by Beth Manz
Placing his glasses back on his face, he scooped up the file and began flipping through it. New information had been added since he'd last looked through it--crime scene and autopsy photos, a copy of the man's death certificate, Hannah's report. He skimmed each document before scanning the more familiar pages again. Everything seemed perfectly normal, yet he still couldn't shake the feeling that he was missing something.
Settling the file more comfortably in his lap, he stared down at it. Just type up your report, put it inside and forget this whole thing. But as he continued to look down at the folder, he frowned. The inside front cover of each of the station's records had a mandatory sign-out sheet attached to it. Anytime a file was requested, the officer or clerk who pulled that file was required to initial the sheet. And as Blair stared down at the sign-out sheet attached to Philip Kaage's file, two initials stood out--HM.
"HM...Hannah Merrick," he muttered to himself. His gaze shifted to the date beside the initials. Whoever HM was, he or she had signed the file out over two and a half months ago. He swallowed against the sudden dryness in his throat. He was sure that there were other people who worked at the station with the initials of HM, but the coincidence bothered him. The words Jim had spoken to him on a number of occasions came to his mind: There is no such thing as coincidence, Chief...
Blair pushed the statement from his mind. This had to be a coincidence... After all, Hannah had claimed that she'd never heard of Philip Kaage until three weeks ago when she met him in that park. But if this file bore what was her signature, her initials...
He chewed on his lower lip as the possibilities played through his mind. Had Hannah been involved with Kaage? Had she known him, maybe even dated him long before she claimed he'd begun stalking her? If that was true, then why lie about it? Whether she was involved with him or not, he didn't have the right to terrorize her.
It was possible she'd simply been ashamed of her involvement with him. Maybe at first she'd found him exciting...until he'd turned dangerous. Then she needed help and rather than admit the truth, she'd concocted the entire stalking story.
Pulling off his glasses, Blair glanced up at the kitchen clock. Jim would be leaving for Berne with Hannah in less than half an hour. Sighing, knowing he had no choice, he pushed up from the couch and headed toward the phone. He had to share what he'd discovered with his partner. More than likely it would all turn out to just be a coincidence or a misunderstanding, but he wanted it cleared up before Jim left town with her.
Just as he reached the phone, a knock sounded on the door. Changing direction, he crossed to it.
"Hannah?" he said, pulling the door wide. "What are you doing here?"
"I was just on my way to pick Jim up at the station when he called to say he'd forgotten his shaving kit. He asked me to swing by and pick it up for him." She crossed inside. "By the way, thanks for talking to him." Moving close, she leaned over and placed an innocent kiss against Blair's cheek. "You're a good friend."
Closing the door, Blair turned toward her. She stood before him, smiling brightly, her hair pulled back into a loose ponytail. And as he stared into her gentle eyes, he felt foolish for his previous doubts. How could he have thought that this woman had somehow been involved with Kaage? She simply was not the type.
Still, he needed to clear up the questions in his mind. Just ask her. Show her the file and ask about the initials. She'll probably tell you they're not even hers.
"Hannah, can I show you something?"
"Sure, Blair." She smiled sweetly, making him feel like even more of an idiot.
Crossing to the living area, Hannah trailing behind him, he picked up the file and showed her the inside cover. "Are these your initials?"
She glanced at them. "Yes," she answered without hesitation.
"You're sure?" he pressed, taken off guard by her response. "There's no question in your mind?"
"No, that's my writing," she confirmed again. "I'm sure of it." She cocked her head, gave him an inquisitive look. "Why? Is it important?"
"Well, it's...puzzling." He rubbed at his temple, trying to sort out his thoughts. "This is Philip Kaage's file. According to the date by these initials, you signed it out over a month before you say you ever met him."
She shrugged one shoulder, obviously not phased by Blair's questioning. "Someone probably just asked me to pull it for his upcoming burglary trial. I pull files all the time. You know that."
Blair's eyes widened. "You knew he was coming up for trial?"
"Yes. I told you that."
"No. No, you didn't," Blair said, dropping the file to the coffee table. He looked at her, studied her for a few moments. "You told me the first time you met Kaage was in the park. And when we asked you about him, you said you didn't know his last name. Now you're saying you knew a month earlier that he'd been arrested for burglary." He placed his hands on his hips. "Which is it, Hannah?"
The perfect smile she'd assumed since entering the loft gradually slid away. Her features took on a moment's regret, then an angry scowl. "You're confusing me, Blair," she said after several moments. "That's all."
A strange feeling of apprehension tightened Blair's stomach as he stared into her eyes. Eyes that, warm and sincere only minutes before, now sent a chill of dread through him. Something was wrong--very, very wrong.
"Hannah," he said calmly, holding his hands out in silent supplication. "I think we need to call Jim and talk to him about this." He stepped past her, moving toward the kitchen and the phone, intent on filling his partner in on everything that had just transpired. But he never made it across the loft. After only two steps, an explosion of pain radiated through the back of his skull, and darkness came up to engulf him.
/
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/
Hannah Merrick looked down at the statue she held in her hands. Impassively, she walked over to the end table from where she'd retrieved it and casually set it back in place.
Moving slowly, without haste or concern, she walked to the French doors that opened into Blair's room and pulled them closed. After retrieving Jim's shaving kit from the bathroom, she pulled that door securely closed as well. As she walked back toward the kitchen, she glanced around the loft, checking to make sure all the windows were shut. Satisfied the loft was sealed tight, she crossed to the stove, leaned down and blew out the pilot light. Humming softly to herself, she flipped on each of the burners before turning the knob for the oven itself. She opened the oven door and stood back, smiling at the sound of the softly hissing gas.
Walking to the front door, Jim's shaving kit tucked under her arm, she turned and took one final look at the loft, her unconcerned gaze never once coming to rest on Blair's prone form.
Smiling serenely, she stepped into the corridor and pulled the loft door closed firmly behind her.
/
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/
Simon took a long drag on his cigar before exhaling the smoke slowly, relishing the cigar's aroma and flavor. He was in the one place where no one could tell him to put it out--his own car. Grabbing up his phone, he dialed the station. The line on the other end was answered after just one ring.
"Ellison."
"Jim, it's Simon. I'm on my way in and I need everything on the Kaage case. The DA called earlier to tell me our meeting has been pushed up to today, so I want to go through the file as soon as I get to the office."
"That will be a problem, sir. I left the file at the loft with Sandburg. I didn't think you'd need it until Monday and he was planning to type up his statement this weekend. I thought he could use it."
"Not a problem," Simon assured him. "I'll just swing by the loft, get his statement and the file at the same time."
"Great. And Simon?" Jim said before he could hang up. "I'm going to be leaving here in the next few minutes. I'm going away for the weekend."
"But I thought you just said Sandburg-"
"I'm not going with Sandburg," Jim cut in. "I'm going with Hannah."
"Oh." Simo
n couldn't help the smile that spread its way across his face. "Well, I hope you two have a nice time."
"I'm sure we will. But Simon--Hannah...she wants us to spend the weekend getting to know each other, without distraction, so she asked me to turn off my cell phone. I was wondering, could you check on Sandburg? Normally, I wouldn't even ask," he added quickly. "But he's still moving slowly and he might-"
"I'll do it, Jim," Simon cut in, shaking his head. "Don't worry."
"Thanks. Hannah just walked in, so I'm going to be leaving. I'll see you Monday."
Simon chuckled as he disconnected the line. Jim Ellison and Hannah Merrick. Who would have guessed? "Sandburg," he muttered. The kid had been trying to get those two together for weeks. He'd obviously seen something in the pairing that no one else had.
Simon made a left at the next street, changing his direction slightly to head toward Prospect Street. Pulling up in front of Jim's building, he cut the engine and exited the car. As he rode up in the elevator, he inhaled deeply, savoring the aroma of the recently smoked cigar that clung to his clothes. How he longed for the days when it was acceptable to smoke anywhere.
Stepping off the elevator, he strolled to the loft door and knocked. No answer. No sound from inside. Had the kid fallen asleep? He knocked again but now...now he thought he could smell something. He leaned closer to the door and sniffed.
His heart slammed into his rib cage as the smell of natural gas reached him. "Sandburg!" He pounded his fist against the door, rattling it in its frame. Fishing his keys out of his pocket, he sorted frantically through them until he came to the one for the loft Jim had given him long ago. He slammed it into the lock, twisted it, and shoved the door wide.
The noxious gas hit him like a wall, staggering him backward and causing him to gasp and choke. Covering his mouth and nose with his hand, he moved to the range and flipped off the knobs. That done, he scanned the loft interior, his gaze searching and finding...
"Blair!" he shouted. The kid lay on the floor halfway between the kitchen and the living area, clearly unconscious. Simon rushed to him; grabbing his left arm, he pulled Sandburg upright. Swinging one of Blair's arms up around his shoulders, the captain pulled the unconscious man close to his side, hooked his other arm around the smaller man's waist, and half-dragged, half-carried him toward the balcony. Sandburg's head lolled backward as they moved.
Kicking the balcony doors open, Simon dragged the kid out to the railing. The cold air worked like a slap in the face. Blair's eyes snapped open and he began to cough uncontrollably. Simon leaned him heavily against the railing.
"Blair?" he said, supporting him where he stood, trying to get a look into his eyes. "Are you okay?"
"Think I'm going to be sick," he muttered.
Simon left him where he was and, holding his breath, went back into the loft. Retrieving a kitchen towel, he soaked it in cold water before heading back out. He found Blair on his knees, his chin resting against his chest. He'd thrown up.
Simon laid the towel gently across the back of Sandburg's neck. Blair reached up with a trembling hand and pulled the towel away, wiping it over his face and across his mouth.
Slipping his hands under Blair's arms, Simon pulled the smaller man to his feet again and moved him away from the mess he'd made. The kid was trembling. Simon didn't know if it was from the cold or a reaction to being trapped inside the gas-filled loft. Probably both.
"What the hell happened?" he said as he helped Blair lower himself into one of the balcony chairs.
"Hannah," he choked out, moving the towel over his face again. "It was Hannah."
/
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/
Jim allowed his gaze to wander away from Hannah, where she sat next to him, to the fire that blazed brightly in the large stone fireplace. The fire, warm and inviting, was the only light in the living room with the exception of the candles Hannah had set out on the mantle.
The cabin itself was small, rustic. The place had electricity and running water but had never been supplied with phone service. Hidden from the road by a thick stand of trees that pressed in on the narrow lane leading to it, the cottage was the perfect weekend hideaway.
Jim stared into the flames and smiled to himself. Their early dinner had been delicious, and he and Hannah had brought their coffee to the couch where it could be enjoyed in front of the fire. The past half hour had been spent talking idly about whatever came to mind. He was warm, he was satisfied from the ample meal, and he was content. He returned his gaze to Hannah.
"Are you happy, Jim?" she asked him quietly, her eyes meeting his, holding his gaze.
"Mmmm," Jim sounded out. Again, his eyes wandered to the comfortable surroundings before returning to Hannah. "Yes. I think your idea for us to have this time alone was perfect."
"Then you're glad you came?"
His smiled warmed, bringing a responsive blush to Hannah's cheeks. "I'm very glad I came."
"Jim," she began, placing her coffee cup on the table beside the couch, then reaching over to take Jim's. She placed his cup next to hers, then turned back to the detective. "May I ask you something?"
"Of course."
She took his hand into both of hers. "What would you say if I were to tell you that I don't believe this is our first meeting? I mean...that my coming to work at the station and getting to know you there wasn't really our first meeting..."
Jim shook his head. "I'm not sure I understand."
She laughed lightly and shook her head. "I know. I'm not making it very clear." Squeezing his hand, she looked deeply into his eyes. "What if I were to tell you that I believe the two of us have been together before, in other lives?"
Surprised at her question, Jim exhaled audibly, then coughed to cover his sudden discomfiture. He knew he was staring, but of all the things Hannah Merrick could have possibly presented him with, this would have never entered his imagination. Maybe she's just joking...
"Uh, Hannah," he began. "I'm sorry, but all that New Age stuff really doesn't do a lot for me."
"Oh, it's not New Age," she protested gently, squeezing at his hand again. "The idea that we live several lifetimes is an old and revered belief among many cultures."
Jim studied the demure woman, his mind still not able to wrap itself around the fact that he was hearing these ideas from Hannah. He'd expect such theorizing from Sandburg's mother, maybe...but Hannah?
"What?" she laughed out as he continued to stare at her. "I mean, I know this must come as a shock, but is it so unbelievable to you that we could have been together in a previous life?" She leaned forward and looked up at him, her eyes wide and imploring. "And would it be so difficult to believe that we're not only meant to be together in this life, but in many lives beyond?"
Uncomfortable with Hannah's reasoning, Jim gently withdrew his hand and stood, moving slowly to stand in front of the fire. The pleasant weekend at the cabin had suddenly taken a very bizarre turn. He wasn't sure whether to laugh at Hannah's assumptions, to be sympathetic toward her, or to pack his things and try to find a ride back to Cascade. He wanted nothing more than to laugh off the silly idea she was presenting, but it was obvious to him that she wasn't joking.
"Hannah, I...I don't know what to say," he stammered out at last.
She stood and moved over to stand next to him. "Just tell me that even if you can't believe it's possible we've been together before, that you can at least feel that I'm right." She reached out and placed her palm gently against his chest. "That you can feel that we're meant to be together...now and always. And beyond."
"I'm sorry," he breathed out, backing away. "I wish I could tell you I feel that way, but..."
She smiled at him then, her eyes taking on a slight predatory glint. "Oh, Jim," she cooed. "If you'd just listen to me, I'm sure I could convince you."
"I don't think so..."
She moved closer, gazed up at him with quiet confidence. "I can. Do you think my coming to work at the station was just some sort of coinciden
ce? No, Jim. I've been watching you for a long, long time. I recognized you from our time together in our other lives." She laughed lightly and shook her head. "I'd almost given up on finding you this time. I'd been searching for you, Jim. It seemed like forever I'd been searching...and then one day I saw you. I followed you, learned your name, where you lived and worked...and then I moved myself quietly into your life. Because I love you. I've always loved you and I always will." She raised her hand to his face.
Jim stared down at her. Shaking his head, he reached up and pulled her hand away from his cheek. "You followed me?" he asked levelly, his heart and mind sending up a barrage of warning signals. "How long?"
"Oh, don't be upset by that, my darling," she breathed out. "It's something I had to do...I had to let you know I'd found you," she whispered sweetly as she reached up to touch his face again. "I've planned this for so long, Jim. Don't tell me, after all the work I've done to bring us together again, that you're going to be hard to convince..."
/<
"We just want to know where the Merrick family cabin is." Blair stood before the sheriff's antique desk, his hands spread flat against the scarred oak surface. He and Simon had just spent the last several hours driving to Berne, following the only lead they had regarding Jim's whereabouts. But now that they were here, they still couldn't find him--not without the help of the man seated in front of Blair.
Sheriff Gil Dryer stared evenly at Blair, his expression cool and unconcerned despite the anthropologist's obvious anger. "The Merricks are a good family, well-liked in these parts. Why would I give directions to their cabin to two strangers I've never seen before?"
"Because Hannah Merrick tried to kill me, and for all I know she's trying to do the same thing to my partner right now!"
"Hannah Merrick tried to kill you?" The sheriff stared at Blair for a moment, then a disbelieving grin broke slowly across his face. After a few seconds, he laughed out loud. "You're going to stand there with a straight face and tell me that Hannah Merrick tried to kill you?" he repeated, still laughing. He shook his head and stood. Leaning toward Blair, he held the anthropologist's gaze. As he leaned even closer to Blair, all signs of the sheriff's previous mirth disappeared and his eyes turned steely and cold. "Let me tell you something, young man. I've known that girl since before she could walk, and there is no way you will ever be able to convince me that she's capable of hurting anyone!"
