Title & Summary -
Hide and Seek - Detectives Ellison and Sandburg pursue a drug operation that doesn't want to be found.

Disclaimer: The characters depicted within this story do not belong to us, but are the property of Pet Fly, UPN, Paramount and The SciFi Channel. No money has been made from the writing of this story.

Note from the Author: Takes place after TSbyBS.

Hide and Seek
By Jael Lyn
June 2001

I've spent half of my life this way, waiting for someone else to give me the stamp of approval. All these years, and I lost the uniform, but not the mentality.

Jim Ellison shifted slightly, realizing that his parade-rest stance wasn't really necessary. He envied Sandburg in that respect. Despite his partner's change in roles, Blair still had the ability to perch on the edge of a chair or a table in Simon's office, looking totally comfortable and completely oblivious to any glare his superior threw his way. It was a flash of the old graduate student spontaneity that his partner had yet to lose.

It wasn't the military that took it out of you, Ellison. You weren't that relaxed as a five-year old.

Jim tried to force his attention back across Simon's paper-strewn desk. He sighed inwardly, waiting as the newly typed report was read, not once, but twice. He didn't need to be a genius to know that even though Simon understood their situation, Captain Banks wasn't happy. Captain Banks was going to have to turn around and explain to the Police Commissioner, the Mayor and God knew who else that they had no leads. Two months of investigating, coordinating with other departments, hours of work and trying every trick he and Sandburg could think of had yielded a big fat zero. They'd put off turning in their report for as long as possible, hoping for a break. Now they were out of time, and had to live with their results.

Although Jim tried to treat Blair as an equal partner, he'd pulled rank and come in here to face Simon alone. Sandburg had protested, but Jim was the senior investigator and insisted. In his opinion, Blair had enough extra baggage to manage as the new rookie in Major Crime without adding a spectacular failure to the list. He'd even forbidden Sandburg to sign the report. The only name at the bottom of this disaster was Detective James Ellison.

Without really thinking, Jim shifted his attention to the outer office and his partner. To his surprise, Blair was swearing under his breath, vociferously. Blair rarely lost his cool to the point that he let loose with a string of profanity. It wasn't his style - he was far too creative in several languages to stoop to ordinary vulgarity. Jim focused his hearing, trying to determine what had his friend so bent out of shape.

"Ellison!"

"Yes, sir?"

"The warehouse on Tyler didn't pan out?" Simon scowled, obviously aware that Jim's mind was elsewhere. "I thought that had some promise?"

"So did we, sir. We were hoping to trace the lot numbers on the packaging back to a customer. We got as far as the supplier and hit a dead end." Jim paused as Simon eyed the pages again. Any residual irritation melted away. If it was possible, Banks was in a worse position than he was. "Captain, if there was anything hopeful, I would have included in the report. I don't have a problem with you placing the responsibility where it should be when you see the brass."

"I stand behind my men, Jim. You know that."

I do know that, sir, but you and everyone else has the right to expect better results. Between the two of us, Sandburg and I will keep working on it."

"Not right away, you won't." Simon stood, shrugging into his suit coat. "I want you to get out of here and take Sandburg with you. It's late, and extra time on a Thursday night isn't going to change anything. You both look beat. I'll give this another going over before the meeting tomorrow morning."

"Actually, sir, Sandburg is working on a new angle right now..."

"Enough, Detective. I meant what I said. Take your partner home, get a meal and a good night's rest. Start on the downtown robberies tomorrow." His voice softened. "Jim, every detective comes up empty once in awhile. No one has a 100% solve rate. Now do what I asked and don't stew over it. Tomorrow's another day."

"Very good, sir."

Jim nodded slightly to Simon as the taller man held the office door open for him. It might hurt his pride, but Simon was right. They could let this one go for a few days.

They exited the office just in time to see a tower of files on Sandburg's desk collapse. Folders and papers fanned out over the linoleum as Blair scrambled to rescue what remained of his stack.

"Sandburg, what are you doing?" Simon barked.

"Sorry, Sim...Captain, I was going to review all the daily reports that have come in this week. If our guys have moved on, but not out of Cascade, maybe they'll tip their hand somehow. Give us something to go on." Blair had managed to straighten the remaining folders and was on his hands and knees, scrabbling after the ones on the floor. A slight touch of desperation in his voice didn't go unnoticed. Jim joined his partner on the floor, but Simon was hollering into the break room.

"Riley! Thompkins! Get in here!" The two members of the night shift shuffled in. "A little early to be on break, gentlemen. I've got just the job for you." The two men stood silent, clearly apprehensive about what their Captain had in mind for them. Simon Banks wasn't known for his tolerance of slackers.

"Sandburg, get off the floor." The young man managed to dump a few more files on the way up. "Take it easy, Detective. Tell the break room boys here what you want done, and you can resume this tomorrow. You and Ellison are out of here." Blair threw a quick look at his partner, not entirely sure whether he was off the hook or being sent into exile. "And you two," Simon continued, "are going to get this shaped up exactly the way Sandburg wants them, and I expect a full report from you on those bus muggings when I come in tomorrow morning. You should have plenty of time, since you've already taken your lunch." Simon crossed his arms, scowling at his troops. He stayed there until Blair finished explaining what he wanted to accomplish with the files. Riley and Thompkins got the message loud and clear.

Simon was apparently not in the mood to leave anything to chance. He didn't budge until Sandburg and Ellison were out the door and headed for the elevator before he left Major Crime himself.

The two detectives rode the elevator in silence. Both men were exhausted. Not only was conversation an effort, but Blair wasn't making eye contact. No one's shoe tips were that interesting. Jim gave him a gentle nudge.

"It went okay. Simon was upset, but not with us. I'm sure he'll let us work on it, even if he assigns us other cases."

"Yeah."

A sullen Sandburg was not a pretty sight. Still, his partner had been upset way before he'd re-carpeted Major Crime in manila. "You want to tell me why you're so bent out of shape, Chief?"

"Duh. We blew a case, Jim. I acted like an idiot in front of my boss, who in turn dumped my hair-brained idea on other guys. Want more to add to the list?"

"Yep. I heard you swearing when I was in with Simon. Not your style, Sandburg, so tell me the rest of the story."

Blair was taken aback for a moment, and blushed a nice shade of rose. "Damn your Sentinel ears. You shouldn't eavesdrop." The elevator bumped to a stop.

"Eavesdropping is for conversations. You weren't conversing, unless your secret friend has come to visit again."

"Jerk. It's eavesdropping when I'm conversing with myself." Jim knew he was safe. Sandburg couldn't keep the smirk off his face. "I mean it, Jim. A guy needs privacy."

"We can explore your right to privacy after you answer my question." They headed for the garage. "I can use the entire trip home to get to the bottom of this, if necessary."

"Oh, all right. I was planning on going somewhere tonight, and I realized how late it was. It just ticked me off, on top of everything else."

Jim cringed. He'd known about these plans and had completely forgotten. He could have typed that damn report without Sandburg's help.

Considering his reputation as a stone face, Sandburg read him with ease. "Quit fussing, Jim. It wasn't that big a deal."

Jim checked his watch. "It's not that late. Go anyway."

Blair was already climbing into the truck. "By the time I go home and get the Volvo, then drive across town, it really will be a lost cause."

"So don't go home. We can go right now. Give me the directions."

Sandburg looked at him as if he'd grown a third ear. "You know, it really messes up my equilibrium when you go all marshmallow like this. I don't know how to act. Bring in the real Jim Ellison and let's go to WonderBurger."

Jim ignored his partner and turned in the opposite direction.

They drove three blocks in silence before Sandburg cracked. "I'm serious, Jim. Let's just go home."

Jim shook his head, stubbornly pointing the truck in the same direction. "You were interested enough in this - whatever it is - to mention it a week ago. We've had a lousy day, on top of a lousy month. Do something for yourself, Sandburg." He snorted in disgust. "WonderBurger. As if I don't know how much you love the place. Cholesterol on parade, wasn't that what you called it?"

"I get a salad," Blair answered defensively. The truck eased into traffic on the freeway. "This is beyond stupid, Jim. You have no idea where you're going."

"Bingo. I can keep driving until I hit Canada, or you can tell me where we're going. You can call me when you're done." He watched Sandburg out of the corner of his eye while he concentrated on the traffic. He didn't want to have a battle of wills with his partner, but Jim Ellison planned on getting his way on this particular occasion.

His friend's transition from grad student to detective had not been easy. That was to be expected, and Blair had navigated the course with grace and patience. Despite his reluctance to complain, Jim knew that, among other things, his social life had taken a beating. When they first met, Blair always had a full calendar - dates, dancing at a club, gabfests over beer and nachos with other TA's, university events. The combined weight of his departure from Rainier, the academy, and becoming an active officer of the law had crushed those activities. Even if his old friends hadn't shunned him or felt awkward, Blair seemed equally uncomfortable. He rarely ventured out on his own now, preferring to tag along with Jim or the gang at Major Crime to a sporting event or pizza after a day on the job. If Blair had finally decided to spread his wings again, Jim wanted to encourage it. It was the least he could do.

"Come on, Chief. It's going to be really embarrassing to call Simon in the morning to tell him we're in British Columbia because you wouldn't give me directions."

Blair smothered a laugh. "He'd have the Mounties on us, dragging us back to do paperwork on our own extradition. Lakeland Community Center. Take the exit after this one."

"Well, that's convenient. A community center? What is this, Chief? If you're playing shuffleboard with old people or something I'm gonna get worried. Turn this truck around and head straight back to WonderBurger. Why don't you give me the rundown on this little expedition?"

Blair pretended to be shocked. "What? You weren't listening to your roommate when I told you about this the first time?"

"Okay, so the basketball game took a teensy bit more of my attention. Give."

"Turn left at that first street, then down two blocks. There's parking in the front, or so I was told," Blair said as he gestured toward the intersection. "It's a meeting of the Cascade Mycological Association."

Jim groaned. "I should have known. Only you, Sandburg, only you would go to a social occasion with an ology in it. Myco what?"

"Mycology, Jim," Sandburg answered, a grin spreading across his face. "The study of fungi. Mushrooms, man. Thanks to you, I may be here in time for the end of the potluck.

Jim was shaking his head. "I can see it now. A mushroom farm on the balcony, or under my bed, more likely. Unidentified fuzzy things growing in the refrigerator. That will teach me to share my roof with a scientist. I am not going to ask why you're doing this, because I really don't want to know." They bounced into the parking lot. "Remind me to get the shocks checked. Got your phone?"

"Yes, mom." Blair climbed out of the truck, checking the charge on his cell phone at the same time.

"Well, Anthony's is back near the freeway. I'll grab a pizza and watch the game on the big screen. Save a run home. Call when you're done."

He didn't quite clear the parking lot before Blair flagged him down. Jim rolled down the window, curious as to what his partner needed to tell him at this point.

"You wouldn't be ordering a mushroom and olive, now would you?" Blair asked, leaning against the side panel of the truck. His serious expression was contradicted by the merriment in his eyes. "You know you could come eat with me."

"Forget it, Sandburg!" Jim answered, laughing while he rolled the window back up. "Meat Lover's Special with extra pepperoni!"

Jim sighed in contentment. He had in fact enjoyed a pizza piled high with all the stuff Sandburg loved to hate. The draft beer was pleasantly cold, and the Jags were still in the game late in the third quarter. If he hadn't been tired and frustrated with their case, it would have been a pretty good evening. Well, to be correct, their former case.

He carefully shredded a napkin, wondering for the hundredth time why this case had turned into such a nightmare. Meth wasn't a new drug in Cascade, and drug labs weren't exactly a rarity. The Cascade PD had a pretty good record, on the whole. Then these jokers show up.

Lots of meth users cooked their own product, usually to feed their own addiction or raise the cash to finance their own habits. It wasn't tough to get the raw materials or find the how-to information. Demand was high, there was money to be made, and law enforcement generally accepted they would never get rid of all the players. Still, they didn't expect any one group to be out of control.

Oh, they knew perfectly well when this particular group had appeared on the scene. Their product had a unique chemical signature. Over the first six months this particular product turned up with increasing regularity until Narcotics estimated that fifty percent of the meth in Cascade was coming from this one group. It was too much to ignore. A task force was formed. When Narcotics came up empty, the Mayor had requested the Cascade Officer of the Year be placed in charge.

Sometimes he really hated that award. Jim tossed the destroyed napkin aside, his irritation growing. He and Sandburg had discovered that the lab rotated through multiple sites, using guile, great security and intimidation to escape detection until they moved on. Not exactly a new technique, but this group had honed it to a new level. Even with his own sensory edge and Sandburg's analytical abilities, they couldn't find a pattern and always seemed one or two steps behind. They'd played hide and seek for months, and all of the effort hadn't even made a dent. Their prey was cooking up meth at record rates.

Jim checked his watch. He'd been here just over an hour, and fatigue was beginning to catch up with him. Still, he didn't want to rush Sandburg. He genuinely hoped his partner was enjoying himself. He stared at the giant screen, trying to whip up some enthusiasm, but the basketball just didn't hold his attention. His dark thoughts had gotten the better of him. When his cell phone started to ring, he breathed a sigh of relief. He'd pick up Sandburg, head home, and...

It wasn't Blair. It was Simon. They'd found another lab, a lab and a kid, who'd been beaten within an inch of his life. Damn.

Jim was cursing himself long before he got to the scene. He and Sandburg had picked this area out as a possible and had executed what they thought was a thorough search. Why did they keep missing these guys? He should be able to pick up something with his senses...the solvents alone ought to be a dead give away. Somewhere they were missing a critical clue.

He caught sight of Simon's large frame bending over a gurney, the paramedics standing off to one side. Jim hustled over, hoping that Sandburg wasn't far behind. He'd been pretty sure he could get a ride over on his own.

"Captain?"

Simon nodded, then turned his attention back to the prone figure by his side. "This is Kellen. You're going to be all right, son. We sent a car to pick up your mom, and she'll be at the hospital. You just concentrate on healing up." The boy tried for a smile, then his eyes slid closed. Simon stood back, clearly shaken, as the paramedics finished loading him for transport. "He and a friend were skateboarding. They got the bright idea that they could set up a ramp or something in one of these empty warehouses. Obviously, they picked the wrong one." As they walked Simon gestured to a open window. "Kellen jimmied the window, and they grabbed him. His buddy outside had the good sense to run and call 911."

"We get a description, sir? A vehicle? Anything?"

"Not much. They caught him right inside. The other kid saw two men, and heard a third. One with long, dark hair, one wearing a ball cap. That's it. The only thing in our favor is that they had to bail out quick, and maybe didn't cover their tracks as well as they usually do. I have the HazMat team cooling their heels. It's risky, and violates every rule in the book, but I wanted to give you and Sandburg a shot at it first."

"Thanks, Captain. He should be here any second." He paused, watching the ambulance leave. The boy could have been Darryl a couple of years ago. "You okay, sir?"

"Yeah. They really worked him over before they realized the law was coming. Let's just get these guys before someone gets killed. We found the door on the west side open. They really did leave in a hurry."

"I don't want to suit up, Simon. I need to use my senses. We might not get another chance like this."

"Jim," Simon groaned, "I can get you in, but we can't throw away the book completely."

"We'll each take a respirator. They were just in there, Simon. It can't be that life threatening."

Immersed in their debate over search procedures, Simon jumped a foot when a newly arrived Blair Sandburg came up from behind. It was a pretty clear indication that Simon was more on edge than usual. "Sandburg, where did you come from? Don't sneak up like that. You learn that from Ellison?" Simon growled.

"I just came from the wrong direction. My ride couldn't get past the troops. Jim's right, Simon. Let us try. Nothing else has worked."

Simon stared skyward, weighing his options. "You two are going to get me fired, but we're desperate. Go."

They moved cautiously at first, leaving Simon to run interference for them. The warehouse was dark, but they quickly found the lighting system. "How are you doing, Jim? How's your skin?" asked Blair, making no effort to hide his concern. They'd had a near disaster with some of the solvents. Jim seemed particularly sensitive to the anhydrous ammonia that was almost always present.

Jim pulled off the respirator. "We're okay. I don't think they were up and running." He peeked inside a large storage box. "All the materials are still sealed."

"This must have been their next production site. At least we caught them before they had a chance to use it."

"We got lucky, but yes. We targeted this area, Sandburg. We must be doing something right."

Blair snorted. "Somehow I don't think 'closer' without an arrest is going to help much. Still, I think we can assume they're opening new sites before the old ones shut down. Maybe we can get a time line from the materials, or trace the suppliers, since none of them have been used." He paused. "Are you sure none of the chemicals are open?"

Jim lifted the respirator and tested the air. "I'm sure. Let's treat it as a regular crime scene. Look for physical evidence and hope for a lead. See if we can convince HazMat to let forensics do their thing without having them sterilize the place first."

"Great," Blair muttered. "Here goes another negotiation with the yellow suits. Those guys are really starting to hate me."

"If it's science, it's your baby, partner. Go schmooze." Jim turned his attention to a long table that must have been the intended cooking surface. "At least they think you're smart enough to have the conversation."

It was midnight before they finally reached the loft. The miracle they hoped for hadn't occurred. The witness descriptions were more than they had before, but still sketchy. They could try to trace the supplies in the warehouse. They had a chance, since the lab had been busted before it came into full use, but they'd followed such clues before with limited results. They had recovered some strands of hair and clothing fibers, which might support a case when they had a suspect, but weren't going to GIVE them a suspect.

"I need a beer, Chief. You?"

"I should just go to bed."

"So should I, but we both know we're going to stare at the ceiling for awhile anyway, so why not." Jim came back with a cold bottle in each hand. "Do we know anything more than we did?"

Blair ticked off the fingers on one hand. "One -we know they're using standard lab storage containers, and keeping them sealed until the last moment of use. Since meth cookers tend to use whatever is handy, that may be significant. Maybe they're more formally educated, and better financed. Maybe they're laundering their materials through legitimate sources, like a university lab or something, and that's why we can't trace the materials. We might check with suppliers and see if any regular customers have made a significant increase in purchases."

Jim nodded. "Worth a shot, if we can convince them to release the info. We're certainly not going to get a warrant."

"Two," Blair continued, "we have some kind of a suspect description. Three - we were close to finding this location, so some of what we thought was fruitless guessing might not be so far off after all."

Jim plopped onto the opposite couch, taking time to pull off his shoes. "So we've been pulling the net tighter without knowing it? Pretty optimistic, Chief. I'd hate to convince the brass of that."

"We're not going to convince anyone. But you know as well as I do that we're going to keep working on this no matter what other stuff they assign us, so it's important for us to know. I should have stayed and worked on those files, man. We're close, even if it doesn't look it. I'm sure of it."

"So we'll be close tomorrow," Jim countered. "Cool your jets, Chief. We'll both be more productive when we're not beat." He took a long sip of cold beer, and savored the cold wash of liquid down his throat. "How was the mold society, Sandburg? Did you have fun?" Jim made no effort to keep the teasing tone out of his voice. "Were there ladies with sensible shoes? What does one wear to the mold society?"

"If I wasn't so tired I'd get you for that. It was cool. They collect from natural areas, so they promote conservation. They teach new people like me how to identify and collect, and they cook. It was a very diverse group."

"Diverse. That's the code work for granolas and geeks."

"That's it. You're dead."

Jim held his hands up, laughing. "I surrender. I didn't mean it. You going again?" Blair rubbed his eyes, and Jim reached over to collect his empty bottle. "Go to bed. I'll lock up. Let's go out for breakfast."

Blair dragged his tired body away and disappeared through the French doors. Even so, as Jim headed up to bed, he heard his guide's voice. "We'll get them, Jim. We'll get them before they hurt anyone else."

The next few weeks were painful. Despite being reassigned, they continued to work the meth lab case, using their after hours time. Jim Ellison was a proud man. He overheard a lot of comments, and didn't enjoy the undisguised glee that passed between some of their colleagues over their less than stellar results with the task force. He made every effort not to pass those thoughts on to his partner, but he suspected Blair knew anyway. Sandburg was too good at reading his body language not to know.

It was Blair's reaction that truly troubled him. Jim found their roles strangely reversed. He'd always seen Sandburg's involvement in his life as a negative, or at least a hazardous, deal for Blair. Now Sandburg apparently viewed his presence as a clear damper on Jim's performance and career. His response was to work at insane levels, and the meth lab became a Sandburg obsession. Usually, Blair was the one who tactfully suggested it was time to quit. As the weeks wore on, it was Sandburg who had to be dragged away from his desk. Sometimes Jim gave up and left him working into the night, unable to dissuade him from the extra hours. Brown and Rafe, in particular, seemed to notice, and started pitching in as well. In essence, the four detectives were still on the case, and running themselves ragged to do it.

Exactly one month to the day after the task force filed its formal report, Jim came home to an empty loft and a flashing answering machine. It was Dr. somebody, inviting Mr. Sandburg to another meeting of the "mushroom people" as Jim jokingly referred to them.

He didn't feel the least bit guilty when he returned the call and volunteered his partner as a participant, willing or otherwise.

****

"This is good, Chief. I wanted to hate it, but it's really good."

Blair gave him a skeptical look over the top of his wineglass before taking another sip of Burgundy. "You're humoring me."

"No, I'm not," Jim protested. "The stuff is great. I'm glad I sent you home early. What were these called again? And why can't I call them plain mushrooms?"

"Morels, and they're too good not to give them a name, that's why. One of the members collected them fresh. People are wild about them, and she took pity on me, since I've never gone on a field trip with the group." His expression was balanced between disbelief and amusement as his roommate shoveled in another bite. "I sort of hedged my bet - since when have you met a steak you didn't like?"

"Sandburg, there's steak and then there's...this. I can't believe I just said that. My taste buds are off the chart." Jim paused, savoring another mouthful. "I know you were justifiably pissed at me for committing you without asking, but I hope you have another myco-whatever meeting real soon if we're going to eat like this. I'll drive. Forget driving - I'll work your shift."

Blair laughed, gathering empty dishes to take to the kitchen. "I'm sure Simon will be real exited about that. I can imagine the look on his face when you ask for time off so I can go to my mushroom club."

Jim shrugged. "Invite him to dinner and he'll be sold. Besides, Sandburg, you don't take any time off. I practically have to drag you out of Major Crime." He looked at the counter, hoping there were a few more shreds of steak and mushroom stuff.

"I guess I have been a little over the top on this meth thing," Blair answered, rinsing a glass as if it were an all-engaging task.

"You might say that. A day doesn't go by that someone doesn't chew me out for not looking out for my partner. Joel threatened to kick my ass if I let you eat lunch out of the vending machines one more time."

"Everyone eats out of the vending machine."

"Everyone but you. You're our slim pillar of healthful life," Jim answered. He grabbed a towel and started to dry the wine glass. "I'm in serious trouble with our co-workers, Chief. You need to bail me out here. I'm being held personally responsible, and coming up way short. You've gotta help me out here."

"It's personal, Jim. I made you look bad."

"We looked bad. Whatever made you think otherwise?" The look on his partner's face took him back. "Did I screw up here, Chief? It wouldn't be the first time I mis-communicated with you. You weren't the reason we didn't catch them. If anything, you've given us our best leads. We came close because of you."

"Jim, you've been Officer of the Year two out of the last three years. I know what people say. You took on a screw-up and it shows."

"No one who matters believes that. Besides, I think maybe you were right. We tightened the noose without knowing it." He was reaching for another freshly washed dish when the phone rang.

"Noooo," groaned Blair.

"I won't answer," Jim stated, knowing full well that they had no choice. On the third ring he answered. Blair shut off the water in the sink and leaned against the counter, waiting for the inevitable. It was obvious from Jim's end of the conversation that their evening had just moved from pleasure to business. When Jim started to jot down an address, Blair sighed and wearily set off to find his shoes and a jacket. By the time he had retrieved them, Jim was already waiting at the door.

"It's our guys again," Jim muttered as he jangled his keys impatiently. "Damn this unsolved case. This time they took down a cop. Rafe and Brown are already there."

They rode in silence. Whenever another officer went down, it was serious business, but both men felt partially responsible. As they neared the waterfront, even Blair could hear the wail of the sirens. "Are they sure this is the same group?" he asked.

"Simon was. That's why he called us. Same MO. Big lab, security precautions, the works. One of the guys on patrol smelled chemicals, and apparently got too close. His partner said he was looking through a window when they blew him away with a shotgun." Jim smacked the steering wheel in frustration. "Why didn't we get these guys when we had the case fulltime?"

"Because they're not your average meth cookers, that's why," Blair responded bitterly. "They're smart, they move all the time, and they're always one step ahead. Ah, man...look at this."

Jim pulled the truck to a stop behind a veritable fleet of official vehicles; haz-mat, squad cars, a couple of ambulances. A fire truck was still hosing down the north section of the building. They didn't even have the doors shut on the truck before they could hear Simon's voice bellowing in their direction.

"Ellison! Sandburg! The bastards blew some of their own solvents, hoping the fire would cover their escape, which it did." He motioned them to follow, covering the ground quickly with his long strides. "We've got one dead and another who may not make it. I don't know what you can salvage here, but I want you to try. I'll worry about getting authorization later. You two are still our best chance.

"Right behind you, Jim," Blair said. "Let's give it a shot."

The next morning, they gathered in Simon's office. Brown and Rafe had stayed into the wee hours of the morning, searching every building in the immediate area, hoping to find some shred of a clue. They all looked exhausted. Sandburg in particular looked like he hadn't shut his eyes.

"Man, we cannot search every building in Cascade." The frustration in Blair's voice was obvious. "We're getting the labs, but not the people in charge. If we could just stake one out," he mused wistfully.

"Security is too good," Jim answered, shaking his head. "I swear they must have fulltime watchers. It's like they know the instant we find them. I'd love to know how they're doing it. It would make covert ops proud."

"Maybe we're doing okay without an arrest," volunteered Brown. "A guy in Narcotics told me a couple days ago the supply seems to be strained. The price has gone up."

Simon shook his head. "Unless we get the root, they'll gear back up as soon as we slack off. I know how many hours the four of you have been putting in on your own time. I can't keep all four of you on the case, even unofficially, and I can't afford to take you off. Catch-22. These people killed two of our own, on top of everything else."

Everyone sat in silence. This was their Captain's call to make. Simon chewed on his cigar, then tossed it on his desk in disgust. "Everyone take the weekend off. No one comes in for a little extra," he added, looking directly at Blair. "We'll meet Monday morning, go over every file, construct a strategy and stick to it."

The members of Major Crime filtered out. Jim lingered, waving his partner ahead. Blair threw him a questioning look, but cooperated for once. Jim waited until he'd drifted across the bull pen and shut the office door. "Captain, we can't keep this up. It's not going to work. We've tried everything three times over."

"I know that, Jim. Just get your partner and yourself out of town, so I know he won't sneak back in here. I know he's carrying this as some kind of a personal burden."

"I've tried, sir, but he just doesn't listen."

"Not exactly your strength, either, is it, Jim?" Simon commented with a sigh. "Take my advice. Get him out of town. Find some excuse, something, anything to distract him."

Jim suddenly brightened. "Actually, sir, I just may have an idea that will work. See you Monday."

*****

"You want me to what?" Blair asked. "Stop the truck and say that again."

"You told me your group had a collecting whatever you call it. Camping in the National Forest, wasn't it? Well, let's go."

"Let's? As in both of us? Jim, are you sick?"

"No."

"This is between you and Simon. Don't try to lie to me Jim." He scowled at his partner. "I refuse to be manipulated by the two of you."

Jim recognized the stubborn expression for what it was. Blair could dig in his heels with the best of them. "I won't deny that Simon suggested we get out of town, but this is my idea. All I ask is that you cook that steak again. Isn't that reason enough?"

Blair eyed his friend with suspicion. "Maybe, but the truth is, we can't just up and go mushroom hunting. I don't know enough."

"I thought you said education was part of the deal. Can't we pair off with someone who knows more? I thought you said that was how it was done. Didn't Dr. Somebody invite you?"

"Yes, but it's Friday. If I was going to go I should have called a few days ago."

Jim realized where they were, made an abrupt right turn and sent the truck squealing around a corner. "So, we'll just go right to Rainier and ask him. Where's his office?"

"Jeeze, Jim, slow down. Natural Science, but we are not waltzing in there like this."

"Sure we are," Jim answered. He knew he was seriously pushing his luck. "I want my steak, Simon wants us gone, and if you weren't being stubborn, you'd admit that you want to go. This is win, win, win." He covered the few blocks to the university quickly and parking the truck, grateful he didn't have to search for a spot.

Blair was still protesting as he climbed out of the truck. Jim was frantically trying to invent the reason that would swing the discussion his way, when another, decidedly feminine voice interrupted them.

"Blair! I've been trying to call you." The newcomer took the stairs descending from the Natural Science Building two at a time to reach them. "Does this mean you're coming?" The young woman unceremoniously dumped an armload of books into Blair's arms, whipped off her glasses, pulled her hair out of a clip and extended her hand to Jim. "You must be Detective Ellison - you've played telephone tag with my TA, Jeff a couple of times. I'm Cheryl Rysen. So, is he coming?"

Jim searched for a reply, a little overwhelmed by this small woman who seemed to talk faster than Sandburg as she enthusiastically pumped his hand.

"Uh, Jim, meet Dr. Somebody, also known as Dr. Rysen, Assistant Professor of Botany," Blair said laughing. "She gave us the morels."

Jim couldn't hide a smile. This lady was definitely on his side. The argument was a good as over. Sandburg might as well surrender without a fight.

*****

"I am going to get even for this, Jim. You don't like it when I meddle in your life. You should follow your own rules." Blair set his grocery sacks down carefully, taking a moment to make sure they didn't tip over, and then fished out his key.

"Actually, Sandburg, I think I'm only guilty of dumping you in the Natural Sciences parking lot unexpectedly. Any further arm twisting was Cheryl's fault." They made their way into the kitchen and began separating their purchases into home food and camping food. "Nice lady. How did you happen to miss mentioning her, Chief?" he asked, grinning. He couldn't have been more startled when Blair slammed a can of soup down on the counter and stormed out, swearing as he went. Jim stood frozen in the kitchen for a moment, nonplussed, and then headed out after him.

"Chief? Hey, Sandburg, I didn't mean anything..."

Blair whirled around so fast they collided in the living room, nose to nose, or maybe more nose to chin. "Idiot!" he shouted. "Did it ever occur to you that hanging around someone from Rainier is not what I want to do? Chryl's new. Sooner or later she'll hear about the whole dissertation mess, and then it's just pathetic for both of us. Are you so clueless? Can't you see that even if I like her, a little distance would be smart? SMART! Now there's a concept you're not familiar with."

"You done?" Jim asked quietly, tension dripping from his voice.

"Yeah." Blair's anger seemed to drain away, replaced by something closer to despair. He dropped onto the couch cushions.

"You missed your calling, Sandburg. That little tirade would have done any of my Drill Instructors proud." Jim joined him. "I can see your point, but I'm a little confused. You went to other stuff and had a good time. Why is this different?"

"Because I can handle a little casual mixing. If it turns out badly, then that's no big deal."

"So it was okay at arms length, but not a closer friendship? Call me stupid with women, Chief, but the lady didn't seem to need the distance. I can understand your reluctance, but maybe she already knows and it's not a big deal to her."

"Excuse me if I don't feel like having full disclosure every time I meet someone, Jim," Blair answered with a touch of sarcasm. He took a deep breath and frowned. "I apologize for losing my temper. It's not your fault." He started to leave, but Jim caught him by the arm and pulled him back.

"That's charitable, but 'your' situation with Rainier is 'our' situation with Rainier, and I'm sorry. It is my fault. You handle it better than I would. What do you want? We can cancel. I'll even call her and take the heat. We'll do whatever you want, but personally, I wish you'd just go with the flow."

"Don't expect the worst?" Blair answered ruefully.

"Yeah, I guess so, although I realize that's a bit rich coming from me." He gently punched his partner on the shoulder. "Yes?"

"Oh all right, yes." Blair stood and shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans, not looking entirely happy.

Jim couldn't stop himself. "Well, you only need to tell me whether I should pack the two person tent or the smaller one..." He dissolved into laughter as his partner administered the punishment with the nearest couch pillow.

*****

Since neither of them were familiar with the area, Cheryl sent her SUV with her TA Jeff and squeezed into Jim's truck. The trip passed with lively conversation. She gave them a short lesson in morel hunting, and advised them to stick with just one or two kinds, due to their inexperience.

"Anything you bring in, someone else, or several someones, will check. Today's hunt will just be a short one, and we'll meet after a couple of hours, do the inspections and cook. A lot of people will go back, but since we're camping out, we can range farther tomorrow. I won't have so many group responsibilities."

"So they'll find more than morels?" Jim asked, sounding apprehensive.

"Lots more," she said, chuckling. "What's the matter, Jim? You afraid we'll ask you to eat something orange and squishy?" He nodded, looking sideways at Blair. "I'm sure we can talk you into trying some of the tamer ones, but the morels are the best, especially this time of year. There were a lot of fires in this area over the last few years, and morels do well in those conditions."

"If what Sandburg fixed the first time is any indication, I'm hooked."

"Don't salivate in the car, Jim," Blair joked. "It's not polite."

"You tried the steak?" she asked Blair gleefully. "I told you that one was a winner."

"Do they go with fish?" Jim asked. "I was going to dip my line, if Sandburg will let me."

Cheryl grinned. "If you fish, I insist. That opens up some serious culinary possibilities."

The next few hours were a whirlwind of activity. Dr. C. Rysen was one of the featured speakers, so Cheryl deserted them while they organized camp. The two men set up their own tent, and Cheryl's as well. Blair wandered over to the meeting area and Jim prepped his fishing gear. Jim could tell his partner was still on edge, but the activity gradually relaxed the younger man, much to Jim's relief.

Jim fully intended to head straight for the nearest stream, but actually found the whole enterprise a bit more interesting than he expected. They spent the afternoon hiking with Cheryl and several others, and Jim quickly appreciated the advantages of sentinel sight. He quickly became the champion morel finder. It was mid-afternoon before he begged off and finally hit the water, promising to bring his results back to camp before dinner was prepared.

When Jim returned to the main camp the group had a series of tables set up, filled with mushrooms - and things - of every shape, color and description. Specimens were examined, classified and sorted. Not surprisingly, Sandburg was in the thick of it, no doubt indulging his scientist heart to its content. Jim stood quietly off to the side, fervently hoping that his friend's worst fears wouldn't come to pass. Blair deserved to enjoy this weekend.

Cheryl noticed him first, standing there, trout in hand. With the abruptness Jim was coming to expect from their new acquaintance, she dumped a large cup of fungi into a container and came bounding over, red hair flying.

"Fish! Oooh - how many?" She eagerly examined the catch. "These are gorgeous, and you got plenty of them. You are my hero, Jim Ellison. Cleaned and ready to go! Everyone will sample tonight, but we are not sharing these babies. Blair!" she called across the clearing. The curly head didn't come up in response; Blair was clearly engaged. "I'll go get him," she said, but Jim caught her by the elbow before she could get away.

"Let me," Jim suggested. "I can start. Besides, he needs this."

Cheryl's eyes saddened. "He was very discrete, but he said you were working on a difficult case. He does look like he's have fun, doesn't he?" Both of them watched as Blair absorbed himself in a lesson on making a spore print. "Okay, here's what we're going to do," she continued, pulling two paper bags out of her shoulder bag. "These are morels, you already know about them, and these little ones are called spring corals. Slice them small, and sauté them in a little butter. When they brown, add some of the white wine I brought. I'll come over and put the spices in, and then we'll cook the fish. Do you have a preference?"

"Butterflied and grilled." He almost laughed out loud when her eyes lit up.

"I can taste them now. You burn them and I'll kill you. I have at least another half hour helping with the identification, and then I'll come find you." She smiled mischievously. "I have some other ones for you and Blair to try, but I won't let them touch this masterpiece."

"Orange and squishy?" he teased.

"Wouldn't you like to know," she shot back. "Now go chop."

In the end, they did share their culinary masterpiece. The veterans in the group nearly dropped their forks when informed that spring corals were included, which gave Jim a pretty good idea of what kind of a delicacy Cheryl had shared with them. Blair enthusiastically dove in to every dish, and Jim sampled more cautiously. He was certain mushrooms must have been part of the regular fare with the Chopec, but he really couldn't remember. For fungus, it was not bad. Actually, Cheryl's recipe was quite a bit beyond 'not bad'.

The group was thinning out, since only a few were staying overnight. Jim built a substantial fire near their tent site, and they enjoyed a fine evening of conversation and story swapping. Being a botanist, Cheryl was intently interested in Jim's time in Peru. For her part, Cheryl had done most of her academic work in temperate forests, but she rarely dwelled on her own work. She was far more interested in community events and their police work, although she was very sensitive to topics they couldn't discuss freely.

Blair volunteered to bring back some more wood, and briefly left his companions alone. Cheryl watched his form melt into the darkness and then said softly, "I know about his dissertation."

Jim poked at the fire. "He worries about the way people react. Does it matter?"

"Yes," she answered earnestly, "but perhaps not the way you'd think. I want to talk with him about it, but I don't want to upset him."

"Then don't," Jim stated flatly. He couldn't quite keep the touch of menace out of his voice.

"I like Blair, Jim. I'm only an assistant prof, but I have committee assignments like everyone else. One of mine is Rainier's Ethics Committee."

"I don't think you want to tap in to my feelings about Rainier University and ethics," Jim growled.

"I wouldn't blame you. I'm not going to go into this at length, but they violated Blair's right to due process sixteen ways to Sunday. I'm not the only one who knows it. I'm asking you, as his partner and his friend, why didn't he fight?"

Jim swallowed hard. Why indeed? "It was complicated."

"Okay - so it was complicated. Maybe there was more than you want, or can, say right now. But I want Blair to know that what happened between him and Chancellor Edwards doesn't make the slightest difference to me. Maybe you can help me convey that message without making him uncomfortable."

"I can do that," he answered, trying to keep his voice level.

"Good. Fair warning, Jim Ellison. At some point, if he gives me any reason to believe he'd be amenable, I'm going to approach Blair about a full review through the Ethics Committee. We don't answer to Edwards. He deserves no less, even if he's moved on to another life outside of academia." She stood up. "I'm going to wash up in the creek and turn in. How does an early start sound to you?"

"Sounds good." Before she took more than a few steps he added, "I'll talk to him."

She didn't look at him before she blended into the darkness herself. Jim was left with the fire and his own thoughts.

*****

"Why am I cooking pancakes while you two are goofing off? Where's my coffee?"

"Here's your mug, Chief. You're cooking because your breakfast creations are better than your map reading."

"I'm going to put a rock in your pancake, oh great ex-Ranger." Blair carefully flipped the second batch of pancakes, taking the time to make a face.

"Is he always like this?" Cheryl quipped. "Not a morning person, Blair?"

"I'm not going to talk to the two of you. I'm above it." He glared when that threat brought a chorus of snickers from his companions, who had no problems mocking the likelihood that he could keep his mouth shut. "In that case, I'm going to use all the syrup and leave none for you."

"Then we'll come monitor you more closely," Jim answered, tossing the map aside for later. "We're pretty much finished anyway." He busied himself slicing some apples to go with the rest of their breakfast.

During their meal Cheryl explained to Blair in more detail where they were headed. She'd been in the area the previous fall. It was on the border of a much larger fire zone, so burned over areas were interspersed with forested sections. It was a good spot for mushroom foraging. They would navigate by compass, but there were good visual landmarks and getting lost wasn't really a problem. The area was bordered by road on two sides, so if the were desperate they could walk either south or west and hit a road.

They broke camp and packed up the truck. By midmorning they had hiked into a small creek. Jim planned on fishing, and they had a rendezvous spot picked out for noon. Cheryl had the compass, Blair had a basket and a knife. Jim allowed his hearing to track them for a long time, but wasn't concerned when they moved out of range. He turned his attention to the trout.

Jim worked his way slowly up the stream course. For early summer, it was a beautiful day, sunny, but not hot. He changed flies frequently, trying to match what was hatching at the moment. Jim gradually opened his senses, confident that he could relax the safeguards that were necessary in a bustling city like Cascade. It felt wonderful to let all other issues recede into the background.

After his second fish his mind came back to Cheryl. Knowing his partner's level of anxiety, he'd wasted no time in letting him know that she knew about the diss and didn't judge Blair in the light of that incident. Blair seemed relieved that their growing friendship wasn't going to blow up in his face. Jim had hinted there was more to discuss, but Blair had begged off.

He crossed to the opposite side of the stream, using a series of rocks and fallen logs. Jim knew he needed to come to terms with the possibility that Cheryl's interest might have real potential. Jim would readily admit that having Blair as a fulltime partner was heaven as far as he was concerned. He reveled in the stability; a huge change from the days when Blair's observer credentials could be pulled at a moment's notice. He also knew that for Blair, the career change was a mixed blessing. Blair's reaction to the drug lab case was a clear indication of that. If there was a better, richer path for his friend, Jim knew he should be willing to encourage and assist.

Even if it costs you your partner?

Now that was the question that really needed an answer.

*****

Blair listened carefully to Cheryl's explanation. He'd picked up a lot already, like the morels had to be hollow; basic, easy stuff. There was color, smell, stem characteristics, gill structure. Cheryl made it easy and fun. The time slipped by and he was totally enjoying himself. He was holding a bag open for another specimen when she asked, "Do you miss teaching?" Blair nearly dropped the basket, the bag and the knife. He wasn't expecting it.

"Yes. Sometimes. I miss what you're doing right now, working one on one with a student who wants to learn. I don't miss the politics, or the grading."

"You've got that right," she answered with a smile. "I can picture you as a teacher, an excellent one."

"I'll accept the complement, but it was kind of another life. Could we talk about something else?"

"Yes, and I apologize for upsetting you. It just slipped out." They walked a little while before Cheryl added, "I hope you know that what you do for a living isn't who you are, at least in the most important aspects. I value your friendship, period."

"That's good to know. I admit to being overly cautious." He sighed. "Jim worries, you know?"

She shook her head smiling, walked over and took his hand. "Men are such boneheads. The two of you worry about each other. Come on. I think there's a good spot just through those trees."

Bushwhacking through the underbrush took some time. Cheryl spotted several species that they left in place, either because they weren't good eating or too difficult to identify correctly. She took the time to point them out as ones to avoid. They struggled up a fairly steep slope, and came into a clearing on the ridge-top, exactly as Cheryl remembered. They also discovered it was occupied, much to their surprise.

"Wow," Cheryl commented, looking around. "This is a remote place to set up a camp. How'd they get in here, ATV's?"

Blair didn't answer. His eyes were casting about, analyzing what he was looking at. Stove. Sterno. Bottles of liquids. Diet pills, boxes of them.

"Move!" he hissed, pulling her back into the trees. "Get out of here! It's a meth lab."

*****

Jim winced as the ATV's roared by, bouncing across the stream. He'd been concentrating on the light playing across the water, and had left his hearing wide open without paying much attention. His fishing rod bounced on the rocks as he covered his ears in pain.

They hadn't seen him, but as soon as his ears stopped ringing, Jim dialed up his vision to follow them. ATV's weren't supposed to be off the trails in this part of the forest, and these guys were definitely off the trail. He was out of his jurisdiction, but he wasn't above taking names and numbers and reporting the jerks later. It certainly put him out of the mood for fishing. Once he had a fairly good idea of where the two riders headed, he took his bearings, and set out for the rendezvous point.

*****

Blair and Cheryl both heard the roar of the ATV's at the same time. Blair pulled her to the ground, gesturing for silence. They weren't far enough into the trees to have full cover if they tried to move. They were stuck until these guys got distracted enough to make a getaway.

They lay there, flattened behind a log and some very skimpy vegetation. Blair desperately tried to keep an eye on the newcomers without betraying their position. The two men moved their direction, and Blair burrowed his head, pulling Cheryl's head down as well. With no other alternatives, he listened closely to their conversation. As the minutes dragged on, he realized that these were the ones they had chased the length and breadth of Cascade. These were the men who had beaten a child and killed two cops. Not only did he have to get Cheryl out of here, he needed to get these guys while the opportunity was available. He refused to get this close and allow them to slip away again.

They moved off again, apparently setting up their cooking area. Blair pantomimed what they needed to do. Cheryl silently nodded her understanding. Finally, the moment came when the men were absorbed moving some solvents and their backs were turned. Taking the minimal opportunity, the two slithered into the deeper cover with as much silence and haste as they could manage.

Blair looked cautiously up the slope again. "If we seen even so much as the whites of their eyes, I want you to take off. You understand me? Run like hell and don't look back."

"You know something about them! I can tell from the look on your face," Cheryl whispered.

"Yeah," Blair answered, keeping a careful watch up the hill. "I think they're guys we've been chasing for months. The last time we got really close, they killed two cops. I need to get you out of here."

Cheryl paled, but shook her head. "If they're killers, you can't take the chance of letting them get away."

"That's a nice sentiment, but what are we going to use for the arrest?" Blair snapped back. "A mushroom knife? Our good looks? I don't have my service revolver."

They sat hunkered down, straining to hear what was going on above them. "Blair, we can't get out of here without crossing a lot of open ground. We can't stay, we can't go, and I don't think the two of us together can take them by surprise. What do you think Jim will do if we don't show up?

"Backtrack looking for us. Where are we in relation to the rendezvous site?"

Cheryl considered for a moment. "He should be south, but there's a high ridge in between. No direct line of sight, which I guess is both good and bad." A raucous bout of laughter above them sent them back to the ground. "I could run and try to make it to Jim while you keep watch on these creeps."

"They're probably armed. They'd gun you down without a thought."

"What if I went as far down slope as possible and acted like what I am, a mushroom hunter. If I made no move in their direction, wouldn't they just watch and ignore me?"

"Maybe, but it's a huge risk. What if they start shooting? You'd be a sitting duck. It's crazy."

"If you have to play the hero, Blair Sandburg, go back up to the edge of camp while I try it. If they go after me, you can give them something else to worry about and I'll make a break for it. It isn't any worse of a plan than the both of us trying it, or waiting for Jim to stumble into trouble."

"Okay." He handed her the basket and checked his watch. "You give me fifteen minutes to get back into up there, and then try it. If anything makes you think that something's gone wrong, take off. Be careful!"

They separated. Blair used their same path back up to the ridge, figuring the less brush he had to disturb the quieter he would be. He'd pause every now and then to monitor what was going on above him on the ridge. He had the mushrooming knife, and he actively looked for a solid branch or rock he could use as a weapon. Carefully he moved into position.

*****

They were late. Jim didn't really mind. They hadn't set a precise time, but this was getting ridiculous. He dusted off a few fir needles and looked off in the direction Cheryl planned on covering. Jim hoped she was running the compass. Sandburg had many other gifts, but orienteering was definitely not one of them.

He took one last look, and realized he didn't have a direct line of sight. He was bored, and didn't feel like sitting. He'd just open his hearing up while he worked towards Cheryl and Sandburg. He wasn't terribly worried about missing them.

*****

Cheryl checked her watch one more time. Blair had said fifteen minutes, but it had taken her longer than that. She hadn't realized how much faster they'd gone when they could make all the noise they wanted. She murmured a little prayer for their safety. She was scared to death, but she sure wasn't going to sit hiding under a bush until either Jim or Blair tried something. It took every ounce of discipline to stand up and stroll out into the open like she didn't have a care in the world.

*****

Jim was taking his time, but he was getting a little impatient. Knowing the level of energy Cheryl and Sandburg generated, they ought to be making plenty of noise. If Sandburg had managed to get himself lost, he was going to wring his neck. If he couldn't see or hear them by now, he had quite a bit of walking in the wrong direction to do. Good thing they weren't on a real strict schedule.

Jim checked the nearby landmarks to make sure he was headed in the right direction. He figured he needed to angle a little more north and west. It was away from the stream, but more in the direction he expected his two companions to be coming from. He'd cross the stream again, anyway.

****

"Ben! Hey man, check this out! We got company."

"Where?"

"Down there. Looks like a girl."

A chill ran through Blair. He tightened his grip on his makeshift club, his body tense.

"Is she coming this way?"

"Doesn't look like it. How you want to handle it?"

"We haven't really gotten going yet. We'll hold off on processing for a bit and watch. Go down and warn her off, if necessary."

"She'd pass the time, man. Cooking is so boring. I could do with some entertainment."

"We don't need the hassle of getting rid of her later. Come on - I don't trust you not to do something stupid."

Blair silently left his hiding place, keeping the two men in sight. With utmost care, he circulated through their camp, noting the location of different materials that he might sabotage, and the open cans of beer. He watched the watchers, retreating only when they seemed to lose interest in Cheryl.

****

Jim swore under his breath. Another ATV. What was this, a convention or something? The turkey was coming right up the streambed.

Thoroughly irritated, he located the ATV a good two hundred yards away, bouncing along the water's edge, just like he thought. If he could fly, he'd go down there and give the guy a piece of his mind. He stood there, watching in disgust. Abruptly, the guy's head jerked around. He gunned the engine and raced off in an odd direction, through one of the burned over clearings. It took Jim a moment to realize what was going on and he took off down the slope, crashing through the trees and brush at a dead run.

The bastard was trying to run down Cheryl Rysen, who was running frantically to stay out of harm's way.

Jim could only catch an occasional glimpse as he descended at breakneck speed. Cheryl was doing quite a job, dodging around the minimal obstacles she had available. Jim used his hearing more than his eyesight to keep track of her position. He could tell she was starting to tire. Smart woman - she was running his direction, toward the treeline, whenever possible. Jim tried to calculate the distance. If he showed himself too soon he'd tip the guy off.

The ATV was right on her heels when Jim launched himself towards the driver, taking him off the ATV and crushing them both into the dirt. The ATV bounced away and ended up on its side. Jim came to his feet expecting a fight, but the man lay motionless on the ground. He turned to find Cheryl, fearing the worst.

She could barely speak as she tried to catch her breath. "Tie...him up! Blair...lab...up there!" She waved her hands wildly. "Two more... on top." She leaned down, with her hands on her knees, panting, while Jim secured their prisoner.

They retraced Cheryl's steps. It was a long way across the clearing and back up the hill. They were slowed down by both their need for quiet and the fact that Cheryl still hadn't had time to recover. Jim flirted with the idea of sending her toward the truck, or leaving her somewhere. She protested, stubbornly maintaining she was safer at his side, and that he needed her to get him back to Blair by the quickest route.

As they came closer, he began to listen intently. He'd expected voices, or at least the sound of the meth lab in operation. He motioned Cheryl to stay behind him, but she listened about as well as Sandburg when he was an observer. What was it about these academics?

He was almost to the edge of the spot Cheryl indicated when none other than Sandburg appeared in clear view. "Come on up, guys. It's pretty quiet up here."

"What the hell?" Jim started, looking at his partner in confusion. The two suspects were sprawled on the ground, dead to the world. Blair looked like he didn't have a scratch on him. "Sandburg, how...?"

Blair just grinned and gave Cheryl a handful of brownish looking goo. She started to laugh, almost hysterically. She collapsed onto her knees, shaking her head.

Jim was tired, bruised and ready to kill them both, even though he was incredibly relieved. "Okay, you two, what's the joke?"

"These," Cheryl sputtered. "Amanita pantherina, also known as the Panther. I pointed them out on the way up. Thirty minutes and you get confusion, dizziness and sleep that's near a coma. They'll be totally out for a couple of hours at least. How'd you do it?"

"Squished them up and squeezed the pulp into their beer when they went to watch you. I figured even if it just made them sick that was to our advantage." He looked at Jim's astonished face and shrugged. "I had a good teacher, and I paid attention. What are we going to do with these guys now?"

Jim took a seat on a boulder and rubbed his forehead. "Only you, Sandburg, only you. I'm pulling rank. You have to write the report."

Epilogue

"Yes, sir, they're in lockup right now. Serena's checking the hair samples we collected earlier to see if we have a match. We have them on the meth processing as it is. We can get the other guy on assault or attempted murder, and he did have processing materials on the ATV."

"Yes, sir, the lab site is secure. The forest service posted some personnel, and I had a lab team and some officers sent up as well."

"No, we hauled them back in the truck, tied up in the back."

"Yes, I'm sure it was cruel and unusual, but they we unconscious at the time. Captain, why don't we let the DA worry about using mushrooms to subdue the suspects is excessive force."

"Yes, sir, I'll tell Sandburg to just shoot them next time. According to Dr. Rysen, the worst they'll have is some really weird dreams. We notified the medical staff to keep an eye on them, and the guy with the concussion is under guard at Cascade General."

"Very good, sir. Enjoy the game." Jim looked across the loft at Cheryl and Blair as he hung up the phone. "Simon's a little upset, but I think he'll get over it." Blair looked as though the weight of the world had been lifted off his shoulders. He just couldn't stop grinning.

"Well, this has been fun and all, guys, but I was supposed to cook you two dinner tonight." Cheryl was perched on the back of Jim's couch, having showered and borrowed some sweats from her hosts. "How does trout and morels sound?"

Both men shook their heads in unison. Jim handed Cheryl a coat and offered his arm. "Uh...I think we're going out. No offense, but we're going somewhere that doesn't have a single mushroom on the menu. I'm buying."

The End