The Loft, Early the Next Morning

Jim left the bathroom in a cloud of steam to find his roommate making a pot of coffee. Blair looked up and smiled, his hair still damp from his earlier shower. "Hey Jim, good morning. How's the headache this morning?"

"I think it's finally gone. You're moving around better. What about your shoulder?"

Blair slowly flexed and raised his arm for Ellison to see, but when he tried to pick up the milk for his coffee his gasp was audible to the Sentinel's sensitive hearing. "Better, but..." Blair anticipated what Jim was going to say, "I'll be wearing the sling while we're out for a few more days just to be safe."

The coffee was done and Jim poured two cups, handing one to Sandburg. "That's a good idea. You don't want to risk re-injuring yourself." He poured the milk in Sandburg's coffee and stirred it. "I've got an appointment with the principle at that school you located, do you feel up to going with me?"

"Yeah, sure." Sandburg visibly perked up. "Just give me a minute to finish getting dressed."

"Take your time. We've got..." Jim turned to look at the clock on the stove, "a little over two hours before we need to be there. I'll fix us some waffles while you're getting dressed."

"Sounds good." Blair picked up his coffee and took a large swallow. "What did you tell them?"

Ellison winced slightly as he bent to retrieve the waffle iron, but he kept his voice even. "I told her that we're tracking a possible stalker, but we haven't identified his target. She won't release the name of the kid if she recognized him, but she will notify the family and set up a meeting if they're willing to cooperate."

"Why wouldn't they be willing? I mean, if you're right and Larson is planning to hurt this kid..."

"Has anything about this case been easy?" Jim grinned at the expression on his partner's face. "Don't answer that one."

Rosewood Prep School

Ellison parked his beloved blue and white truck just outside the gate of the obviously expensive, private school. A security guard came up to the driver's side door and Jim rolled his window down. "I'm Detective Ellison and this is my partner, Detective Sandburg. We have an appointment to see a," Jim glanced down at the hastily scribbled note that was tossed on the seat, "Mrs. Janet Martin."

The guard scrutinized the two men then nodded. "Yes, she's expecting you. Would you mind entering the campus from the north end? The staff parking is on that side of the building and your umm, vehicle won't be so noticeable there."

"Gee, should I park with the maintenance crew?" Ellison's sarcasm was lost on the man who brightened considerably.

"Would you mind, sir? That would be really appreciated. Just follow this road around and make a left turn on Eastwood Drive. I'll let them know you're on your way." As soon as he turned away, Blair began to snicker.

"If we'd taken my car..."

"Shut up, Sandburg."

As expected, they were shown to a parking space between two shiny new trucks with the logo 'Al's Gardening' on the sides. Blair could have had a lot of fun with this, but decided he didn't want to walk home.

An administrative assistant showed them into a plush office. "Mrs. Martin will be here in just a moment. Can I get you gentlemen anything?" As Jim shook his head, she slipped back out into the outer office.

"Wow, this is nicer than the office Chancellor Edwards has." Blair whistled appreciatively.

"Grade school principle has a fancier officer than hers; yeah, that would get the old girl's goat." Ellison was finding the situation very humorous.

"Jim!" Blair barely had time to hiss out his name before the door opened again and an older woman walked in, her high heels silent in the soft carpet. She wasted no time before addressing the two men standing in her office. "Good morning, gentlemen. I understand that you have a photo you wish me to look at?"

"Yes, ma'am." Jim pasted a forced smile on his face, this woman really did remind him of Chancellor Edwards. He nodded at Sandburg who pulled one of the clearer photos out of an envelope. She didn't even glance up at the younger detective as she took the offered picture. Ellison listened to her heart rate carefully as she looked at it.

Her calm face was in sharp contrast to the hammering of her pulse. "Well, this does bear a slight resemblance to one of our students. I'll call his mother and see if it's convenient for her to come by and see for herself." Still carrying the image, Mrs. Martin left them alone again in her office.

"Convenient? If it's..."

"Sshh!" Ellison held up a hand as he tracked the uncooperative woman to her secretary's desk. Blair recognized the sight of a Sentinel tracking prey, so he wisely kept the rest of his comments to himself as he placed his hand on the small of Jim's back to ground him.

The wall barely muffled her conversation to the sensitive ears that were listening. "Mrs. Greensworth, this is Janet Martin from Rosewood... No, Andrew isn't in trouble, but there are two police officers here that seem to think that someone may be stalking him... Yes, that's right... Well if that is the way you wish to handle it... You're very welcome, Mrs. Greensworth." The harsh clunk of the phone dropping back into its receiver broke Ellison's concentration.

"Damn, this just got interesting." Before Sandburg could question his cryptic comment the office door reopened to admit its owner.

"She won't be able to come in until later this afternoon; would you mind terribly leaving this picture for me to show her then?"

"And 'she' would be whom?" Ellison already knew the answer, but wanted to see just how Andrew Greensworth's mother wanted to 'handle it'.

"Ma'am, I don't think you quite understand." Blair was seething at the very thought that the adults in this little boy's life refused to see the risks he was facing. "We are tracking a very dangerous felon who is facing prison for life. For some reason he has fixated on this kid..."

Jim interrupted his partner's impassioned plea with a sure-fire way to get a response from the family that he was convinced was involved. "This boy's stalker is also our suspect in the string of bombings we've had in Cascade. We know that he has a large stockpile of explosives still at his disposal, so we can only assume he's not done. We also know he's tracking this boy's activities, so anyplace he spends time could be a target. Our forensics people are close to identifying the boy also. We could wait for them, use their identification to go directly to the family's home... bring in a team... the search dogs can try to track our suspect from there..."

His subtle persuasion worked and the principle backed out of her office to make a second call. Sandburg waited until the door closed behind her before turning to his partner. "Who?"

"Russell Greensworth. Name ring a bell?" The corner of Ellison's mouth barely twitched as recognition dawned on Sandburg's face.

"As in City Councilman Russell Greensworth? Are you kidding?" Blair bit down on the inside of his mouth to keep from laughing out loud.

Myles Ferguson Memorial Park

The last of the morning dew was still visible under the tall trees that overshadowed the softball field as a lone figure quietly slipped into the dugout with a large backpack. Nimble fingers pried off a loose board on the back wall. More boards followed quickly and efficiently. A pause to check the perimeter was the only break in the masked individual's progress. Block after block of C4 was loaded into the hollow space and carefully wired together followed by a circuit board. The flashing lights on the board shone on the black knit watchcap as he set the timer for an eight-hour countdown. As the last circuit was completed he stood and whispered over his masterpiece. "There was only one worthy and tonight all of Cascade will know that."

Rosewood Prep

At just a few minutes after 10:00am, a harried woman rushed into Mrs. Martin's office. The first words out of her mouth set the mood for her attitude. "Really gentlemen, was it absolutely necessary to summon me down here like some common criminal? The Cascade Garden Society is meeting at my home this afternoon, certainly this could have waited a day."

"The Garden Society?" Even Jim was shocked at that. "Don't you think that your son's life is worth a little more than a few flowers?"

"My husband is Councilman Russell Greensworth, and his security people are more than capable of protecting my son, obviously more capable than your department is. How long have you been trying to catch this man?"

"She's absolutely right." Three heads swiveled around at Sandburg's statement. "The councilman has always believed that he has a much better grasp of the workings of a criminal investigations than the department. When the press ask us what progress we've made, we'll just tell them that since Councilman Greensworth has such a personal involvement in the case, the police department is stepping back and letting him deal with the situation personally."

"You wouldn't dare!" The councilman's wife seemed less sure of herself. Behind her, Ellison grinned and let his partner continue, concentrating on the woman's reactions.

"Absolutely. Of course the reporters at our weekly update may be a little curious as to why he has such an intimate knowledge of the working of our suspect's mind, but hey, we'd be interested in the answer to that one, too. Just what relationship does he have with Samuel Larson, and how far back does it go?"

Her cool exterior had done nothing to hide her nervousness from the Sentinel's observation, but when his partner mentioned the name, Samuel Larson, her heart rate tripled and the stench of fear washed over her. Ellison almost felt sorry for her.

"Is Larson threatening your family?"

"No, he..." She broke off, staring at Mrs. Martin.

Blair was closer to the principle so he responded. "Ma'am, this is an official interview, so if you would give us some privacy?" Before she could come up with an argument, he had her out the door and effectively locked out of her own office. While that was going on, Ellison moved a chair over for Mrs. Greensworth.

"We're not the enemy here, but you're not giving us much choice if you don't let us help you." Both men waited until she finally nodded.

"My husband is not Andrew's father, Samuel is." She rushed to continue, as they struggled to grasp what she had just said. "Sam loves his son, he would never try to hurt him. Before, when he was involved with Kincaid, he wouldn't let Kincaid even know that we existed. He even paid for a fake birth certificate so Kincaid would never find us."

"What does your husband think about all of this, or does he even know?" Jim glanced over her shoulder to see his partner deep in thought, chewing on his thumbnail.

"He knows." She smoothed her skirt down over and over as she spoke, never once looking up into the faces of the detectives interviewing her. "I met Russell when Andrew was almost a year old. After we were married, he tried to track down Andy's father and discovered he didn't exist. I had to tell him the truth."

Jim pressed on. "How did he take it?"

Mrs. Greensworth finally looked up at Ellison. "I won't lie to you, detective. It almost destroyed our marriage, but when Russell realized what kind of men Samuel had been involved with, he understood why we kept it hidden."

"He forgave you?"

"We're still together."

While Jim was pondering her cryptic answer, Blair jumped in with some questions of his own. "Have the two men ever had any personal contact that you're aware of?"

"He went to see Sam in prison once to tell him that he was adopting Andy and to make sure that Sam wasn't going to cause any trouble."

"Did Larson cause any trouble?"

"No."

"Just how did your husband accomplish that?"

Mrs. Greensworth hesitated for just a second before answering. "We've never discussed it, Samuel's just never been a part of our lives since that day."

Blair opened the envelope and let the dozens of pictures slide out and onto the mahogany desktop and finished her statement for her. "That you've been aware of."

The Truck

"Come on Jim, admit it. Does Larson sound like someone who's trying to blow up half of Cascade?"

Jim watched him out of the corner of his eye and smiled ruefully at his partner's optimistic view of people. "I'll admit that something is weird about the entire case. Maybe he's pissed at Greensworth for taking over as his kid's dad. Maybe someone did hire him and he was going to use the money to take off with the kid. We're not going to get any answers until we get Larson." Jim glanced down at his watch. "Didn't you promise to meet Joel at the park?"

"Yeah, but we need to stop and get some food to take with us." He pointed at a store across the street. "Why don't you pull in there? After all, it's a picnic, not an interrogation."

Jim tried to look insulted. "You don't think I can talk to someone without turning it into an interrogation?"

"I'm not touching that one."

Myles Ferguson Memorial Park

Jim parked as close to the covered picnic area as he could before climbing out of the truck and heading to the back end. He pulled out a brown paper bag full of chips and pretzels and handed it to Sandburg, then picked up three cases of soda, grunting slightly as he did. Taggart met them as they walked.

"Here guys, let me help." He smiled and took the chips from Sandburg, setting them down on the table.

Jim gave him a mock glare as he dumped his own load next to them. "Thanks, Joel, we appreciate the help."

"Here," Joel tossed him a ball. "Go warm those guys up for Fooey, would you? They're practicing on the north practice field. I'm gonna get the food set up here." Taggart gave Jim a knowing look as he handed him the perfect opportunity to casually interact with the men of the Bomb Squad.

"Thanks Joel, that sounds like a great idea." Jim smiled apologetically at Blair's sling as he handed over his cell phone before trotting out onto the field.

"There's a game this afternoon against the fire department's Arson Unit. Warm them up good, Ellison." Taggart yelled out at the retreating figure.

An older man with a cane limped past the tables piled high with food. He grabbed two sodas and gestured with them at Sandburg. "Hey, come join the walking wounded." Without waiting for Sandburg, he carefully walked over to the bleachers and sat down. Blair was only a few steps behind him and took the offered pop can as he sat down.

"I'm Blair Sandburg, Jim's partner. Have we met before? Your voice sounds so familiar."

Brown eyes crinkled in amusement. "I'm David Philips, the guy that sends in the calvery just in the nick of time to make you glory hounds look good."

"Our favorite dispatcher! I didn't even know your name." Blair's own words caught up with him. "Man, I'm sorry, that sounded really bad."

"Hey that's okay. We're the invisible division, always have been."

"Didn't you use to be in the Bomb Squad? What happened, if you don't mind my asking?" He glanced down at Philip's legs.

"It's all right. I spent seven years on the squad without as much as a paper cut. A drunk driver nailed us while we were driving back from my oldest son's birthday party. I've got more screws and pins holding my leg together than you can imagine."

Blair winced at the irony of it. "Damn, that must have been hard. What about your family, were they hurt?"

A shadow of pain flickered across the older man's face. "My wife was thrown through the windshield. It was a long road, but she's all right now. Our two boys were in another car. They weren't hurt, but they saw the whole thing. In some ways I think it was harder on them than it was on us, especially the oldest."

Blair took a long drink as he thought about his next question. Eventually, he decided to ask straight out. "Do you miss the street?"

Philips took his own time thinking about his answer and Blair cringed at how blunt he had been, but Philips seemed calm and sure of his response. "It's funny, I thought I would. I worked so damned hard, hoping to get back out on the street. I convinced myself that dispatch was just temporary; a good way to keep my finger on the pulse, if you know what I mean. Before I knew it, I found myself looking forward to going to work, more than I ever thought possible, maybe even more than when I was out on the street."

"Really?" That was not what Sandburg had been expecting.

"Yeah, protecting the brothers, there's something really special about that, and that's what I do now. Anything you face out there, I've already seen it and that means that I know just what kind of help to send out to you. When a patrolman goes home at the end of the day because his back up arrived in time... well, I did that and I feel pretty damn proud of it."

"Wow, I never thought of it like that before. I guess we keep you hopping sometimes."

Philips almost choked on his drink. "Hopping? Son, we've got a special set of codes for you and Ellison in dispatch."

Sandburg tried not to laugh, but he couldn't help it. "We're not that bad, are we?" Philips just laughed harder, and even Blair had to admit the truth to it. "Well then I'm glad that it's you on the other end of the mike. What does your wife think about it?"

"Actually, Lizzy's thrilled. She was emotionally fragile after the accident, still is. The doctors say it's because of the head injury. She doesn't need to worry about me like she did before. Besides, my youngest is a senior in high school this year and it's kind of nice to be more involved in his life. I missed that with my older boy."

Blair had no doubt now that Joel was right. This man was not their connection to the bombings that had plagued the city, but he did not want to appear to be rude. Especially to someone he had already come to admire. "You've got two kids, right?"

The wide grin showed that Blair had hit on David's favorite subject. "That's right. Jason's a senior, like I said. He's playing varsity football and basketball this year and is captain of the debate team. He's going to West Point after he graduates."

"That's great! No wonder you're so proud. What about your other son, is he in college too?" Blair set his empty can down on the ground next to him.

"No." The smile on Philips' face faded a bit. "Jeff's having a hard time 'finding himself'. He wanted to be a cop since before he could walk, even been a reservist for the past four years."

Blair could understand how any son of this man would want to follow in his footsteps. "Did he decide that it wasn't for him?

"No, he was worried that wearing glasses might hold him back if he wanted to be on the Bomb Squad or a SWAT member, so he went in for the surgery to correct his vision. Dr. Woo is a fine doctor, but Jeff was that one in five thousand that had complications. Now his eyes are so bad that he can't pass the physical. He can never be a cop."

"Oh man, that's harsh. I'm so sorry. Has he thought about what he's going to do now?" Blair felt sorry for the young man he had never met, but something was niggling at his brain.

"Well, he thought about becoming an electrician, like his grandfather, but his heart wasn't in it. I got him a volunteer position with a parole officer so he could see that there are different ways to protect people. Maybe he'll find his calling in that."

"Yeah, maybe." Blair hoped that the smile he had pasted on his face was convincing, because he was afraid he had just stumbled onto the link between Larson and the bombings. Before the other man could become suspicious, the ringing of Jim's cell phone saved him. He answered it absentmindedly, then snapped to attention.

"Yes, sir, we're on it." He had barely disconnected the call before yelling across the field. "Yo! Jim! We've gotta go!" He waited until he was away from Philips before adding a whispered, "got a lead on Larson."

The Truck

Jim listened automatically when Blair gave him the address, but that wasn't foremost on his mind. He watched Sandburg out of the corner of his eye as the younger man absently chewed on his lip. Finally he couldn't take it anymore. "What?"

Blair didn't even try to play innocent. "What would you say if we had someone who's father lost his position on the Bomb Squad because of an accident? And that same someone lost out on being a cop because an operation didn't work, an operation performed by an Oriental doctor, so he tried being an electrician and that didn't work, so now he's a volunteer at the Parole Office."

"I get the feeling this isn't a hypothetical question, Chief." Ellison glanced over as Sandburg shook his head.

"Wish it was."

"Yeah, me too." Ellison echoed the sentiment as he pulled the truck in behind Rafe's car. Rafe waited until Ellison shut off the engine before walking up to the driver's side window, while Brown leaned against the passenger side.

"What have we got, Rafe?" Jim's voice was a little rougher than he intended.

"A black and white spotted Larson going into the bar around the corner. We've got all exits discreetly covered so we know he's still in there. How do you want to handle this?"

Sandburg answered for him. "I really don't want to face another one of those grenades again, and not in a crowded bar. Is there any way we can lure him outside?"

Jim thought for a minute. "Do we know anything about the bartender?"

"Bear's a pretty straight shooter." They all looked at Brown as if he'd grown another head. He defended himself easily. "Hey, they serve a mean pastrami sandwich, and it's on the way home from the gym."

Blair's muttered "no wonder Lori can't get him to lose any more weight" brought a chuckle to the Sentinel.

Rafe didn't need to hear the words to know what Blair was saying, but instead of fanning the flame he chose to ask the next logical question. "What have you got in mind, Jim?"

"Brown, if we called him and explained the situation, would he keep his wits and follow our lead?"

"Yeah, man, Bear's as cool as they come. If you're straight with him, he'll come through for you."

"We could use the excuse of a fire in one of the offices above the bar, ask them to evacuate because of it." Rafe was actually brainstorming out loud, but Ellison motioned for him to continue. "It would be pretty chaotic, but we could use that to our advantage." He moved back as Ellison opened the truck door.

"It'll work. We'll need the fire department to respond to make it look realistic though." Ellison looked down the street at the building in question.

Sandburg looked skeptical. "Fire fighters? What we need are cops, lots of cops."

"You're brilliant, Chief. That's it!" Jim leaned back into the truck and grabbed his cell phone.

Rafe and Sandburg exchanged looks. "What's it?"

"Got me."

"H, get me the number for that bar. I need to take a closer look, you guys stay here. I don't want to attract attention." Ellison was dialing Simon's number as he moved away.

While the other two men pondered what the Sentinel had planned for all of them, Brown tracked down the number for the bar.

Ellison appeared a short time later, still talking to Simon. "Yeah, Simon, I'm sure this is the best way... No, don't worry, I'll hear them in plenty of time." After he hung up, he turned to Brown. "Did you get the number?"

In response, Brown dialed his own phone and waited for the bartender to answer. "Hey Bear, it's Henri Brown; remember me? Yeah, 'pastrami man'... Listen, we've got a situation and we need you to stay very calm and listen to us. Okay? I'm gonna put Detective Ellison on the phone and he'll explain what's going on and what we need for you to do to keep your customers safe. He's a good man, just do what he says."

Brown's face said everything it needed to, as he handed the phone over. Jim's own expression answered him as he took the phone. "Bear, this is Ellison. A suspect is in your bar right now. The last time we tried to arrest him he threw a grenade at us, so we don't want to try and grab him in there with your customers."

Bear's voice was cheerful as he answered, but Jim could hear the underlying tension. "Well, I sure appreciate that."

"In a few minutes I'm gonna call you back, that'll be your signal. You start yelling at everybody that one of the offices upstairs is on fire and they have to get out now. It'll look real to them, don't worry and we'll have you back in business before the afternoon crowd arrives. Can you do that?"

"No problem." The voice turned a bit more serious. "You take care, you hear?"

Jim smiled even though Bear couldn't see him. "We'll take care of everybody." He disconnected and turned to the others.

"Now we wait." He held his hand up to forestall the questions as he focused his hearing on the interior of the bar. Nothing but normal sounds of mid-day chatter could be heard.

As they waited, Ellison unloaded two vests from behind the seat of his pick-up truck and tossed one to Sandburg. Rafe and Brown retrieved theirs from the trunk of their car.

Once again Jim checked on the occupants of the bar. The TV had been changed to MTV, instead of the news channel that had been on earlier. He breathed a sigh of relief, he hadn't thought of it, but now there was no chance of an over-eager reporter blowing their chance of ending this peacefully. Jim cast his hearing out further and caught the sound of approaching sirens. As they got closer, familiar voices were added to the mix.

"Fire trucks are almost here." He grabbed Brown's cell phone and hit redial. When Bear answered, Ellison was brief and to the point. "You're officially on fire. Count to twenty and then start yelling."

"Damn, I hate when he does that." Brown strained to hear as the sirens came into the range of normal hearing, then followed the others as they took their positions behind a dumpster close to the bar entrance.

Inside Bear's Bar and Grill

The short muscular man hung up the phone without ever saying a word. One of the waitresses gave him a funny look but he just shook his head at her; he had used the few minutes between calls to develop his plan and didn't have time to explain it. Instead, Bear moved into the back hallway and began opening and closing doors loudly. It was enough to catch the attention of his regular customers and when he burst back into the bar a minute later, they were waiting for an explanation.

"Fire! The office upstairs is on fire! Everybody out now!" To make it more convincing, Bear pulled the drawer out of the register and shoved it at his most trusted waitress. She dropped her tray of drinks and took it without question and ran for the door, grabbing the arm of the closest customer. Another waitress took the tip jar on her way out, the remaining patrons hot on her heels. Bear was close behind them, yelling warnings about the gas lines and explosions.

Outside

Three fire trucks were pulling up to the scene just as the first people rushed out the door of the bar. Sandburg stopped and stared at the familiar figure, minus cigar, hanging onto the truck. "Simon?"

The captain just grinned at the younger man as he hopped off the truck, a familiar auburn haired woman a step behind him. A second glance showed more than half of the 'fire fighters' had more experience with a gun than with a hose.

"Fire!" A bleached blond rushed out of the bar, a register till pressed tightly against her padded and lifted breasts. Next to her was a middle-aged man in a polyester suit who was coughing from the non-existent smoke. Behind them poured out an assortment of people, including their suspect. Larson kept his head down, trying to blend in as groups of firefighters rushed in with hoses.

The scene appeared to be total chaos. The 'firefighters' moved into the crowd, effectively herding Larson away from the bulk of the civilians. Larson was completely surrounded by the time he saw Ellison in the background.

"No!" Larson yelled out as he reached into his jacket. A high-pressured stream of water hit him from behind, knocking him face first onto the ground. He was quickly patted down and handcuffed, before being jerked to his feet.

Banks dropped his still dripping hose and waited for the others around him to shed their canvas turnout coats to reveal Cascade PD uniforms. "Take him down to the station, he's got a lot to answer for." After the disbelieving prisoner was transported, Simon dug a cigar out of his turnout, and turned around to come face to face with Sandburg.

"Looking good, Simon. Did you want to be a fireman when you were a little boy?" Blair tried to keep a straight face.

"All little boys want to be firemen, Sandburg." Their bombing suspect was in custody and Simon was feeling rather pleased with himself.

Blair grinned back at his captain. "Not me, Simon. I wanted to be a doctor. At least that's what I told the little girls."

"Don't you have a suspect to question, Sandburg? Take that partner of yours and get out of here." Simon's tone was grim, but he couldn't quite hide his smile behind the cigar.

Rafe came up behind the two men with Simon's overcoat that he had recovered from the fire truck. "That was a great move, sir. What made you think of using the hose?"

Banks handed the fire-fighting coat to one of the few real firefighters on the scene before he took his own coat from Rafe. "Well, I heard once that it was a pretty successful way to apprehend a felon, so I thought I'd try it myself." Still pleased with the outcome, Banks moved off to find the Battalion Captain and thank him for his help.

Once Larson was safely in custody, Ellison reached out with his hearing and tracked the voice he had come to know. He tracked it to the front of the building where a tall, gray-haired man stood. Behind the age, Ellison could see where the name 'Bear' had come from. The man looked like he had been a bouncer for many years before moving behind the bar. Jim moved to introduce himself.

"Are you Bear? I'm Detective Ellison."

The bartender turned to face Ellison, shifting the load in his arms to shake the offered hand. Jim raised an eyebrow at what the other man was holding.

The bottles tinkled as Bear shrugged his shoulders. "You said to make it look realistic. Who'd have believed it if I'd left my private reserve behind for the fire to get?"

Jim recognized the quality of the scotch from the label and nodded. "Yeah, you've got a point there, Bear. You can take your people back inside now. We appreciate everything you did for us."

Bear smiled back at him. "I'm just glad you gave us the chance. It's nice to know that real cops aren't like TV cops. Hunter would have just busted down the door and started shooting. What'd the guy do anyway?"

Ellison wisely ignored the crack about his favorite TV cop and instead answered the other question. "He's part of an on-going investigation. I can't really say more than that right now."

"Good enough." Bear began herding his patrons back inside the building. "When your case is done, come on by. We'll have a shot of the good stuff and you can tell me all about it. Deal?"

"Deal."

Interrogation Room Three

Jim tossed the files down on the table. "We've got you dead to rights, Larson. Just tell us why you did it. Who are you working for?"

"You don't understand." Larson slumped down in his seat, burying his head in his hands.

"So tell us." Sandburg sat across from the dejected man, a stark contrast to his pacing partner. "Why'd you bomb all those businesses? What did those people ever do to you?"

"Nothing." Larson straightened up and leaned forward. "They didn't do anything to me and I didn't do anything to them. You've got to believe me."

"Yeah, right. The C4 was cooked up on your basement. How do you explain that?" Ellison stopped pacing and leaned into Larson's face. "Wasn't real smart to keep the packaging. Getting sloppy there, Larson." He pushed away from the table and moved in back of their suspect.

Something passed across the face of the shackled man as he crossed his arms and leaned heavily on them.

Sandburg stared in shock as the realization hit him. "You wanted to get caught, didn't you?"

The question threw Ellison of guard, but rather than react, he waited to see where his partner was headed.

Larson seemed to deflate before their eyes, letting his head drop onto his crossed arms. "I did my time, I just wanted to be left in peace." He looked up at Ellison. "Was that so much to ask for?"

"Who wouldn't leave you alone?" Jim lowered his voice as he sat next to his partner. "Was Kincaid threatening your son?"

"You know about my boy? Damn."

Ellison pressed on. "What'd Kincaid want? What is that animal planning to do to my city?"

"It wasn't Kincaid." Larson let his head drop back down as he spoke, muffling his voice.

"Then who?" Sandburg had his suspicions, but he didn't voice them.

"I did everything I was suppose to. It's just not fair."

Ellison's patience was wearing thin. "Who wanted the C4, who's behind the bombings?"

"I don't have a name." Larson looked up, challenging Ellison to believe him.

"You expect me to believe that? Better start convincing me, or you'll go down for all of it." The only real evidence that pointed to anyone was pointing directly at Larson and Jim decided to exploit that. "The DA's got enough to charge you right now."

"It was a cop."

"Start talking." Jim's jaw muscle was working overtime as he leaned back and crossed his arms on his chest. On the other side of the two-way mirror, he could see Banks waiting for the answers also.

"I never saw his face, it was always in the shadows. The closest I ever got to him was across the street one time. He always called with my instructions, and gave me drop off points to leave the C4."

"So you saw a uniform. Big deal, do you know how easy those are to get a hold of? Even Kincaid had a couple." Ellison watched out of the corner of his eye as his partner began to quickly shuffle through the stack of files he'd put together. Even the map came out.

"No." Larson began shaking his head. "It was more than that. Within an hour, this guy knew what my parole officer and I had talked about. Every time. What in the hell am I suppose to think?"

Jim thought about who else could have leverage over the man. "What about Greensworth?"

"He and I have an agreement, he wouldn't do anything to me. I'm not a threat to him." Larson seemed comfortably sure of himself.

"But did Greensworth know that you've been following Andrew around, photographing him?" Ellison was more than a little curious about how the City Councilman would react to the news that Larson had followed the boy.

"They're not involved, leave them alone!" Larson shut down, unwilling to discuss his son's stepfather.

Ellison studied the situation. Larson had come to the end of what he was currently willing to admit to. Sandburg had found something in the files if his elevated heart rate was any indication. Out in the hall, Joel had arrived and obviously had information he felt was important to the case. It was time for them to review the facts and leave Larson to stew. Decision made, he turned towards the door. "Come on Chief, we're not getting anywhere here. Let's try another angle." He didn't look back as he left the room, Sandburg only a step behind him.

"What have you got, Joel?" Ellison approached the big man leaning on the far wall.

Joel smiled and tilted his head towards the interrogation room door as Simon joined them. "My sources finally came through with Larson's military records."

Sandburg groaned. "Don't tell us. He never even saw a bomb in the war."

"Better than that, he never even saw the war." Taggart waited for the reaction.

"What?" Ellison gave him an incredulous look. "You've got to be kidding."

Joel continued, glad to finally be the first one with the scoop. "Yep, he spent his entire tour stateside. He was an explosives expert, but it was all in theory. He never got any hands on experience until he got tied up with Kincaid. There's something else, too."

Jim wasn't sure he wanted the answer, but he waited for it.

"When the feds picked up Larson, Kincaid was ready to kick him out of the Patriots. He may be great at cooking up the stuff, but he couldn't build a decent bomb if his life depended on it. There's no way he could have built the bombs we've been dealing with."

There was no way around it, so Blair spoke up. "Joel, there's something I think you need to see before we go too much further. You too, Simon." When Jim nodded his agreement, Sandburg led the group into a nearby conference room.

Only the sound of turning papers could be heard as Joel and Simon reviewed what the two partners had put together. When they were done Taggart leaned back in shock as Banks began firing off questions.

"You really think that David Philips' son is the one behind the bombings?"

Blair opened his mouth to answer, but Jim cut him off. "We're suspicious enough that we want to bring him in for questioning."

Simon still wasn't convinced. "Just because he washed out of the Academy..."

"He didn't wash out, Simon." This time Sandburg wouldn't be quiet. "He was doing great, on track to be a top graduate. He wanted more, wanted to make his dad proud, and a freak accident during his surgery took that away from him. I think it was enough to push him over the edge."

"Motive, opportunity, and means are all there, Simon." Jim pushed the map towards the other men. "Sandburg's got it all tracked. All the calls to Larson came from three areas of town. We've already established that one was near the Philips home."

"And the others?" Banks was listening, but still wasn't convinced.

Blair leaned forward and tapped his fingers on the map. "One area includes the grandfather's electrical repair shop where Jeff Philips worked part time. The other group of calls surround the parole office where his father had him volunteering."

This time Banks was beginning to nod. "Larson said it was a cop. Does the kid have enough experience to pull it off, to convince Larson the department's dirty?"

There was an odd tone in Blair's voice. "David is the kind of dad that any kid would want to grow up to be like. Jeff probably paid more attention to his stories about work than most kids would have. Combine that with a couple of years as a reservist, plus his time at the Academy, and he's feasibly more of a 'cop' than a lot of guys on the force right now."

Ellison agreed with his partner's assessment. "Plus you've got to consider that Larson is already functioning under a cloud of paranoia. It wouldn't take much to convince him."

Banks turned to the fourth man, who had been unusually quiet. "Joel, what's your take on all this?"

Taggart rubbed his eyes as he spoke. "I've known Jeff ever since I coached his little league team and I don't want to believe this, but there's an awful lot here to ignore. Right or wrong, this is going to destroy a good man, and I don't want to see that happen."

"How do you want us to handle this, Joel?" Jim's words were unusually gentle, showing just how much he understood the other man's pain.

Taggart shot him a grateful look. "David has a right to know what's going down before we arrest his kid. We owe him that."

Ellison glanced at his watch. "The game should be starting soon. We can catch him there." Both he and Sandburg stood up to leave when Banks stopped them.

"Just remember, no matter how hard this is for Philips, there are ten pounds of explosives out there somewhere that we've got to find."

A look of understanding passed between the men before they headed for the park and their unpleasant task.

Myles Ferguson Memorial Park

Ellison and Sandburg slowly approached the dugout with Banks and Taggart behind them. Without warning Ellison stopped and tilted his head. Sandburg recognized the classic Sentinel pose and reached out to ground his partner.

"It's here."

Instinctively Blair knew what Jim was referring to. "The C4? Where?"

"The dugout." Behind them, the two older men stared at each other, appalled. The dugout contained the entirety of the city's bomb squad, plus a good dozen of its former members, including David Philips. Joel moved ahead of the group and caught Phuc's attention.

"Uncle Joey, I'm glad you're here. Come to cheer on the team?" The smiling woman was tossing a ball into the air as she spoke.

"I wish we were, Fooey. You're not going to believe this, but we've gotten an anonymous report about a bomb."

"You're kidding." She was obviously disappointed as she continued. "At least the whole unit's here, our response time should be great. Where is it?"

"Here, in the dugout. The squad is the target this time."

Phuc stared at Joel for a long minute, as an unspoken message seemed to pass between them. Finally she turned away and went to work. The field was evacuated, and all but a few, hand picked, squad members moved back to the far picnic area. Joel hated to be out of the action, but he needed to be there to talk to David Philips.

It had been agreed that Joel and Simon would be the ones to talk to David. Jim stood where he could monitor both the search for the bomb and the destruction of David Philips' world. Blair stood next to him in misery.

"Should you be helping them with the search?"

Jim pursed his lips as he shook his head. "No, they know what they're doing. They've found some loose boards; the bomb's behind them. Nguyen's good and her team's the best. How are you doing, Buddy?"

Blair stared over Jim's shoulder while he thought about his answer. "I feel dirty, like I destroyed a family. It should be me breaking this to David; I don't want him to hate Joel over this."

"Philips is a good cop." Jim reached out and tugged one of Blair's curls. "He'll be hurt, but he won't hate you for discovering the truth about his kid." A flurry of activity from the Bomb Squad caught his attention and he watched as Nguyen and her men disarmed the device. "You discovered what was going on before Jeff could kill anyone. Eventually that is going to mean a great deal to his dad. Come on, let's go talk to the man." Jim reached out and grasped Blair's good arm and they walked to the picnic area.

At one isolated table Simon and Joel sat with David Philips. As Jim and Blair moved closer, Jim could hear the pained words of Philips as he struggled with the discovery about his eldest son. Jim moved closer to Blair instinctively as the younger man came into earshot.

"No way, this isn't possible. Jeff's a good kid; he's just going through a rough time... that's all. He's my boy, I'd know if something like this were going on... I'd know."

Joel and Simon had no answer as the two men joined them. Jim started to speak, but a hand on his arm stopped him and he waited as Blair knelt in front of Philips.

"David... I'm sorry. I just followed the leads; I never dreamed they would lead to Jeff."

Pain filled eyes met Sandburg's. "You're still a rookie, you made a mistake. You'll see."

"I wish I did." Blair reached out to grasp Philips' hand but it was pulled away.

"My son would never hurt me, no matter what you say. If there was a bomb here, then Jeff had nothing to do with it. He loves me, don't you dare say otherwise."

"Of course he loves you, we all know that." Simon carefully considered his words before continuing. "This last year has been hard on him. He tried so hard to help you, now he needs your help."

"You want me to help you catch him. I don't know if I can do that, sir."

Jim gave him something to think about. "Wouldn't you prefer it were us, rather than a uniformed officer responding to an APB?"

Before he could answer, Philips' cell phone began to ring. David never looked away from the men in front of him as he pulled it out and answered. "Hello."

As much as the man hated to do it, the Sentinel found it necessary to listen in.

"Hey Dad, it's Jeff."

One lone tear traced down David's face. "Hey Jeff, how's my boy?"

"Dad, I've got a problem, are you busy?"

"I'm never too busy for you, son. You know that, right?" The young man on the phone seemed unaware of his father's pain.

"My car broke down, could I get a ride?"

Philips looked like he'd been stomach punched, but he kept his voice even. "Sure, where are you?"

"I'm at Fifth and Lamont, on the northbound shoulder. Can you hurry? I promised Mom that I'd be home by dark. You know how she worries."

"I'm leaving right now. I'll see you in a few minutes... I love you son." Philips disconnected the call and turned to Joel. "He said that his car broke down, that he needed a ride."

Joel nodded, not trusting his voice. Behind them, Phuc walked up, the detonator in her hands.

Jim stepped forward, giving the other man a chance to regain his composure. "What do you have Nguyen?"

It was obvious that Nguyen had walked into the middle of something, but to her credit she didn't ask the obvious question. "It was a standard timer, no booby-traps in the set up. All the unaccounted for C4 was wired to it, though. The blast would have taken out the entire park."

"How long..." Simon cleared his throat and tried again. "How much time was left on the timer?

"Thirty-seven minutes, why?"

"Thank you." Simon knew that it was a good twenty-minute drive to where Jeff Philips waited for his father. David had been right about one thing. His son would never hurt him.

Phuc recognized the dismissal and glanced over at Joel. He shook his head slightly at her and mouthed the word 'later'. Curious, but understanding, she moved back to the task of securing the C4.

David slowly stood up, leaning heavily on his cane. "Ellison?"

"Yes, David?"

Philips looked older somehow, as he stood in front of his colleagues. "Just promise me he won't get hurt."

Jim nodded in understanding. "We'll do everything we can, I promise."