He removed the keys from the ignition, dropped them into his pocket, and, from force of habit, did a sweep of the garage with his hearing before leaving the the truck.

"Hey, Tom."

"What?"

"Isn't that Ellison over there?"

"Yeah, what of it?"

"He's early."

"So? What if he is? He wants to get here early, that's his business. He's not on the clock."

"Yeah, yeah, but where's his buddy?"

"Who, Sandburg? How should I know?"

"He hasn't come in with Ellison for about a week. Thought they'd be together all the time, now."

"Probably threw him out. How should I know? How come you been watching Sandburg, anyway? You got a thing for guys with long hair, now? Does Jenny know?  OW, OW, OW!...Watch it! That my bum arm! Perp got me with a pipe, remember?"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah."

"So, why you asking about Sandburg? What's he to your young life? And hurry up there, can't ya? I wanna get this check list done before I go home. Sarge'll have our butts if it isn't."

"I'm hurrying, I'm hurrying, O.K.? I just figured Sandburg would be with Ellison all the time. It ain't like he's got anything else to do."

"I thought he taught over at the university. Archaeology or something."

"For God's sake, Tom. Where you been the last three weeks?"

"Up at my mother-in law's in Seattle, you know that. Jenny's dad had a heart attack, remember? We just got him home and settled. Jenny's still up there."

"Yeah, I'm sorry, Tom. I heard. Look, you need help or anything..."

"Yeah, I'll let you know."

"Still, I figured with all the hype over that Union negotiator, and Zoeller, and Ellison...just figured you'd have heard about Sandburg."

"Nah. We were always too tired to turn on the t.v. Back and forth, back and forth. Hospital/house, house/hospital. You know."

"Yeah. Mary and me, we went through it two years ago."

"So, what about Sandburg?"

"He's a fake, man. Fraud. Big time. Olympic gold medal liar."

"Nah, can't be. Hand me that pen. This one is givin' up the ghost."

"Oh, yeah. *Can*. Here."

"Thanks. "

"Mmm."

"Sandburg. No way. I heard he's gonna be a detective up in Major Crime. Just gotta do the firearms training. All set to partner with Ellison."

"Yep."

"Well, that's what I mean."

"You mean what?"

"No way would Banks or the Chief let some fraud walk into a job like that up there. No way, man. I mean, Bunco *arrests* frauds."

"Look, Tom. The guy admitted on television that he was a fraud. He falsified his dissertation. Did it for "recognition from his peers" he said."

"Yeah, so, your point?"

"You are so BLIND!"

"So explain it to me, professor. Dissertation is just a fancy word for some term paper, right?"

"Just some term paper *wrong*. He's been working on this thing for  *fourteen*  * years*. Got scholarships and loans and grants up to *here*. Tens of thousands of dollars worth, probably. He falsifies this paper and results of his "research", he has to have been falsifying his applications and reports to foundations, right? I mean, we're talking big bucks, here."

"So?"

"So he lies for money, he lies for attention.  He'd probably lie on his reports to Banks. I ain't gonna trust him."

"Nobody asked you to."

"Yeah , well, they do, I ain't gonna."

Jim got out of the truck and headed for the elevator. He didn't have to listen to this. He didn't. He was sick of hearing it. First the Bagel Shoppe, and now the precinct. You'd think nobody had anything to do except talk about Sandburg. At least one thing was going his way.  He could hear the elevator headed to the garage.

Jim leaned against the wall beside the elevator, out of the way of any departing passengers. Huh. Voight and Littlefield from Homicide. Must have worked last night.

"Hey, Ellison."

"Voight."

"You're early."

"Got stuff to do."

"Tell me about it. We're still doing. Gonna be a late one."

"Happens to all of us."

"Yeah, sure does. See ya around."

"See you. "

The two men moved off, heading toward a nondescript brown sedan. Jim stepped onto the elevator, empty except for himself, his hearing unintentionally still "up".

"Jeez, that Ellison is something, isn't he?"

"Wadda you mean, Voight?"

"Ah, you know. That whole crazy business a while back. Just stopped using a cane for God's sake. At least he seems to have gotten rid of his tag-a-long. Idiot could have gotten him killed with his damn stories."

"What are you talking about, Voight? Sandburg? Little guy, long hair? Used to teach over the University?"

"Yeah, you say it on t.v. Made up some big story about Ellison being a "super cop". News crews almost got him killed during that Zoeller thing. Kid hadn't been so stupid, writing a bunch of lies, Pearse and Hughes upstairs would still be alive. It's because of what he wrote that Zoeller reacted like he did."

"Yeah?"

"Oh, yeah. That's not all, either. He probably took the university for thousands. More. I hear they're gonna sue him."

"No."

"Oh,yeah. My niece works over there. She's friends with the secretary in Chancellor Edwards' office. She says it's a big mess."

"No. I mean, you gotta be wrong."

"Unh, unh. I know what I'm talking about. Get in, why don't ya. I'll drive."

"Fine. But, look, Voight. Sandburg's gotta be o.k. I mean, he's living with Ellison. Banks offered him a shield, for God's sake. He's gonna be Ellison's partner. Mr. Cop of the Year!"

"I'm not wrong, Littlefield. He admitted it on television."

"Well,...damn."

"Yeah."

"Makes you think."

"Yeah."

"I thought we took out the criminals."

"Yeah. Me, too. Let's get going. Can't keep the man waiting. I wanna find my bed before noon time."

"Yeah."

Jim slumped back against the wall of the elevator, head back, eyes closed. Damn. Damn, damn,damn. He was going to have to ask Simon for some personal days. It was time for this to stop. It was time for some answers. It was time
for the truth.

Now if he could just get his hands on the things he needed to take with him.

Damn.