Ellison studiously ignored the surreptitious glances from his partner. The kid had been at it all morning. Ever since Jim had emerged from his bedroom looking like he hadn't slept at all.
"Are you sure you're all right, Jim?" Sandburg asked again. "Because I hate to tell you this, man, but you look like shit."
"I didn't get a lot of sleep last night." The older man admitted with a weary sigh.
Any reply Blair might have made was forestalled as the elevator reached their floor and the doors parted.
"Hey, Jim," Joel Taggart called, spotting Ellison. "We've identified your John Doe. Some of the regulars down at the soup kitchen on Cannon recognized him from the forensics photo."
Pausing, the two detectives expectantly waited for Joel to continue.
"His name is Art Cummings. Apparently he used to work at one of the warehouses down on the waterfront until it was shut down a few years ago." Taggart's expression sobered. "Unfortunately, his wife died about the same time, and he never did recover from the duel loss."
"So, we've got another connection to the dock," Blair commented thoughtfully.
"There's more," Joel interjected. "After Cummings' house was repossessed, he started living in the warehouse where he once worked. Even after it was demolished and new construction began, they couldn't keep him out of there. More than once security had to throw him off the premises."
"What's the address?" Ellison inquired, already certain of the answer.
Taggart scanned the file. "666 Mariner Road," he read aloud.
It was the same address. Knowingly, Jim nodded then turned to his partner. "Come on, Chief, we'd better go check it out." Pivoting, Ellison headed for the elevator.
"Thanks, Joel." Blair tossed over his shoulder as he hurried to catch up with Jim.
Ellison was amazed at the change. The decrepit old warehouse, where Lash had met his fate at the wrong end of Jim's gun, was gone. In its stead was a new concrete foundation on which steel girders were being erected.
The place was a beehive of activity as everyone went about their appointed tasks. Pulling along side a green trailer that denoted the on-site office, the two men climbed out of the truck.
Snagging one of the workmen, Jim presented his badge. "Where can I find the foreman?"
"He's checking out a problem towards the rear of the building," the worker replied, pointing in the general direction. "If you plan to go in there though, you're going to need some hard hats. Hang on a sec and I'll get you a couple." Entering the trailer, he quickly returned carrying two bright yellow hats. "Here you go," he said, handing them to the officers.
"Thanks," Blair said, grinning as he jauntily plopped it on his head.
Rolling his eyes at his partner's enthusiasm, Jim followed suit. "Let's go, Chief," he said, prodding Sandburg in the direction the worker had indicated.
Making their way around mounds of dirt, they entered the concrete and steel structure. Filtering out the noise of construction going on around them, Jim honed in on the sound of voices. "This way," he commented, starting towards them.
Rounding a cement column, they came upon two men engaged in conversation. The subject, a large crack in the foundation's floor. About six inches wide and three feet long, its rough, jagged edges were wet with moisture.
"We've tried patching it, Hank." The younger man was saying. "Several times, in fact. But when we come in the next day, it looks like this again."
"Ah, excuse me," Jim said, interrupting their discussion. Once again he produced his badge. "I'm Detective Ellison and this is my partner, Blair Sandburg. We're looking for the foreman."
"I'm Hank Webber," the older of the two men said, introducing himself. "What can I do for you?"
"We'd like to ask you a few questions about the drowning deaths of several people connected with this project," Blair told him.
"That'll be all for now, Chris," Hank said, dismissing his companion.
With a glance at the detectives, the younger man nodded and hurried off.
Webber turned back to the two men. "I knew about Tom, of course. But you said drownings, as in plural?" He questioned, confusion evident in his features.
"There have been two other deaths," Ellison explained. "The first was a transient by the name of Art Cummings."
The foreman appeared shocked. "I'd wondered why we hadn't seen Art around for the past couple of weeks. Used to be we'd have to toss him out of here on a regular basis. He was a nice, old fella." Webber's voice trailed off as he smiled sadly at the memory.
Jim continued. "Then yesterday morning, John Wallace was found dead about four miles from here."
Hank frowned, then shook his head. "I don't recognize the name."
"He worked for the demolitions company that cleared the site." Sandburg supplied, earning himself a sideways glance from his partner.
"Is there any reason why someone wouldn't want this project to be completed?" the senior detective asked.
Webber shrugged. "Not to my knowledge. This building is going to provide a significant boost to the waterfront's economy."
Jim removed one of his cards and handed it to the foreman. "If you think of anything else, we can be reached at this number."
"Of course, Detective," Hank replied. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to get back to work."
"Well, that wasn't very much help," Blair commented as soon as the foreman was out of hearing range. "Now what?"
"Maybe I can help." A voice called out. Turning, Sandburg and Ellison saw Chris, the younger man they'd seen talking to Webber earlier, coming towards them. Stopping a couple feet away, he glanced around nervously. "I heard what you told Hank," he said.
"Do you know something about it?" Jim queried.
"I don't know anything about the drownings," Chris replied. "But there's been some really weird stuff going on around here."
The comment piqued Sandburg's interest. "Like what?"
The man shrugged, noncommittal. "Strange noises, unexplained lights..."
"What, you think the place is haunted?" Blair interjected with a ghost of a smile.
Ellison merely looked disgusted. "Come on, Chief, let's go."
"NO, WAIT!" Chris exclaimed. "I'm not crazy and I'm not making this up. There's a sense of evil surrounding this place, and it seems to center right here." He added, waving a hand towards the large crack in the foundation.
Grimacing, Jim moved closer and kneeling down, ran his fingers along the jagged edge. They came away wet. Raising them to his nostrils, he sniffed and was suddenly transported back to the cavern from his nightmare.
"NO!" He gasped in horror and, a second later, he found himself back at the construction site.
"Jim? What is it?" Blair questioned, his brows pleated with concern.
Shaking off the last vestiges of the nightmare, Ellison rose.
"It's nothing," he denied. Pulling out another card, he handed it to the worker. "If anything else happens, give us a call."
Looking at the card, Chris assured them he would.
Nearing the truck, Jim realized that it felt as if an oppressive weight had been lifted from his shoulders. A sensation that had appeared and grew stronger the closer they'd gotten to the unexplainable crack.
Blair had contained his curiosity until they were in the vehicle and headed back to the station. "All right," he said. Patience at an end, he turned to face Ellison. "You want to tell me what happened back there?"
It was on the tip of Jim's tongue to lie but, even as he opened his mouth to speak the words, memories of what happened the last time he'd refrained from mentioning his dreams to Sandburg, rose up to haunt him.
"I had a flashback," he said instead.
Blair frowned. "A flashback to what?"
"A dream I had last night." Ellison replied.
Finished recanting his dream, Jim glanced over at his silent partner to gage his reaction.
"You know," Blair replied thoughtfully, "dreams are often our subconscious minds way of dealing with stress or unresolved issues. I can understand how the drownings would have stirred up memories of the whole thing with Alex but, Lash was years ago, man."
Damn. Ellison had been hoping he wouldn't have to bring this up.
"There's something I haven't told you, Chief." He paused momentarily, "That new building they're putting up is sitting on the exact location where an old warehouse stood. The same warehouse where Lash almost killed you."
"Oh man!" Sandburg exclaimed, nervously running a hand through his hair. "So," his Adam's apple bobbing as he tried to swallow past the sudden lump in his throat, "do you think there might actually be something supernatural going on here?"
Jim sighed. "I don't know," he admitted. "At one time I would have scoffed at the idea, but after all we've seen, after all we've been through, I just don't know anymore."
"When we get back I'll run a search on the area through the station's database, see if anything else turns up."
"Good idea," Ellison commented as he eased the truck onto the off-ramp.
Sandburg slipped off his glasses and rubbed wearily at his tired eyes. Picking up the nearby coffee cup, he sipped distractedly, then grimaced at its contents.
"Any luck?" Jim asked, relieving his partner of cold, stale brew and handing him a fresh cup.
Blair took a sip, sighing blissfully. "Well... yes and no," he replied, turning the monitor so Jim could see the screen. "The police database wasn't much help, so I decided to check out some online sites dealing with the paranormal."
"Supernatural Hot Spots," Ellison read aloud, glancing at the monitor. "Surely you're not serious."
"Come on, Jim. You said yourself that we couldn't deny the possibility..."
"Why do I feel as if I'm about to take a trip to the Sandburg zone," the older man muttered.
Blair ignored the intended sarcasm. "It says here that there are certain places where the Earth's natural elements converge to create what are known as 'hot spots'. Apparently these areas are ideal locations for observing paranormal activities."
"And?" Ellison prompted, sensing there was more to come.
"And," the small man grinned, triumphantly, "we have one right here in Cascade."
"Let me guess," Jim replied. "The construction site."
"Bingo!" The former grad student acknowledged.
Ellison rubbed at the bridge of his nose where the headache that had been threatening all day, finally burst forth.
"So, what exactly are you suggesting here, Chief?"
Blair's expression sobered, a hint of fear clouding his normally vibrant blue eyes. "I think Lash is back."
The words, though softly spoken, cut through the air and Jim's heart like a knife.
"No!" He roughly denied, shaking his head. "I killed the bastard, he's dead!"
All activity in the bullpen stopped.
Sandburg noted the concerned looks his partner was garnering. "Will you just calm down," he quietly hissed at the larger man.
His jaw clenched against barely contained emotions, Ellison grabbed a chair and, placing it beside his partner's desk, sat. "All right," he ground out. "Let's hear the rest of it."
Eyes darting around the room, Blair was relieved to see the people returning to their work.
"It makes sense, Jim. We know Lash liked to drown his victims, and all of the deaths have been connected to the site where he died. A place that is well known as a 'hot spot' for supernatural activity. Add in your dream and the so-called accidents that have been happening lately, and I think it paints a pretty convincing picture."
"If what you say is true, then why is he back? What does he want?"
"It's simple, Jim. He wants revenge."
Suddenly the air felt as if it had been sucked from Ellison's lungs. He'd killed the bastard once and would gladly do it again. There was no way that psycho was going to get anywhere near Sandburg this time. Only one problem, how do you kill someone who's already dead?
Questioning blue irises turned to his partner, to the man who with the vast knowledge of obscure facts, somehow always provided the necessary answers. "So, what are we going to do about this, Chief?"
The younger man sighed, looking defeated. "I wish I knew, man. But whatever we do, we'd better do it quick, before somebody else ends up dead."
The ensuing silence laid heavy between, each man caught up in his own thoughts when suddenly a ding rent the air, startling them both.
"What is it?" Ellison inquired, looking up.
"I was running a search through the Herald's database looking for water related accidents or deaths," Blair replied, calling up the appropriate screen. Slowly, he scanned the results, his breath catching as he stumbled across the article detailing his own near death experience.
"Are you all right?" Jim asked, concerned.
Lips compressed in a grim line, Blair nodded before quickly moving onto the next article. A moment later he called out, "Hey, Jim, take a look at this."
According to the item Sandburg was indicating, a young architect had been discovered dead in her bathtub by her landlord. However, since there had been no evidence of foul play, it had been assumed that she had drowned after falling asleep, and the death had been ruled as accidental.
Sandburg glanced at the older man. "How much do you want to bet that she was the architect on the project."
"I've never been one to make sucker bets, Chief." Ellison replied, morosely. "What is it?" He asked, noticing his partner's thoughtful frown.
"I need a calendar," Blair muttered as he began rummaging through the desk. Finally producing one, he began making notations in various blocks.
"Damn!" He cursed, softly.
"What is it?" Jim growled, his patience wearing thin.
Sandburg showed him the calendar on which each of the drowning deaths had been meticulously recorded.
Ellison shook his head, still not understanding the significance.
"Come on, man!" Blair exclaimed, a hint of exasperation coloring his tone. "Don't you see the pattern?" Less and less time occurred between each incident. It's almost as if with each death he's growing stronger."
The famous Ellison scowl was back. "If what you say is true, then we should be able to predict when he'll strike next."
"Tomorrow," the former grad student replied, having already calculated the date. "But even if he holds true to form, we still don't know where or who he'll attack next."
"You said he was out for revenge, Chief. So wouldn't the 'who' be us?"
Sable curls bounced as Blair shook his head. "I don't think so, Jim. So far he's just been taunting us. I don't think he's strong enough yet to take us both on."
A small smile played at Ellison's lips. Trust Sandburg to assume they were going to face Lash together. The smile faltered. Not if I have anything to say about it, Jim thought.
"So," he asked aloud, "how much time do we have?"
The younger man shrugged. "It's hard to say. According to what I've read so far, in most instances the entity, for want of a better word, needs to claim seven souls in order to garner enough strength to achieve their desired goal, whatever that might be."
"And he already has four," Ellison commented sourly.
"That we know of," Blair reminded him.
"How do we stop him?"
"That, Jim, is what we need to find out."
Hoping Sandburg had left him some hot water, Jim reached up and rubbed a clear spot on the steam fogged mirror. The reflection staring back, a brutal reminder of the long night with relatively little sleep. Afraid that if he slept, somehow Lash would appear to extract his revenge. And what better target for that revenge, than Blair. By harming the younger man, Lash would also succeed in delivering a devastating blow to the sentinel. And so he had lain poised on the periphery of sleep, waiting and watching. Besides, he finally admitted in the hour preceding dawn, there was no way he wanted a repeat of the previous night's dream. The image of Sandburg dead by Lash's hand had been much to real...
Slowly the sound of dripping water overrode the painful image. Thinking Blair hadn't completely shut off the faucet, Jim flung back the shower curtain, only to stumble backwards in shock and horror.
Cerulean eyes, wide open in death. A yellow scarf wrapped around his neck, Sandburg lay in the water filled tub.
"NO!" Ellison gaped in disbelief. Legs threatening to give way, he leaned against the closed bathroom door shaking his head in denial until a squeaking sound drew his attention from the horrific sight. Honing in on the sound, Jim's eyes rose to the bathroom mirror, once again clouded over with steam. And even as he watched, letters slowly started to appear as if written by some unseen hand.
WHO... AM... I... NOW...?
"No! This isn't happening." Turning, he grasped the doorknob and, flinging open the bathroom door, found himself sitting upright in his own bed.
Breath coming in harsh gasps, Jim stumbled out of bed and down the stairs. The only thought on his mind, ensuring that Sandburg was safe. That it had been nothing more than a bad dream. Quickly crossing the hardwood floor, he grasped the doorknobs and, with a deft twist, thrust through the French doors.
Startled from the gentle embrace of sleep, Blair jack-knifed awake, the abrupt movement sending him tumbling onto the floor. Scrambling backwards until pressed up against the futon he raised his hands, as if pointing a gun, and shouted, "FREEZE, POLICE!"
Seconds ticked by, the only sound the harsh breathing of the intruder and wild staccato beat of Sandburg's own heart. The hulking figure in the doorway stepped forward.
Alert to the movement, Blair shouted. "Stop or I'll shoot!" And although tremulous in quality, there was no denying the conviction behind the uttered words.
"I don't think you're finger's loaded, Chief." Came a familiar voice from the darkness.
"Jim?" The smaller man squeaked, his body slumping with relief.
A click from the bedside lamp heralded the diffused glow that filled the room.
Hand trembling with adrenaline, Sandburg pushed the hair out of his eyes and glared up at his roommate. "Christ, Jim, you scared the shit out of me. You want to tell me what this is all about?"
Heartrate slowly returning to normal, Ellison looked down at his partner. A soft sigh of relief escaped through parted lips. "Sorry about that, Chief." He murmured an apology.
"Save the Maxwell Smart impressions, Jim, and just tell me what the hell is going on." Blair demanded, pushing up from the floor to sit on the edge of his bed.
The sentinel's trepidation was normal, what concerned Sandburg was the haunted look still evident in the larger man's eyes. "Come on, man, you're starting to scare me."
Once again Ellison considered lying. The dream, so vibrant, so real, had scared the hell out of him. The last thing he wanted to do was impart those images on his sensitive partner. Sandburg had enough demons to deal with as it was. And yet, Jim could not deny the trust currently directed at him through two concerned blue orbs. Defeated, his gaze strayed to the clock radio on the nightstand. It would be going off in twenty minutes anyway.
"I'll put the coffee on. Why don't you grab a shower and we'll discuss it over breakfast."
"All right," Blair replied, scrubbing a hand over his tired features. "But..." his determined expression pinned the older detective, "we will discuss this one way or another."
With a brief nod of acknowledgement, Ellison whirled and disappeared out the door, grateful for the small reprieve.
"Oh man!" Blair exclaimed, more than a little disconcerted by the recounting of Jim's dream. "It's no wonder you freaked out."
"I did not freak out." Ellison growled.
"Yeah, yeah, whatever." Sandburg waved the protest aside, totally unaffected by the larger man's glare in his direction. Abruptly, the smile faded, gaze fixated on the coffee mug clenched in his hands. "What if it was more than a dream? What if it was a premonition?"
The softly spoken words tore at Ellison's heart. "It's not going to happen, Chief." Worried blue spheres rose to meet his own intense gaze. "I promise."
The shrill ringing of the phone caused both men to jump. With a slightly sheepish grin, Jim quickly rose. Crossing the short expanse, he snatched it up on the second ring. "Ellison."
"Jim, it's Simon. We've got another one."
Immediately Ellison's eyes fell on the younger man. "Where?" He asked gruffly.
"The marina," Banks responded. "Slip fifty-three."
"We'll be right there."
The marina bustled with activity as Jim parked the truck and the two men climbed out. The body, already having been pulled from the water, laid on the dock beside a luxurious sailboat named 'Pride II'. Placing a hand on his partner's back, Ellison gently nudged his reluctant partner forward.
"Simon," the senior detective acknowledged their captain with a nod. "What have we got?"
"The deceased's name is David Beach," Banks replied.
"The city planner?" Blair questioned, his gaze flickering towards the man currently being loaded into a body bag.
"I'm not going to ask how you know that, Sandburg," Simon responded, mouth set in a grim line. Turning to Ellison he continued. "There's evidence that he'd been drinking. I suppose," he speculated, "it's possible that he simply fell overboard in his inebriated condition. But the mayor has requested that we give this our top priority." Banks eyed his best investigative team. "Do you have any leads yet?" He asked hopefully.
"Well, actually," Sandburg began only to be cut off by Jim.
"We're still looking into it, sir."
Banks' gaze traveled between Sandburg and Ellison. It was obvious that they were keeping something from him. Just what that something was, Simon wasn't sure he wanted to know. "Keep me informed," he ordered gruffly before stalking off towards his car.
The captain gone, Blair looked up questioningly at his partner.
"I know what you're thinking, Chief." Ellison said. "But do you honestly think Simon's going to believe that a ghost is responsible for all this?"
Sandburg grimaced. "I guess not. Even after three years of seeing what you can do, he still has a hard time believing this sentinel stuff. But eventually we're going to have to tell him something, Jim."
"We'll worry about that when we have to." Ellison replied. "Right now we've got work to do."
After a quick examination of the body that revealed no overt clues, the two men boarded the boat. Beginning below deck, they thoroughly inspected the cabin. Coming up empty, they returned up top to continue their search there. Other than a few scattered beer bottles and a couple of scruff marks the deck, like the rest of the boat was in pristine condition.
"Maybe it was just an accident," Blair commented in the face of Ellison's growing scowl.
"I don't think so, Chief. It's just one too many in a string of coincidences."
The younger man frowned. Up until now he'd held out some small hope that there was another explanation for the deaths. But if a skeptic like Jim Ellison actually believed that Lash was responsible then... "Oh man," he groaned, then peered up at his partner. "What are we going to do about this, Jim?"
Cold, steel blue eyes narrowed dangerously. "I think it's time we confront this lunatic on his own turf."
"I was afraid you were going to say that." Blair visibly shuddered. "The construction site?"
Ellison nodded. "That's where he's been leading us all along."
"And what are we going to do when we get there?" Sandburg asked, his brows rising questioningly. "I don't think you can arrest a ghost, Jim."
"Well, we've got until tonight to figure it out."
"Tonight!" Blair squeaked, wiping suddenly sweaty palms on his slacks as he followed Ellison.
Hoping off the boat, Jim turned to lend Blair a hand. Eyes widening in horror, he barely had time to issue a warning as the sail's boom came loose, striking Blair in the head and sweeping him overboard.
"CHIEF!" Ellison yelled, then swiftly stripping off his jacket, Jim dove into the water.
Ignoring the shock from the frigid water, Ellison surveyed the murky depths. There! Just a head of him a series of air bubbles floated towards the surface. Kicking off, Jim propelled himself towards the rapidly sinking figure. Reaching out, he snagged Sandburg's jacket, abruptly stopping the downward spiral. Pulling the limp man closer, he obtained a firmer grip and kicked upwards.
Their heads broke the surface of the water, Jim gasping for air from protesting lungs, while Blair remained eerily silent. Making his way over to the dock a myriad of hands scrambled to relive Ellison of his burden. "Be careful with him," Jim barked as even more hands helped him from the water.
Brushing the others aside he knelt beside the unconscious man. Putting his head to Blair's chest, Jim was relieved to hear a faint heartbeat. A relief that was short lived as Ellison realized his partner wasn't breathing.
"NO! This can't be happening. Not again." Jim cried aloud. Tilting Blair's head slightly backwards, the distraught detective covered the blue tinged lips with his own and began manual resuscitation.
Worried onlookers anxiously gathered as Ellison continued his frantic attempts to revive his partner. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Blair choked and began coughing up water. Turning the younger man on his side, Jim kept up a constant litany of reassurances and encouragement, all the while unconsciously rubbing Sandburg's back. It wasn't until the EMT's arrived and the crowd parted that Jim relinquished Blair into their capable hands.
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