
Jim was convulsed with laughter. "I think you just figured out what caused our sniper to miss," he chortled. "If that cat did anything similar to Marchlewicz, then it explains the blood and the misfire."
Blair considered that, then cuddled his new acquaintance against his jacket, figuring she could claw that without getting through to his skin. "Good job, Sugar," he told the cat approvingly. She purred complacently.
Ellison scanned the ground intently, seeking shell casings, but evidently the shooter, even under duress, was professional enough to have taken them with him.
Deciding they'd gotten everything they were going to glean from the area, they walked back across the street, after Blair had carefully placed Lil Bit back beneath her rhododendron bush. She settled down and began to placidly lick her fur into place as the two detectives departed.
"Chief – I was thinking..."
Blair looked up at the taller man, his eyes twinkling mischievously but he refrained from comment. "Yes?"
"This place isn't safe now. It may be okay tonight – Simon's here with the kids, and there'll be patrols all night, he'll see to that – but I don't think they ought to stay here tomorrow – at least, not until we catch this bastard Marchlewicz."
"You're probably right," Sandburg conceded.
"So – what would you think of having them move over to the loft?"
Blair smiled – and there was a very tender look in his eyes. It's the same, over and over again, he thought. Me...and Larry. Amber Larkin. Maya. Stacy. Naomi. Vince Deal. He takes them in, again and again. A witness to protect...an orphan of the storm. Someone that I cared about. Someone who needs him.
He knew it was partly the Sentinel's need to protect the members of his tribe – and that tribe had expanded recently, to include Joe and Frank Hardy – but it was also partly Jim Ellison's protective and caring nature...which he usually tried so hard to conceal.
"I think that would be an excellent idea, man! Let's do it!"
