by Beth Manz
"No, but Collins knows. We have to find him--"
"Jim, he was just here," Eli informed him reluctantly. "I tried my best to stall him, to keep him here." He lowered his voice, ashamed. "I'm afraid I'm not very good at subterfuge. I suppose I should have tried to follow him, but--"
"No, you did the right thing," Jim interrupted. "If Grant is behind this, then there's no telling how dangerous Collins could be. I don't want anything happening to you. I'm on my way over to the campus. Just hang tight until I get there."
Eli hung up the phone and turned back to the information on his monitor, his gaze once more locking on the name Gerald Grant. He tried to imagine what this man must be like. To plan this kind of revenge, to sustain such anger for so many months. He shuddered slightly as he thought about Blair in the hands of a man like that.
A knock sounded on his door. He looked up, surprised at the sight of his new visitor. It was an elderly woman in a nurse's uniform. Eli stood. "Yes, may I help you?"
"Are you Eli Stoddard?"
"I am."
The nurse stepped into the office, smiling almost apologetically. "I know this is going to sound strange, but I think I need to talk to you about a patient of mine."
And even before the woman began her tale, Eli knew she was their connection to Blair.
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Jim steered the truck toward Rainier University, a warrant to search Ryan Collins' office tucked safely into his jacket pocket. After presenting the new dental records to Dan Wolf, Jim had gone upstairs to Major Crimes and talked with Simon. Within minutes, a courier had arrived with a signed search warrant and the captain had given Jim authorization to use whatever means necessary to bring Blair home.
Eli's news of Gerald Grant's involvement had only upped the ante. Simon had wanted to immediately issue a warrant for the man's arrest. But until they found Blair, Jim didn't want Grant or Collins to know they were on to them. It could get his partner killed.
Once Blair was home, however, Jim would be sure both men paid. He rubbed his hand across his mouth and chin. This had certainly proved to be a surprising angle...he knew Marcus Grant's father was a powerful man who was used to waving his money around in order to get his own way, but Jim had never figured the older Grant as a man driven by revenge. Takes all kinds, he mused to himself.
As he slowed for a red light, his cell phone rang. He pulled it from his pocket and flipped it open. "Ellison."
"Jim, it's Eli. I know where Blair is."
Jim's heart slammed into his rib cage. "You what!"
"His nurse is here with me now and she--"
"His nurse? He's at a hospital? Which one?"
There was a pause, then Eli spoke again: "He's at the Crittendon Institution, Jim."
"Crittendon? I don't recognize the name. Is it local?"
"Jim, it's not a hospital. It's...it's a mental institution."
And suddenly Jim remembered the place. The asylum sat at the edge of Cascade's city limits on a vast plot of land with few neighbors. Checking his side view mirror, Jim made a quick U-turn and accelerated in the direction of Crittendon.
"Is he all right?" he asked Eli. "How much did the nurse tell you?"
"He's all right. Collins checked him in under the name David Jacobs. Told everyone there that he's a paranoid schizophrenic with identity problems who believes he is Blair Sandburg."
"You're sure it was Collins who checked him in?"
"That's the name the nurse gave me. But get this, Jim. Collins doesn't need his wheelchair. Abby, that's Blair's nurse, described him perfectly, except he doesn't use a wheelchair."
Jim frowned at this latest bit of news. This case just seemed to get stranger and stranger. "Listen Eli, I'm going to hang up so I can call my captain and bring him in on this. I'm on my way to Crittendon."
"As soon as I hang up, I will be, too."
Jim called his captain, quickly filling him in on the new details and asking for backup to be dispatched to the Crittendon Institution. Then, tucking the phone into his jacket pocket, he pushed the accelerator of the truck hard to the floor, heading toward his partner.
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Marcus Grant strode confidently onto Ward C. Once again, Abby Glover was not at the nurse's station. He shook his head, but as he pushed into Sandburg's room he was surprised to find that she wasn't there either.
Something's wrong.
He crossed back out to the nurses' station. "Nurse Townsend, where is Nurse Glover? She's supposed to be on duty, but I can't find her anywhere."
Sheila stood, her gaze shifting from side to side. "She, um...she had to leave for a while, Dr. Collins."
"Leave? Why? She's responsible for the welfare of her patients. Where is she?"
Sheila shifted on her feet, averted her gaze from the doctor.
"I asked you a question, Nurse. Where is Abby Glover?"
Nurse Townsend sighed, then answered softly, "She said something about needing to run an errand, that it would only take about a half hour."
"An errand? She knows two nurses are required on the floor at all times." Grant huffed out a sound of disgust. "Where did she go?"
"Doctor, I...." Her voice trailed off as she bit her lip.
"Nurse Townsend, do you value your job here?"
She looked at him, her eyes going wide. "Yes," she breathed.
"Then answer my question. Where is Nurse Glover? It's quite obvious to me that you know."
"Abby's worried about David Jacobs," she began. "She just went to talk to that chancellor in order to calm David down, to make him see the truth."
Chancellor? She has to be talking about Eli. His hands fisted at his sides. This changed everything. He glanced down at his watch. How much time did he have? Not much, he was sure. The minute Abby talked to Eli Stoddard everything would come crashing down and Ellison and half of Cascade's police force would descend upon the institution.
He needed to get Townsend off the ward...fast.
"I'll talk with Nurse Glover when she comes back," he said finally, schooling his features to appear calm, determined. "But I was looking for her for a very specific reason." Pulling a prescription pad from his inside pocket, he scrawled some information onto the top sheet and pulled the sheet from the pad. Handing the piece of paper to the nurse, he said, "I need you to go down to the pharmacy and pick up some medication for Mr. Wylie in Room Five."
Sheila looked down at the prescription, then offered Collins a confused expression. "Filling this will take a while and there won't be anyone on the floor--"
"That's why there are supposed to be two nurses," Grant bit out. "Go. Get the medication. I think I'm qualified to look after our patients for a while, don't you?"
"Yes, Doctor."
He waited until she had made her way to the elevator, then he headed straight for Blair's room. He glanced at his watch. It would take Nurse Townsend at least a half an hour to go downstairs, get the unusual medication filled, and then return to Ward C. Not a lot of time...but it should be enough. Arriving at the door of Room Three, he pushed it open and crossed to the bed.
Stepping close to Blair's side, he looked down at the young man sleeping there, took in the relaxed features. "I had hoped we'd have more time together than this," he said, mildly surprised at how sincerely regretful he was over the fact that he wouldn't have more time to spend with the young anthropologist. He reached out and brushed a hand gently through Sandburg's hair, across his cheek. "Unfortunately, things have changed."
Moving to the end of the bed, he checked Blair's chart. According to the notes regarding the last dosage Abby had administered, Blair should be coming around soon, but would still be groggy enough to be pliable. And as his new plan wound its way through his mind, he hoped he could time everything right. After all, since it was Ellison's fault he now had to kill Blair, he felt it only fair that the detective should be the one to find the body.
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Jim steered the truck across the parking lot at Crittendon Institution, screeching to a halt at the front entrance of the massive white hospital building. Slamming the Ford into park, he pushed out his door, jogged up the granite steps, and crossed inside. His gaze swept the lobby before locking on a woman seated at a reception station.
Pulling his badge, he flashed it at the dour-looking woman. "Blair Sandburg," he announced. "Where is he?"
The receptionist's scowl deepened. She gave Jim a scathing look. "I'm sorry, sir, but you can't just come in here and--"
"I can," Jim interrupted. Leaning over the counter, bringing himself closer to the woman, he spoke low, "And unless you tell me where to find Mr. Sandburg, I'm going to tear this hospital apart. So, do I have to start barging into rooms, upsetting your patients, or are you going to get a room number for me?"
She swallowed hard and turned to her computer screen. Typing quickly, she sat back and waited. "Um, I'm sorry. I don't have anyone by that name in my computer."
Jim rubbed his forehead, perplexed. Then he remembered...Dr. Stoddard had told him Collins had given Blair an alias. What the hell was that name Eli had given him? "David," he said finally. "David...something."
"Sir, David is a very common name. I have several patients...."
But the rest of her words were lost on Jim. A quick movement at the corner of his eye caught his attention and he turned instinctively toward the corridor to his right. And there, just disappearing around the corner at the far end of the hallway, was a wolf. The wolf. Blair's spirit guide.
The sentinel sprinted forward, determined to locate and follow the animal. Because he knew what he would find at the end of this chase -- his guide.
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Blair grunted as hands grabbed the front of his hospital pajamas and dragged him upright into a sitting position. His eyes blinked slowly open, confused at the sudden movement, the drugs making it hard for him to focus on what was happening.
"Abby?" he slurred out. "What's going on?" But when he finally managed to open his eyes, it wasn't Abby he saw. It was Grant.
The psychiatrist stood beside Blair's bed, fiddling with the restraints that held him secured in place. A moment later, Sandburg felt himself being pushed slightly forward and his arms being drawn behind him. He could still feel the padded cuffs around his wrists, but as he looked down he realized the bonds were no longer attached to the bed. It took his drugged mind another moment to realize what Grant was doing--tying the restraints together, locking his wrists behind his back.
By then it was too late to stop what was happening. He pulled uselessly against the cuffs, twisting his head to try and see behind him. "What are you doing?"
"Things have changed a bit, Blair. It's unfortunate, but it seems we won't be spending as much time together as I originally thought."
"What are you talking about?" But as he turned back, still trying to see Grant, something else caught his eye--something that sent a wave of fear through him. Behind Grant, just to his left, Blair could see a sheet hanging from the barred window--a sheet that had been fashioned into a crude noose and secured to the solid bars. The chair that normally sat beside his bed had been moved directly beneath the window. Even in his still-drugged state, it only took Blair a second to put it all together.
"No," he breathed. "No!" He struggled in earnest against the bindings on his wrists. Only then did he realize that Grant had already released the ankle restraints from the bed and had locked his feet them together, making it impossible for him to run.
Grabbing the front of his pajamas, Grant hauled Blair from the bed, dumping him over the side and onto the cold linoleum floor. Blair lay on his stomach, struggling with the bindings on his hands and feet, his breath coming in shallow gasps.
"Suicide is always so tragic," Grant whispered from above him.
"Abby!" Blair yelled, looking desperately toward the door. "Abby! Help me!"
"She's not here, Blair." Reaching down, Grant hauled Blair upright and dragged him toward the chair. "No one is at the nurse's station right now. I made sure of that."
"This isn't going to work," Blair rasped out. "They'll know it wasn't a suicide. How can I hang myself if my hands and feet are tied?"
"You don't give me much credit, you know that, Blair? You never did." Grant grabbed his hair, pulled his head back, and forced him to look into the doctor's eyes. "Don't think for one minute that I haven't thought of everything, Dr. Sandburg. Everything. Once you're dead, I'll remove the cuffs. Everyone will assume you freed yourself and then, in a moment of despair, took your own life. And any bruising found on your body will be consistent with the restraints we've been using all along."
"Don't do this," Blair pleaded, struggling against the hands holding him. "There's no reason to do this!"
"Oh if that were only true." And the hands holding Blair tightened, becoming painful. "You see, Ellison is on his way here now."
"Jim?" Hope surged in Blair for the first time in days.
Marcus smiled. "You think he'll reach you before I can tie that noose around your neck, don't you? I can see it in your eyes, a sudden spark of optimism." His smiled increased, became feral, the sight of it sending a chill down Blair's spine. "Your faith in him is admirable...just a bit misplaced." Suddenly, Grant pulled him close, so close his lips were almost touching his ear as he whispered, "I'm going to enjoy extinguishing that faith you have in Ellison. Watching it die right along with you."
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Jim jogged after the wolf, following it down several corridors, up two flights of stairs. The animal stayed far out of reach, so far ahead that more than once Jim feared he'd lost it. You're my only link to Blair. Don't leave me behind. But as he turned the next corner, he could no longer see the wolf. He ran to the end of the hallway and looked left, then right. Only an empty corridor lined with closed doors met his probing gaze.
No, dammit! No!
But even as panic began to gnaw at his stomach, he realized he now had another beacon to follow--a beacon with which he was thoroughly familiar. He closed his eyes as the sound of Blair's racing heartbeat pierced his consciousness. Jerking toward the sound, he followed it to a private room near an unoccupied nurses' station.
Drawing his weapon, Jim burst through the door of Room Three. His heart lurched to a stop in his chest at the sight that greeted him. Blair stood on the edge of a chair, a noose fashioned out of a sheet wound tightly around his neck. His hands were bound behind his back, his feet locked together at the ankles. At his side stood Ryan Collins, his hands fisted around the back of the chair. The doctor was calm, composed, smugly victorious.
"You're early," Collins drawled out. "You've ruined my surprise."
"Move away from him!" Jim ordered, ignoring the doctor's pretentious attitude. Shifting, he tried to get a bead on Collins but the man changed his position, moving to the side and shielding himself behind Blair's torso.
"We have an interesting dilemma here, don't you think, Detective Ellison?" Collins looked up at the noose around Sandburg's neck, then back at Jim. "You can only have one of us. Which will it be?"
"I told you to move away from him!" Jim repeated, tightening the grip he had on his gun.
Collins laughed out loud. "Oh, Detective, you are so eloquent! Here I am trying to get you to see the absolutely beautiful irony in our present situation and all you can do is spout demands at me." The doctor shook his head and frowned dramatically. "Frankly, I expected better of you."
"Collins, I'm not telling you again--"
"I know, I know," the doctor interrupted in a bored tone of voice. "Move away." He shrugged. "Sorry, Detective, but I can't do that. Well, not without providing you with that choice I alluded to earlier." Again, Collins' gaze lifted to the noose at Blair's neck. "What will you do if I just pull this chair out from under him?" Collins asked in a pondering tone, keeping his eyes on Blair as he posed the q
uestion. "Would you come after me.... Or would you save your partner?"
"Jim."
The sentinel's gaze jerked upward to Blair's face. Speaking his name was the first sound Sandburg had made since Jim's arrival. He studied his guide, could see the panic and fear behind the blue depths. But there was something else there as well. Anger...and a determination Jim couldn't quite understand.
Blair wet his lips. "Get...him," he rasped out. And immediately Jim knew what Blair was asking--no matter what happened in the next few seconds, he wanted Jim to go after Collins.
Collins must have come to the same conclusion. Shaking his head slightly, he said, "Always playing the hero." He looked up at Blair, an expression Jim couldn't quite identify on his face, then deftly pulled the chair from beneath his captive's feet.
Blair's body jerked downward before slamming against the wall behind him. His legs kicked and a sickening, choking sound emanated from his throat.
No!
Jim shoved his weapon into its holster and rushed forward. Grabbing his partner's legs, he hoisted him up as far as he could. Vaguely, he was aware of the fact that Collins was moving past him, moving toward the exit, but Jim didn't care. All he cared about was Blair and the horrible choking sounds he was making.
He tightened his hold around Blair's legs and pressed both of them more firmly against the wall, searching for better support. "I've got you, Chief," he coached. "I've got you."
Blair had stopped struggling, but it was evident that the sheet was still too tightly wrapped around his throat. The sound of air rasping painfully in and out of his lungs sent panic through Jim, and he knew he had to get that noose off Sandburg's neck. Gritting his teeth, he locked his grip around Blair's legs with his left arm and reached up and behind Sandburg with his right hand, fumbling to unlock the cuffs from each other and release his partner's wrists.
The bonds came apart easily and as soon Sandburg's wrists were free, Jim hoisted him up even higher. "Can you get the sheet off, Chief?" he asked. His only answer was a shifting of Blair's weight as the kid grabbed the noose and struggled to pull it from around his neck. It seemed like an eternity before Jim heard Blair make a triumphant sound in his throat. Gritting his teeth, he looked up just as Blair slid the noose over his head. Seconds later, Jim's knees buckled and the two men collapsed together to the floor.
