"What do you *mean* he didn't come back with you?"

Simon Banks bolted up in his desk chair, hands slapping palms down on his desk blotter as he stared incredulously at his foreign exchange Inspector.

"I mean, sir, precisely what I said. Sandy did not return from the Academy with me." Connor stood ramrod straight, her jaw tight, looking for all the world as if she had morphed into Jim Ellison while Simon wasn't watching.

"And do you have an *explanation* for why he didn't come back with you? Simon leaned forward, giving her a hard look.

"Yes, sir, I do."

"And that would be?"

"Sir, when I checked in with the receptionist she informed me that he had met friends unexpectedly and would be returning home with them."

"And those friends were...?"

"I don't know, sir."

"You checked with everyone from Major Crime?"

"Sir, he does have other friends..."

"Connor, did you check?" Simon allowed a hint of impatience to show through his even words.

"Yes, sir, I did." Evidently it had about as much effect on her as it had on Ellison. Come to think of it, when has Connor turned into Socrates?

"And?"

"They weren't from Major Crime, Sir."

"They?"

"Yes, sir."

"Connor...I'm losing my patience. Just tell me the whole story."

"Sir, if I may?" Worry colored her question.

"Just get on with it Connor! Oh, hell," he leaned back in his chair, bent his head and rubbed his temples with his forefingers. "Sit down, Connor." He waved her toward a chair with one arm. "Get some coffee. Just tell me what happened. From the beginning."

"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir." Ignoring the coffee, she settled into the chair nearest his desk. "Ah, sir? Could I begin off the record?"

Simon sighed, shook his head and visibly attempted to relax. "Yes."

"Well."

What did she mean 'Well'? Simon picked up his cigar and rolled it between his fingers. Oh, yes...'off the record'.

"Megan?" There, using her first name should sound non official enough to get her to start talking.

"Yes, sir." She, too, relaxed back into here seat.

"Are you aware, sir, that he has sold his computer, his books and his car? I picked him up in front of Joe Leighton's Used Car Lot just off of Prospect yesterday morning. I assumed he'd left it for repairs. It wasn't until I made an...unfortunate remark... that I realized he'd put it up for sale.

When I asked him if he'd...talked to any of his friends at the University...I thought he must have, it isn't as if he's talked to any of us here, and I thought *surely* he'd have some left there after 14 *years*, he told me one of his friends had sold his books for him, and his laptop computer.

Sir - he has *no* income! I asked around, sir, and the rumor is, he's in *big* trouble financially for submitting fraudulent grant proposals. The idea is that if he went to the trouble of writing a complete fraudulent dissertation , then he must have been submitting fraudulent grant proposals and results. Supposedly, he's going to have to pay all that back. And if he's not enrolled in school this fall, his student loans will fall due. From what my sources tell me, sir, he could actually end up in court because of the supposed grant fraud!

His car, the books, his computer...They won't come anywhere *near* making a dent in what he owes! Isn't there *anything*, sir..."

"No." Simon's voice was blunt, but regretful.

"Sir?"

"There isn't anything we can do, Connor. Blair knew what he was doing when he held that press conference. The rest of us? Well, we've got college degrees, but none of us have ever dealt with education at the level Blair has. This type of fallout didn't occur even to Jim, and he lives with him. *I* didn't know until I sat down with Blair and asked him for a firm commitment about firearms training and the job as Jim's partner."

Simon sighed and swiveled his chair to look out his office window.

"He couldn't give me one. Not until he'd gone through all of his options and realized, truly realized, that in order to stay near Jim *and* earn enough money to pay back his debts, he *had* to take this job. I swear, Megan, I saw something break in him that day. Something that made him "Blair" died in front of me.

He's not meant to be a cop, Megan. He's meant to be Jim's partner, yes, but not in that way, with the obligations a cop carries. His obligations are to...to...something...bigger," Simon spread his arms wide and turned back to Megan, "than all this, first, and *then* to Jim."

"Then, sir? What do we do?" Megan looked questioningly at her superior.

"Nothing, Connor. There's nothing we *can* do." Simon spoke with finality.

"But sir, what about Jim? Can't he...?"

"If anyone can, he can, but it will take an act of...of Sandburg's 'something bigger' to pull it off. Don't!" He held up one hand to forestall the questions he saw in her eyes. "Don't ask. I have no idea where he's gone or what's going on his head. He's due back this evening. And I would *really* *really* like to have Sandburg back here before then. So if you could tell me what you know..." He raised an eyebrow, encouraging her to begin again.

"Yes, sir."

"So?"

"He didn't want me to cut my day short, so we arranged for him to leave a message with the receptionist telling me when he was done.  I agreed to call in until I got the message. The only thing, sir, is that *he* didn't *leave* a message. One of the *instructors* left a message."

"Did you follow up on the instructor?"

"Yes, sir. The chief instructor left a verbal message with his assistant, who is also an instructor. I spoke to the assistant first. He said he hadn't seen Blair *or* the 'friends', although he heard in the break room that a couple of officers from Cascade were visiting. He didn't know the names or their department. When I asked to speak to the Chief Instructor I was told he was unavailable. As this *was* late in the afternoon, I was unable to find anyone else who had been in the break room. I *do* have the message, for all the good it will do us."

"I assume you've checked the loft and his cell phone?"

"Yes, sir. His cell phone is out of service. No one answers at the loft. I don't have a key, so unless you do, we can't get in until Jim or Blair returns."

"Did you check with the neighbors?"

"Of course, sir." Connor allowed just a tinge of "I know my job, sir." to color her voice.

"And?" Simon's response carried more than a tinge of  "Well, then, don't make me ask!".

"The only people to answer their door were an older couple holding a dinner party. The wife seemed upset to hear Blair was missing, but the husband, ah, wasn't. Their names are...," Megan checked a small note pad she took from her pocket. "Mark and Denise Warner." She raised one eyebrow at Simon, an inquiring look on her face.

"Obviously, Connor, you expect me to recognize this couple. I don't keep track of all of Sandburg's....oh, God. I *do* recognize their names. Their son..."

"Yes, sir. Their son, Mark Allen Warner, was presumed shot and killed by his partner his second week on the job. He had just received his Bachelor's degree in Criminal Justice from Ranier before entering and graduating the Academy. No charges were brought against his partner Jonathan..."

"Jonathan Dennehy, because it could not be proven he fired the shots that killed his partner." Simon finished for her. "There was evidence at the scene that someone else had been there, and since officer Dennehy was shot and killed supposedly in a random  drive by shooting not five minutes later, according to the only eyewitness account. IA was never involved beyond determining that the shot that killed Warner had indeed been fired by Dennehy's gun. God, Sandburg," Simon dropped his head back into his hands. "I *knew* there was something you weren't telling me."

"Sir?" Connor leaned forward.

"Connor, what I am about to tell you cannot leave this room." Simon raised his head, sat back in his chair and looked piercingly at his officer.

"Yes, sir." Megan sat up straight and attentively.

"Blair Sandburg is conducting an undercover investigation for the Cascade and Seattle Police Departments. Wait!" he held up a hand. "I'll answer your questions, just wait. Jim *doesn't* know. He left before Blair decided to go undercover. And, yes, he's attached to the department. As soon as he passed the exams yesterday he was an employee of the Cascade Police Department and on the payroll."

Simon paused, took a deep breath, ran his hand back through the hair on the top of his head.

"You know the trouble we're having, or rumored to be having with the new recruits?" He waited until Connor nodded.

"Seattle PD is having the same problem. I have a friend up there, Captain Leon Hatch, who mentioned it to me at a conference last week. When he heard about Blair, he mentioned, jokingly, that it was too bad he was going to the academy here in Cascade. If he were going to the King County Criminal Justice Academy we could have used him undercover. My friend felt positive, with the reputation Blair was sure to have, and coming back here to Major Crime, that he, that Blair, would be approached by whomever was recruiting cadets for this...supposed graft ring."

"But, sir..."

"He's gone undercover before, Connor. He's going to be, hell, he *is* a cop. The old 'Observer' rules just won't fly any more."

"I know, sir, but this...it just seems so, so... potentially *damaging* to him."

"I know, Connor. But in the end it was his choice. Although, given what you've told me about his neighbors.... He's a grown man. He makes his own choices. And this was something only he could do."

"Yes, sir. I understand that. I cannot, however, *begin* to tell you what I think of his most recent *choices*."

The door to Simon's office opened suddenly, without warning. Simon and Megan, both startled, turned to the door in time to see a tall figure enter.

"What choices, sir?"

(No Entry)

A door slammed. Footsteps echoed over a wooden porch, crunched down the short crushed rock pathway to the dock, and came to an abrupt halt.

"Sir!"

"Sergeant?"

"Sir, Captain Ellison has been here and left. I would suggest, sir, that he does not intend to return here. None of the belongings in the cabin would appear to belong to him. All perishable food items have been taken behind the cabin and added to the compost heap."

"Very good, Sergeant. We'll proceed to our secondary target area. Get in  and we'll get out of here."

Ten minutes later an engine shattered the silence, and a small seaplane took off from the surface of the lake. It banked to the left and flew south.

Shortly after, peace returned to Echo Lake.

"Tom, I don't think this is a good idea." The whisper came from a young man, compact of build and of medium height, crouching behind a large stack of boxes piled high in the corner of a dark alleyway.

 "Shut up, Clay!" The whisper, hissed from the mouth of a man slightly shorter and a good deal stockier, came from behind the first man. "I told you, after what he's done, and where he's going, he's perfect for their purposes. *And* ours. All we have to do is follow him."

"Listen to me!" this whisper was stronger. "We don't know that he's done *anything* wrong! I keep telling you! There's something *strange* about Ellison. There's something strange about this whole setup! And there's never been a whisper about this guy doing *anything* wrong before. I *told* you how he helped my sister..."

"Shut up! They could come out here at anytime! And besides, your precious sister can't *stand* him anymore."

"Leave my sister *out* of this. She's too young to see beyond the obvious right now. And besides,..."

"Shut up! I hear something! They're coming out."

Two bodies pressed closer to the boxes and further into the shadow. Two tall figures came out. One held the door, the other struggled under the weight of a third, much smaller, man draped over his shoulder in a fireman's carry.

The door closed.