Sentinel - Progressions Series 02 Hidden Truth

by Beth Manz

Eddie opened his eyes and smiled at Blair. "Oh, yes. That would be fun."

  Blair returned Eddie's grin, hope once again winding around his heart. "Then you'll call him?"

  Eddie's eyes widened with shock. "No, I can't do that!" He shook his head vigorously. "That would be cheating. Jimmy has to find you. That's how the game works."

  "But wouldn't you rather go camping? Doesn't that sound--"

  "I said he has to find you!" Eddie exploded. "I can't cheat! I can't!"

  Blair held up his hands in a gesture of surrender. "Okay, okay, Eddie. Just calm down. You're right. We can't cheat. We won't cheat." As much as Eddie seemed like a big kid, Blair had to remember that this man had thrown him down a flight of stairs, brought him to this place, and then chained him up in order to keep him here. The man was dangerous.

  Eddie settled down again, his fingers playing over the top of the Kool-Aid container he still held in his lap. "It'll be fun," he muttered softly. "You'll see. It'll be lots of fun."

  Blair licked his lips, deciding on a new tact. "Eddie, I got hurt when you knocked me down those stairs. I really need-"

  "I didn't hurt you," Eddie cut in, shaking his head fervently. "I'm just finishing my game. That's all, just finishing my game."

  "Eddie, you did hurt me," Blair insisted. Reaching up, he moved his hair away from the cut on his head. "See? There's blood here."

  Eddie leaned forward and stared at the cut, his mouth slightly open, his brow creased in confusion.

  "And this." Blair held up the chain on his ankle. "This is hurting me. You keeping me here is hurting me." He hesitated, sure he now had Eddie's complete attention. "You want to be Jim's friend, right?"

  "I am Jim's friend," he insisted, frowning.

  "That's right, you are Jim's friend," Blair corrected, afraid of precipitating another outburst. "But I'm Jim's friend, too, and I know that Jim would want you to let me go. He wouldn't like that you're hurting me."

  Eddie's gaze dropped to the chain encircling Blair's ankle. The frown deepened. Then slowly, he looked back to Blair. "You just don't understand how to play," he said, smiling softly, his voice patient. "But don't worry, Blair, because Jimmy does." He pushed up from the floor and, spreading his arms wide, made a sweeping gesture over the dilapidated room around them. "This is where I grew up," he said proudly, abruptly shifting the conversation away from the game.

  Blair dropped the chain back to the floor, his stomach churning with frustration. Dammit! He had thought he had him. He had thought that if he could convince Eddie that Jim's friendship would be better than the game, then Eddie would set him free. But as he watched Eddie pace to the far side of the room, stepping over the debris all around him as if it weren't even there, Blair realized that the man was simply not rational enough to put those thoughts together and reason them out to such a logical conclusion.

  "This is where I slept," Eddie was saying, and Blair watched as he crouched down on the far side of the room and swept his hands over the dirty flooring. A small, rectangular-shaped portion of the floor where Eddie was crouching was lighter in color than the flooring around it, and it was obvious that a smaller room had once existed there, its walls and support timbers torn away long ago.

  "My mom, she used to love playing hide and seek with me," Eddie continued softly, looking over at Blair. Eddie smiled as he spoke the words, but there was a sadness to the smile that hadn't been there moments before. "She wasn't very good at the game, though" he added." His hand came up to rub at his forehead. "Sometimes... sometimes she wouldn't find me for days."

  The implications of Eddie's comment, lost on Eddie himself, were frighteningly clear to Blair. In his mind, he could envision Eddie Rostin as a small boy, hiding in a darkened closet, waiting for his mother to come and find him, not realizing that she'd left him alone, left him while she went out for... what? For a little fun of her own?

  And as Blair stared at the man who was holding him prisoner, he couldn't help but feel sorry for him.

  /

  /

  Jim paced the length of the spacious office located on the top floor of the institution. His gaze roamed across the framed degrees on the wall before moving to the leather couch in one corner and the mahogany desk that sat in front of the large window. He wasn't sure what he had expected Dr. Marcus Grant's office to look like--sterile, utilitarian, even cluttered--but he knew this was not it.

  "What the hell is taking this guy so long?" he complained to Simon, who was seated in one of two plush chairs situated in front of Grant's desk.

  The captain exhaled a long breath. "Jim, they said he was with a patient. He'll be here as soon as he's finished, so why don't you just sit down and relax."

  "Sit down and relax?" Jim bit out. "You think that's what Blair is doing right now?"

  "Jim--"

  "Don't tell me to calm down, Simon," he snapped. He glanced up at the clock on the opposite wall. "Blair has been gone for four hours. Four hours and I don't have clue one where he is." He held up his right hand as he began citing his complaints: "The damn halfway house Eddie is supposed to be staying at says they haven't seen him in three days, he hasn't shown up at the job the institution arranged for him in over a week, and not one of these people thought to alert anyone that this guy who has been in a mental hospital for the better part of his life hasn't been where he was supposed to be."

  Simon sighed again and looked up at the detective, who had stopped his pacing and was standing at the office window, staring down at the street below. "Jim," he said calmly, "You know how the system works. This isn't the first time that someone has fallen through the bureaucratic cracks."

  "I don't need a lecture, Simon."

  "No, what you need is to rein in your emotions and do your job."

  Jim turned around and looked at Simon, then reached up to run a hand across his face. "You're right, sir. I'm sorry."

  "You don't have to apologize, Jim. We're all worried about Blair. And we're all working to bring him home again."

  "I know." Jim crossed the office and dropped into the chair beside Simon. "And I'm grateful for it. It's just... Blair can't go through this again." He looked at his captain, his friend. "Not so soon after..." His words trailed off. He shook his head, once again cursing Dawson Quinn for using Blair to exact his revenge against Jim.

  "He's strong, Jim." Simon's voice was soft, yet there was a conviction beneath his words, a truth Jim could not ignore. "You know Sandburg. That kid is not going to give up."

  Jim looked at Simon, pinning him with a hard gaze. "Simon, I don't doubt Sandburg's will to survive. But there's only so much the human body can take. Blair hasn't fully recovered from Quinn's attack, and now to have this happen?" He exhaled a long, rattling breath. "It scares the hell out of me."

  Behind them the office door opened, ending their conversation. A man in his early thirties stepped into the office, his blonde hair cut short, his tortoise shell glasses nearly matching the color of his perfectly tailored Armani suit. He was about Jim's height but leaner, with the body of a runner. Jim wrinkled his nose as the aroma of the man's cologne, a sickly sweet fragrance, reached his sensitive nose. Grant smiled, revealing perfect white teeth. "Gentlemen, I'm sorry to keep you waiting."

  Jim and Simon both stood, shaking the doctor's extended hand before taking their seats again.

  Grant moved behind his desk and lowered himself into the leather chair. Leaning forward, he clasped his hands tightly together and said, "My assistant told me this was of some urgency but I'll be honest--I cannot imagine any reason why the Cascade Police would pay a visit to me."

  "Doctor, I'll get right to the point," Jim began. "We're here about a patient of yours. Eddie Rostin."

  The doctor's brow creased in concern. "Eddie? Has something happened to him?"

  "No, he happened to someone else," Jim ground out.

  The doctor blinked a few times, then offered Jim an ingratiating smile. "I'm sorry, Detective, but I'm not following you."

  Jim t
ook a deep breath and decided to start at the beginning. "Earlier today, Blair Sandburg came to see you."

  "Sandburg? Oh, yes." Grant searched through the neat pile of notes on his desk before settling on a pink message reminder. He skimmed it quickly. "I'll be honest," he said, setting the paper down again, "I really hadn't planned on calling him back."

  Jim frowned. "Why not?"

  "Frankly, from the description my secretary gave me and the fact that he had no business card to leave..." Dr. Grant let the sentence trail off, shrugging one shoulder in a helpless gesture. "He claimed to be connected to Rainier University, but let's just say that I had my doubts."

  "He is connected to Rainier," Jim snapped, angry at this man's assumptions about his partner. "He's a teaching fellow there. He also works as a consultant for the Major Crimes Division of the Cascade Police Department. In fact, he's been working as my partner for the last four years." Jim didn't understand why, but he suddenly felt the need to validate Blair in this man's eyes.

  "We consider him a very valuable member of the team at Major Crimes," Simon added, giving more weight to Jim's statements.

  "Well, gentlemen, I must admit surprise at this news. I guess looks can be deceiving." The doctor leaned back in his chair, his gaze curious. "According to this message, your Mr. Sandburg was also inquiring about Eddie Rostin. What did he-" But his sentence died off abruptly as his eyes widened in sudden understanding. "Detective Ellison." He looked at Jim again. "James Ellison. You're Jimmy Ellison. Eddie's Jimmy, am I right?"

  "Yes," Jim answered, uncomfortable at the connection made between himself and Eddie Rostin.

  "Again, I must apologize. It's been a trying day or I would have recognized your name immediately. I have to say that after treating Eddie for nearly a year, I feel as if I already know you."

  "What do you mean, you feel like you know him?" Simon asked, his voice tentative.

  "Eddie talked about him so much. Knew all about him, in fact." His gaze shifted to Jim. "He followed your career in the police force quite closely. He was extremely fascinated by that aspect of your life. Almost obsessed by it, quite frankly."

  Jim's eyes narrowed as he looked at Grant. "So this guy's been stalking me and no one thought it might be a good idea to call me and let me know?"

  "He wasn't stalking you, Detective. He was safely behind the walls of our institution during the entire period of his obsession with you."

  "Not the entire time," Jim bit out.

  Grant arched one eyebrow. "I'm sorry. Again, I'm afraid I don't follow you."

  "Doctor, why was Eddie Rostin released from this institution?" Simon asked.

  "Because he was cured," Dr. Grant answered grandly. He leaned back in his chair, a smug smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. "I realized that Eddie's obsession with Detective Ellison stemmed from the game he started to play with him so long ago but never finished." He leaned forward, pulling his glasses off and tossing them onto the desktop. "You have to understand," he continued, his gaze settling on Jim, "Eddie was abandoned here. The only thing he had was that game. And you, Detective."

  "It's still all he has," Jim corrected, his eyes never leaving Grant's.

  The man shook his head, his expression patient. "No, you see, I took Eddie through the game. We played it to its conclusion over and over in his mind until he was finally satisfied. Finally able to move past it and let it go. Once he accomplished that, well, his actual recovery was quite amazing, quite rapid."

  "Doctor," Jim began, his voice low, controlled. "Earlier today, Eddie Rostin pushed Blair Sandburg down a flight of stairs, then abducted him." He leaned forward in his chair and pinned the doctor with an icy glare. "He's still playing the game."

  And for the first time since the doctor had entered the room, he faltered, his practiced smile slipping. "No, no, that's simply not possible. Eddie would never do that."

  "He did do it, and I'm here because I need your help." Jim rested his arms on his legs, his hands clasped tightly before him. "I need to know if Eddie ever mentioned to you a place that he thought would be a good hiding spot. A place he might take Blair."

  But Grant didn't appear to hear Jim. The doctor blinked several times, his face pale. "I just... I can't believe this is happening." Standing, he stepped to the window and stared out, his back to Jim and Simon. "We'd worked so hard. The therapy... the therapy had worked. He was better. I know he was better."

  Jim's jaw clenched as he watched the doctor struggle with what he had been told. But as precious minutes ticked by, he could no longer wait. Pushing up from his chair, he crossed to Grant and grabbed him by the shoulder, turning him around to face him. "Doctor, I don't have time for your ego to come to terms with this. I need your help."

  Dr. Grant stared at Jim, his mouth open slightly in confused surprise. "I don't know how I can help you, Detective. I have no idea where Eddie might have taken Mr. Sandburg."

  Frustration snaked down Jim's back and settled in the pit of his stomach. "Do you have any advice?" he ground out. "If Eddie calls me, is there something I should say to him, something that might convince him that what he's doing is wrong, that he should end the game?"

  Grant shook his head. "If Eddie is playing the game, then I don't think anything or anyone will be able to convince him to stop. I think the only thing you can do is let him finish." His eyes narrowed as he thought about his advice, a small smile pulling up one corner of his mouth. "Actually, now that I think about it, this could turn out to be quite fascinating."

  "Fascinating," Jim spat out, his hands fisting at his sides. "Doctor, my partner is missing. It's likely that he's seriously injured, and we know he's being held against his will. If we don't find him, he could die."

  "Of course I realize that this is most stressful for you," Dr. Grant began, his voice irritatingly calm. "But you must recognize the clinical benefits that could be reaped from this."

  "There are no clinical benefits here!" Jim exploded. "There is only the issue of life and death. I win, Blair lives. I lose, Blair dies. Do you get that, Doctor? Do you understand?"

  "Back off, Detective. Now!"

  Jim blinked several times, Simon's command penetrating the haze of anger that shrouded his mind, and he realized for the first time that he'd forced Grant backward as he spoke. The doctor stood stiffly, his back pressed flat against the window, his wide eyes staring unbelievingly into Jim's.

  Jim took a step back, running a shaking hand through his hair. "Coming here was a waste of time." He turned toward the door, Simon following close behind.

  "Detective, " Grant called after him. "Surely you don't blame me for this?"

  Jim stopped dead in his tracks, his heart pounding heavily in his chest. Slowly, he turned back to face Grant. The doctor stood, arms crossed, watching Jim with clinical detachment.

  "Listen to me, you smug son-of-a-bitch," Jim managed through clenched teeth. "You let this nut out and now he has my partner. If anything happens to Sandburg, I will hold you personally responsible."

  /

  /

  Simon walked beside his best detective, Jim's anger nearly palpable. "That could have gone better," he said as they crossed the parking lot.

  "That pompous jackass," Jim muttered. "He lets Rostin out and doesn't take any steps to keep track of him. He was just so damn sure the guy was cured..." His words trailed off as they reached the truck.

  Simon slid into the passenger seat and waited. But Jim didn't get in immediately. The captain frowned as the seconds ticked by. "Jim?" he called, leaning forward until he could see his detective. Ellison stood outside the driver's side door, his hand resting on the handle, his gaze locked forward. He seemed to barely be breathing. Simon frowned. "Jim?" It was another few seconds before Simon realized he was zoning. "Shit."

  Pushing open his door, he rushed to the driver's side of the truck. Damn! What does Sandburg say to him? How does he do this? "Jim," he said, pitching his voice low. "Jim, snap out of it. Stop concentrating so hard." He shoo
k his head. He was doing this all wrong. Taking a deep breath, he tried again. "Jim, we need to help Sandburg. I need you to snap out of this so we can help Sandburg."

  Jim took a long shuddering breath, his eyes blinking in sudden confusion. He turned toward Simon, a smile on his face. "Thanks-" But the words died on his lips, his expression changing from pleasure to shock. "Thanks, Simon," he muttered and slid into the truck.

  He thought I was Blair. Simon was sure he was right. It was the expression on his face when he first turned to look at him--an expression of affectionate fondness that he reserved just for the kid. Is that whose voice you heard in your head, Jim? Was it really Sandburg who brought you back?

  As Simon crossed to the passenger side of the truck and slid inside, he was more determined than ever to bring Blair home. He glanced at Jim as they pulled out of the parking lot, making sure the sentinel was alert, focused.

  "I'm fine, Simon," Jim said, aware of the captain's scrutiny.

  "Just making sure. You are driving, after all."

  "It was his cologne," Jim said softly. "I have it on my hands, and the smell is so overwhelming..." He shook his head. "I shouldn't have let it get to me that way. Shouldn't have focused on it so strongly."

  They drove for several miles in silence, Simon turning his attention to the view beyond his window, unable to come up with any words of encouragement, knowing they would only sound false and hollow at this point.

  "I keep hearing the sound of him falling," Jim said, breaking the silence within the cab.

  Simon turned back to him, noticing for the first time the white-knuckled grip Jim had on the steering wheel.

  "I was on the phone with him," he continued, his voice holding a note of self-incrimination. "I should have done something. Should have warned him."

  "Jim, don't do this to yourself. Don't think about what you should or shouldn't have done. You need to concentrate on bringing Sandburg home. Everything else is a waste of energy."

  Jim took a deep breath, nodding. "You're right. I know you're right. I'm just so frustrated. I was so sure that Grant would be able to tell us something." His jaw clenched at the mention of the arrogant doctor.