| Target by
Kristine Williams Part
6
How was he going to make this one up to Jim? Unless Carpenter suddenly
confessed, and admitted he'd been on the roof of that building with a sniper's
rifle, Blair didn't see any easy way out of this one. The worst of it was, everything
had been smoothing itself out. Much quicker than Blair had expected, too. Having
Karen Blake speak to them at the funeral that morning had done a lot to improve
Blair's own outlook on the whole mess. And her show of support for Jim couldn't
have been lost on the other officers there. All he could hope for now, was
for them to know where the blame belonged. It wasn't Jim who had accused anyone.
If there was heat--and God knew there would be--it needed to be directed at him,
not Jim. By the time Blair reached the store, he had a splitting headache. He
was grateful for his list. Without it, he would have spent 30 minutes walking
up and down each aisle, trying to remember why he was there. As it was, shopping
took more than 40 minutes. After squeezing up and down the aisle past middle aged
women who continually ran into people they hadn't seen in "ages" and
men who couldn't find the right can of peas, his headache was raging as he loaded
Jim's truck. He put the last bag in and found the aspirin lying on top. In
no mood to wait this pain out, he reached for the bottle. He'd brought along his
water, and warm as it was, it washed the pills down all right. That done, he tossed
the bottle back into the bag...and missed. "Great." Blair sighed.
There just wasn't going to be anything about this afternoon that was going to
go well. The bottle had fallen on the floorboards in the back seat, where it could
stay, if he thought he'd remember to find it when he got home. Blair knew himself
better than that. He recapped the water bottle, then bent over to reach for the
aspirin. The bullet pierced the window, two inches above Blair's head.
"What the hell happened?" Jim charged out of the patrol car almost
before it stopped, looking first at Blair with searching eyes. "Are you all
right?" Blair looked at Simon, hoping the Captain would explain why Jim's
truck was now missing a passenger door window, and the interior was dusted with
shards of broken glass. He'd tried to call Jim after the attack, but his partner
had been on the phone, making those calls, so Blair had been forced to call Simon.
Of course, that was after he'd crawled back out from under the truck, ten minutes
after the single shot that had taken out the window instead of his head. "Looks
like whoever took a shot at you both back at the University mistook Sandburg for
you and tried again." Simon took the cigar from his mouth and pointed with
it to the truck. "Must have followed him here." He glanced behind them
to the store across the street. "I've had a team scouring the area for a
spent cartridge, but I have a feeling we're dealing with a neat freak here."
Jim looked at Blair. "You're all right?" "Yeah, I'm fine.
I don't suppose..." Blair let his sentence trail as he looked from Jim to
Simon. "He was in my office when the call came through. He and
his partner," Simon replied, somewhat hotly. Blair looked at Jim and saw
the blue anger flare. He didn't care. Someone was trying to kill Jim, whether
it was Carpenter or not. Blair didn't care how mad he got. He didn't care if they
kicked him out of the Station and took away his observer ID. Someone wanted Jim
dead. "Jim, did you get anywhere with the license plates?" He
shook his head, shooting one more look at Blair before turning back to the truck.
"No, sir, not yet. I've made it about halfway through the list and so far
come up empty." "That plate is our only lead." Simon stabbed
the air with his cigar. "I want you back at the Station working on those
license plates. You get as much help as you need, but you get through that list."
Simon shot Blair a look that made him flinch. The Captain's eyes all but accused
him of not helping Jim. He turned back to Jim. "We've got a nutcase on
our hands, and I think we can rule out random shootings or copycat snipers. This
guy, whoever he is, is after you, Jim." He glanced at Blair again quickly.
"And I want you both where I can see you until we get a lead on this guy."
"Right, Captain." Jim nodded toward the truck. Let's go, Chief."
Blair hurried around to the other side, more to get some distance between himself
and Captain Banks than to get in the truck. He'd seen Simon angry before, he'd
even seen Simon angry at him before. But he'd never felt the kind of
hostility from the Captain that he had just then. And he deserved it, too. He'd
been no help to Jim looking through those names. He'd caused more than his share
of trouble back at the Station, putting Simon in the middle of an internal problem
he was sure the Captain would rather have let Jim handle in his own way. And now,
through no fault of his own, he'd been the bearer of bad news, calling Simon to
tell him he'd just been shot at, while driving Jim's truck. Jim got in and
started the engine, then waited for Simon's patrol car to pull away before following
it. "Jim, I.." "Are you hurt?" Jim asked, glancing at
Blair for an instant before turning back to the road. "No." Blair
shook his head and looked at the floorboards. Jim's tone of voice indicated that
the conversation--what there had just been of it--was over. He sighed and ran
a hand through his hair. The headache hadn't gone away. In fact, it was worse.
Something rolled out from under the seat and he reached down, retrieving the aspirin
bottle. He almost laughed. The pills hadn't gotten rid of his headache, but they
had saved his life. As much as Blair wanted to share that little bit of irony
with Jim, that jaw of steel advised him against it. Back at the Station, Blair
was sent to get another copy of the DMV printout while Jim went to his desk to
fill out a request for a window replacement. While downstairs, Blair made a few
copies of the printout, lingering at the copy machine for as long as he could
justify. Waiting for him upstairs was an angry Captain, a partner who was stressed
out and upset, and a room full of officers who most likely hoped Blair never returned.
But he had to. Jim was up there waiting, not only for the printouts, but for the
jerk who got him into this mess to get up there and stick it out with him. Fine.
He could do that. He could handle a room full of people being mad at him. Maybe
that would take some heat off Jim, and then he'd calm down sooner. Blair sat
beside Jim at his desk and helped his partner finish the list of red jeeps with
the partial plate he had seen. There wasn't much for him to do, other than cross
each name off after Jim contacted them. None of the names on the list had meant
anything, and after checking Jim's arrest records for the past three years against
the list, they ruled out any recently paroled inmates. In fact, when they finished
the entire printout, they were left with only one possible lead; a rental. Jim
tore the information from the pad he'd been writing in and hung up the phone.
"Come on, Chief." Blair followed Jim into Simon's office, where he
explained the only lead they had. "The jeep's in the lot right now. Sandburg
and I will go down there and have a look at the rental records. I'd like to go
through the car before forensics gets there." Simon looked at Jim, then
sighed reluctantly. "All right, Jim. Just be careful. You'll have to take
a patrol car, they still have yours down at the shop. If anyone is following you
based on that thing, they might not see you leave." "Right, sir."
Blair followed Jim once again as they left, heading downstairs to the garage.
He'd never felt so out of place as he did just then. There was no talk in the
bullpen that he heard, but it dawned on him while helping Jim go over the printout,
that Jim was able to hear everything being said on the entire floor, if he wanted
to. Blair could remain ignorant of anything being talked about behind his back,
but his partner would hear it all. He could only imagine what was being said,
when they thought Jim couldn't hear. In the parking garage, they found a patrol
car to use and headed across town to the rental agency. Blair was silent the entire
drive, and it was an uncomfortable silence. He knew accusing a member of such
a close-knit society was taboo, but he'd hoped the fact that the suspicions had
been Blair's, and not Jim's, would have helped. It hadn't. He wanted to apologize,
but he wasn't sorry. If it wasn't Carpenter, fine. But if it was... "You're
being quiet." Jim glanced at him as they turned onto the street they were
looking for. "Yeah." Blair looked out the passenger window, searching
for the rental agency. "I think I've said enough lately, don't you?"
Jim laughed shortly. "That's not something I ever thought I'd hear you
say." They found the parking lot and he pulled in, then found an empty spot
next to the main building. Blair reached for the door handle, but Jim's hand
on his arm stopped him. "Hang on a minute, Chief. We need to get back
on the same page here." Blair turned and looked at Jim, confused. "About
Carpenter." "Jim, listen, I'm--" "No, you listen."
Jim held up a hand and Blair stopped himself. "I meant what I said about
not wanting to bring Simon into this. But he is now, and so is everyone else in
the Department." Blair opened his mouth once again to apologize, but Jim's
hand came back up, silencing him. "I also meant it when I said I had taken
a stand about all this." He sighed and let the hand drop to the seat of the
patrol car. "I won't lie to you, Sandburg, I really wish you hadn't said
anything. But you did. That doesn't change the way I feel. You're still my partner,
and my friend, and I'm not backing down on anything I've ever said or done."
Blair's gaze had dropped to the floor of the car, but now he looked up, meeting
Jim's eyes. He wasn't flinching. Jim Ellison never flinched. He didn't lie, either.
At least never to Blair. And he never said something he didn't mean.
"Yes, I was a little angry about this. But just because it makes working
around the Station a little stressful. There were other ways to go about this.
But what's done is done. I'm still behind you, and I'm still behind my decisions.
And listen, Chief, I'm not angry with you." Blair's eyes failed him and
he looked out the windshield for a minute, contemplating what Jim had just said.
He'd meant it. All of it. Of that, Blair was certain. And now he was even more
determined to stick with him, and take whatever fallout was coming, due to his
accusations in his friend's name. If Jim could stand it, then so could he. "Are
we okay on this?" He nodded, looking back at his partner. "Yeah,
we're okay. Thanks, man." Jim smiled, then patted him on the shoulder.
"Okay. Let's go see about this red jeep."
The clerk
behind the counter smiled as they walked in, glancing at the badge Jim was holding
out. "You must be Detective Ellison?" She looked at Jim, then Blair.
"Here about the jeep?" "Yes, that's right." Jim pocketed
his ID and approached. She was very attractive, with long brown hair and a sparkling
smile that seemed to linger in Blair's general direction, as they tended to do.
Jim read her name tag. S. Peters. "We spoke on the phone, Miss Peters. I'm
going to have to take a look at your rental records, and the jeep itself."
"Of course." Her smile remained, but it was directed at Jim now as
she handed him a slip of paper. "These are the last three people to have
that jeep out, but the last one, Mr. Handleson, had it the past two weeks, and
returned it yesterday afternoon, just after 3PM." She reached down below
the counter and retrieved a key. "It's been here ever since. The cleaning
crew just finished with it an hour ago." "Cleaning crew?" Jim's
heart sank. He should have known it would be detailed out after being returned.
And he'd only just called about it, so there was no time to stop them. "Yes.
Standard policy is to clean and wash all returns prior to them going out again.
I'll show you to the jeep." Jim glanced at Blair while she came out from
the counter. His partner's eyebrows rose, but there was still a look of hopefulness
there. They followed her out of the building and through a line of freshly washed
cars. At the very end of the row, was a shiny, clean, red jeep. License number
BAF 783. "I have a forensics team on its way here. We may need to take
it to impound." Miss Peters shrugged, still smiling. "Whatever you
need, officers." She indicated the building with a long, slender finger.
"I'll just be inside if you need anything." "Thank you."
Jim smiled and waited until she was near the office. "Great." He looked
back at the jeep in frustration. "Relax, Jim. I used to clean these things
during the summer when I was in high school. If these guys are anything like we
were, there's still plenty to be found inside." Blair patted Jim on the back
briefly, then motioned to the jeep. There was a lot Jim could have said just
then, but he refrained. Blair's undying faith in his abilities was showing through
again. Any comments about the state of his roommate's bedroom could wait. Jim
opened the driver's side door and leaned into the jeep. He glanced around briefly,
then reached for the glove compartment. It was empty except for a map of Cascade.
The floorboards had been vacuumed, the interior polished with some lemon-scented
cleaner. Jim shook his head and backed out. "It's no good. They've used
some kind of leather cleaner in here. It's got a real powerful citrus odor."
"Just filter them out, Jim. You should be able to get past the cleaners,
soaps and anything else they put in here." Jim sighed. He knew better
than to contradict Blair when it came to his Sentinel talents, but sometimes the
kid knew more about dealing with them than even Jim did. "Just identify
the chemical cleaners, and filter them out one by one." Blair stood beside
the jeep, watching. Jim paused for just a moment, then climbed back inside
and sat in the driver's seat. He took a deep breath through his nose, picking
out the smell of lemons, soap, alcohol. Gradually those smells lost all meaning,
and something else tickled the back of his nose. Something familiar. Something
out of place in a rental car. "I smell gunpowder." He took another
breath and tried to hold the scent in his nose for as long as he could. "There's
definitely been a discharged gun in here." He looked at Blair, who was nodding.
"It's faint, but there is just a little bit. Not enough for forensics to
find, I'm sure." "Yeah, but Jim, it's something. At least we know
this is the right car." Jim got out of the jeep and pulled the printout
from his pocket. "We might have the car, Chief, but we're far from having
the gun, or the shooter." He scanned the paper, but Blair's look didn't escape
notice. His partner could take the smallest bit of circumstantial evidence, put
it in Jim's hand, and assume the case was all but closed. Never mind the hard
evidence, the facts, the little details one needed to actually arrest someone.
No, none of that seemed to matter with Blair. The kid had this faith in Jim, a
faith that anything could be solved once Jim was on the case. A faith Jim never
felt he deserved. But God, it was a faith that kept him going sometimes!
Might not get him an arrest, but it gave him the strength to face days like this.
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