*****

Simon was going to be peeved, but after their late start the morning was shot. Jim drove to a grocery store near the station and bought Blair a sports drink and a yogurt. His partner still looked like death warmed over. Hopefully he could coax a little life into Sandburg's demeanor before they had to face Simon. He got a roast beef sandwich for himself. A grocery parking lot didn't have a lot of ambience, but at least they could eat and talk in peace. Jim waited until Blair had downed most of the yogurt before he asked his first question.

"What did you think of Price?"

"You mean, did I think he told us the truth? The man with sentinel senses would know better than I. Did I think he was a jerk? What?" Blair gagged on a bite of yogurt, and gave Jim a sheepish look. "I promise to barf outside the truck."

"You certainly will," Jim answered with mock ferocity. "I didn't mean to press. I know you still feel pretty rocky. How about more aspirin?"

"If you've got 'em, I won't turn them down." Blair gulped down two more tablets. "I did wonder a little. He was pretty certain how Bruce would react, but I sure pulled some stuff at that age Naomi didn't expect. What about you?"

Jim snickered. "My dad would have been 100% certain could predict what I would do, and would probably be 100% wrong. Let's hope the Price family had a little more rapport than that."

Blair forced down another spoonful of yogurt. "To be honest, I couldn't get past the image of my mom, pregnant with me, facing off with a guy like that. Just throw in a little cash and make the problem go away. What if Tara didn't want to go away?"

"Same thought occurred to me. If it's worth anything, even a young Naomi would have eaten him for breakfast. She has the temper to go with that red hair."

"You think? It just overwhelms me sometimes. Like I said, there certainly were easier paths for Naomi to take." Blair gulped the last of sports drink and gathered up their trash. Jim was the same neat freak in the truck that he was in the loft. "I guess where Tara is concerned, we don't know enough about her to make a guess." He made the short journey to the nearest garbage can and climbed back in the truck. "You've gotta tell me, Jim. Did William Ellison really discuss these things with his number one son? Is this the thing with the country club set, like Price said?"

Jim laughed out loud and started the truck. "It was real simple for me. Number one son would have been number one dead. My dad didn't need to spell out the particulars beyond that."

Blair couldn't help but chortle along with his partner, even if it did make his head ache. "Well, let's hear it for openness with your teenager."

*****

The meeting back at the station turned out to be brief. Rafe and Henri confirmed the list of friends offered by Andrew Price. They'd gotten many of the same names. They had a similar list of Marnie's friends, an annual for Blair, as well as enlargements of the three victims' school pictures. None of the kids had really been in any trouble, but Bruce and Marnie had long standing reputations as party animals. Tara, on the other hand, was an enigma. The guidance counselor remembered speaking with her once as a sophomore, that she was a quiet girl, and hadn't mixed with more popular kids until late in her senior year. Of the three, she was the only one with a job. They had only one name to pursue for Tara, the girl she had shared a locker with for three years. Dan Wolfe and Serena were still working on their end and had left messages, but supposedly had nothing to report.

Jim had the good sense to call the hospital before they got to the station, so at least they could tell Simon they had made an attempt. Mrs. Long was still under sedation and not available for questioning. The husband was still unavailable. According to friends that had stayed with Sylvia Long, Tara's father wasn't due to check in until Sunday. As bizarre as it seemed to Jim, his wife had no emergency means of contacting him. It irritated Jim to no end, until his partner quietly pointed out that it wasn't all that different from Blair's arrangement with Naomi.

Since that avenue of investigation was still closed, Jim made it clear that he and Blair would start with the housekeeper, Claire Williams, and then question anyone they could find at Tara's workplace. They would also speak with Tara's locker partner. Brown and Rafe would continue with the seemingly endless list of friends for Bruce and Marnie, including the team members that attended other schools.

Considering Simon's earlier mood, Jim was braced for a few comments concerning their lack of progress. Simon gave Sandburg more than one searching glance, and noted the heavily bandaged hand, but chose not to quiz them over their morning lapses. Apparently Andrew Price had telephoned several of the powers above to convey his satisfaction with the investigation and his confidence with Detectives Ellison and Sandburg. That took a little of the pressure off Major Crimes, and Simon seemed willing to let the matter rest, at least for the moment.

*****

"Chief, I want to talk to Dan Wolfe before we go over to the Calvin place. Can you crash in the break room for a few minutes?" Blair didn't answer. The emotion seemed to drain out of his face.

"I'll go talk to Serena. She might have some crumb for us." Blair was out of the bullpen with the annual and photos so fast Jim was alone before he realized what was happening. Blair was apparently still skipping elevators, and Jim found himself running down the stairs to catch up.

"Sandburg! Sandburg, will you wait up?" The retreating back below him finally came to a halt. Jim took the remaining steps two at a time. "What is with you? Come on, Sandburg, I'm not insulting you here. The morgue isn't your strongest area under the best of circumstances."

Blair was breathing hard, and leaned back against the cinderblock walls of the stairwell. He stared at the ceiling as if it contained the wisdom of the ages. "I don't need a lot of unoccupied time here, Jim. Just let it go. Go talk to Dan. You know where I'll be."

Jim didn't have a ready answer for that. For the second or third or tenth time today, he'd missed the boat with his partner. "Sandburg, I don't know how I let you do this to me. Now that we've established that I'm an insensitive clod, would you please be consistent with your mental stress so I can keep track?" At least he got a smirk in response. "Did you have another flashback, Chief? Have I been that clueless? Again?"

"I'm okay, Jim. Don't overreact."

"You didn't answer me."

"I really was okay until we came back here. Too much down time. I let my mind wander."

"So what's your plan, Sandburg? Perpetual motion as long term therapy? You're worse than I am!"

"Well, now that's a stretch. I promised you, if it got bad, I'd rely on you. I'll talk to Serena. That's pretty clinical. I can handle that. We'll see Claire Williams, and talk to people where Tara worked. I'll get through today. Let's just get on with it."

"You really mean it? You'll tell me if it gets bad? Even if I forget to pay attention?"

Jim had to be content with Sandburg's wordless nod.

*****

Jim interrupted Dan in the middle of another autopsy. Normally, Jim would have just come back later. Uncharacteristically, Dan overruled his offer and insisted he wait. Jim joined the mountains of paperwork in what Dan called an office, shifting a towering stack from a chair to the floor so he could sit down. How did the guy ever find anything?

Dan came in an shut the door firmly. "I just released the Price boy to the funeral home, but you were right. He had faint bruising, but not where you'd usually look for it. Stay in the chair. Bend your head down and I'll show you." Dan put both hands on the back of Jim's head, splaying the fingers out on all sides. He pressed his finger tips into the scalp just slightly.

"Draw your own conclusions, Ellison, but someone either gave that kid a serious scalp massage or held his head underwater."

Jim nodded in agreement. "Thanks, Dan. Let's just keep this between the two of us for right now, okay?" Considering the morning's revelations, he need more time to think of a way to break this to Sandburg. A lot more time.

*****

Claire Williams, kindly soul that she was, took one look at Blair and refused to speak until he was seated in her kitchen with tea and cracker. She pored a glass of milk for good measure. Blair felt too lousy to argue on his own behalf. Jim ignored his partner's non-verbal pleas for rescue and just enjoyed the show. If she could improve Blair's physical condition, he was all for it.

Blair valiantly made several attempts before Claire bustled into another chair at the small kitchen table. She folded her hands, smiled, and whispered, "Now you can ask me your questions, young man. Eat your crackers."

Blair managed a wan smile of his own. "Am I a parrot? Polly want a cracker?"

"Don't be sassy. Eat."

Blair laid out the pictures of their three victims. "First of all, we just want to confirm a few things. I know how upset you were yesterday, but can you tell us if these are the kids you saw with Marnie yesterday?"

Claire studied the pictures closely. "This is the girl, yes. The boy? Well, that's not the young man who was with Marnie."

Blair tried to cover his shock for fear of alarming the lady. "Look again, Claire. Are you certain beyond a doubt?"

"Oh, yes. I'm very sure of it. This boy I recognize, but he wasn't with the girls yesterday. Is that a problem, Detective?"

"No, and this is my fault," Blair answered, trying to reassure Claire. "I should have asked you this yesterday. It never occurred to me that the kids you saw might not be the same as the ones who drowned. Can you describe the person who you saw with the girls before you left?"

"Tall. Slender. Dark hair. He was wearing sunglasses."

"How tall, Claire? As tall as Detective Ellison?" Jim stood up to be a human yardstick.

"No, I'd say he was a little shorter. He had a thin nose. I'd say he was the same age. I'm sorry. That can't be very helpful."

Blaire opened the annual. "The school gave us a list of kids that were friends of Marnie and the boy that drowned. Would you be willing to look?" So began a long, frustrating afternoon.

*****

Tara worked at a school-arranged job in an insurance office. Blair looked beat, even after Claire Williams' intervention, so Jim took the lead on this one. It was a busy place. Her immediate supervisor, Frances Vales, echoed the guidance counselor. Tara was quiet and friendly.

"Ms. Vales, did she ever talk about her family?"

"Let's see. She rarely mentioned her parents. Her dad traveled a lot. I got the feeling they clashed, but what teenager doesn't? Her mom - well, I remember she asked me once about this dress she was wearing, and made the comment that her mother was too old to have a fashion sense or help her shop. It was a big deal to her that she had her own money and so she could buy her own things."

"Did she mention any friends in particular?"

"Not by name. That was the only time I ever had to reprimand her. She was using the phone at work to make personal calls. I may be reading too much in to this after the fact, but I had the impression she was trying to keep her home life and her social life very separate. When we had our little confrontation about the phone, she said something like these kids couldn't call her at home. She never did it again, though."

"No mention of a boyfriend?"

"Not until recently. She was pretty taken with someone the last few months. Oh, wait a minute. A boy came and picked her up once, about a month ago." She readily identified Bruce Price's photo. Beyond that, she could offer no other help. Basically, it was another dead end as far as Tara Long was concerned.

Their next stop was the home of Lisa Foresman, the locker partner. In fact, she lived only a few blocks from Tara Long. When Blair read off the two addresses, Jim did a double-take. It was in a very working class neighborhood. When they located the modest, white home with the neatly trimmed lawn, the contrast with their earlier visits was obvious.

"You thinking what I'm thinking, Jim?"

"Yep." Jim shut off the truck. "Tara Long didn't have the money to run with Price or Jacobs."

"It can be done, Jim. I'm a lifetime expert on substituting funky for truly cool."

Jim laughed and allowed a small feeling of relief to take hold. "You are truly cool, Sandburg." Sandburg seemed improved, at least physically. He'd downed another sports drink on the drive over and some cookies. Despite his outward composure, Jim still worried about what was going on inside. If the devils of memory were at bay for the moment, they certainly weren't gone for good.

"Spoken like the child of privilege, no offense intended. It's an art form to make ripped jeans work in a place where the bathroom is bigger than your whole house. We need to figure out what she was using as her ticket in." He grinned. It was his first real smile of the day. "We'll compare notes sometime, rich kid."

The front door opened before they hit the porch. Mrs. Foresman introduced herself, and showed them in.

"I'm sorry we didn't call ahead, Mrs. Foresman. Cascade High gave us your daughter's name." Jim's glance fell on a raven-haired girl seated in the living room. "Is this Lisa?" he asked. "Hi. I'm Detective Ellison, and this is Detective Sandburg. We need to ask you some questions about Tara Long."

Lisa's brown eyes spilled over with tears, and her mother went to the couch and pulled her into a hug. "Sit down, Detectives. I was about to call the police station and try to get someone over here. This may be hard for Lisa, but no one knows Tara better than she does." She waited expectantly for Lisa to bring herself under control.

"Tara and I have been friends since 2nd grade. We did everything together. She was my best friend." Tears streamed down the girl's face, but she swallowed her sobs and kept going. "My mom and I decided I should tell you everything, even if it's not very nice."

Jim and Blair exchanged glances. Blair would normally handle this kind of interview. A silent "You okay? Yeah" took place between the two men. Blair pulled his straight-back chair, recently retrieved from the kitchen, closer to the couch where the girl was sitting.

"What's not very nice, Lisa?"

"Tara changed a lot this year. It started with the job and the money ... and the clothes. Tara's parents are older, and her dad's real strict. When Tara finally had her own money, she bought stuff her parents wouldn't approve of. The change-your-clothes-at-school thing. Tara was always pretty, and she started to dress so people would notice." She looked pleadingly at Blair and her own mother, as if she wanted them to fill in the blanks.

Mrs. Foresman seemed to sense her daughter's difficulty. "Detectives, I won't mince words. The word we're looking for here is suggestive, or worse. Tara looked more like a streetwalker than the sweet girl we've known all these years Some of the attention she got wasn't in her best interests."

"What kind of attention, Lisa? We really need to know." Blair's calm, quiet voice kept Lisa talking. Jim inwardly nodded in appreciation. Sandburg might feel like a gum on the sidewalk, but he knew how to interview.

"Tara and I were always in 'Smart Kid' classes. This year we had senior stuff to take, you know, like Civics. She met people like Bruce and Marnie, who didn't know nerds from the burbs like us. The was she was dressing, they noticed. Tara was like the new penny that had just been discovered. They invited her to parties and things that, well, they weren't normal for us. Tara was pretty and smart and she was playing this role, like she was some wild child. They were willing to pay her way and she was willing to act the part to get to go along. She invited me sometimes, but I wouldn't go after awhile. It got to the point I just saw her at the locker, and she was this princess that I just didn't know." She stopped and buried her head in her hands.

Mrs. Foresman curled an arm around the heartbroken girl and took over. "Tara always came to church with us, had dinner a couple times a week. Her dad's gone most of the time, and Sylvia works a lot in the evenings. When Lisa told me Tara was drinking and staying out until all hours, I had trouble believing it. It just got worse. She dropped some classes, and got more involved with these kids. Sylvia never knew, and when I tried to bring it up, she shut me down pretty quick. Maybe she didn't want to know. I'll never forgive myself for not pushing the issue."

"I should have done something," sobbed Lisa. "I let her go and now she's dead."

Jim was relieved once again that Blair felt well enough to step in here. Distraught teenagers were not his specialty. Blair took a few minutes to just talk, coaxing the girl back to some semblance of calm. Probably a rerun of who knew how many sessions in Hargrove Hall, counseling freshmen. It took time, but Blair was good at it.

"Anyway, she started dating Bruce, and things got really confusing. She has a boyfriend, a guy named Danny. He's older, and Tara said he treated her like a queen. He graduated two years ago and went to school in Portland. They've written all this time, and she has a ring from him." She gave her mother a guilty look.

"What is this all about, Lisa?" interrupted her mother. "Tara's dad forbid her to see him."

"Well, Tara didn't listen. She mailed the letters at the post office, and the ones from Danny came here. I'm sorry, Mom. She asked me to do it. It was all a big secret, and they were going to get married when Tara graduated, and then all of a sudden there's Bruce. I kept asking Tara what she thought she was doing, because she was still getting letters from Danny. It was so dishonest, and Tara was just going downhill. When we walked together at graduation, it was like I didn't even know her. She was half-wasted with champagne before they put the diploma in her hand."

"What about more recently?" questioned Blair.

"Well, Marnie moved into that guest house, and Tara was over there every second she could get. As long as Tara showed up every so often with a smile, her mom figured everything was just fine. I had a terrible argument with Tara a couple of weeks ago, because she was telling her mom she was spending the night over here, but she was really with Bruce or Marnie, or both. Anyway, when I told her I didn't like it, she bragged that her parents and Danny were just part of her life that she intended to leave behind, and that I was pretty much a loser, too, for not getting with it. Danny called a couple days later, and I probably said more than I should have. I ... I just was tired of covering for her, you know?"

"So this Danny, he knows Tara is seeing someone else?" Jim asked briskly.

"Well, I don't remember exactly what I said, but I was pretty blunt. He was super upset, but he couldn't come home right then to talk to her. He's really just crazy in love with her."

"When was the last time you talked to her, Lisa?"

"She called to apologize a couple days later, and I asked her to promise that she'd make things right with Danny, and to not ask me to cover for her any more. She said Danny was going to be all taken care of pretty soon, and that her parents would be out of the picture. I didn't ask he what she meant. Supposedly, she was moving in with Marnie when Marnie's mom got back from Europe." She swallowed hard and struggled to get the next sentences out. "I never saw her again. I didn't do anything, just because she hurt my feelings and I was still kind of mad. She was my best friend and I just let her walk away into disaster."

Blair was completely absorbed with Lisa, but Jim felt like he'd been zapped to another dimensional plane. A girl he'd never laid eyes on just summed up in her last two sentences his entire relationship with Sandburg. This child was crying Jim Ellison's guilty tears. Jim had to force himself to concentrate on the business at hand.

"Lisa, did you ever know of Tara taking drugs?" Lisa gasped, and Blair patted her arm. "We sorry to upset you more, Lisa, but we have to ask. The lab found traces of a prescription drug in her bloodstream, and it may have contributed to her death."

"Marnie talked about having, I don't know, tranquilizers or sleeping pills, like it was all very sophisticated. She said when she took time to sleep, she needed to sleep, because she didn't want to waste any of the good times. I never heard Tara talk about taking them. In fact, she always teased Marnie about her pills. Marnie had tons of vitamins and herbs that she took. I always thought it was just part of her whole 'I'm special and better than you' outlook." She fell silent. Her mother took her hand, giving Lisa a few words of encouragement. "I may not have understood everything that was going on in her life, but I just don't think Tara was into drugs."

They had to ask. Jim knew it, and Blair certainly knew it. Jim waited, that silent partner-to-partner communication taking the place of words. With a small nod, Blair asked the next question. "Lisa, do you know anything about Tara being pregnant?"

Mrs. Foresman whispered, "Oh, dear God, no." Lisa dissolved into more sobs, but nodded. "She said something along the lines of money taking care of a lot awkward situations, and then something about being more careful. I didn't ask for an explanation. Our church discourages abortion, and her dad would have just blown a fuse. I didn't even want to think that was what Tara was hinting at."

"When was this, Lisa? It might be important." When Blair asked the question, Jim thought back to their earlier conversation with Andrew Price. Maybe both of these kids were out of sync with their parents.

"When she called to apologize," answered Lisa. "I worried about it later, but at the time, I was still so ticked off with her. I should have called her. How could I not have called her?" She buried her face in her mother's shoulder. Mrs. Foresman gave them a bleak look.

Jim nudged his partner. There probably wasn't much more to get. "Thanks for talking to us, Lisa. Can you tell us how to get a hold of Danny? Like his name, or where he lived?"

Lisa shook her head. "After all those letters, I should know, but Danny always just put the first name with a heart instead of a last name. The address changed pretty frequently, except for the Portland part. I never really spent time with him, and I was kind of surprised when he called. Tara was pretty secretive about the whole thing. For awhile, at least until the letters came regularly, I wondered it she was making him up. If she was pregnant, it wasn't Danny. The last time she saw him was around Christmas. Bruce wasn't an item yet."

Jim read her the description they had gotten from Claire Williams. Lisa confirmed everything, and added a few more details. She didn't have a picture.

"Honey, go lie down in your room. I'll be in after a bit." Mrs. Foresman shooed her daughter down the hall, and came out onto the porch with them. "Detectives, anything you need, you call. My daughter may have failed in her responsibilities as a true friend, but anything she knows I will make sure she tells you."

"Don't be hard on her, Mrs. Foresman," commented Jim, supremely conscious of the fact that her judgement fit his own situation pretty accurately. Failed in the responsibilities of a true friend, indeed. "She's obviously a good kid, and she did her best."

"Maybe so, Detective. Too many people in Tara's life dropped the ball, including me. In time, I'll have my own forgiveness to beg. Such a waste." She sighed. "Sylvia Long is coming home tomorrow. She might not sound like much of a mother, but she loved Tara more than her own life. She may have been oblivious recently, but I think she knew about Danny. Maybe she can help you."

*****

"Sandburg, how about if I drop you off at the loft. We can't do any more today. You can crash for a bit and I'll wrap things up with Simon."

"That's not necessary." Blair had his head leaned against the back window of the truck. His mouth was saying one thing and his body the opposite.

"It might not be necessary, but it's practical. Look, we have to go right by the loft on the way to the station. You're tired and you need to eat. Don't be stubborn."

"Well, I'm too tired to argue with you, that's for sure," Blair answered listlessly. "Whatever, Jim."

Not quite as good as a "yes", but Jim figured it was better than nothing. He dropped Sandburg off with instructions to order some Chinese and to take a nap. Jim shoved down any worries about leaving Blair alone. Weighed against a possible confrontation with Simon, it seemed like the better alternative. He'd just have to make sure his absence was brief.

*****

Henri and Rafe were already in Simon's office. Figuring there might be a little safety in numbers, Jim joined them.

Simon barely looked up when Jim entered. "Please tell me some good news about this case. I need to see the Mayor in twenty minutes."

"I think it got worse. The housekeeper says the boy she saw was not Bruce Price."

That little tidbit earned him three shocked looks and a shout from Simon. "What? And you didn't call this in? What do you mean it wasn't Price?"

"Just what I said. I'll take the rap on this, Captain. I was in charge." Why can't this day just end? "The lady said she saw three kids when she left for shopping. We had three dead kids in the pool. It never occurred to anyone that three didn't equal three."

Simon left the desk and paced in front of the window. "I don't believe this. I absolutely don't believe it. We are going to look like idiots."

"Not really, Captain." Jim could tell Rafe and Brown were looking for an excuse to escape the coming explosion. He didn't blame them. He'd flipped the radio on during the drive over. Their case was still the lead story. "Think about it in positive terms. Until late last night, we didn't even have a suspicion of a fourth person. Now, we know there was a fourth, and we have a general description from the housekeeper."

"We have no name. Besides, the fact that he was there doesn't make whoever he is a murderer." Simon's frustration was clear. "I can't release a statement based on that kind of evidence."

"So don't. You can reassure the Mayor and Councilman Price. Buy us a little breathing room. I'd argue that it might be better not to tip off our mystery guy, anyway. We'll keep digging." Jim turned to his fellow detectives. "I take it you guys came up empty?"

"Other than the fact that Tara was a relatively new face with the Price and Jacobs, we struck out. Sorry, Jim. Everyone we talked to said the same thing. The kids knew how to party, but didn't take drugs. Maybe it was an accident. Maybe there just isn't anything to get."

The room was silent for a moment while Simon considered his options. Jim didn't envy his Captain in these situations. It was always a bad deal when a high profile case didn't break. "Brown, leave your notes with Jim. I'm pulling you two off the case until we have a more solid lead. This isn't the only case we need to work on." Jim hoped to beat a hasty retreat with the other two. "You're not going anywhere, Ellison. Get back in here and shut the door."

Jim felt like a schoolboy in the principal's office. Reluctantly, he took a seat. "Seems like we left off here earlier today, sir."

"Don't play games with me, Ellison. I've definitely left you with Sandburg too long. I want the absolute truth from you, and I have about three minutes. You still think it's murder?"

"Dan found a few more things that suggest a murder rather than an accident. Everything says the kids didn't routinely abuse drugs. It was a legal prescription. I think the murderer added it somehow, knowing what a deadly combination it is. Yeah, I still see it as a homicide. Spur of the moment, maybe, but homicide."

"Now tell me about Sandburg."

Jim was silent.

"I'm not going to play twenty questions with you, Jim."

"He had a little trouble with it being a drowning case. If you think about it, that's not all that surprising." The look on Simon's face told Jim that he had his captain's complete and undivided attention, whether he wanted it or not.

"How nice, Detective. I haven't played "GO FISH" since Darryl was in elementary school. How much trouble are we talking about?"

"He had a rough night. He has a few things to work through that I didn't know about. It's under control. "

"Ellison, on the Sandburg obsfucation scale that's about a 2." Simon was losing patience. Jim knew he needed to change tactics.

"Give me until tomorrow, Simon. We can interview Sylvia Long in the morning. The hospital is releasing her. If we don't get a break, you can take both of us off the case."

"Please explain to me why would I destroy my credibility with the Mayor even further by taking you off the case?"

"Because if we can't resolve this quickly, I won't put Sandburg through it. I'll give you the whole chapter and verse before that happens. Just let it wait one more day, Simon."

"You know how I feel about Sandburg, but you're putting me in a difficult position. Whatever you don't want to tell me is probably something I don't want to hear, but I can't operate in the dark like this."

"Consider it a club of two. New members need not apply. Could I leave now?" Please, Simon. Please trust me on this one.

Simon sighed, but waved him out the door.

*****

About the time Jim was making a dash out of Major Crimes, Blair Sandburg flinched in his sleep. He was half dangling off one of the couches, face buried in the cushions. The keys hadn't quite made it to the basket. He'd managed to get one shoe untied before giving way to total exhaustion.

Fingers dug into the upholstery. Caught in his own nightmare, Blair was a restless prisoner. Alex was his only companion. Alex, laughter, and a fading shimmer of light.

*****

"Sandburg! Sandburg, WAKE UP!"

Blair was awake, all right. If you can call shaking, dripping in sweat, and tangled-up with your partner on the hardwood floor, all right. Blood was dripping from Jim's nose.

"Sandburg? Are you okay?"

"Did I do that?" Blair tried to scramble away, but just made matters worse. Jim finally pushed his shoulders back into the couch firmly.

"STAY PUT." He was back in a few seconds with a class of water, holding a dishtowel to the abused nose. He hauled Blair onto the couch. "Take a deep breath and drink this. You're going to give yourself a coronary. Hell, you're going to give both of us a coronary." Dabbing at his nose, he took a seat on the coffee table facing Blair.

Blair was still shaking. "Sorry. I can't believe I hit you."

"You didn't. You were thrashing around and screaming when I got here. I was just dumb enough to get in the way. You throw a pretty good punch, Sandburg."

"Forgive me if I don't find that a comfort."

"Did you order food before you crashed?"

"I'm not hun..."

"Don't even start with me, Sandburg. You're going to eat, without a doubt. First I'm going to call for Chinese, and then we're going to go through the whole story, from the very beginning. It's my payback time. Now you just figure out where you want to start."

*****

Jim lay back, watching the stars. Even at midnight, the summer air was cooling, but not cold. Next to him, Sandburg was finally asleep. They'd talked through every painful, gruesome inch of memory, or at least what Blair could remember and articulate. Alex. The fountain. The torturous path from then to now. They talked until Blair succumbed to sheer exhaustion.

They'd brought sleeping bags up here to the roof. Blair said he felt safer, up here in the open, under the sky. No walls. No sense of being closed in. Jim had been more than happy to agree.

In the darkness, beyond the capability of ordinary eyes, Jim watched the steady rise and fall of his partner's chest. In the weeks after being pulled from the fountain, Blair had put a cobra in his pocket and lived with it, with the help and tacit approval of the one person who should have known better. Jim had been in the military far too long not to know what post traumatic stress could do to even the strongest personality. Now that the cobra had taken it's deadly strike, Jim was determined not to make a similar mistake. Blair had a long way to go, but he was fighting. At this moment, Jim couldn't have been more proud of the young man he considered both Guide and friend.

*****

As promised, they started with Mrs. Long.

It was slow going. Sylvia Long was home, alone, and inconsolable. She wanted to help, anything to find out what happened to her baby, but sobbed uncontrollably. She offered them coffee and got lost in her own kitchen. She wanted them to leave, then begged them to stay. Jim tried to halt the interview, and offered to try again later, or wait until her husband returned. She answered him by turning to Blair and asking him if her knew where her medicine was. She was certain she needed to take some medicine.

Blair took over. Jim ducked out to call social services. This lady was alone, without family, and obviously in no shape to deal with her daughter's death. She probably never should have been sent home from the hospital. Sometimes it helped to know people in low places. Jim wasted no time in cutting a wide swath through social services. They needed someone here and needed them now, not tomorrow or the next day.

By the time Jim got back, Blair had things settled down. Mrs. Long had was comparatively calm. Coffee was on, and Blair was buttering toast. The missing prescriptions had been located, and he was trying to figure out when Mrs. Long had taken her last dose. To be honest, Jim saw flashes of Naomi. It was a gift to have the right words, the right gesture, to heal and soothe. What a great cover for your own turmoil, Sandburg, Jim mused. No wonder you can fool everyone else in your life. Recalling his own earlier thoughts on Blair's miracle recoveries from trauma, he vowed to keep that in mind

Blair tried to start out with a few general questions. When was Tara's birthday, what did she like, how did she spend her time? He didn't push hard. Unfortunately, Sylvia Long didn't know anything about Marnie Jacobs and her daughter's new friends. She seemed confused by questions about Tara's job, and was certain that Tara spent all her time with her best friend, Lisa Foresman. When Mrs. Long couldn't decide whether her daughter was seventeen or eighteen, it was clearly hopeless. Abruptly, Blair guided the stricken woman out of the kitchen, telling her to splash some water on her face. Once the footsteps retreated a safe distance, he leaned close to his partner and whispered, "She doesn't have a clue. This is a dead end."

"What? We need a name, Sandburg," hissed Jim in return.

"It doesn't matter what we need. Tara had a life completely different than what her mother thinks she had. She either really never knew, or she's so messed up now with grief and the anti-anxiety meds that she can't sort it out." Blair looked apprehensively toward the sounds of water splashing into a sink. "I'm not going to ask her about the pregnancy, or Danny, or anything else."

"We've got to!" Jim insisted. "Look, I know you feel bad for her, but..."

"This isn't about how I feel! There'll be another time. I'm sure she can't tell us anything. If we do it now, she'll just end up right back in the hospital, and we still won't know anything. I mean it, Jim. We've got to let it drop. We'll find another way." He straightened up hastily as Mrs. Long slipped back into the kitchen. She was carrying a small box and a picture.

"This was a secret. I don't think it matters now." She placed the box in Jim's hand. Inside was a jewelry case. Jim looked at her, puzzled, but she nodded in encouragement, tears streaming down her face again. The case snapped open to reveal a tiny, delicate diamond solitaire.

"Tara was so happy. I told her they were too young, and she didn't want her Daddy to know. He's a little old fashioned, you see." He shaky fingers traced the velvet case. "I think she was going to announce it when she started school this fall. Here's their picture. It's from prom. Charles wouldn't let Tara go out with him when he graduated that spring. He said she was too young for a boy out of high school. Danny gave her the ring later that summer, right before he left for school. She hid it, but she showed me, and I promised I'd keep the secret."

Blair examined the photograph. He handed it to Jim, tapping the corner to draw Jim's attention to something. The young man in the photograph fit the description given by Claire Williams.

Blair continued to probe. "When was this taken, Mrs. Long?"

"Two years ago last April." She gazed at the photo, obviously lost in happier memories. "Didn't she look pretty? Tara was just a sophomore. Danny seemed like such a nice boy."

Jim pressed for details. "You wouldn't have an address? A phone number? Has he been notified, Mrs. Long?"

"Oh, no. I can't really. My husband, Charles, forbid them to see each other, like I said. Not the right kind of boy for his Tara. Danny went to school in Portland. They write, I think. We don't talk about it, knowing how Charles felt. I've been worrying about how to let Danny know."

Mrs. Long was too absorbed in her own thoughts to catch the look of incredulity between the two detectives in her kitchen. "What school in Portland, Mrs. Long?" asked Blair. "What about his parents?"

"Oh, I never met them. He lived with his mother. Something with an L... I should know, shouldn't I?"

"What about Danny's last name?" asked Jim. It was worth a shot.

The tears were starting again. "I just can't remember right now. I should know. It was a nice name." A smile flitted across her face as she lost herself in memory. "I was working the night of the prom. Her friend Lisa's mother helped her get ready for the dance. He brought her white roses. I just wanted her to be happy."

Jim was ready to explode. "Try to remember, Mrs. Long. We really need to know."

"She loved that dress." Mrs. Long wasn't paying any attention to Jim. Blair shook his head and led her into the living room. "Maybe she should be buried in that dress. Would that be a good idea?" she asked Blair.

Jim could have bashed his own head through the wall. Blair was right. He heard a car pull up. Hopefully their social worker had arrived.

He was relieved when he saw a familiar face. Nancy Gilland had worked referrals when Jim was in vice. She was compassionate, resourceful, and not afraid to help with an investigation. Standing on the front walk, Jim gave her the short version. Nancy agreed to try to coax a name out of Mrs. Long as soon as she could.

Blair smiled at the new arrival. "Someone's here to stay with you, Mrs. Long. We need to go now. Could we keep the picture for a few days? And the ring?"

"You'll bring them back?" she sobbed.

"Yes. I promise. Just a couple of days." Blair traded places with Nancy.

"I'm Nancy Gilland, Mrs. Long. We'll be just fine."

Mrs. Long didn't seem to be paying attention, but she nodded. "Nancy...you'll bring back my picture? And the ring?"

"I'll bring it by myself," soothed Blair. "Thank you for your time, Mrs. Long."

As he pulled the door shut, Jim rubbed his temple in disbelief. "Nancy will ask her again later. We need to go back to the housekeeper. What do you want to bet we've found our missing guy?"

"He fits Claire's description. How fast can you drive back over to the Calvin's? I'll call ahead and see if she's there."

Claire Wilson was in her kitchen. She put on her glasses and studied the photo carefully, just as she had with the annual pictures on the previous afternoon. She was just as certain. They had the right boy.

*****

"Great. Just great," muttered Jim. They were stalled in the truck, caught in a major downtown traffic jam. "We think we have a picture, but it's over two years old. We don't know his last name. We don't know his parents' names. We don't know what he drives. He might be in school. In Portland, no less. This ought to be fabulously productive."

"Look at it this way, Jim. We've got three chances. We can try the picture at Cascade High. If that doesn't work, we can trace the picture or we can trace the ring. Maybe both."

"A prom picture from two years ago and a ring that probably came out of a gum machine. Simon will be thrilled."

"Don't be a grouch, Jim. It's more than we had. If Nancy is a good as you say, she might get the name for us. At least we're sure there was another guy there besides Bruce Price."

After another few minutes of frustration, and Jim abruptly pulled into a parking space in front of a jewelry store. He shrugged at Blair's questioning expression. "We're damn near parked anyway, Sandburg. We may as well get something done."

They got lucky, and it was about time. Gregory's Fine Jewelry was a family owned business that had been in Cascade for years. After a few preliminary question, Thomas Gregory, the semi-retired patriarch, practically adopted them as relatives. He shepherded them into the back, plunking Jim in front of a microscope.

"See that symbol, Detective? That's a manufacturer's mark. Now we don't carry that manufacturer, but we might be able to figure out who does, or who had the line two years ago."

Blair stifled a laugh. It tickled his funny bone that Jim Ellison, the one man who didn't need the microscope, was getting this lesson from Mr. Gregory. He didn't miss the obvious dilemma. There were an awful lot of jewelry stores in Cascade. It would be like sorting for a needle in a haystack.

"Mr. Gregory, is there anyway we can narrow the field down a little?" Jim gave his semi-amused partner a glare. "This could be important in a murder investigation."

"Son, I'm retired. I have plenty of time. Let me do some digging and come back this afternoon. I think I can save you a lot of shoe leather."

Blair gave his partner's shoulder a nudge. "Jim, what you and I know about engagement rings couldn't fill a thimble. Defer to an expert, man."

Mr. Gregory's eyes twinkled. "See? Give an old man a little excitement, Detective."

"It beats the phone book, Jim. We have other things we can do."

Jim finally laughed and returned the ring to its evidence bag. "I'm surrounded and I surrender. You're the boss, Mr. Gregory. We'll check back."

*****

They finally made it through traffic to the station. Simon was out, so they left a message for him. They flaked out in one of the interrogation rooms to get some quiet. Jim raided the vending machines. It was time to plan some sort of strategy to put a name with their face.

"We should split up," said Blair, accepting a candy bar. He frowned. "Cardiovascular disaster in a wrapper. Anyway, we can get a print of the photo. You can go to the school and Councilman Price. I can take the actual photo and try to match it with a studio. Maybe we'll get a break with Mr. Gregory."

"No. Absolutely not, Sandburg. Until we have some serious down time, I'm not letting you out of my sight."

"Jim, we talked that all out last night," Blair mumbled around his mouthful of chocolate. "I'm doing fine."

"You're doing a Sierra Verde. We put the monster back in the box, but it's not dead. You gave me your word, and I'm holding you to it." Jim wadded up his wrappers and threw them in the trash.

"That may be true, but we can cover more separately. If I have any problem, I'll call your cell. I need to go to photo studios, Jim, and that takes T-I-M-E. How tough can it be?"

Jim sighed. "Run it by me. What's your idea."

"Look. This is a professional photo. Rainier would hire someone to come in and do photography for special occasions, like a formal dance or a graduation. The high schools do the same thing."

"So? How does that help us?"

"Every prom has a theme. There are six public and two private high schools in Cascade. We know the year this was taken. Someone is going to be able to match this year with the background and the school. If we can get the school, maybe we can get a name. Come on, Jim. I can check out a car from the motor pool."

"That's right. The Volvo is still dead. Oh, all right. You get one flicker, you call me." They walked out together. Blair headed for the elevator and the motor pool. Jim needed to track down Councilman Price before he left.

"Hey, Sandburg," Jim called after him. "Like I said before, you really need to get a car."

*****

Hours later, Jim and the principal of Cascade High were still going through photos of the senior class of 1998. Between worrying about Sandburg and his own growing frustration, Jim was close to throwing a match on the pile of 2x3 black and whites. Andrew Price hadn't been able to recognize the photo either, but the kid was supposed to be two years older than his own son. Cascade was a large high school. He wasn't surprised that they were running into problems.

The principal was off digging for some file of non-graduating seniors when the cell rang in his pocket.

"Ellison."

"Hey, Jim. I have..."

"Are you okay. Where are you?"

"Sheesh, Jim. Don't have a cow. I'm fine. I think you're in the wrong place. The picture came from Central High's '98 Senior Prom. I'm with the guy that took the pictures. He recognized the background."

"Central? I'll call them right now, before they close up shop for the day."

"You do that. I'll keep working from this end. They keep the photos on file, but the system's a bit disorganized."

"Disorganized? Sandburg, you wouldn't know a filing system if it bit your head off, disorganized or not. Sounds like the perfect job for you."

"That's harsh, man, but I'm sure I deserve it. If I can find a name, I'll call you. Get moving. We're going to nail this guy."

Jim took the time to call Simon before he left, knowing the heat Simon was under. Still, he was surprised to find his captain waiting in the office of Central High. Central was the biggest high school in the city. The principal had already commandeered a room and was spreading bags of photos on a long table, cross-checking that he had the correct class and year.

"Jim Ellison, Principal Cammins." Simon shrugged at his detective's questioning glance. "I needed to get out of the station. I figured another pair of eyes wouldn't hurt."

"It won't. After doing this at Cascade, my eyeballs are about to fall out. Here's our photo." Jim handed to the principal. The man shook his head. "That is not a face I recognize. I wish I did. My son played football against Bruce Price, and they were picked all-city together. He seemed like a fine young man." He looked at the sea of photographs. "Well, no time like the present."

Another hour slipped by. The unsorted pile was getting smaller and smaller, but it was still huge. It was hard to concentrate. The next photo could be the right one. Jim groaned.

"Take a break, Ellison. You've been at this all afternoon."

Jim had barely started to stretch when the cell rang again. "Mr. Gregory? You do? No - let me get some paper." He ended up with a discarded sheet from the trash. "Go ahead, Mr. Gregory. All of them." He was so excited, his words carried to the two others in the room. Simon realized his detective was writing names. He scurried after the first one. Principal Cummins caught on, and got the second.

On the seventeenth name, they found him. Smiling, wearing a sweatshirt and a sleepy expression. Danny McGarrie. Parents were divorced, lived with his mother while attending Central. Her remarried name was Lorton. Cammins dashed off to get his records.

Simon rubbed his eyes. "Thank you, God, for a break. Nice work, Jim. It's good to have you and Sandburg back on line."

"For the record, Simon, we're not. Blair wants to see this through, but he needs time off, and I intend to take it with him." The conversation didn't go any further. Cammins was back.

He read off the mother's address. "There are some counselor's notes in here. Seems there were some problems at home. He lived part of the time with a friend, Brandon Foster. That boy I know. You might want to check with him. He goes to Cascade Community College, and still lives at home. He does part-time maintenance work for the school district." Cammins continued to turn pages in the file. "His records say he went into the National Guard." Cammins looked up hopefully. "Is that any help?"

"Simon, any military enlistee..."

"...Would be on record. I'll get right on it. You get Sandburg and try the mother's address. I'll send backup."

Cammins dismissed any attempt at thanks. "Get out of here. Let me know how it turns out. I've got pictures to file, or my school secretary will have my hide."

*****

Jim picked Blair up at the station. They got no answer at the Lorton home, and left the backup unit to watch the street. It was time to try Brandon Foster. The address was fairly close, but Jim didn't miss the opportunity to quiz his partner. Blair started to give him the brush off, and Jim bristled.

"How many times to we have to do this, Sandburg? You're not helping yourself or me if you keep denying there's a problem."

"I don't need a nursemaid, Jim," Blair replied angrily. "If I say I'm okay, then I'm okay."

Jim was ready to respond in kind when he caught himself. Old habits die hard, on both sides of a relationship. He'd never fully earned back Blair's trust after kicking him out of the loft, or accusing him of betrayal time and again. It finally dawned on him last night that Blair fully expected to be tossed out again, at any moment. Why wouldn't he minimize a problem, when it potentially could be the straw that broke the camel's back?

"Let's back up, Sandburg. I've screwed up with you so many times in so many different ways, it's pathetic. You have no reason to believe I can change, but I sure want to try. Give me a chance to be the friend I should have been all along."

"You've always been a good friend, Jim. I didn't mean to imply that." Blair's blue eyes swam with regret.

"Then don't do the guilt, tell me the truth. Oh, shit, I know you told me the truth. Just tell me a fuller version of it."

"I'm okay when we're busy. It's the down time. I just about lost it when we were stuck in traffic. Going into that jewelry store was the best thing you could have done for me." They rode in silence for a few moments before Blair continued. "I know I should have told you."

"You should have, but you're still doing great in my eyes. Is that the house?"

"That's it - 258 Laurel. Can you hear anyone inside?"

Jim nodded. "I can hear music. At least one person."

Their ring was answered promptly. The stocky young man that opened the door took one look and asked, "Police?"

"I'm Detective Jim Ellison. This is Detective Sandburg. We need to ask you a few questions...."

"Am I under arrest?"

The kid looked ready to jump out of his skin. "Are you Brandon Foster?" Jim asked. The young man nodded, his eyes wary. "Then you're not under arrest, at least not right now. We need to ask about Danny McGarrie. We know he's a good friend of yours, and he's implicated in a murder."

The kid tried to keep his face blank, but he didn't do a very good job. "I can't talk to you about Danny. I want you to leave."

"Maybe we should come back with a warrant. Then you can be an accessory to murder." Jim waited. It was pure fiction. No judge would give them a warrant on what they had. "Come on, Sandburg. Don't go anywhere, Foster." They headed back toward the truck.

"Wait."

When they turned, Foster was still at the door, color drained from his face.

"You might be able to help him, man." Blair took a few steps back toward the house. "Talk to us. Do you really want him hunted down like a fugitive?"

Brandon Foster shook his head, then motioned them back. Only sentinel ears could hear the whispered, "Oh, Danny - please forgive me."

*****

They followed Foster into a small, bright kitchen. He slumped into a chair, and gestured weakly for the two detectives to take a seat. "Danny's my best friend. I'd do anything to help him. I'm going to tell you what I know, because I think that's what Danny really wants. If he could make it right, he would." Foster traced patterns with his finger on the surface of the table they were seated at. "You know as well as I do that's impossible."

"Start at the beginning. Do you know where he is?"

Foster shook his head. "Not this second, anyway. He left to go for a walk. He'll come back here, or show up at his place. He's been here since it happened. He such a mess. He didn't mean to hurt anybody. First he wants to run, then he wanted to kill himself. I was scared to let him out of my sight. Now, his mind's just mush. He's real emotional and completely irrational. I think eventually he'll realize that he has to turn himself in. He's getting pretty close on his own." He blinked back the tears. "Either that or he'll end it ... or make you guys do it for him."

Blair threw Jim a worried glance. A suspect with a death wish was bad news. Besides, they had other problems. "Mr. Foster...."

"Brandon."

"Sure...Brandon, you could be facing charges yourself. You do understand that you don't have to talk to us? That you might incriminate yourself? Do you want to talk to a lawyer first?" Jim nodded in agreement. They needed to follow procedure.

"I expected that, but I still want to do this."

"You're sure?"

"Yeah. I knew Tara. I feel an obligation. Can we stay here instead of going to the station. I don't want Danny to come back to an empty house." He waited patiently while Jim set up a recorder. "Danny got here Monday. He doesn't get along with his mom, so he usually stays with me. You know he and Lisa were engaged? Well, Danny knew something was up, and got the scoop from Lisa a couple weeks ago. Soon as he could, he comes home. He decides he just needs to get Tara away from these new kids and she'll come to her senses. Begs Tara to see him, and she invites him for the day at this Marnie's pool. From what I figure, Tara's got the same idea from a different direction. They'll talk, Danny will see what a great deal she's got going, and he'll see it her way.

"Next day, they visit, shop, go back to Marnie's place. Danny just about drops his teeth when these two girls mix up the drinks and the party starts. He plays along. Tara seems happy to be with him, he thinks he's making big progress. Then this Bruce kid shows up." Foster halted. "Is this making any sense, guys?"

"It's your story to tell," answered Jim.

"Well, Bruce wants to join the party. Tara goes in to make more punch. Danny goes with her, and wants to know where he stands. Somewhere during the conversation, Tara says she still loves him, gets upset and goes into the bathroom and starts crying. Danny's going nuts. He sees these pills on the counter, and adds the stuff to the punch. Dumb. Beyond stupid, but he's in a panic. Had this crazy idea that Tara would pass out and he'll be able to get her out of there. You know, the big rescue scene. Danny always was a romantic."

"Okay, so Danny put the drugs in the sangria? That's what he told you?" asked Jim.

"Yeah, and it's killing him now. So Tara comes out, says she loves him, but things just aren't the same. Just feeds Danny's crazy fantasy. The three of them keep drinking, and Danny's waiting for his big chance. Somewhere along the way one of them blurts out that Tara's preganant. Bruce starts laughing his head off at Danny. Danny catches the clue bus and storms out."

"He left?" Blair watched his partner carefully, certain Jim was using his senses to determine if Foster was telling them the truth. "They were still alive when he left?"

"Yeah, but it doesn't matter. Danny stomps around for awhile, and decides that he doesn't care, if Tara loves him, they'll work something out. They'll keep the baby, the whole nine yards. Like I said, he's a romantic. He goes back. Price is passed out in a lounge chair, but the two girls...oh, God, how could he have messed up like this? They were already gone. Danny knows it's his fault and he's freaking out. Bruce comes to, and makes some stupid remark. I mean, the guy must have been totally out of it, but Danny just loses it. Drags him into the pool and drowns him. That's it. The housekeeper comes back, Danny panics and here we are. As God is my witness, until that moment of blind rage, he didn't mean to kill anyone."

Jim clicked the recorder off. Blair was ashen, and he bolted for the door. "Meet you outside, Jim," were his parting words. Jim hated to think what was going through his mind. Brandon Foster sat frozen in his chair, tears running down his face. "Detective, I think I can get Danny to turn himself over to you if we can find him. Do you think you can put off arresting me until then?"

At that moment, Jim couldn't muster any kind of an answer. A ringing cell phone saved him from a decision. It was the backup unit. Lights had just gone on in the Lorton house.

*****

"How do you want to handle this, Jim?"

"We're going to ring the bell. Send the backup over to Ash. I want someone there if he splits through the back. We'll let Foster talk to him if we can." Blair still looked shaky. Foster's rendition of the story hit him hard. "Want to sit this one out, Chief? I can get one of the uniforms..."

"No." Blair was breathing heavily, and his face looked grim. Fighting on two fronts, no doubt. "I need to do this, and I won't let you down."

Assured everyone was in position, the two men crossed to the porch. On the second ring, Jim waved Blair to the north side of the home. "I can hear a window opening somewhere in back. Go!"

They reached the back yard in time to see their target vault the fence and tear through the neighboring yard. Unfortunately, he didn't head for the street, and the backup on Ash was no immediate help. The chase was on. They could hear Brandon Foster shouting vainly at his friend, begging him to stop.

Danny McGarrie led them on a merry chase. Jim knew they were on the verge of losing him. This neighborhood, with it's small fenced yards and narrow streets, gave the advantage to the pursued. There were too many places to hide and few clear lines of sight. They lost him more than once, even with a flood of backup units sent in by Simon. Each time Jim's hearing gave them an edge. Realizing that even a sentinel couldn't give chase and coordinate at the same time, Captain Banks appeared along with the backup units, freeing Jim for the chase.

It took awhile, but a unit finally got a radio to the two detectives, so they could communicate directly with Simon. It didn't make them any less tired, but it was faster and more reliable than a cell phone.

"Simon, send some units around to the far side of the Walker Field and have them work back towards Archer. We're on," Blair paused, checking the road sign, " the corner of Poplar and Clearview. Get some units to flood the area right behind us. We don't want this guy to double back on us. They need to go into the yards. We almost missed him under some shrubbery a couple of blocks back."

"Got it. A fugitive alert just went out on radio and TV. We've got a helicopter up."

"Out." Blair was panting hard. Neither of them were dressed for a cross country run in warm weather. "Now he's really going to panic. Use your hearing again, Jim. He's gone to ground. He's as tired as we are. Ignore me." He waved a hand, trying to catch his breath. "You'll hear him breathing."

Jim closed his eyes. Somehow it seemed to help. He was conscious of Blair's quiet encouragement. Gradually, he eliminated sounds, one by one. The squawking police radios. The chopper. The sirens from nearby cruisers. Footsteps.

He found him. A still target. Someone trying to stay quiet, to quell the sound from gulping air in too fast.

He grabbed Sandburg by the shoulder. "Across the street. Blue house somewhere in back. Take the near side." Hugging the side of the house, he could hear Sandburg digging through the shrubbery, talking softly, knowing his sentinel partner could monitor his progress and position. Jim flinched as he heard a vicious thud and a moan. He broke for the corner of the house.

Jim heard the next blow before he felt it. The 2x4 across the ribs sent him down, gasping for air. He grabbed an ankle as his quarry went by. McGarrie went to his knees, but Jim didn't have a secure hold. The ankle slipped away. Jim lunged and brought him down again. A kick across the forehead sent Jim back to the ground reeling.

The steps pounded away toward the street. Then a collision between bodies, and a resounding thump.

Jim cleared his vision and looked across the grass. Sandburg, blood streaming from the side of his head, slammed McGarrie's head into the ground.

"Why'd you do it?" Blair screamed. "How could you...drown them!"

Sandburg was out of his head. He was going to kill him. Jim just couldn't get his body moving. Three uniform officers descended on the tangle as Jim struggled to his feet. One of them pulled Sandburg out of the fray. Blair hit the ground and stayed down, shaking. McGarrie flailed away at anyone within reach. The screams died to wails as he was finally subdued and cuffed.

Jim left McGarrie to others. He wrapped his arms around the bloody heap that was his partner; the only thing that really mattered at the moment.

*****

Jim Ellison wasn't at the station when Danny McGarrie was booked and his prints were matched those on the blue goblet and the prescription bottle. Despite his renowned expertise, he didn't conduct the interrogation. He wasn't there when McGarrie gave up the whole story. Other officers would follow the sordid chain of events that had ended in three deaths and prepare the case for court. He had other things to do.

Jim Ellison overruled the paramedics and got a free ride to Cascade General. He stayed in the ER until the attending physician booted him out, or rather, booted him into an examining room. After X-rays and about ten pounds of tape on his abused ribs, he hijacking a hospital phone and made a series of very serious phone calls to numbers he wasn't supposed to know. Nearly ten years after leaving the Rangers and covert operations behind, ex-Captain James Ellison still knew who to call and how to get what he wanted. He was a motionless figure at his partner's bedside, ignoring or intimidating the hospital staff, soothing Blair's nightmares, waiting for the night to pass. Before dawn, he left the hospital to collect a lone passenger from the airport.

When Danny McGarrie made his first appearance in court, Jim Ellison was at partner's side with Dr. Fallon, an army physician specializing in treating post traumatic stress. Someone else would have to piece together justice, if there was such a thing for this tragedy. Jim was determined to keep priorities firmly focused on his partner. Together, they began the slow process of winning Blair Sandburg back from the memories that haunted him.

"We gather strength from sadness and from pain
Each time we die we learn to live again."
Author Unknown

The End

Author's note: When this was originally posted to SA, several readers expressed the opinion that the story should have continued to include Blair's treatment and recovery, or be followed by a sequel. Unfortunately, I don't think I have the expertise to do either one, but I appreciate the thought. Jael Lyn