Soul Shadows
Danae
Disclaimer: The boys do not belong to me. They belong to Pet
Fly. I'm just borrowing them for a bit. I mean no harm,
infringement, or disrespect and I certainly am not getting paid
for this. I'm just having some fun.
As ever, thanks to my wonderful betas, Beth, Missy, Laura and
Paulette. Thanks to Nickerbits for bidding for this story in the
auction. This one's for you! Thanks to Michelle, my friend and
inspiration! And last but not least, to everyone that writes me
with feedback and encourages me with their words of support.
There are some references to and some spoilers for S2, BMB, and
Cypher. And some references to the deaths of various vehicles
. And a few bad words. Hmmmm, can't think of anything else.
Archive? Sure.
Soul Shadows
Danae
_________________
1899
Sheriff Dawson shook his head and reholstered his weapon.
Slowly, he made his way over to the body of the woman he had
just been forced to shoot. Maggie Radcliff still clutched the
bloody knife she had used to kill her sister and probably her
brother as well in her hand. Dawson kicked it away and stooped
down to make sure she was dead. He sighed. She was dead. The
little town of Cascade was about to be turned on its collective
ear. Dawson did not relish the thought of having to explain what
had apparently happened to one of the town's most prominent
families. Sarah Radcliff was dead by her sister's hand, Margaret
Radcliff was dead, shot in self-defense as the woman approached
Dawson with the knife upraised. And Devan Radcliff was still
missing and more than likely dead as well. Dawson figured they
would find the young man's body somewhere in or near the house.
His deputy was searching as Dawson tried to piece together what
had happened to bring about these strange events. The picture,
as he knew already, would not be a pretty one and he decided,
then and there, that some of what he knew would never see the
light of day.
"Sheriff, I found Van Radcliff. He's dead too, sir, stabbed to
death like Sarah. He's in the garden out back, laid out all nice
like on a bed of flower petals. It's eerie looking. At first
you think he's just asleep, 'til you get close and see the
blood."
Dawson grimaced and swore under his breath. It was a blow that
hit him right in the chest, despite the fact that he had known
that the news would be coming. Poor, sad Van Radcliff was dead
before he had even had a real chance at life. And the manner of
his death was confusing. The events just kept getting stranger
and harder to explain. This was going to be ugly if Dawson was
not very careful. Careful, he would be, though. Devan Radcliff
deserved some peace, not the scandal that the truth would cause.
It was up to him to make sure that Van got that peace and was
seen forever as the innocent victim that he was. Dawson
swallowed hard against the lump his throat and resisted the urge
to kick the dead body of Maggie Radcliff at his feet. Instead,
he turned to go and say goodbye to the young man that he had
grown to care for a great deal.
___________________________________________________________
Present day
Jim Ellison glanced at the realtor's sign on the lawn of the old
Victorian house as he made his way up the walk to the door.
"Comin', Chief?" he called back to his partner. Blair was still
standing at the truck, a puzzled and anxious look on his face.
"Um, yeah." The younger man finally moved toward the house.
Satisfied, Jim walked through the open door and greeted his
captain. "What do we have, Sir?"
"Looks like a murder-suicide," Captain Simon Banks told his
friend and detective. He pointed down at the body that lay at
the foot of the stairs. "That's Frances Strausman. It looks
like her husband, Robert, stabbed her to death as she came in
from work then he--" Simon motioned for Jim to follow him as he
made his way into a room to the left of the foyer, "--came in
here, sat down at his desk and shot himself in the head."
Jim approached the body of Robert Strausman. "Okay. Sounds
pretty cut and dried to me. Why are we here?"
"Because this is the third such murder-suicide to take place in
this house in the past two years. It's getting a little too cut
and dried."
"Meaning?"
"Meaning that I want you to see if you can pick up any traces of
a third party in all this."
"Like maybe someone is killing the people who live in this house
and making it look like murder-suicides?"
"Exactly."
"That's really reaching, Simon."
"Maybe but the Strausmans were close personal friends of
Congressman Phillip Mills who has already called the mayor, who
called the commissioner, who called me. Mills says that there is
no way that Robert Strausman would kill his wife or himself and
he wants the 'real' murderer found."
"Great, politics and politicians. Just what I wanted to deal
with today. Sandburg? Where are you?" Jim moved around Banks
to look for his Guide.
Simon chuckled. "What's up with your shadow? Usually you can't
shake him."
"I don't know. I better find him before he gets into some kind
of trouble."
_______________________________________________________
Blair Sandburg, Sentinel's Guide, anthropologist, and police
observer, had observed quite enough already. The bloody body of
Frances Strausman had not been covered and Blair's stomach had
flipped at the sight of the knife protruding from the woman's
chest. He found himself in the overgrown garden in the back of
the house, trying to catch his breath. He had seen dead bodies
before since he started working Jim and berated himself for his
reaction. He needed to get back inside. Jim was probably
looking for him. As he turned from the flowers of the garden,
however, to face the house, a feeling of dread swept over him.
Something about the house troubled him, frightened him. He took
a deep breath and closed his eyes, trying to center himself.
He released the breath slowly and opened his eyes to an
unfamiliar scene. The garden, overgrown just moments before, was
pristine and alive with laughter and color. Rose petals drifted
down around him and he saw a woman skip by him in a long silk
dress only to disappear into thin air as the garden changed
again, back to its state of neglect. A shiver ran through him
and he yelped as a hand closed over his shoulder.
"Are you okay, Blair? Are you feeling all right?" Jim's hand
touched his forehead.
Blair released the breath he was holding. "I'm fine, Jim."
"I didn't mean to startle you, Chief. Come on, we got work to
do." He let Jim's hand guide him back toward the house. He did
not really want to go back inside the structure but his Sentinel
needed him. Jim plucked something out of his hair then and
handed it to him. "Playing in the roses, Chief, while I'm
working. I'll remember that the next time you want to do some
tests." Jim chuckled while Blair stared at the perfect pink rose
petal in his hand. He did not bother to point out to Jim that
while there were some flowers in the garden, the roses were not
in bloom.
______________________________________________________________
Blair tried to focus on what Jim was doing. The Sentinel dropped
a long blond hair into a plastic evidence bag and sealed it.
Blair remembered that Frances Strausman had short reddish brown
hair with hints of gray mixed in. Blair shifted on his feet and
looked around himself. He was very uncomfortable. He felt like
he was being watched. Finally, he had to say something. "Jim,
there's something strange about this house. I feel like
somebody's watching me."
"It's just an old house, Sandburg. What? You think it's haunted
or something?" The glint of amusement in Jim's eyes irritated
Blair.
"Fine, Jim. Laugh at me, but I don't like this house."
"Then go outside, Chief. I've got a few more things to check out
and you aren't exactly much help while you're looking around for
Casper the Friendly Ghost." Jim chuckled at him as he continued
to search for anything that might be considered evidence.
"Actually, I don't think what's here is exactly friendly, Jim."
Blair remarked.
"Over-active imagination, Sandburg."
A wave of cold air hit Blair then and he rubbed his suddenly cold
arms. A woman's voice whispered from just behind him. He
whirled but there was no one there. "Did you hear that, Jim?"
"Hear what?"
"That woman," Blair insisted, still hearing the indistinct
words.
"What woman? Blair, this isn't funny. I'd like to get done here
sometime soon. Cut it out."
"You didn't hear her?"
Jim sighed heavily. "The only thing I hear is you, Blair."
"I hear a woman whispering something behind me."
"There is no woman, Sandburg. There is no whispering. Trust
me, I'm a Sentinel. I would know." Jim tapped his ear with one
finger.
Blair rolled his eyes at him. Another wave of cold swept over
him and he took an involuntary step backward. The whispering had
stopped, but then something touched him. "I've got to go, Jim,"
he said quickly, the urge to escape taking over his brain.
"Good, go. That's what I said a minute ago. You're freaking out
on me here. Now, get. Go wait in the truck."
Blair was out the front door before Jim finished the last
sentence. The eerie feeling followed him, however. He paced by
the truck as Dan Wolfe's team brought out the bodies of the
Strausmans. Simon was not far behind them.
"What are you doing out here, Sandburg? Doesn't Jim need you
inside?"
"He says he's almost done and I can't go back in there."
"Why not?"
"Something's not right about this place, Simon."
"Humph, you know, supposedly, this place is haunted. Some rich
debutante killed her twin sister and little brother here a long
time ago. It's a Cascade legend."
Blair hardly heard the captain as the whispering returned,
seemingly just over his shoulder. This time there were two
distinct voices. "Simon, do you hear whispering?"
"What? No. Who's whispering? What are they saying?"
"Women. I can't make out what they're saying."
"What women?"
"I think I'm going crazy. I hear somebody whispering. Is there
anybody behind me?"
Simon was looking at him strangely. "No, Blair, there's nobody
behind you."
He had Simon worried, he could tell. The man had called him by
his first name. Blair tried to smile. "Maybe I'm just tired."
He shrugged and opened the passenger door of the truck.
"Yeah. You don't get enough sleep, Sandburg."
"Yeah, that's probably it. Sorry I worried you, Simon." Blair
climbed into the truck. "Hey, could we not mention this to Jim?
He'll hover like a mother hen."
"On one condition. You get some real rest and I'll keep my mouth
shut. How's that?"
"Okay." Blair closed the door as Simon walked away. The
whispering was still there. Blair leaned his head back on the
seat and tried to ignore it.
______________________________________________________________
...."Van! You've come home to me, my beautiful boy! Let me look
at you. Maggie, isn't he handsome?"
Blair could not move as the woman's arms enclosed him. Another
woman appeared then, a scowl on her face. "Quite, for a demon
child."
"Maggie! Don't say such things. He's reborn, free of the
curse."
"He's still cursed. He'll always be cursed. We both made sure
of that. He should die."
Blair could not make his voice work. He trembled at the hatred
he saw in the second woman's green eyes. A growl to his right
made him turn his head. His spirit guide was there, hackles
raised and teeth bared.
"You see? The hounds of hell try to protect him."
"I won't let you kill him again."
"Oh, Sarah, you fool. You didn't let me the first time." The
woman began to laugh.....
_________________________________________________________
"Okay, Chief." Jim hopped into the truck, startling Sandburg out
of what was obviously an unpleasant dream. His Guide's heart
rate skyrocketed and a strangled scream escaped his lips as he
raised a fist to Jim. Jim moved quickly to block Blair's punch.
"Whoa, whoa! Hey, it's me. Geez, Sandburg, what has you so
spooked?"
The fist was lowered slowly and Jim watched as Blair made a
conscious effort to calm himself. "Can we just get the hell away
from here, please? This place gives me the creeps."
Jim smirked at his young partner. "No problem. We're outta
here." Jim cranked the truck and pulled out of the driveway.
"So, you don't like Cascade's haunted mansion, huh?" he asked,
openly grinning.
"What?"
"The Radcliff House."
"That's the Radcliff House? I've heard of it but I never knew
where it was. Man, Jim, I think that place is haunted for real."
"Aw, come on, Blair! You don't really believe in that crap, do
you? You're a smart, educated scientist, right? Tell me you
don't believe in ghosts!" Jim laughed at the stricken look on
his friend's face. "You do, don't you?"
"Maybe I do, maybe I don't. I believe in a big black cat that I
can't see so why not ghosts?" Sarcasm dripped off Blair's words.
"Look, something just didn't feel right about the place. That's
all I'm saying."
"That's it. No more late night showings of Stephen King movies
for you, Junior." The look on Blair's face told Jim that his
humor was not appreciated.
"You didn't feel anything?"
"Nope, not a thing. Can't feel what's not there, Chief."
"And you didn't hear anything out of the ordinary?"
"Nope, can't hear..."
"What's not there, right." Blair turned away to stare out the
window.
Jim frowned. Blair was really bothered by whatever he thought he
had felt and heard in the Radcliff House and Jim's skepticism.
Jim could feel and hear that at least. "Look, Blair, you don't
have to go back there if it bothers you this much. I didn't find
anything to suggest that this wasn't a murder-suicide.
Congressman Mills is probably gonna push this one for as long as
he can so I'll be back out there but I can go on my own."
"What about the long blonde hair?"
Jim shrugged. "I think it's been there awhile and it could have
come from any number of sources. The Strausmans had a blonde
daughter for one. I saw her picture in the study. Mrs. Mills,
the Congressman's wife, has blonde hair. The Mills' were
frequent guests."
"What about the other murder-suicides? I heard some of what
Simon told you about the other incidents in the house."
"What about them? They were investigated and ruled exactly what
they were."
"Yeah, but three in the same house over a period of just two
years? Hell of a coincidence, don't you think?"
"Well, yeah, but--"
"And the Strausmans were trying to sell the house."
"Are you suggesting that the house is the murderer, Blair?
'Cause if you are, we're going by Cascade General to get you a
psych evaluation, buddy."
Blair turned back to the window and Jim sighed. Silence reigned
supreme for the rest of the ride back to the station.
_______________________________________________________________
"You're quiet tonight." Jim observed as he and Blair put away the
last of the dinner dishes.
"You complaining?" Blair half-smiled.
"No, just wondering."
"Me too."
"Wondering what, Chief?"
"About Radcliff House. Is the story true? About the twin
sisters and their brother, I mean? Simon mentioned that earlier
today but I was only half paying attention and didn't put it
together with the house until you told me it was Radcliff House."
"I think so. One sister killed the brother and the other
sister."
"Why?"
"Now that part I don't know. You could look it up somewhere, I'm
sure. It happened in 1899. A double homicide would have been
big news back then."
Jim watched the light in Blair's eyes switch on. "Yeah..." And
his Guide was gone. The French doors rattled as Blair
disappeared through them. Jim chuckled and shook his head. He
would be watching the game by himself. Blair had a project now.
He moved into the living room, plopped down on the couch, and
grabbed the remote.
_____________________________________________________________
Blair stared, disbelieving, at the ugly story on his computer
screen. Jim had been right. It was big news in the community of
Cascade one hundred years ago. He had located a website all
about the incident, complete with newspaper clippings from the
Cascade Gazette, the town newspaper of the time, and pictures of
the Radcliffs. He stared at the picture of a portrait that,
according to the owner of the website, had once hung over the
fireplace in the den of Radcliff House. Two women, blond haired
and green eyed, stared back at him. Love shone from one's eyes,
hatred from the other's. Blair shivered with a sudden chill.
He shifted his gaze to the young man sitting in a chair between
them. "J-Jim!" He tried to stand up from his chair and tripped,
knocking it over and nearly toppling over with it. "Jim!" He
called frantically again, backing away from the desk.
"What! What is it?!" Jim came running into the room and
immediately began checking Blair over. "Are you okay, Chief?
Your heart's going ninety to nothing here."
Blair could only point to the screen. Jim followed the line of
the finger. "Damn, Blair. That looks like--"
"It looks like me! That's Van Radcliff, Jim! The dead guy.
That dead guy looks like me!"
"Calm down, Chief. Just calm down."
"Calm down! They think I'm him!"
"What the hell are you talking about, Sandburg? Who thinks
you're him?"
"Them!" Blair pointed at the two women that flanked the eerie
likeness of himself. "I heard them! I saw them! One of them
touched me, Jim!"
"Blair! Stop it!" Jim grabbed him and shook him. "Those people
are dead. They've been dead a hundred years, Blair."
"But, Jim!" Blair pleaded with his eyes for Jim to understand.
"I felt them. One of them called me Van and the other said that
I was cursed and that I should die."
"Blair, the Radcliffs are dead, buried, gone. Do you hear me?
There is no such thing as ghosts and you apparently had a bad
dream this afternoon in the truck."
"I dreamed about them, Jim, before I even knew who they were.
Explain that."
"You're a shaman. You dream about things all the time." Jim
even looked like he was grasping at straws for that answer and
Blair was not buying it for a minute.
"Lame, Jim, very lame."
"Okay, yeah, so it was. But Chief, you do not have to go back
there, okay? Never, ever do you have to go back there. We'll
just chalk this up to some weird cosmic coincidence and your
shamanistic abilities picking up the negative energy from the
house. Oh god, that's Sandburg logic and it just came out of my
mouth." Jim raised his hand to his forehead and rubbed at the
tension there.
"This is so not funny, damn it, Jim! Do you know the whole
story? Do you?"
"No, Chief, I don't. Will you just sit back down and chill out?"
Blair set his chair back up and fell into it. "She killed me, I
mean, him. She hated him."
"Why?" Jim sat on the edge of Blair's bed and leaned forward
with his elbows on his knees.
"Because he was her brother and her son. Russell Radcliff, her
father, raped her and Devan Radcliff was the result."
Blair saw Jim flinch in distaste. "How do you know that?"
"After they were dead, they found Sarah Radcliff's diaries. The
whole story was there, Maggie getting raped, Devan being born,
the whole sordid thing. Their mother told them that their father
had been possessed by the devil and that's why he did raped her.
Then they poisoned him and passed the baby off as their brother.
Their mother died a few years later. Maggie always hated the
sight of me, him." Blair paused and shook his head.
"Chief, you are not Devan Radcliff and you're scaring the hell
out of me by talking about him like he is you, okay?"
"I know, I'm sorry. I don't know why I'm doing that. Anyway,
Maggie hated him but Sarah loved him. In fact, she loved him a
little too much." Blair looked up at Jim, his eyes trying to
convey the meaning of his words.
"Oh, god." Jim grimaced.
"Yeah. She wrote about their-- relationship. Evidently, it
went on for most of his life. He was only eighteen when he died.
One of the last passages in the diary is about how Van announced
that he was leaving and never coming back. Sarah was all upset
and begged him to stay and he told her that he couldn't be her
lover anymore. It wasn't right. Maggie walked in and heard
them." Blair twisted his shirttail in his hands and untwisted
it over and over as he spoke. It was oddly calming.
"Your sister has been molesting your kid, the kid that you had
because your father molested you. Great, that's enough to piss
somebody off to the point where they stab you repeatedly."
"Sarah wrote that Maggie declared that they were all cursed and
didn't deserve to live and walked out. I guess she came back
later to, you know."
"It's a sick story, Blair, but it has absolutely nothing to do
with you."
"I don't know, Jim. I think somehow it does."
"And just how is that possible? These people have been dead for
one hundred years, Chief. What can that possibly have to do with
you?"
"They think I'm him!"
"Well, if they exist, which they don't, they're wrong, Sandburg.
There are no such things as ghosts."
"I know what I felt this afternoon, Jim. And I look just like
him. Explain that."
"I don't know. Coincidence, Chief. Maybe they were distant
relatives with strong genes."
Blair shook his head. "No. It's more than that. It's got to
be." He took a deep breath and tried to calm down. Suddenly,
his mind flashed back to the summer that he and Naomi spent in
India. He had spent a great deal of time in and around the
Buddhist temples there. He had learned a lot from the monks
about karma and Zen and reincarnation. A horrifying idea began
to form in his head. Frantically, he tried to dismiss it but it
would not go away. He and Devan Radcliff were one and the same.
A reincarnated soul living many lifetimes on the way, hopefully,
to Nirvana. He looked at Jim and saw that the man's mouth was
moving but he was having a hard time hearing what was being said.
He swallowed hard and focused on his Sentinel.
"...and I mean it, Blair, you stay away from there. Radcliff
House and anything that happened there, now or then, have nothing
to do with you."
"It does if I was Van Radcliff in another life."
Jim stared at him as though he had just grown another head before
his eyes. He sputtered for a moment before he seemed to find the
words he wanted to scream. "You were not Van Radcliff in another
life! This is stupid, Blair! You're sounding like your mother
here!" Jim jumped up and started pacing in front of him.
"Another life! You're talking reincarnation, aren't you?
Reincarnation is a bunch of bull! Jesus! First ghosts, now
reincarnation! I'm missing the game for a paranoid delusion."
"I am not paranoid and I'm not delusional! That was harsh, Jim!
Thank you so very much." The chair hit the desk as Blair stood
and shoved it angrily.
"Okay, okay, Chief. I'm sorry. I was out of line there but
Blair, the Radcliffs are dead. They were crazy, they destroyed
each other and they're gone. They have nothing to do with you or
the Strausman case or anything that has happened or not happened
in or around that house since 1899." Jim placed his hands on
Blair's shoulders and squeezed reassuringly. "This haunted house
thing is just a story that Cascade kids tell at Halloween. And
possibly a realtor's trick to interest buyers. Then again, it
could be a realtor's nightmare if he can't find somebody who
likes the idea of owning a so-called haunted house. Why don't
you switch that computer off and get to bed early tonight?"
Blair knew when he was being patronized. He hated it but he was
too drained to argue about it at the moment. "Yeah, whatever.
Night, Jim."
"Good night, Chief."
Jim left him standing in his room. He frowned at the computer
screen. The eyes in the picture seemed to be staring right at
him and Blair could swear that the room was colder than it had
been just moments before. The whispers returned and Blair
whirled to face the sound.
*Devil child,* one voice taunted repeatedly.
*Pretty Van, sister loves you.*
"Shut up and go away." Blair whispered back, hoping that Jim had
his hearing turned down. His friend already thought he was going
nuts. If he heard Blair talking back to the ghosts, he would
probably have Blair committed. The whispering faded and Blair
took a deep breath to calm himself. "They can't hurt me.
They're dead," he told himself softly. "They're dead. You hear
me? You're dead." He nodded once for emphasis and grabbed his
bathrobe. A quick shower and he would turn in for the night. He
just hoped that he could sleep. His mind was still reeling with
the possibility of reincarnation. He had not really thought that
much about that part of the Buddhist tradition. He believed in
bad karma, sure. It was only right that if you did something
cruel or bad that you get it back. Getting it back in another
lifetime, however, had not entered his mind. Not to mention,
what could Van Radcliff possibly have done in his previous life
to deserve his fate?
He wanted another answer to the strange happenings around him but
just knew somewhere deep inside that he was not going to get one.
He shook his head and quickly shut down the computer. *I'm fine,
everything's fine, everything will be better in the morning,* he
repeated in his head as he made his way to the bathroom.
_________________________________________________________________
...."Sheriff, I found Van Radcliff. He's dead too, sir, stabbed
to death like Sarah. He's in the garden out back, laid out all
nice like on a bed of flower petals. It's eerie looking. At
first you think he's just asleep, 'til you get close and see the
blood.".......
Jim was instantly awake. He swore and ran one hand over his
hair. Blair's paranoia was rubbing off on him. It was strange,
though. He could have sworn that he saw Maggie and Sarah
Radcliff lying dead at his feet. It was almost like he had been
there. He shook his head and dismissed the absurd notion.
Instinctively, he let his ears sweep the loft. Something was
missing. Rather, someone. Jim flung back his covers and raced
down the steps and into Blair's room. It was empty. Jim's
confusion held him in place for several moments. He glanced at
the clock beside Blair's bed. "It's three a.m. and I don't know
where my partner is," he muttered. "How the hell did he get out
of here without me hearing him?" It dawned on him that he was
accomplishing nothing standing, frozen in place, in Blair's room.
He strode purposefully to the phone and called Blair's office.
He listened as the phone rang and rang until Blair's voice mail
picked up. After the beep, he demanded, "Where the hell are you,
Blair? Call me when you get this." He hung up and tapped his
fingers impatiently on the receiver. He bit his lip and tried to
think. "You had to leave on your own, right?" He glanced at the
front door. The chain was off but otherwise the door showed no
signs of being tampered with. Jim walked over to the window then
and gazed down to the street. Blair's car was gone. He groaned
as a moment of clarity told him where his wayward partner had
gotten off to. "Radcliff House. You went back to that damn
house, didn't you? Blair Sandburg, you are getting your head
examined. That is, if you survive the ass kicking I'm gonna give
you when I catch up with you." He headed upstairs to get
dressed.
_____________________________________________________________
Half an hour later, Jim turned the truck into the driveway of the
Radcliff House, his headlights illuminating the rear-end of
Blair's Volvo. He frowned and got out of the truck, slamming the
door. He made his way up to the house. The yellow police tape
on the front door was unbroken. The garden was where Jim had
found him earlier when he disappeared. He circled the house and
stepped over the broken down fence. As he came out of the clump
of overgrown bushes into the garden itself, he froze, his heart
in his throat.
"Laid out all nice like on a bed of flower petals. You think
he's just sleeping," he quoted from his strange dream. He forced
himself to take another step toward the nightmarish scene before
him. Blair was there, still and silent, lying in a bed of flower
petals in the middle of the garden. Jim swallowed in an attempt
to get his heart back where it was supposed to be so that he
could talk. "Blair?" No answer came. "Blair? Answer me, damn
it." Still no answer and Jim's temper took over. He stomped
quickly over to his Guide and grabbed him by the shoulders,
shaking him hard. "Sandburg! What the hell do you think you're
doing?!"
Blair's arms came up in a weak attempt at self-defense. "What?"
the younger man asked sleepily.
Jim tapped him on his cheek. "Wake up, Sandburg. What the hell
are you doing here?"
"I live here," came the confused response as sleepy eyes tried to
focus on Jim's face.
"You do *not* live here, damn it."
"Are you throwing me out again, Jim?" The sadness in the question
cut at Jim's heart.
"Blair, come on, wake up now. Get it together. You aren't at
the loft, Chief. Look around you."
The fuzzy sleepiness in his partner's eyes gave way to first
wakefulness then panic. "Jim! How'd I get here? What am I
doing here?"
"That's what I'd like to know. You apparently drove here, Chief.
Don't you remember how you got here?"
"No. I don't want to be here. Why would I come here?" He
looked down at the flower petals spread out under him and
scrambled away from Jim to stand quickly. "I'm scared, Jim. I
wanna go now."
"No argument here, Chief. Let's get outta here."
His Guide stepped carefully around the petals on the ground and
led the way out of the garden. Once out front, Jim brushed away
some flower petals that were clinging to Blair's clothes and hair
while Blair stood silently and let him do it.
"Can you drive the car home?" Jim asked.
Blair nodded.
"Are you sure? I can come back for it tomorrow," Jim offered.
"No, I'll be okay. Let's just go."
Jim ran a hand through Blair's tangled hair, smoothing it a bit
and hopefully soothing his frazzled roommate's nerves as well.
With a small smile, he started for the truck.
"Jim?"
"Yeah, Chief?"
"Am I going crazy?"
Jim put aside the urge to tease and replied soberly, "No, Blair,
you're going home."
That earned him a grateful smile.
_____________________________________________________________
Jim yawned and stretched as best he could in his desk chair.
Traipsing around at three in the morning was not conducive to a
good next day. Jim scrolled down the webpage to the picture that
had upset Blair so the night before. He stared at it. Van
Radcliff did bear a striking resemblance to Blair. He still was
not buying the reincarnation thing but Jim wanted to know what
had caused his Guide to go back there to that house and why he
would arrange himself in the garden the way he had, the way Jim
had been told about Van Radcliff in his own dream. "There.
That's it." Jim sat up and examined the fuzzy black and white
picture that according to the caption had appeared in the Cascade
Gazette. Van Radcliff's body lay in the middle of the garden
surrounded by flower petals. "Power of suggestion. He was
tired, the picture stuck in his head. Doesn't explain my dream.
I didn't see this picture last night."
"What are you talking to yourself about, Jim?" Simon approached
and looked over Jim's shoulder. "What on earth are you looking
at?"
"Webpage about Radcliff House."
Simon gave him a pained look. "Why, Jim? You think the ghosties
killed the Strausmans?"
"Of course not, but Blair has been acting strange since we were
there yesterday."
"Jim, how can you tell when Sandburg is acting strange?" Simon
joked but Jim did not feel like laughing.
"See this picture?"
"Yeah."
"Three-thirty this morning, I found Blair lying just like this in
the Radcliff garden."
"Excuse me?"
"You heard me, Simon. And look at this." Jim scrolled back up
to the picture of Van Radcliff with his sisters. "Who does that
remind you of?"
"Holy shit, Jim. That's Sandburg."
"No, it's Van Radcliff. However, Blair's got it in his head that
he and Van Radcliff are somehow connected. Actually, that's not
precisely right. He thinks that he is Van Radcliff reincarnated.
He also thinks that the Radcliff sisters are haunting him."
"And I thought the spirit guides were strangest thing I'd ever
have to hear from you two. Jim, that's not normal. Blair may
need some help here. I thought he was just tired, maybe a little
stressed. I had no idea it was that serious."
"What are you talking about?"
"Yesterday, at the house, he was hearing voices, Jim, and he
thought someone was watching him. He wanted me to tell him if
there was somebody behind him."
Jim nodded. "That sounds pretty close to what he told me last
night. I blame this on Naomi, you know? With all her talk of
karma and reincarnation and past lives, it's no wonder Blair's
freaking out over what, granted, is a strange coincidence. Hell,
maybe Blair's distantly related to the Radcliffs. That might
explain the likeness. And Blair would know that if Naomi had
ever deemed it necessary or important to let him know who his
father is. At any rate, I'm gonna go see this woman who
published this webpage. She claims that she's the expert on the
case and she lives right here in Cascade. Camille Dawson Parks,"
Jim said picking up a slip of paper from the desk. "Maybe she
can tell me something that I can use to convince Blair to let go
of this. In the meantime, Blair's at his office until 3:00
today. If he comes in, tell him to head on home and I'll see him
there."
"And if he freaks out or anything?"
Jim shook his head with a sardonic smile on his face as he stood
and put on his jacket. "He'll be fine, Simon. But I'll have my
cell phone just in case."
"Okay. Keep me posted on this, Jim. I can't have him in the
streets with you if he's not stable."
"Simon, I'll take care of everything. Don't worry. Now, who's
freaking out? Relax." Jim slapped his captain on the shoulder
and left.
_______________________________________________________________
The door opened and Jim looked up from the paper in his hand and
into soft brown eyes of a woman about forty. "Camille Dawson
Parks?"
"That's my mother. Can I help you with something?"
"I'm Detective Jim Ellison, Cascade PD. I'd like to talk to her
about her webpage on Radcliff House." He showed the woman his
badge.
"There's been another incident at the house then?"
"Yes, ma'am. It was on the news."
"I missed the news but every time something happens out there,
somebody comes along to talk to Mom. Come on in, Detective
Ellison. I'll let Mom know you want to talk to her. You know,
you look very familiar. Have we met?"
"I don't think so." Jim followed her into the living room.
"Oh well. I'll get Mom. Make yourself at home."
Moments later, Jim heard a gasp from the doorway of the room. He
turned to face the woman who stood there. She was a tiny little
woman who looked to be in her late sixties to early seventies.
"Mrs. Parks?"
"Annabelle, go get my photo album," the woman called back to her
daughter.
"Sure, Mom."
"Detective Ellison, is it?" She walked slowly into the room,
looking him up and down.
"Yes, ma'am. I'd like to talk to you a minute about Radcliff
House. I'm investigating a murder-suicide that took place there
yesterday."
She smiled and reached out to touch his shoulder. "Amazing."
"What's amazing, Mrs. Parks?"
"Camille," she corrected. "You are, Detective." Her daughter
returned and handed the woman a book which she promptly opened
and handed to Jim. "That's my father, Mr. Ellison, when he was
about your age."
Jim felt a chill run down his spine. He was looking at an old
black and white photo of himself.
"He was a policeman too. Sheriff to be exact for about twenty
years. He retired at forty-five and started his family so I
hadn't come along when this picture was taken."
"Was he sheriff when the Radcliff murders..." Jim trailed off,
still amazed to be staring at his own face.
"Oh yes. He shot Maggie Radcliff himself when she came at him
with the knife she'd used on her brother and sister. He never
talked about it until he was on his death bed. Then he told us,
Mother, my sister, and me the whole story. I was still pretty
young at the time. Back then, when it all happened, he kept most
of the scandal from getting out. Said he was protecting poor Van
Radcliff. He told me where he had hidden the diaries and gave me
permission to tell the truth after he was gone. For the most
part, I have."
"What haven't you told, Ms. Parks? Please, it could be
important."
"My father's personal interests and some of the specifics about
Van."
"Your father's personal interests?"
"My father wasn't called to the scene on the police radio like
they do today, Mr. Ellison. There weren't any police radios. He
went out there that day and stumbled into the murders." She
paused. "My father was trying to help Van Radcliff get away from
his sisters, or if you prefer, his mother and aunt. Van had been
abused all his life, Mr. Ellison. Maggie abused him physically
and emotionally, and Sarah abused him sexually. Maggie told him
that he was demon spawn, a devil child and periodically beat him.
She would tell him that she was beating the devil out of him. He
turned to Sarah for love and what he got was molestation. One
day, he walked into my father's office and told him and begged
him for help. By that time, Van was eighteen and perfectly
within his rights as an adult to leave. But he didn't have any
money. Maggie made sure of that. Daddy had always suspected
something but had no proof. Van never would say anything, no
matter how hard Daddy pressed until that day. He gave Van the
money he needed to get a train ticket without hesitation. Daddy
was picking him up the day of the murders to take him to the
train station. However, when Daddy got there, he found Maggie
over Sarah's body with a knife. He shot Maggie and sent his
deputy to look for Van. He knew Van was dead. He just knew and
he couldn't stand the thought of having to find him cut up.
Daddy said that Van was something special. People instantly
liked him and he was really very bright. All the girls in the
town were crazy over him but Maggie and Sarah kept him on a short
leash. The one thing that always puzzled Daddy about the whole
thing was how Van was laid out in those flowers like he was.
Like a sacrifice, Daddy said. Sarah had been stabbed repeatedly
and had cuts on her face and hands, but Van was only stabbed
once, through the heart. Not a mark on him otherwise. Oh, and
Daddy refused to let the undertaker bury Van in the Radcliff
plot. Daddy bought a plot and had Van buried there instead. He
said that they tormented him all his life, so just in case
proximity made a difference, they weren't gonna be close enough
in the grave to torment him for eternity."
Jim's stomach was aching by the time the woman stopped talking,
and he swallowed the bile that was building up in his throat.
Sheriff Douglas Dawson and Devan Radcliff were connected in life.
One looked like him, one looked like Blair. He stopped that
train of thought abruptly and stood. "Do you..." he cleared his
throat, "still have the diaries?"
"Of course. My mother kept them and when she died, my sister
never cared anything about it so I got them and really started
doing the digging that led to the webpage."
"Could I take a look at them?"
"Why?"
"I don't know exactly but I think it might be important."
"I'll get them. They're very old. You'll have to be careful."
"Of course."
She nodded and left the room. When she returned, she placed four
books in his hands. "It's amazing how much you look like Daddy.
Do you believe in reincarnation, Detective Ellison?"
"No, ma'am, I don't. It is strange but maybe our families are
related somewhere down the line. Thank you for letting me look
at these."
She smiled. "Could be we are related. Who knows. I hope I was
of some assistance and I hope the diaries help."
Jim could not think of anything to say to the woman except
goodbye. "Thank you, Mrs. Parks for your time. I have to be
going." He practically ran out of the Parks house. He would
have been embarrassed by his haste had he not been so preoccupied
trying to find logical explanations for all the coincidences and
strange events surrounding the case he newly dubbed "the case
from hell."
Jim carefully placed the diaries on the seat of the truck before
climbing in himself. He got in and sat there for a moment
staring at them. He was not sure he wanted Blair to know about
them. He would have to find a way to get them into the loft
without Blair seeing them. He bit his lower lip and then sighed.
Blair was as curious as a cat. If he saw Jim with obviously old
books, he would give Jim pure hell until Jim let him see them.
He would run them home before heading back to the station and
hide them in his room. He cranked the truck and backed out of
the driveway. He was halfway home when his cell phone rang.
"Ellison."
His captain's voice came back to him. "Jim, I need you at
Cascade General. It's Blair."
"Shit!" Jim spun the truck around in the middle of the road.
"What is it? What happened?"
"He apparently went to some hack who claimed to be able to do
past life regressions. The woman says that he just went nuts in
the middle of the 'session.' She called an ambulance when she
couldn't pull him out of the trance and he crawled under her desk
and started begging her to let him go. The hospital called the
station looking for you."
"Damn it! I should have known he would try something like this!"
"And Jim, he keeps insisting that he's Van Radcliff and asking
for somebody named Douglas."
Jim felt his blood run cold and suddenly his eyes would not focus
on the road ahead of him. He swerved the truck over to the side
of the road and stopped. He seemed to have lost the ability to
breathe and he wondered if this was what one of Blair's rare
anxiety attacks felt like.
"Jim?" Simon's worried tone brought Jim back from the edge of
hyperventilation. "Jim, are you there?"
"Yeah. I'm on my way." Jim hung up and pulled the truck back on
the road. This just could not be happening, he thought over and
over as he drove, his eyes fastened firmly on the road, his face
stoic, but his knuckles white from his tense grip on the steering
wheel.
_____________________________________________________________
Simon nearly missed Jim as the man strode past him purposefully.
He rushed after his detective who bypassed the nurse's station as
well. Apparently, Jim had honed in on Blair with his senses and
was headed directly for his partner. As he caught up with
Ellison just inside the swinging doors of the emergency room, he
heard what Jim had been hearing probably before the man even got
inside the hospital. Blair was screaming and crying, begging to
be let go before "they" got to him. Simon swallowed hard against
the knot forming in his throat. One nurse tried to catch them
before they got to the cubicle where Blair was but she was
woefully unsuccessful. Simon hated to tell her that she did not
stand a chance against Ellison in Big Brother mode. Jim stormed
into the room and flung the man in the white coat away from his
partner's bedside.
"What--" the doctor cried indignantly. "Excuse me! You can't
just barge in here!"
"The hell I can't!" Jim growled as he moved into Blair's line of
vision. "I'm here, Chief."
"Douglas! Please help me! You have to get me out of here before
Maggie and Sarah find me!"
"Why is he strapped down?" Jim snapped.
"Sir, this man has been hysterical since he was brought in. He
is strapped down for our safety as well as his own. Who are
you?"
"I'm his partner." Jim flashed his badge over his shoulder with
one hand while the other smoothed Blair's hair back from his
face. Blair was sobbing and mumbling apologies at him, or rather
at Douglas Dawson.
"Well, does your *partner* have a history of drug abuse or mental
illness, Detective?"
"No, he most certainly does not!" Jim started unbuckling the
straps. "I'll be taking him home now."
"Detective, I'm waiting on blood tests to come back and I have a
psychiatrist coming down to do an eval on him. I think he needs
to stay here."
"I think you need to get outta my face."
"Jim--" Simon warned with his tone.
"Douglas, please!" Blair cried.
"Blair, it's Jim. Not Douglas. You are not Van Radcliff. Do
you hear me? Your name is Blair Sandburg. Understand me?
You're Blair, I'm Jim. And when I find the idiot that did this
to you, I'm going to wring her neck." The last strap was off and
Jim suddenly had his arms full of a panicked Blair.
"Where am I? What's wrong with me? You're going to take me to
the train now, aren't you? Please, Douglas, I just want to get
away from here." Simon grimaced at the pleading, sad tone in
Sandburg's voice.
Jim pulled out of Blair's arms and held him at arm's length.
"Chief, listen to me. My name is Jim Ellison. You are Blair
Sandburg. Maggie and Sarah Radcliff are dead. You are not nor
have you ever been Van Radcliff. There is no train. We are
going home. Come on, Chief, snap out of it."
"Don't make me go back there!" Sandburg exploded out of Jim's
grasp and made a run for the door but Simon was ready for it. He
caught him and wrapped his arms securely around the younger man's
body. The resulting screams hurt his ears but he did not let go.
Jim joined him, still trying to talk to his partner, assuring him
that he did not have to go back to Radcliff House. Neither man
was prepared when Sandburg collapsed in their arms. They looked
at each other, worry and confusion on both their faces as they
managed to keep themselves and Blair upright. Together, they
lifted him and placed him back on the table.
The doctor looked entirely too smug for Simon's liking as he
grabbed one wrist to check Blair's pulse. "If you'll wait
outside, gentlemen, I'll let you know when he regains
consciousness. I think he'll be staying here after all."
Simon had to grab Jim quickly as the detective made a move toward
the man. He pulled his friend out of the room and dragged him by
a jacket sleeve out to the waiting room. Simon was actually
amazed that Jim was being so easily led as the man tagged along,
walking backwards so that his eyes did not leave the cubicle
where his best friend lay until the very last minute when the
doors to the ER closed behind them, cutting off his view. Jim
turned then and Simon saw the anguish and confusion on his face.
"He'll be fine, Jim."
"Simon, I just can't get my mind around this one."
"I know what you mean. Now, who is Douglas and why does he think
you're him?"
"Douglas Dawson. Sheriff Douglas Dawson, actually. Van Radcliff
turned to Dawson for help when he couldn't handle the hell his
life was at home anymore. Simon, Van Radcliff was a child of
incest who was abused his whole life, physically, emotionally,
and sexually. Maggie Radcliff was his mother, not his sister.
Sarah Radcliff was his aunt. Maggie beat him and told his he was
devil's spawn or something like that and Sarah molested him.
When he was eighteen, he tried to leave and Sheriff Dawson tried
to help him but the day Dawson arrived to pick him up, he was
dead. Dawson walked in on Maggie stabbing Sarah to death and
shot her."
"Damn," Simon whispered.
"Oh, that's not the half of it, Simon. You should see Douglas
Dawson's picture. Well, actually, you don't need a picture."
"What are you saying? Not what I'm thinking, right?"
"Blair thinks he's Van Radcliff because they could be mirror
images. He thinks I'm Dawson because Dawson could be my mirror
image. I went to see Camille Dawson Parks, remember?"
"Yeah."
"She told me the details that didn't make the paper and showed me
a picture of her father."
"Jesus."
"Yeah. So now my 30-year-old partner, my Guide, has lost his
mind, thanks to some witchdoctor, and thinks he's an eighteen
year old abused kid fleeing his abusers and I'm his lawman
savior."
"Blessed Protector." Simon whispered.
"What?"
"Isn't that what Blair called you after Lash?"
Jim almost laughed but there was really no humor in the sound
that escaped his lips. "Yeah, I guess he did. But what does that
have to do with this?"
"What if--"
"Simon, please, don't start with the reincarnation thing, okay?
I can't go there. I don't even what to think about it."
Simon raised his eyebrows at his friend. "And you think I do?
Jim, I'm still not sure I'm terribly comfortable with this
Sentinel/Guide thing and I know I'm not thrilled with invisible
jaguars and wolves. Some of the stuff you two do is already just
a little too weird for me but there's too much here to call it
all coincidence. And if you think about how strong the
connection is between you and Blair, especially since you two
worked all that crap out after the Barnes case was finally over,
well, I don't know but I'm thinking that maybe souls that are
connected are always connected."
"Who are you and what have you done with Simon Banks?" Jim
muttered. Simon chuckled in spite of their situation.
______________________________________________________________
....."Van, Van darling, wake up. Come with me."
"Maggie? Why?"
"You want to leave, right?"
"Yes, Maggie. I do." Van's voice trembled. Something was wrong
with this. Maggie had called him "darling." She was going to
let him leave.
"Why don't you call me Mama, Van. I am your mother. You know
that, don't you?"
"Yes, Mag--mama. Sarah told me."
"My sister never has been able to keep her mouth closed. Well,
that's not exactly right, is it? She certainly kept your
relationship from me. I was wrong, Van. It's not you alone
who's a child of the devil. It's all of us. Sarah and I, as
well. We are all cursed. I'm going to free you from that curse.
And then I will handle things with Sarah." She pulled him out of
bed and urged him to get dressed. Once dressed, she led him out
into the garden. He did not say a word, afraid that the wrong
word would cause her to turn on him again. He shivered in the
cool morning air. She turned him to face her. "Devan. Do you
know why I named you that?"
He nodded.
"Tell me then."
"It was as close to Devil as Mama, I mean, grandmother would let
you get."
"You were always a smart child." She touched his hair. "My only
child. Who would have me after Papa got done with me? Look at
our beautiful garden, Van." She turned him to face it while she
whispered into his ear. "How many times did Sarah touch you out
here?"
"Maggie--"
"Mama," she corrected.
"Please, I don't want to talk about it. I don't want to think
about it."
"Well, I know she loves this garden. I think it only fitting
that she find you here, one last time."
Van flinched as the knife penetrated his chest. He stared at it
and the hand that twisted it. His knees gave way and she
controlled his fall.......
Blair screamed and clutched his chest, one hand striking the
doctor that hovered over him. "Jim!" he called frantically. "Oh
god, help me!" But there was no knife. He stared at his chest
in disbelief. No blood, no wound. Then Jim was there. He
reached out and grasped Jim's arm as the Sentinel rushed to his
side. "Jim? What's happening? Why am I here?" he asked, his
eyes straying to the floor where the doctor was getting up
slowly.
"Blair, are you with me?" Jim turned his eyes toward him with a
firm hand on his chin and searched for something in them.
"Yeah. What's going on?"
"Do you remember being brought here, Chief?"
"No."
"Excuse me," the doctor tried to insert himself in the
conversation.
Jim ignored him. "What's the last thing you do remember?"
"Being in Doctor Winston's office." Blair watched Jim's laser
blue eyes grow hard. "I'm sorry, Jim. I just needed some
answers. I should have told you what I was going to do but I
knew you'd freak out."
"No kidding?" Jim remarked, sarcastically. "This Dr. Winston has
a lot to answer for herself."
"I saw it, Jim. No, more than that, I lived it. Van Radcliff's
death. Maggie killed him in the garden 'cause it was Sarah's
favorite place. It's true, isn't it? I was Van Radcliff."
"No, Blair. You had a vivid dream brought on by this Dr.
Winston's gross negligence and idiocy."
"No! I was there. I felt the knife--"
"Stop it!" Jim shouted and Blair flinched. Jim dropped his
voice. "Just don't say anything else about it right now, okay,
Blair?" Jim implored with his tone and his outstretched hands.
"Okay," Blair conceded. "Just tell why I'm here then."
"This Winston apparently hypnotized you, placed some suggestions
in your head about Van Radcliff and then couldn't pull you out."
"His drug screening came back clean," the doctor offered.
Jim finally acknowledged him. "Of course, it did. Could you
just leave us alone here, Dr...."
"Sullivan."
"Right. I've got everything under control. Just get me some
papers to sign to get him outta here."
"I still want to have that psych eval done!" the man protested.
"Psych eval!" Blair exclaimed.
"He's not having any psych evaluation! This is not his fault.
You want to do some psych eval, you find the woman who did this
to him. She may be crazy. She did this to him." Jim insisted,
gesturing wildly.
"What do you mean, placed some suggestions?" Blair inquired,
wanting to know what Jim meant and relaxing a little with the
knowledge that Jim was not going to allow them to put him in the
psych ward.
"Let me just take you home, Chief."
"What did I do?" Blair whispered, knowing it had to be pretty bad
if Jim would not explain.
"Just come on, Blair. We're going home. Papers?" Jim directed
at Dr. Sullivan.
The man sighed. "Fine, you know that this is AMA, right?"
"Won't be the first time, Doc." Jim put one arm around Blair and
helped him off the table. The action only served to worry Blair
all the more. Jim was in Blessed Protector overload. He felt
like a little kid being tended to by his mommy.
"I can walk okay, Jim." He tried to move away from Jim's
sheltering arm. For a moment, he felt the arm tighten around his
shoulder then it dropped away. Jim gave him a little half-smile,
apology warring with worry in the expression on his face.
Blair nearly ran headlong into Simon who was standing outside the
cubicle. "Simon? Man, I must have really screwed up if you're
here," Blair moaned.
"Are you all right, Sandburg?" the police captain asked him,
solemnly.
"Yeah, yeah, I'm okay. Just-- Jim won't tell me what happened."
Blair glanced back in time to see the quick shake of Jim's head,
obviously an indication that Simon was not to tell him either.
Blair bit back a curse as he realized by the look of pity on
Simon's face that he was not going to get the information that
Jim was withholding from Banks either. "This is not over, Jim."
he muttered, sentinel soft.
"I know." Jim said aloud. "We'll talk at home."
"You're damn right we will." Blair frowned at his best friend.
Dr. Sullivan handed Jim his clipboard. "Sign right there as the
person responsible for his care."
Blair snatched the clipboard away. "I'm responsible for my own
care, thank you." He quickly signed by the "x" and handed the
clipboard back to the doctor then walked away. He was aware of
Jim and Simon behind him but he was too angry to talk to either
of them.
_________________________________________________________
On to part 2