by Beth Manz
Finishing with the kitchen, Blair moved into the living room. He scanned the room, not sure where to begin. Then he glanced up the stairs, looking for his partner. Jim was nowhere in sight. I hope you're having better luck up there than I am down here, he thought, moving toward a built-in bookshelf in the far corner. Several paperback novels had been left behind on the dusty shelves, the paper rotting and moldy.
Blair wrinkled his nose as he leaned down and scanned the titles. What I need to find is a diary confessing all her crimes. He smiled wryly. Yeah, that's gonna happen! Behind him, a board creaked. "Did you find anything?" he asked, not bothering to turn and look at his partner. But even as he said the words, he heard Jim's worried voice call out to him--from the second floor.
"Sandburg! She's here!"
The words were followed by the sound of Jim pounding across the floor above. But the sentinel's warning came too late. Before Blair could even register what was happening, his head was yanked painfully backward and he felt the cool press of a metal gun barrel against his throat.
"Don't say a word," Hannah warned close to his ear, the hand twisted in his hair tightening ever so slightly. Pulling him away from the shelves, she forced him toward the staircase. Seconds later, Jim rounded the landing at the top of the steps, reaching instinctively for his weapon as he moved.
"Stop right there!" Hannah yelled up at him.
Jim did as he was told, remaining on the landing above, staring down at Hannah and Blair. Sandburg could see the frustration etched in Jim's features, knew exactly what the sentinel was thinking--he should have never dialed down his hearing. But neither one of them had expected Hannah to be this bold.
"I've missed you, my love," Hannah cooed from behind Blair, her voice tender and filled with affection. But despite her soft voice, the gun remained pressed firmly against Blair's throat, her hand tangled in his hair.
Jim stood at the top of the stairs, his hands at his sides in a deceptively casual stance. But Blair could read the veiled calculation in his friend's eyes.
"Aren't you getting a little tired of these games, Hannah?" he asked. "I know I am."
Behind Blair, Hannah laughed, the pitch nearly matching that of the howling wind. A chill wound its way through Sandburg at the sound. "Don't worry, my darling. The game is about to end and we can fulfill our destiny together."
"We don't have a destiny," Jim ground out.
"Isn't this place wonderful, my love?" Hannah continued as if Jim had not spoken at all. "It's always been special to me--the place where only my true love would know to come."
Jim shook his head and pinned the woman with an expression of detached coldness. "Don't flatter yourself, Hannah. I came here because Mark's mother told us this is where you used to meet her son."
Hannah laughed again. "Oh, don't be so dramatic, Jim. You came here because you knew this is where I'd finally show myself to you. Your heart led you here, Jim, just as mine did."
Jim didn't respond, only gazed impassively at her. Blair licked his lips, waiting to see who was going to make the next move. He didn't have to wait long.
"Darling," Hannah began, "I want you to reach for your gun with one hand, drop it to the floor, and kick it away." When Jim hesitated, she shoved her weapon harder into Blair's flesh and shouted, "Now!"
Slowly, the detective did as the woman commanded, tossing away his weapon. Frustration pumped through Blair as he watched. He detested being used this way, hated being her pawn to get Jim to cooperate. Twisting hard, he tried to pull out of her grasp.
Roughly, Hannah shoved the gun harder into his neck. "I will kill you, Blair," she rasped into his ear. "You of all people should know that. So if you know what's good for you, you'll cooperate and make this easy for me."
"Do as she says, Chief," Jim instructed from above.
Blair looked up at his partner, could see the worry behind Jim's eyes.
"Now is not the time to fight," Jim continued softly. "She has the edge, buddy."
"You're so right," Hannah agreed triumphantly. Then, tightening her grip in his hair, Hannah pulled Blair backward. He gritted his teeth to keep from crying out in pain as he was forced to move with her.
"We're going outside, Jim. Come downstairs and follow us out."
Hannah backed toward the door, dragging Blair with her, keeping him between herself and Jim. Her hand never left his head, the gun never moved away from his neck.
"Would you lighten up on the hair?" Sandburg complained as he stumbled outside, the wind buffeting their bodies, tugging at their clothes. "You're pulling it out of my head."
"Shut up and keep moving." She pulled harder, a small, satisfied laugh rising from her throat.
Once outside, Hannah directed them to the back of the house. Keeping the gun to Blair's throat, she told Jim, "There's a length of rope at the base of that stump behind you. Get it."
"Why?" the detective asked, making no move to do as she commanded.
"You don't get to ask questions." She repositioned the gun, moving it directly beneath Blair's chin, then spoke to Jim again: "Just get the rope, Jim. Or Blair dies right here."
Jim did as he was told, scooping up the sturdy twine.
"Okay, Blair," she said close to his ear, her breath hot against his neck. "I want you to put your arms out in front of you, crossing them at the wrists." Her attention shifted to Jim. "You tie them together."
"What?" Jim blurted out. His worried gaze locked with Blair's. "Why?"
"Because you and I are leaving here together. Blair is staying behind. Whether he's alive when we leave, however, is totally up to you." Her grip tightened in Sandburg's hair again, pulling harder. "He means nothing to me, and after today his interference will no longer matter. So, it's your choice now, Jim. Tie his wrists together and he'll live. Don't, and he'll die."
Jim took an uncertain step forward. "Give me your wrists, Chief."
"No," Blair ground out.
Jim gaped at him, his mouth opening in surprise. "What do you mean 'no'. Give me your wrists."
"She just said she's going to leave here with you. I'm not going to make that any easier for her."
Jim's jaw clenched and he gave Blair a warning glance. "She's going to shoot you, Sandburg!"
The gun pressed harder. "I will, Blair."
"I know, Hannah," he bit out sarcastically. "But when you do, Jim will get that gun from you and this will all end."
"And you'll be dead!" Jim shouted. "Sandburg, give me your damn wrists!"
"No!"
"This is taking too long!" Hannah complained and Blair could feel the slight tremble in the hand that still held his hair.
"Blair...." Jim took a step closer, his eyes taking on a pleading look. "This is not the way to end this. Please--just trust me."
"If she leaves here with you-"
"I'll be alive, Blair, and as long as we're both alive, there's always hope."
Beside him, very close to his ear, Blair heard Hannah sigh. "You see?" she whispered into his ear. "This is why I love him so much. He's so...caring." She exhaled another soft sigh of contentment.
Though a slight expression of disgust crossed the detective's face at Hannah's words, Jim's gaze never left Blair. "Trust me," he said again. Then, giving Blair a small grin he added, "This is no time to turn hero on me, Chief."
Blair stared up at Jim for a long moment. There was something in his eyes, something that convinced him that Jim meant what he said, knew what he was doing. Slowly, Blair raised his arms toward his partner, crossing them at the wrists.
"Do a good job, Jim," Hannah coached. "If I have to tighten the rope, I'll just shoot him rather than bother."
Blair flinched as Jim secured the rope tightly into place, binding his wrists together in front of him.
"That's perfect," Hannah praised when Jim was finished. "Now take out your cuffs and cuff your hands behind your back."
"No way!" Blair blurted out. "Jim, you can't-"
"He can!" Hannah insisted, the gun
once again pressing into Blair's flesh. "And he will. Won't you, darling?"
Jim stared at Hannah. "Yes," he breathed.
"Jim! No! You can't-"
"I'll do it," Jim said to Hannah, his voice overriding Blair's. "But only if you assure me that you won't hurt Sandburg."
"I already told you-"
"I want you to say the words," he cut in. "I want to hear you say you won't hurt him."
Blair heard her sigh impatiently. "I won't hurt Blair. I promise." The gun pressed again. "Unless me makes me."
"He won't."
"Jim, you can't do this," Blair protested as he watched his partner pull out his cuffs and lock the first one around his right wrist. "This is nuts! Jim, man, think about this. You do this and you're going to be at her mercy." But even as he spoke the words, Jim slipped his arms behind his back and locked the second cuff in place.
"What now?" Jim asked coolly.
"Now we leave." Hannah nodded at the Escort behind Jim. "I left my car unlocked. I want you to get into the passenger seat."
"And Blair?"
"Blair will be fine."
Jim nodded once, then turned and made his way slowly to the vehicle.
"Jim, this is crazy. You can't trust her!" But nothing Blair said seemed to make any difference to the sentinel. Working slowly, awkwardly, his hands cuffed behind his back, Jim managed to open the door. Then, without hesitation, he slipped inside the small car.
As soon as Jim was settled in the passenger seat of the car, Hannah moved. Her hand still wound tightly in his hair, she dragged Blair forward toward the Escort.
"Belt him in," she ordered, finally releasing Blair as she shoved him toward the open door.
Blair lifted his bound hands and rubbed his head where her hand had held him for so long, his hair whipping around his head, caught by the harsh wind. Turning slowly to face her, he said, "I'm not going to help you make Jim your prisoner."
"Blair, what part of 'I'll shoot you if you don't cooperate' don't you understand?" Hannah complained. "I'm getting sick of this!"
"I'm not helping you," he shouted over the wind.
"Sandburg, do what she says."
Blair turned to face his partner, staring down at Jim where he sat in the car. "Jim, I-"
"Chief," Jim cut in, and there was no mistaking the commanding edge in his tone. His gaze locked with that of his guide. "Do what she says."
/
/
/
Jim stared straight ahead as Blair clicked the seat belt into place, effectively rendering him helpless and putting him totally at Hannah's mercy. But as Blair shifted back from him, their gazes locked.
"Jim-"
"Hurry up." Hannah grabbed Sandburg by the hair and pulled him forcibly away from the car. Blair cringed at the renewed pain, then stumbled backward when she released him as quickly as she'd grabbed him.
"Don't be so rough!" Jim shouted, twisting around, watching as she once again turned the gun on his partner.
"What are you going to do with him?" Blair asked, nodding toward Jim, twisting his still-bound wrists, looking for leeway he knew he wouldn't find.
"The only thing I can do." She looked toward Jim again. "When I realized that you were lying about going away with me--when you had me arrested instead--I realized that you would never see that we were meant to be together...at least not in this lifetime."
Jim's hands, still cuffed behind his back, pulled into tight fists. He had known when Hannah asked him to get in the car that it was in order to take him somewhere else and kill him. That garage, he thought. She's going to take me where she took Mark. Jim was sure he was right, but even with that knowledge he wouldn't have changed his actions. He'd gotten in the car for one reason and one reason only--to save Blair's life. And he'd gladly do it again to protect his guide.
Blair moved in front of Jim, blocking the passenger door from Hannah. "If you love Jim as much as you say you do," he questioned, holding his bound hands out in front of him in a pleading gesture, "then how can you talk about killing him?"
"It's that love that allows me to do this. I'm not killing him, Blair. I'm moving him to the next life, one in which he'll recognize our love." Hannah looked down at Jim, her eyes softly imploring. "It's the only thing I can do, the only choice left to me. You understand that, don't you, darling?"
"If you really thought I understood," Jim began, his voice cool, restrained, "I wouldn't be handcuffed, would I?"
The softness in Hannah's eyes slipped away, replaced with cold anger. Slowly, she raised the gun and pointed it at Blair. "Over there," she ordered, gesturing toward the old hay barn behind house.
Blair turned toward Jim, his breath coming in short gasps. "Jim-"
"Go with her, Chief. It'll be all right."
"You shouldn't have gotten in that car," he whispered, fear darkening his eyes.
Hannah grabbed him by the hair and pulled him roughly away.
Jim twisted around, trying to see what was happening. But as Hannah forced Blair inside the barn, Jim lost sight of them both. Cocking his head, straining past the sound of the wind all around him, he sent out his hearing....
"Stop right there," Hannah instructed Blair, her voice firm, impatient.
Licking his lips, Jim focused in on her voice. I haven't done this in so long and with this wind... But he needed to know what was happening to Blair. Concentrating hard, he piggybacked his sight and his hearing, following the sound until seconds later....
"See that hook hanging from the ceiling?"
Even as Hannah spoke the words, Jim could see what she was talking about. Swaying slightly in the wind that whipped through the still open door was a large, iron hook attached to a pulley system. At one time it had probably been used to hoist hay bales from the lower area of the barn to the loft section above. But it was obvious from the rust covering the hook and the pulley system that the contraption hadn't been used in years.
"Put your wrists over the end of the hook," Hannah ordered, keeping the gun leveled at Blair.
"Hannah, you haven't done anything yet," Blair said in an attempt to reason with her. "Just let us both go and you can walk away scot-free. No one has to get hurt."
"No one's going to get hurt, Blair. I wish you could understand that." She let out a frustrated breath. "Now hook your wrists over that thing...or I'll shoot you."
Jim's jaw clenched as he watched his partner lift his bound hands over his head and slip them onto the large hook.
"Now what?" Blair demanded.
"Now we fix it so you can't just slip away." A satisfied smile curled up her lips as she moved to the rope attached to the hook. As she began to pull, the hook moved upward, drawing Blair's arms up over his head, his wrists straining against the rope Jim had used to bind his hands together.
"That's high enough," Jim ground out as he watched Blair's arms stretch upward until he was up on tiptoe.
"That's high enough!" Sandburg blurted out, unknowingly mirroring Jim's own words. "You're going to break my arms!"
Hannah tied the rope off, leaving Blair dangling from the hook in the ceiling, his feet barely touching the ground. Blair twisted his wrists, pulled down against the hook holding him. But he couldn't get free. Hannah moved toward him.
"Don't you touch him!" Jim struggled against the belt holding him in place as Hannah stopped before Blair. Slowly, gently, she reached out and ran a finger down Blair's cheek, her head tilted slightly to one side as she gazed at him.
"Maybe someday when you're old and gray," she whispered, "you'll meet us again. Then you'll know I was right. You'll see how much we truly love each other."
"Jim doesn't love you. He never will," Blair said, his eyes locked with hers. "And if you kill him, he'll just be dead. There won't be a second chance for either one of you."
The self-satisfied smile ebbed away. In its place was an irate scowl. "Maybe you should go first and find out for both of us."
Jim tensed as Hannah brought the gun up and plac
ed it against Sandburg's chest, over his heart. The familiar sound of Blair's heartbeat pounded through Jim, increasing dramatically within a fraction of a second. But to his credit, Blair did not flinch; his gaze remained even and calm, giving no indication of the fear that now raced through him.
"I thought you promised Jim you wouldn't hurt me," he reminded Hannah softly, his expression confident.
"I told him I wouldn't hurt you unless you made me." She moved the gun up and pressed it under his chin. "You're coming very close to making me, Blair."
"Come on, Hannah. Come on," Jim urged. "Just leave him."
Finally, smiling sweetly, she dropped the hand holding the gun back to her side and said, "Have a good life, Blair." Then, turning on her heel, she strode toward the exit.
Seconds later, Hannah emerged from the barn. As she closed the weather beaten doors, Jim's view of his guide was lost to him. He gasped, blinking hard against the sudden disruption. He watched helplessly as Hannah slid a crowbar through the handles of the barn door, then jogged to the car.
She slipped behind the wheel, slightly out of breath, and turned to him. "Are you ready, darling?"
Jim looked over his shoulder at the ramshackle barn, worry clutching at his stomach. "You're just going to leave him here?"
"Blair's clever. I'm sure he'll find a way of getting out. And if he doesn't...." She shrugged one shoulder, smiling over at Jim. "I'm sure someone will come along sooner or later and let him go."
"Hannah, look at this place. No one has been here in years!" He looked back at the barn again, could hear Blair struggling uselessly inside, struggling against rope Jim himself had applied. He knew his guide would never be able to get those knots free. "Just call Dryer," he said, returning his attention to the woman beside him. "At least tell him where Sandburg is. You don't have to tell him anything more, but just tell him where to find Sandburg. Get someone out here to let him go!"
She frowned at him. "You know, if you had shown me even half this much caring and worry, we wouldn't be where we are now." Jamming the car into gear, she drove away from the farmhouse.
Jim extended his hearing, locking on to the sound of Blair's heartbeat. It thrummed strongly in his ears and he closed his eyes, listening until it faded into the background and then disappeared completely.
