by Cindy Combs
"Chinese," Ray answered as he unloaded his arms. "Along with the case files and a couple vids."
"Vids?" Blair repeated as he glanced into the Blockbuster sack. Then he chuckled. "We're introducing Fraser to Indiana Jones, I take it?"
"Yep," Ray replied as Sam chuckled.
Jim noted the slight puzzlement on the mountie's face and quickly figured out what was up. "You must be .?" he asked, holding out his hand to the fourth man.
"Oh, sorry," Ray quickly picked up. "Fraser, this is Det. Jim Ellison with the Cascade PD. Ellison, this is my partner, Constable Benton Fraser."
Jim still looked a bit puzzled. "Why is there a Canadian mountie partnered with a Chicago detective?" Was there something international going on here that he didn't know about?
Fraser opened his mouth, but Ray jumped in before he could start his life history spiel again. "Ellison, I'll make you a deal. You don't ask me why I've got a mountie for a partner, and I won't ask why you've got an archaeologist for yours."
"Blair is an anthropologist, Ray," Fraser reminded him again.
Ray waved the comment away, "Same diff." He stared at Ellison, holding out his right hand. "Deal?"
"Deal." Jim had no desire to try to explain why Blair was his partner, especially to a detective who was smarter than he appeared. They quickly shook hands.
However, the exchange made an impression on Sam. He had always taken the situation of Blair working with Jim for granted. It never occurred to him before just how odd it really was. Some investigative reporter I am. He filed it away with everything else he wanted to ponder over later.
"Okay, who wants eggrolls?" Ray called out as he opened the sack Dief was staring at.
An hour later, the five men had finished the meal and were going over all the information on the case. Ray had hoped it might unlock the reason why the bomber had turned sniper to kill Malloy, but so far no luck.
"All right," Jim finally announced, picking up a pad of paper he'd been scribbling on. "Let's see if I have all this straight." He pointed to a group of pictures. "First, these are the members of the wedding party that you're involved with, right Sam?"
"Right," Sam replied glumly.
Blair looked up from feeding Dief a piece of eggroll, sending a worried glance in his brother's direction. "What's wrong?" Then realization dawned. "You were suppose to be out with Terry and Dave tonight, right?"
"Yeah. Some best man I've turned out to be."
"You prevented the destruction of the church where they are to be wed. I'd say you have performed well beyond the normal duties of a best man," Fraser pointed out, trying to cheer him up.
Blair gave his brother's shoulder a squeeze as Jim reached over and ruffled Sam's hair.
"Well, other than the fact that Mrs. Lawrence has a major grudge against you, I think we can rule them all out," Ray commented, hoping to get Sam's mind off the wedding and back to the matter at hand.
Sam immediately went along. "Yeah, she hates my guts but she wouldn't hurt the wedding."
"We can probably eliminate the wedding that's taking place this evening," Jim suggested. "I trust that if anything had happened by now, we'd know?" He glanced at Ray, who nodded. "What about the Randolf/Evers wedding tomorrow?"
Blair shrugged as he reread the reports. "Looks to be your average wedding as well. According to the Sister's notes, the only danger is if the bride's father decides to strangle her step-father."
"What about the list of enemies that the Father and Sister gave to you?" Fraser asked.
Ray shook his head, amazed at the length of that list. "Huey and Dewey are still checking them out, but so far no luck."
Blair looked at Jim and mouthed, "Huey and Dewey?" Suppressing a smile, Jim nodded. When he had been introduced to them at the station, Jim had almost asked if there were any Louies in the department as well, but decided he didn't want to make enemies of Ray's co-workers.
"Next we have the funeral of Mr. Rodger Flesch," Ray continued.
"They were bringing in his urn while I was waiting for Terry," Sam pointed out. "Sister Steve said the two men were his nephews."
"Nicky 'The Signpost' Flesch and Joey 'Bazooka' Balooka," Fraser read clinically from the report in his hands. "Rather colorful names. Why is there a star on this report?"
"Welsh says they have ties to the mob," Ray explained. "Apparently, Mr. Flesch was believed to be running numbers and died in an apartment fire. No one knows for sure which nephew will inherit the business."
"So the Leftenant believes this to be mob related," Fraser quickly concluded.
"Mob related?" Blair repeated worriedly. He didn't like the sound of that.
Ray shrugged it off as he read another report. "The Lieutenant ALWAYS thinks it's mob related. Even when it's not."
Jim picked up another sheet. "What's this about a florist?" In the background, Jim heard a noise. Tilting his head a moment, he relaxed when he realized it was a cat on the balcony. He sent a reassuring look into his guide's questioning eyes. Blair then relaxed, too. The exchange was noted by Fraser, who had just barely heard the cat over the fans.
"There was an older lady with a couple assistants placing flowers around for one of the weddings," Sam remembered out loud.
"Apparently, it was Ms. Lydia Delmonte from Majestic Flowers, with Summer Johnson and Kaitlin Mathews," Jim read. "Must be good. The same firm is listed for the Randolf/Evers wedding as well."
"Does any of this ring any bells for you, Sam?" Ray asked hopefully.
Sam shook his head. "I really wasn't paying that much attention," he explained apologically. "My head was hurting and I was talking with Sister Steve."
"You may have seen something you don't remember," Fraser suggested. "There is a way to help you remember, if you are willing."
"Oh, no, not the hypnosis again," Ray groaned.
"But we learned important information last time that helped solve a murder," Fraser pointed out.
"Yeah, but you ended up hypnotizing everyone in the room," Ray reminded him.
Fraser shrugged, "I just won't use the Administration Manual again. It is apparently too powerful for this use."
"Too boring, you mean. And I'd still like to know what post-hypnotic suggestion you gave me."
Fraser just looked blandly innocent, but Jim suspected the man was still secretly pleased with himself for whatever he had done.
"Hypnosis?" Sam repeated worriedly. He didn't like the sounds of that at all.
Fraser turned to him reassuringly. "A harmless procedure."
Sam shook his head. "I don't think I want to do that." He already felt rather vulnerable. The thought of hypnosis and losing even more control scared him.
"Do you trust me?" Blair asked him.
Sam switched his attention to Blair in surprise. "Trust you?"
Blair shrugged. "I've put Jim in a light hypnotic state to help him remember events he's repressed. I can help you do the same, but you have to trust me enough to relax."
"It does work," Jim assured him. "But if you don't feel comfortable about it, that's okay, too." Jim tried not to hold his breath. He didn't want to pressure Sam, but they needed a break in order to keep the young man safe.
Sam studied his brother for a moment. With anyone else, he would have refused. However, this was Blair asking. Sam had trusted him long before they had known about the common blood they shared. "Okay, what do we have to do?"
A half hour later, Sam was sitting relaxed on the upholstered chair, eyes closed, with Blair sitting on the coffee table across from him. Jim, Ray, and Fraser sat on the couch behind Blair, Fraser next to the light he had dimmed to help Sam relax.
Using his soft, deep guide voice, Blair softly called,"Sam?"
"Yeah," Sam replied, his voice sounding light and floating.
"Think back to the church this morning. Are you there?"
"Yeah," Sam replied, a faint frown crossing his face.
"What's wrong?" Blair asked, trying to keep the concern out of his
voice.
"Mrs. Lawrence. She doesn't like me, and she's upsetting Sunny and Terry."
Blair frowned, remembering what Sam had told him about the situation. He kept that concern out of his voice, though. "She can't reach you now. What happened next?"
Step by step, Blair led his brother in describing the events leading up to finding the bomb. Ray was amazed at the detail Sam was able to remember. The only hesitation was on Blair's part when Sam reported his conversation with Steve about Blair. Then Jim reached over to lay a hand on his partner's shoulder and Blair continued.
"...the breakfast bar flew right past Dave's hands," Sam was retelling. "It hit the floor then slid past my foot."
"Then what happened?" Blair asked calmly, trying not to communicate his tension to Sam. This was when Sam had found the bomb.
"I stood up then knelt down to pick up the bar," Sam said. "It aggravated my headache."
"What did you see?"
"I saw the red wrapping of the bar. As I reached for it, I saw something sparkle. I glanced further back, and saw a red digital display reading 32:42."
Jim squeezed Blair's shoulder. Blair nodded his head once to indicate he understood. "Sam, I want you to ignore the digital display for a moment. What else do you see?"
"The breakfast bar."
"Remove the bar from your mind as well. What else do you see?"
Sam's eyes squeezed tighter as his mind searched his memory. "There, there was something else."
"Take your time and try to describe it."
"A gold and green sparkle it's laying on the wood floor... I think the green is a gemstone set in something...gold, I think. It kinda looks like a bird with its wings outstretched... maybe an eagle or a hawk."
Jim squeezed Blair's shoulder again as Ray and Fraser exchanged looks. Blair then led Sam to describe the evacuation and who he saw leaving the building. A few moments later, he brought Sam out.
Sam blinked and shook his head. "Did anything I say help?"
Blair leaned forward, resting his elbows on his thighs. "Do you remember telling us about the pin?"
Sam thought for a moment, then nodded his head. "Vaguely. It is rather fuzzy, probably because the bomb drew my attention away from it."
"Do you think you would recognize it if you saw it again?" Fraser asked.
Sam shrugged his shoulders. "Maybe."
"At least it's something," Ray replied as he dialed the phone. "Hey Huey, I've got a lead for you to follow "
Sam looked at Jim and Fraser. "Do you guys honestly think that the pin's important?"
"If it's a unique piece of jewery, it is possible we may be able to identify the bomber by it," Fraser explained.
Jim stood up. "Anyone ready for the video?"
Fraser picked up the bag and followed Jim to the VCR. As Sam and Blair both rose from their seats, Blair gently laid a hand on Sam's shoulder. "Sorry for worrying you," he apologized.
Sam gave him a faint smile. "Hey, we both live closer to the edge than most. It could've just as easily been me who got on someone's wrong side. I mean, we may have 50 years or we may have only a few months. That's why I wanted to spend next week at the cabin with you. I just want to get to know my brother better before the time's up, that's all."
Sam's unusually long speech impacted Blair's heart hard. Feeling hot tears trying to well up in his eyes, he forced out, "Thank you." Then he pulled Sam into a tight embrace.
Next morning, apartment above McGinty's
As he had for nearly two years, Gary Hobson woke up at 6:30 am to the squall of a cat and a paper thumping against his door. He climbed out of bed and shuffled forward in his boxers, still groggy from a restless night due to the heat. Upon opening the door, a lean orange tiger stripe dashed past him, intent on reaching his water bowl. Apparently, even century-old cats were affected by the heat.
"Good morning to you, too," Gary grumped as he squatted down to pick up the paper. Closing the door, he tossed the remarkable paper onto the coffee table as he wandered to the bathroom. It had long become old hat that his morning paper, unlike anyone else's, contained tomorrow's news instead of today's, except for certain rare instances. If it was one of those instances, Gary figured he'd rather be awake before reading it.
A few minutes later, he walked back to the couch carrying a bottle of ice tea. He took a long swig and leaned back before picking up the paper. He never knew what his day might hold, so he wanted to relax while he could. Taking a deep breath, he quickly read the headline. Startled, he sat up and swiftly read the accompanying articles. Then he grabbed the phone.
"Hello?" answered the groggy voice of his friend.
"Chuck, have you ever been to St. Michael's Church?"
"Gare, I'm Jewish, remember? Why would I go to a Catholic church unless it was for a wedding or a catering..." Chuck's mind finally woke up in mid-complaint. "Wait a minute. Wasn't that the church that guy was suppose to bomb?"
"Right," Gary swiftly replied. "Meet me here as soon as you can." Gary hung up the phone before his friend could protest. Then he ran his hands through his hair as he again stared at the headline. Sometimes he wondered if whomever sent him the paper expected him to actually be superman.
Safehouse
James Ellison stood behind a curtain, watching the street below. Sipping his coffee, he reflected how different this city felt compared to Cascade. Admittedly, Chicago was much bigger, faced fresh water instead of ocean, and was much warmer than Cascade. However, Jim suspected his disorientation had more to do with Chicago not being HIS city. While he was here for his guide and guide's brother, it was still strange territory to the sentinel. He just hoped he could protect Blair and Sam. He couldn't bear the thought of losing Blair again, nor of facing MacGyver to explain why one or both sons were dead.
Fraser joined him at the window. Jim still wasn't sure what to make of the man. The mountie was apparently a good officer and a friend of Blair's. Though considering some of Blair's friends, that might not be all that great a recommendation. "Any news?" Jim asked.
"None so far," Fraser reported. "I believe Det. Huey plans to reinterview many of the suspects this morning, in light of what Mr. Malloy remembered. Do you think he will still want to attend the rehearsal?"
"Yes," Jim sighed. "Sam is feeling bad enough for missing so much yesterday. He'll want to go to the rehearsal. I just hope whoever is involved doesn't take any more potshots at him."
Fraser paused a moment. "Blair was worried about their father yesterday. Do you think there may be a connection to the shooting?"
Jim frowned. "I don't think so. If all this was due to Mac, it would've made more sense to wait. The perp had no way of knowing Blair would reach Chicago so quickly. Plus, in a couple days Blair and Sam would've been isolated at the cabin instead of surrounded by police. This feels more like someone knew Sam was at the police station because of the bomb and waited for him to leave."
"I concur," Fraser agreed. "This appears to be more an act of desperation than the result of detailed planning."
Jim sighed. "The next question is, will this person be desperate enough to strike again?"
McGinty's
"So," Chuck stated, trying to stifle a yawn. "We're suppose to handle both a bomber AND mobsters?"
"I've been thinking about that," Gary replied.
"Oh, oh," Chuck commented, earning a glare.
"Really," Gary continued. "According to this article, everything was almost under control when the shooting started. If we can keep the mobsters from entering the church until the situation has cooled down, eveything should turn out all right."
"All right for who?" Chuck asked sarcastically. "Exactly how are we suppose to keep mobsters carrying guns from doing exactly what they want to do without getting shot?"
"We better think of something, or several people die," Gary pointed out.
"Gary? Chuck?" a pretty black woman cheerfully called out as she and her guide dog entered the bar. "I didn't expect you guys up so early."<
br />
"Why not? We work for Superman, remember?" Chuck grumbled as he laid his head on the bar.
"Oh, paper business," Marissa stated, nodding her head. "I hope you don't need me this morning. The staff and I are putting together finger sandwiches and cream puffs for the Randolf-Evers wedding this afternoon. The food has to be at St. Michael's by 10:30."
Chuck lifted his head to stare at Gary's wide eyes, thoughts zipping across the space. "Did you say St. Michael's?" Gary asked.
"Yes, it's that Catholic church over by the park."
Still reading his friend's expression, Chuck asked, "Ah, Marissa, are you going to have any extras?"
"Sure," Marissa replied with a shrug. "You hungry?"
Gary ignored the question. "You'll need some delivery help, won't you?"
"I hadn't planned " Marissa paused, a worried look crossing her face. "Wait a minute. Why do you want to help?"
"Just let us know which trays are the extras," Gary informed her.
"Hold it! Just what are you planning to do with my cream puffs, Gary?"
St. Michael's
Joan Connell walked up to her son and Dave near the front of the sanctuary. "Hi Dave, hi honey," she greeted, kissing Terry's cheek.
"Hi Mom," Terry greeted. "Where's Dad?"
"He's parking the car," Joan replied, studying the glum faces. "Any word on Sam?"
Terry sighed. "The police lieutenant told me he'd be here. I just can't believe all this has happened."
"I know, honey," Joan reassured him, giving her tall son a hug. "Everything will work out. If there is anything I can do "
"Thanks, Mom," Terry replied, giving her a ghost of a grin. He knew his mother, a well-known attorney, had stormed straight from the airport to the police station yesterday to help Sam out of trouble. Only by that time, Sam was already in protective custody.
Joan glanced around, spotting Sunny talking with her bridesmaids along the side. Mrs. Darlene Lawrence was standing next to her daughter, a sour look on her face. Joan tried not to glare at the woman. While she adored Sunny, she'd rather have as little contact with Darlene as possible. It was the sudden thunderous look on the woman's face that drew Joan's attention to the door.
