Forsaken Child

This story received a 2007 Light My Fire Award Nomination

Author's Note: No ownership is claimed on Pet Fly/Paramount's characters. No profit is being made by this story, and may a black jaguar shred me to bits if I'm lying. Comments and criticisms are always welcome.




Why can’t innocents be spared
From our sinning...
I hold this life up to your altar
I don’t even know if you’re there
Or if your plan could still be altered
That this child might be spared
How can this faith unreconciled
Not be shaken
When I hold this broken child
So forsaken

“Forsaken Child” - John Cunningham



Sandburg took a deep breath, steeling himself for what he knew was coming. But despite all his mental preparations, he still had to turn away, the bile rising up in his throat as his partner pulled the sheet back. Ellison was a hardened detective, a slight clench of the jaw the only sign that he was disturbed by what he saw.

“This wasn’t a robbery,” he muttered, more to himself than to the responding officers milling around the dilapidated room. “Someone wanted her good and dead.” He took in the extensive damage the woman’s body had suffered, shaking his head slightly as he drew the sheet back up over her, mourning the waste of such a beautiful young life.

“What kind of animal would do that to another human being?” Blair asked as he drew in a shaky breath and turned back around to face his friend.

“One without a soul, Chief,” the detective said absently, his sharp eyes scanning the crime scene for clues as to the identity of the killer.

“I’m starting to think Cascade is just one big psycho-magnet,” the young observer continued, giving the covered body a wide berth as he gingerly stepped around it to follow his partner. “I mean, how many times do we have to....” He trailed off suddenly, seeing the familiar look of intense focus come over Ellison’s face, indicating that his Sentinel senses were picking something up. “What is it, Jim?”

“Get behind me,” the detective ordered, stepping up to a closet door that was cracked open about an inch and signaling to the beat cops in the room. Pulling his gun from its holster, Ellison used the weapon to edge the door open further, a rapid heartbeat echoing in his sensitive ears. Kicking the door the rest of the way, the Sentinel sprang in front of the closet and pointed his gun, immediately withdrawing it and sliding it back into the holster. Curious, Sandburg peered around his larger friend, spying the tiny form that was huddled in the corner of the closet. He glanced at his partner, a silent communication passing through them, and then the anthropologist was on his hands and knees, crawling into the cramped space as Jim gave the all clear to the other officers.

“Don’t be afraid,” he said softly as he was confronted by a pair of terrified brown eyes. “Nobody’s going to hurt you. I’m here with the police and we came to help you.”

The little girl sat unmoving, and apparently unconvinced. Sandburg shoved a few garments out of the way and repositioned himself, so that he was sitting up, cross-legged in front of her.

“My name’s Blair,” he told her. “What’s yours?”

“Hannah,” the child whispered finally.

“That’s a very pretty name. It’s nice to meet you, Hannah. Who’s your friend there?”

“Mandy,” the girl replied, looking down at the doll clutched tightly in her arms.

“I love her hair. Do you think I could see her for a minute?”

Very hesitantly, the child reached out and handed over her toy. Blair took the rag doll from her, running his fingers over the bright red yarn hair and admiring its green gingham dress before passing it back

“She’s beautiful,” he said earnestly. “You know, I have a friend with me who I bet would love to see her, too. What do you say we go on out and show him?”

The little girl shook her head slightly, burying her face into her doll.

“Hannah,” Blair reassured her gently. “You don’t have to hide anymore. There’s nothing to be afraid of now. So just come with me, ok? Everything will be all right, I promise.”

He gave her his most charming smile, and after a moment the child tentatively reached out and took his offered hand. She followed him out of the closet but hung back in the doorway, staring dazedly with large eyes at the strange men in the room. Sandburg stood up to face his partner, who was looming beside the closet and trying to block the covered corpse from the child’s line of sight.

“Jim, I think she’s in shock,” the observer whispered to his friend, knowing that the Sentinel would have overheard all that went on in the closet.

“All right,” Ellison conceded, waving one of the uniform cops over. “Take her to the hospital and get her checked out. I’m going to wait here for the ME and run the case by Simon, and then I’ll meet you there.”

Blair nodded and knelt back down to the girl.

“Hannah, we’re going to go see a doctor and make sure you’re not hurt, ok? But the cool part is that this nice officer is going to give us a ride in his police car. Maybe he’ll even let us run the siren.”

The little girl didn’t share his enthusiasm, so Sandburg just sighed and picked her up in his arms. He followed the officer out, holding tightly to the child and making sure that he kept her facing away from the sheet in the middle of the floor, although he had a sick feeling in his gut that she had already seen what lay beneath.



Ellison rapped on the door of his captain’s office, waiting for the answering grunt before he let himself in.

“What’s it look like, Jim?” Banks asked, pouring himself a cup of coffee and coming around to sit on the edge of his desk.

“We found an ID in the room, sir,” the detective began, opening the folder where he had already begun to compile the preliminary information. “Victim’s name is Ashley Roberts, age 25. The place is one of those seedy apartment buildings down by the wharf that’s not above renting rooms by the hour. The guy at the desk told us the DOA gave him the name Jane Smith.”

“Clever,” Simon snorted into his mug. “What else did you get from him?”

“Ah, he was half drunk, like he probably is every day, so no surprise that he didn’t see anything or anyone suspicious in the building. Although with some of the regular clientele that frequent that flophouse, I don’t know how you would tell. He said she arrived about three weeks ago with her daughter and two suitcases and rented the room for a month. Paid in cash and kept to herself. Besides that, he couldn’t tell us much.”

“What did you get from the crime scene?”

“On cursory exam, the ME estimated she’d been stabbed upwards of thirty times in the chest, with defensive wounds on both hands. She was probably dead long before the assailant stopped. No murder weapon at the scene, and the door was broken down. Hard to tell if anything was taken. There was just some clothing, no jewelry or personal possessions, but we found a few dollars in her wallet. The violence of this attack suggests to me that the motive was more of a vengeance type than a robbery.”

“So, whoever she was running from found her,” Banks concluded grimly.

“Looks that way,” Ellison agreed.

“What about the daughter?”

“Sandburg’s still got her at the hospital. I was about to head over there and see if I could talk to her.”

“Go ahead.” Simon nodded toward the door. “Let me know what you find out.”



Ellison was directed to the children’s ward at Cascade General. He entered the large room, quickly picking out his potential witness in the left row of beds. As he approached, Sandburg caught sight of him and slid off the edge of the child’s bed to meet him.

“How’s she doing?” the detective asked his friend.

“No physical injuries that they could find,” Blair reported. “They gave her IV fluids and that seemed to perk her up some. They’ve got a staff psychologist talking to her now.”

“Has she said anything?” Ellison inquired, focusing on the middle aged woman speaking with the child.

“Not yet.”

“Well, let’s hope she can tell me something.” The detective started toward the child’s bed, but he was halted by a hand on his arm.

“Listen, Jim,” the anthropologist said quietly. “Don’t push her too hard, ok?”

“Sandburg, what kind of insensitive creep do you think I am?” Ellison turned around to glare at his friend.

“No, I just mean...”

“It may surprise you, Chief, but I am able to tell the difference between a hardened criminal and a scared little girl. I wasn’t planning on bringing out the spotlights and brass knuckles.”

“All right, man,” Blair protested, holding up his hands to placate his partner. “I’m sorry.” He led the way over to the child, nodding at the doctor seated beside her.

“Hannah, this is the police detective we told you would be coming by to see you. He wants to ask you a couple questions. Do you want to talk to him?”

The little girl shook her head, her brown eyes as big as saucers.

“Why not?” the psychologist asked gently. “Are you afraid?” At the child’s nod, the doctor leaned in conspiratorially. “What are you afraid of?”

“He looks mean.”

Sandburg couldn’t hold back a grin at the little girl’s whispered confession, his amusement growing when he glanced at his partner and found that the often gruff detective actually looked surprised at the revelation.

“I’m sure he’s very nice,” the doctor assured her, holding back a smile of her own. “You don’t need to be afraid. You aren’t afraid of Blair, are you?”

“No. He doesn’t look mean. He’s fuzzy.”

It was Ellison’s turn to grin as his younger partner’s eyebrows lifted in surprise. But the anthropologist chuckled good-naturedly and moved forward to resume his seat on the child’s bed.

“I guess I’ll take that as a compliment,” he announced, his blue eyes dancing warmly as he leaned in for his own conspiratorial chat with the little girl. “Hannah, this detective is a very, very good friend of mine and you don’t have to be afraid of him. He’s not as mean as he looks.” Sandburg shot his partner an impish look, getting an eye rolling in response. “He just wants to talk to you for a few minutes. Can you do that for me?”

“Ok,” she replied hesitantly.

The Sentinel stepped forward, trying his best to look friendly and non-threatening.

“Hi, Hannah,” he said softly. “I’m Jim. Can you tell me how old you are?”

“Six.”

“Wow, six years old.” The detective nodded, suitably impressed. “Have you always lived here in Cascade?” The child shook her head. “Did you just move here?” At her nod, he asked from where she had moved.

“Everett.”

“Did you live there with your mom?” Another nod. “How about your dad?”

“I don’t have a dad,” she whispered.

“Ok, so just you and your mom moved to Cascade. Did she ever say why you were moving?”

“No. She just woke me up and said we were going to go to a new place and live.”

“Woke you up? Was it nighttime when you left?”

“Yes,” the child replied. “Mommy said we had to leave right away, and to hurry and get Mandy and get in the car.”

“Mandy?” the detective asked.

“Her doll,” Blair supplied quietly.

“Oh.” Ellison’s gaze drifted down to the doll still cradled tightly in the little girl’s arms. “Is this Mandy?”

“Mandy didn’t want to leave,” the child confessed. “But Mommy told her we were going to a better place where we’d be happier.”

‘Mommy lied,’ the Sentinel thought sadly, only able to speculate the trauma inflicted upon the innocent little girl.

“Hannah, do you know if your mom was afraid of anyone back in Everett? Maybe there was somebody she didn’t like, or somebody who wasn’t very nice to her?”

The child shook her head.

“How about since you moved to Cascade? Do you think she was afraid of somebody here?”

“I don’t know.”

“Let’s talk about this afternoon,” the detective continued. “When Blair found you hiding in the closet. What were you doing in there?”

“I don’t remember,” the girl whispered.

“Did your mom tell you to hide there?” No answer. “Hannah, while you were in there, did you see or hear anything happening out where your mom was? Anything bad?”

“I don’t remember,” the child repeated, her lips trembling as her eyes filled up with tears.

“All right,” Ellison told her, already having decided to stop even before he felt his partner’s gaze boring into him. “That’s ok, Hannah. I appreciate you talking to me. You’re a brave girl.”

The detective retreated toward the door, followed by the psychologist, leaving Sandburg behind to comfort the child.

“Don’t be too disheartened, detective,” the doctor advised. “Hannah’s been through a traumatic experience, especially for her age. She could be in denial over what’s happened, or she could be experiencing a hysterical amnesia. There’s every reason to think that with time and therapy, her memories will return and she’ll be able to talk about them. That’s if she even saw anything.”

“Yeah, if,” the Sentinel sighed. “Thank you, doctor.”

“I hope you catch him,” she said somberly, before returning to her patient. “Hannah, you and Mandy are going to stay here at the hospital tonight. So I want you to try and relax and get some rest, ok?”

“Will you stay with me?” the little girl asked, turning toward the young man beside her.

“I don’t think they’ll let me stay the whole night,” Blair told her, stroking her blond curls. “But I’ll definitely stay here until you fall asleep. Deal?”

“Deal,” she agreed.

“Ok,” Sandburg grinned, shaking her small hand. “Just give me a minute to go and talk to Jim. I promise I’ll be right back.” He trotted over to where his partner was still waiting. “They’re keeping her for observation tonight, so I’m going to stick around a little bit longer.”

“How are you going to get home?” Ellison asked, reminding his spontaneous friend that he didn’t have a vehicle at the hospital.

“I’ll catch a taxi,” the anthropologist shrugged. “You’re disappointed, aren’t you?”

“I was just hoping she could give me something a little more solid,” the detective replied.

“They gave her a mild sedative a little while ago. That could be clouding her memory,” Sandburg reasoned. “Maybe she’ll be able to remember more tomorrow.”

“I hope so,” Ellison told him over his shoulder as he started to leave. “Because right now I don’t have much to go on.”



Blair was so lost in thought as he exited the hospital that he walked right past his partner’s truck on his way to the bus stop. The horn honking caught his attention, and he turned around to hop into the passenger seat as Ellison fired up the engine.

“What are you still doing here?”

“Since I had to pay for lunch today because you didn’t have enough for a hot dog, I figured you’d be lucky to have change for the bus let alone cab fare,” the detective replied, glancing behind him to check for traffic before he pulled out. “Anyway, I didn’t think it would take her long to fall asleep.”

“What’s going to happen to her, Jim?” Blair asked somberly.

“I don’t know. I guess Social Services will try and find any remaining family she might have.”

“And if they can’t, she’ll get stuck in foster care.”

“Probably.”

“Jim, I know you aren’t going to like this idea, but just hear me out, ok?”

“Sandburg,” the Sentinel sighed. “Please tell me you’re not thinking what I think you’re thinking.”

“Just for a few days,” the anthropologist pleaded.

“It’s not like you’re talking about adopting a stray kitten here, Chief. This is a little girl.”

“I don’t want to adopt her,” Blair told him. “I just want to protect her. Jim, I think she saw the murder. I’ve been with her ever since we found her, and not once did she ask about her mother. Why else wouldn’t she want her mother with her, unless she knew that she was dead? And you can’t tell me that you honestly believe she was in that closet the whole time and didn’t see or hear anything.”

“Even if she did,” the detective rationalized. “That doesn’t mean that she’s in danger. If the killer knew she was there, then he would have killed her, too. And if she did see anything, she’s not talking.”

“All the more reason she needs to be around people she trusts,” Sandburg argued. “Her whole life has been shattered. She’s all alone, in an unfamiliar city. I can only imagine how much I’d freak out. But this is just a little girl. Six years old, man. At the very least, she needs a friend. Something familiar and stable for a few days. Before she gets sent to some orphanage, bounced around the system for the next twelve years.”

“I’ll think about it, Chief, all right?”

Blair leaned back against the seat, running a hand through his hair. He still wanted to discuss the situation, but his partner’s tone had clearly indicated the conversation was over. Pursuing it would just annoy the Sentinel. Besides, he had promised to think about it, and the anthropologist knew that his partner wasn’t just saying that to shut him up. If Ellison said he was going to think about it, then he would give the matter serious thought. Sandburg could only hope that this was one argument that would concede to his powers of persuasion. For the beautiful little girl with the big haunted eyes had seen her mother brutally murdered in front of her, of that he was sure. Her innocence forever shattered, the incident forever to leave an ugly mark on her pure soul. They owed it to her to catch the animal that had done this, and Blair couldn’t help feeling that the society that allowed this monster to rip her world apart also owed it to her to try and overcome the damage done to her. The least he could do was try and be a friend, to let her know that there were still good people in the world that cared about her. Maybe it wasn’t much, but to a terrified child, it could be everything.

“Hey, Sandburg, let me ask you something.” Ellison was trying, and failing, for casualness. They had parked in front of their building, and Blair had already jumped out of the truck, but he turned around to face his still seated partner, slinging his backpack over his shoulder as he waited. “Do I really look mean?”

“Well, Jim,” the younger man began, trying to keep a straight face. “Let me put it to you this way. You know that old Good-Cop-Bad-Cop routine? It’s no coincidence that you’re always the Bad Cop.”

“Forget I asked,” the Sentinel muttered, sliding out from behind the wheel and slamming the door behind him.

“No, hang on a minute,” Blair told him, bounding after him into the building. “This is something you can work on. You know, you just have to loosen up a little. Smile more. And try not to be so intense all the time. I can help you learn to relax. We’ll work on it together.”

“You can just find yourself another patsy to brainwash, ok, Reverend Moon? I’ll take looking mean over looking fuzzy any day.”

Blair grinned as he hit the button for the elevator, not in the least bit offended.



“Where are we going?” The young observer’s brow wrinkled in confusion as his partner failed to make a turn, deviating from their usual route to the precinct.

“I thought we’d stop at the hospital and check on Hannah before we went in,” Ellison replied. “Maybe she’s remembering more this morning.”

Sandburg sat back in his seat, glad of the chance to see the little girl, although for different reasons than to pump her for information. He didn’t really understand it, but he was feeling an incredible protective instinct toward her. Maybe it was being so young, and all alone in a big, frightening world, surrounded by unfamiliar people and facing an uncertain future. That on top of the trauma of having been present while her mother’s life was stolen away... Blair’s heart ached at the thought of it, and he desperately wanted to be there to comfort the child, and let her know that she wasn’t all alone.

They parked at the hospital and walked toward the entrance, but the Sentinel stopped suddenly, unaware of the electronic door that was standing open, waiting for him to pass. He frowned as he tried to focus, until his friend’s voice broke through his concentration.

“What is it, Jim?”

Ignoring him, the detective entered the hospital and made his way to the second floor. Blair followed him, a bit surprised when his partner headed for the reception desk instead of directly proceeding to the children’s ward.

“Detective Ellison,” he identified himself to the nurse behind the desk, flashing his badge. “Has anyone been in here today asking about Hannah Roberts?”

“I’m not sure, Detective,” she answered. “I just came on duty half an hour ago. Not since I’ve been here, but if someone had come in, unless they were an immediate family member, they would have been instructed to return during regular visiting hours.” Swiveling in her chair, the nurse plucked a chart from the tray and glanced over it quickly. “And I would presume it wasn’t a family member, since the patient is scheduled to be released to Social Services sometime this morning.”

“Thank you,” Ellison murmured, turning away from the desk.

“What is going on, man?” Sandburg demanded, hovering at his friend’s elbow and getting thoroughly annoyed with the brush off.

The Sentinel inclined his head down the corridor and led the way to an alcove where they could more or less talk privately.

“I picked up a scent last night at the crime scene,” he confessed quietly. “I didn’t think about it too much at the time, but I caught it again just now.”

“You think the killer was here, looking for Hannah?” Blair asked, his eyes growing wide.

“I don’t know,” Ellison replied with a small shake of the head. “I can’t identify the scent. It’s hardly rare, but it’s not really an everyday thing, either. I just can’t quite place it...”

“Is it some kind of aftershave, or cologne?” the anthropologist asked.

“No, it’s not perfumey.”

“Some kind of incense?”

“I don’t know, Chief,” the detective snapped, growing testy as he often did when he got frustrated with his Sentinel abilities. “If I knew that, then I could identify it.” He took a deep breath, realizing that his partner was just trying to help. “Look, whatever it is, it’s unusual enough to give grounds to the suspicion that whoever killed Hannah’s mother might now be after her, too. I want you to stay here with her, and keep an eye out for anyone suspicious lurking around. I’m going to go and talk to Simon about making her a protective witness.”

“With us doing the protecting?” Blair asked hopefully.

“Don’t bank on that yet,” Jim advised. “There are regulations pertaining to female witnesses in the custody of male detectives.”

“We’ve had females under our protection at the loft before,” the observer reminded him.

“Yeah, and they were consenting adults,” Ellison pointed out. “Two adult men alone with a little girl might be harder to get approved.”

“It should be easier,” Sandburg snorted. “I can guarantee there won’t be anything unprofessional going on in this case.”

“And that’s a promise you definitely can’t make about anyone over eighteen,” the detective shot back wryly, only half joking. “But I’ll talk to Simon and see what we can arrange. Just don’t say anything to her until we have an answer, ok?”

“Hey, Jim,” Blair called out as his friend started to walk away. “What do I do if Social Services comes to get her?”

“Stall,” the Sentinel said helpfully over his shoulder.

“Yeah, thanks,” Sandburg muttered under his breath, rolling his eyes briefly before going in to wish the little girl a good morning.



Ellison peered in through the window of the door to the children’s ward and grinned at the sight of his partner in the center of the room, surrounded by a group of kids, doing what appeared to be an enthusiastic reproduction of some sort of tribal dance.

“Sandburg,” the detective called out, poking his head through the door. “When you’re finished with the natives, I’d like a word.”

Blushing slightly at having been caught, Blair brushed the hair back from his face, taking a minute to excuse himself from the children who were giggling uncontrollably at his antics.

“I was just... uh...” he began, joining his friend out in the hallway.

“Entertaining bunch of sick kids?” Ellison supplied for him, his smile not showing any signs of teasing.

“Something like that,” the anthropologist grinned back. “So, what did Simon say?”

“Oh, you owe me for this one,” the Sentinel threatened. “You can’t believe how much string pulling it took to get this one approved. And don’t think we’re not going to have case workers down our throats twenty-four hours a day.”

“But we can bring her to the loft?”

“Yes, but hold on, Mary Poppins. I’m responsible for keeping her safe. You’re responsible for taking care of her. Got it? Anything goes wrong with that kid, or anything happens to my apartment, I’m blaming you.”

“Jim, don’t worry. I’ll take care of everything!”

“God help us all,” Ellison muttered with a martyred sigh, following his jubilant partner in to break the news to Hannah.

The little girl was at first elated to learn she was going to go home with Blair, although her enthusiasm waned considerably when she found out Blair lived with Jim. For his part, the detective was starting to develop a complex, and putting on a happy face for the child didn’t do much to ingratiate himself. But there wasn’t time to make friends, for Blair had already put off the Social Services team twice, with the help of a pretty young nurse he’d manage to coerce to his side, and he was anxious to check out and be on their way before the two agents came back.

“I’m going to drop you two off at the loft,” Ellison informed his partner, once they were in the truck and on the road. “I’m going back to the station, and sometime today I’ll stop by the motel and pick up her things.”

“Why don’t we all go in to the station?” Sandburg inquired.

“Because you’re on babysitting detail from now on, Junior,” Jim told him. “Besides, they’ll be sending someone from the state to inspect the loft within the next couple of days. Go through and make sure the place is kid friendly, ok? Remember, these people don’t take ‘art’ as an excuse, so you’re going to have to lose the naked tribal gear.”

Blair grumbled under his breath, but he refrained from arguing. This matter was too important to him to risk jeopardizing it for the sake of freedom of artistic expression. Ellison soon pulled up in front of the building, letting his passengers out before taking off again and getting swallowed up in the midday traffic. Sandburg watched him go and sighed as he glanced down at the little girl beside him.

“I’m starting to understand why Naomi never wanted to be a stay at home mom,” he murmured, mostly to himself. But he smiled, taking the child’s hand in his as they headed inside. “Come on. I’ll show you around the place and then we’ll get you and Mandy something to eat.”



Ellison frowned, picking up the mysterious scent in the hallway of the ratty apartment building. He tried to concentrate, thoroughly annoyed with himself that he couldn’t pin down the odor. But he was sure that it wasn’t a lingering scent from the day before. Whoever it was who had left the original trail had come back, and not very long ago. While the detective knew picking up the same scent both at his crime scene and at the hospital could very well be coincidence, a gut feeling was telling him that his suspect was still around, and apparently now after his witness.

Rafe and H had already canvassed the building, and had gotten no useful information from anyone concerning the victim, not even able to find out who had made the initial 911 call. But being that the population in these types of fleabag motels tended to be transient at best, Jim decided it wouldn’t hurt to go through again and question the neighbors. Especially since he stood a better chance of catching more of them at home in the afternoon than in the early evening.

The Sentinel made the rounds through the building, confronting a lot of people who were less than happy to speak with him. Those that had previously been questioned were annoyed at being bothered again, and none of the residents were too comfortable dealing with cops in the first place. But Ellison finally saw a ray of hope that his efforts were beginning to pay off when he found a woman on the floor above the crime scene that was more cooperative than most.

“Yeah, I knew her,” she told him, stepping out into the hallway and locking the door behind her, eager to hit the streets and claim her corner for the night. “I watched her kid a few times while she went to work.”

“She was a working girl, too?” the detective asked.

“No,” the woman replied with a shake of her head. “Good thing, too. As pretty as she was, she would have been some stiff competition. No, she worked at some diner. Gave me a few bucks to keep an eye on the little girl a few afternoons. To tell you the truth, I felt a little guilty taking her money. She seemed kind of desperate, and the kid was really no trouble at all. I would have looked after her for free, but I’m a little desperate myself, if you know what I mean.”

“It would really help me out if you could remember the name of that diner,” Ellison prompted.

“Well, my memory’s not so good these days,” the woman hinted broadly.

So much for cooperation, Jim thought wearily as he dug his wallet out of his pocket.

“And how much would it take for your memory to come back?”

“Twenty should do the trick.”

The Sentinel passed over the bill, which she snatched up and tucked away in her ample cleavage before providing him with a name and address on the diner. He muttered a ‘thanks’, watching her strut brazenly down the hall toward the stairs, shaking his head and going back to knocking on doors. But he wasn’t able to find anything else out about his victim, so he went back for one last look at the crime scene before following up on his only lead.

Ellison broke the yellow police tape marking off the room before unlocking the door and entering. Forensics had already gone over everything thoroughly, and had come up with nothing unusual. Likewise, the detective was unable to uncover anything with his Sentinel senses, apart from that nagging smell that he just couldn’t identify. Biting back his frustration, he grabbed one of the old suitcases and packed up the child’s clothes. There was nothing else to collect. No toys, no ribbons, and no pretty little trinkets that little girls were wont to have. Which affirmed Jim’s suspicion that Ashley Roberts had fled from something in a hurry. He just had to figure out what, or more importantly, who.



Entering the loft, the Sentinel was relieved to see that it had not been demolished by the destructive force of a small child. On the contrary, the place was clean and shining.

“I see you’ve been busy,” he remarked to his partner as he took off his jacket and hung it on the rack.

“Yeah,” Blair murmured absently, absorbed in transcribing a passage from the book he was reading into the notebook on his lap. “Hannah helped. Good thing, too, because this total witch from the state came by today.”

“How did that go?” Jim asked, heading for the kitchen.

“Oh, she looked down her nose at me the whole time she was here,” Sandburg answered, tossing down his pen and slipping his glasses off, hooking them on the front of his shirt. “You could tell she was not a fan of the situation, and she was just itching to bust us on something. There were a few little nitpicks she griped about, but overall we came off pretty square.”

“You got rid of the beer?” Ellison demanded, pulling his head out of the fridge to stare daggers at his roommate.

“Way it goes,” Blair told him with a cheeky grin. “I lose my art, the booze has to go, too.”

“I think that’s being a little extreme,” the Sentinel grumbled, but he contented himself with a can of soda and moved in to join his partner.

“Speaking of which, here.” Sandburg dug a small key out of his pocket and tossed it to his roommate.

“What’s this for?”

“I put a lock on one of your drawers upstairs. While we have Hannah here, you have to keep your gun under lock and key.”

“Man, it’s worse than that monastery you dragged me to,” Ellison griped, although he wasn’t really against the idea. “I’m surprised they let us keep the steak knives.”

“How are you doing on the case?” Blair asked earnestly. “Any progress?”

“Not really,” the detective sighed, leaning his head to rest against the back of the chair. “I found out Hannah’s mother...” He paused, looking up and suddenly realizing the child was not in sight. “Where is she?”

“She’s asleep,” the anthropologist informed him, nodding toward the closed doors of his room.

Jim glanced at his watch, realizing that it would be past bedtime for a six year old.

“Her mother had gotten a job at a diner around the corner from the motel,” he continued. “I went over there, but it’s not exactly an upscale place that requires a detailed resume. They couldn’t tell me anything, but none of them had actually worked with her. I left word for the lunch shift to call at the station if they had anything they could tell me. And we’re still trying to track down an address in Everett.”

“So we’re roadblocked again,” Sandburg complained in exasperation.

“There’s one more thing, Chief,” the Sentinel said, somewhat hesitantly. “I picked up that smell again when I went back to the motel room.”

“You think it could be left over from yesterday?” Blair asked.

“No,” Jim replied, shaking his head. “It was fresh. Stronger. I think whoever our perp is came back, and not long before I got there.”

“You think he’s after Hannah?” Sandburg’s voice held a tremor of worry.

“I don’t know, but from now on, that kid is on a short leash, ok?”

“Man, this sucks,” Blair declared vehemently. “After all the poor kid has already gone through, to top it all off, now she’s got a psycho trying to kill her, too.”

“That’s not confirmed yet, Chief,” the detective reminded him. “We’re just going to be cautious, not paranoid.”

The younger man nodded, running his hands through his hair and taking a deep breath. He turned his head to look at his partner, who glanced over at him to catch him staring.

“What?”

“I was just trying to figure out how to thank you,” Sandburg admitted.

“Thank me for what?”

“For agreeing to let Hannah stay here,” Blair told him softly. “I know you only did it for me, because I wanted it so much. I don’t expect you to understand...”

“I do understand, Chief.”

“How can you? I don’t even understand it.”

“Because it’s like Incacha said,” Ellison explained. “You’re the Shaman of the Great City.”

The anthropologist looked at his friend sharply, certain that he was being teased, but he immediately saw that his partner was being completely serious.

“I still don’t understand what that means,” he confessed.

“I don’t either, not in the grand scheme of things,” Jim admitted. “But when I was living in Peru with the Chopec, part of the shaman’s job was to protect his tribe, to ward off the evil that threatened it, and counsel and heal those that needed it.”

“But I don’t know how to do any of that,” Blair protested.

“That’s crap, Sandburg,” the Sentinel scoffed. “You saw this little girl, all alone and lost and hurting. Your first instinct was to bring her here, to keep her safe from the evil that’s threatening her. And I saw you with her. Getting her to trust you, to open up to you. Hell, you told me yourself that you wanted to help her find some order and stability to her life after what had happened to her. Forget all the mystical stuff. As far as I can tell, the bottom line of being a shaman is just caring enough to listen to people, hearing both their words and what they’re saying between the lines. And then helping them work through that, getting to the root of the problem, sorting their feelings and considering their options. You’ve got that part nailed, Chief, whether you realize it or not.”

“That just all seems too easy,” Sandburg murmured, shaking his head.

“It’s not easy,” Ellison insisted. “It takes a lot to give that much of yourself, and it leaves you vulnerable and open to be hurt. I admire the way you do it again and again, Blair, without even a thought. It takes a lot of strength, so don’t just toss it aside as nothing.”

“Thanks, Jim,” Blair said quietly, his blue eyes glowing at the compliment.

After a moment of silence, the detective reached down and picked up the remote control from the coffee table, turning on the tv. He kept the volume down to an inaudible level to anyone without Sentinel hearing, showing consideration for his roommate’s studying. Sandburg sighed, putting on his glasses once more and retrieving his notebook and pen, although he found that his concentration was completely gone. He read the same page in his textbook over and over without any sort of comprehension, still glowing from the revelation that his partner admired him. It wasn’t often that Jim divulged his true feelings, so when he did, it was something to be treasured.



Blair looked over at the little girl perched on the edge of the chair, occupying the corner of Ellison’s desk as she busily colored a picture in the book he’d scrounged up for her that morning.

“She seems all right today, doesn’t she?” he whispered to his partner.

“Not a care in the world,” Jim agreed, handing over the money for the juice and donuts his friend was gathering from the cart.

They exchanged a look, both suppressing an unconscious shudder at the memory of the night before. Hannah had woken up in the middle of the night, thrashing and screaming hysterically. She was shaking and sobbing uncontrollably, and it took Blair almost an hour to calm her down. Yet she couldn’t remember what it was that had terrified her so, and apparently had no memory of the episode in the morning. But the display had seriously unnerved the two men, more so than they wanted to admit to each other. Mutually they had agreed to bring her to the station that day to consult with the police psychiatrist.

Sandburg handed one of the donuts to his partner, then took the second one to the child, along with a small carton of apple juice. He unwrapped his own granola bar, taking a huge bite of it to hide the grin he felt coming on at the look of mistrust Hannah shot the detective as he slid into the chair behind his desk. Ellison noticed it, but chose to ignore it, turning on his computer and flipping through a folder while he waited for it to boot up.

“Hey, Jim, the ME called with the report on your DOA,” H announced, coming up to the Sentinel’s desk. When he paused, Ellison looked pointedly at him, getting a meaningful glance at the little girl in return.

“Hey, Hannah!” Rafe called out from across the room, having picked up on the nonverbal exchange. “Come on over here. I have a game I want to teach you.”

The child scrambled down from the chair, running over to be lifted up into the detective’s lap. Rafe pulled out a piece of paper and began drawing a series of dots as he explained the game to the little girl.

Jim shot them a disgusted look before turning back to his fellow detective.

“You could have just given me the report,” he griped irritably. “She wasn’t even listening.”

“I’ve got news for you, Jim,” H grinned. “Kids listen to EVERYTHING.”

“Whatever, Dr. Spock,” the detective said, with just a trace of sarcasm. “The report?”

“The ME estimated she’d only been dead about an hour before the responding officers found her,” H relayed. “She suffered thirty six stab wounds, most likely from a switchblade. One directly to her heart. No sexual assault or additional physical trauma, and no traces of drugs or alcohol in her system.”

“Thanks,” Ellison muttered as the detective moved off.

“There has to be something we’re missing here,” Sandburg declared in frustration.

“Well, when you figure out what that is, Chief, be sure and let me know.”

Blair sighed, not wanting this to be one of the few cases that went unsolved. He felt that he owed it to Hannah to find the monster who had taken her mother away from her, and he’d be damned if he’d give the psycho a chance to hurt the little girl. The anthropologist shared a kinship of sorts with her, having also grown up with a single mother who had been his whole world. He didn’t know what he would have done if something like that had ever happened to Naomi and he was left alone at such a young age. Sandburg sighed again, trying to push away the uncharacteristic feelings of defeat as he glanced up at the clock on the wall.

“It’s almost 9:30,” he announced. “I guess I’ll get Hannah and take her down to see the doctor.”

The Sentinel was engrossed in the addresses scrolling across his computer screen, but he nodded to show that he’d heard. Blair gathered up the litter from their morning snack, tossing the wrappers into the wastebasket before going to collect the child from Rafe, who actually seemed a bit sorry to have their game cut short, even though Hannah was winning.

Ellison was just as frustrated as his partner with the slow progress they were making on the case. He didn’t like the thought of a killer loose on the streets, especially one who may have been targeting an innocent child as his next victim. So after forty-five minutes of getting nowhere with his computer searches, he shut it off and grabbed his jacket, deciding to take an early lunch and see if he couldn’t help move things along.



“Hannah,” Blair scolded gently upon finding the child. “I thought I told you not to bother Captain Banks.”

“She’s all right,” Banks said quickly, turning to the wall and rehanging the frame in his hands on the small nail. “I was just showing her a few of my flies.”

“Simon said he’d take me fishing with him someday,” the little girl announced proudly.

“He did?” Sandburg shot an amused look at the gruff captain who was embarrassed to have been caught with his soft side showing. “Well, he must really like you then,” he continued, leaning in to whisper loudly to the child. “He doesn’t even let me call him ‘Simon’.”

“Sandburg, do you want something?” the captain demanded. “I’ve got a lot of work to do, you know.”

“Has Jim come back from that diner yet?” the anthropologist inquired.

“No, not yet,” Banks replied. “Why don’t you go meet him there, and get this kid something to eat while you’re at it? She’s skin and bones.”

“I can’t,” Blair told him, lifting Hannah off the captain’s desk and setting her on the floor. “I’ve got a class to teach in twenty minutes.”

“Hold it,” Simon commanded as Sandburg took the child’s hand and headed for the door. “You’re taking her with you?”

“I don’t have much choice,” the anthropologist shrugged. “What else am I going to do with her? She can hang out in the back of the lecture hall until I’m done.”

“One of your classes is no place for a little girl,” Banks insisted. “I’m not sure it’s even a place for college kids.”

“What are you saying?” Blair asked, ignoring the ribbing.

“Just leave her here,” Simon told him with a weary sigh. “We’ll keep an eye on her.”

“I thought you had a lot of work to do,” Sandburg reminded him with a grin, not the least bit fooled by the martyred attitude his superior was trying to assume.

“Just get out of here before I change my mind,” the captain snarled.

“Hannah, I have to go to school for a little while,” Blair explained, kneeling down in front of the little girl. “Do you want to stay here with Simon and the guys until I get back?” She nodded, and he ruffled her hair, giving her a bright smile. “Thanks, Simon,” he said sincerely, getting up and brushing off his pants. “I’ll be back by one.”

“See that you are,” Banks warned as he dashed out of the office. “And it’s ‘Captain’ to you, Sandburg!” Once he was gone, Simon lifted another frame from the wall, turning back to the child as his expression softened. “Now, where were we? Ok, this one here is called a blue winged olive...”



“Where is everyone?”

Captain Taggert glanced around the empty squad before turning to Ellison.

“Blair had a class to teach, Simon left for a meeting downtown with the mayor, and H and Rafe took Hannah out to get her some lunch.”

The Sentinel nodded before sliding behind his desk, rubbing a hand wearily over his face.

“Case not going so well?”

“It’s not really going at all,” the detective replied, picking up the file and tossing it across his desk. “Why don’t you look through the report, see if you can find anything we missed.”

Joel raised his eyebrows slightly. Ellison was generally considered the best on the force, and if he had missed something, it probably wasn’t there to begin with. But the captain obligingly picked up the file and began leafing through the pages, scrutinizing them carefully. Within minutes, Brown and Rafe had returned with the little girl, with Blair following close on their heels.

“How’d you make out?” The anthropologist had a decided note of optimism to his voice as he conferred quietly with his partner.

“Far from hitting the jackpot, but I did come up with one thing,” Jim replied. “One of the waitresses there said that Ashley had told her she used to dance at a club in Everett.”

“What, like a strip club? Did she know the name of it?”

“No, but I was thinking of taking a drive down there this afternoon and seeing what I could find out,” the Sentinel announced. “It’s the only lead we have now, so it’s worth following up. You in?”

“I would be, but what about Hannah?”

“Hey, Blair, I could help you out,” Taggert piped up.

“Really?” Sandburg turned to the captain with a delighted grin of thanks.

“Sure,” Joel grinned back. “I’ll be happy to take your place and partner up with Jim to go check out the strip club.”

The anthropologist shook his head, wondering how the guys in Major Crimes were still able to sucker him in so easily after more than two years.

“I’ll clear it with Simon when he gets back,” Jim said, wincing painfully as the delighted squeals of the child echoed through the room. He looked over in annoyance to where Brown was positioning the little girl repeatedly on his hands and flipping her in a somersault to land on her feet on the floor. “And then I’m calling it a day and heading to Everett.”



“You know,” Sandburg remarked, staring out the window at the passing scenery. “I always had to give credit to Naomi for raising me as a single mom. But after these last few days, I have a whole new level of appreciation and respect for anyone that can do this full time. Hannah’s a great kid, but it’s such a responsibility having this obligation to someone twenty-four hours a day. And still try to have some semblance of a life for yourself.”

Ellison had to bite his tongue to keep from commenting. He liked his friend’s mother well enough, but he’d also heard enough to get the impression that the free-spirited Naomi lived her life exactly how she chose, and that her son had come second to that. Although Blair could be a little flaky or absentminded now and then, he did take his responsibilities very seriously and this time was no different. True to his word, he’d assumed all the care for the little girl and hadn’t complained about his life being temporarily put on hold. Not even when Taggert had led him to believe he would be stuck babysitting again all night while the two police officers pursued the case... to a strip club, no less.

“It was nice of Joel to let you off the hook for tonight,” Jim commented, to change the subject.

“Yeah, nice,” Blair snorted. “It’s not like he’s not getting something out of it. I had to promise him Sunday dinner for a month.”

“No, you offered, Chief, and he took you up on it,” the detective explained. “He would have done it for free if you’d have given him a chance to stop yanking your chain.”

Sandburg opened his mouth to argue, then shut it abruptly and turned back to the window as he realized his astute friend was probably right. The Sentinel grinned to himself for a few miles as his partner sulked, then he suddenly remembered what he’d been meaning to ask.

“How did it go with the shrink this morning? Did Hannah talk to him?”

“A little,” Blair answered, growing serious. “Didn’t really learn anything we don’t already know. He said that those ‘night terrors’ aren’t really uncommon in kids who have witnessed some form of trauma, especially ones that have repressed it. He needs to work with her more, but right now he’s leaning toward the theory that she did see what happened to her mother, and she did repress it. She really can’t remember it happening right now.”

“Great,” Ellison muttered. “So we have a murder witness that can’t remember.”

“The doctor did say that since she’s young and the incident is recent, it will probably make it a little easier to get the memories from her with therapy, but it’s going to take some time.”

“Time is one luxury we can’t afford right now, Chief,” Jim countered. “Even if whoever killed her mother isn’t after Hannah, the fact remains we still have a murderer on the loose. And, if we can’t start producing proof that her life is in danger or that she can act as a material witness, the state isn’t going to let us keep her much longer. I think we’ll be lucky to get another week if something doesn’t break soon.”

“Jim, we can’t let her go,” Blair protested. “Not until we’re sure that she’s not in any danger.”

“Then you better keep your fingers crossed that we can find something we can use in Everett,” the detective told him soberly.

The younger man sighed, and as the remaining miles passed by in silence, he did just that.

Upon arriving in the town, their first stop was at the Everett police station. Sandburg voluntarily waited in the truck, having learned quickly over the past two years that not all precincts were as welcoming to “observers” as Cascade. Small town law enforcement tended to look upon outsiders with a measure of suspicion, so he decided to just simplify the process and let Jim and his badge go in and do the talking. After about twenty minutes, the detective emerged from the building and climbed into the truck, starting it up and fastening his seat belt.

“I’ve got an address,” the Sentinel informed his partner as he pulled out of the parking lot and headed into town. “It took a little digging, but we found it. Place is an apartment building on the west side of town, in her grandmother’s name. The building manager is going to meet us there and let us in.”

“Did they have any ideas about who might have killed her?” Blair asked hopefully.

“No,” Ellison replied, shaking his head. “No record of any complaints made, formal or otherwise. And she didn’t have any kind of a rap sheet.”

“You sound surprised.”

“It’s time to look at things realistically, Chief,” the detective admonished. “We’re talking about a woman who danced at a strip club and left her child in the care of a prostitute. Not exactly mother of the year behavior, so no, it wouldn’t surprise me if she’d had a run in with the law.”

“Come on, Jim,” the anthropologist argued. “We don’t know anything about this woman, so you can’t judge her just from her circumstances. She was young and single with a daughter to support. She probably did the best she could with the options she was left and got by the only way she was able. I mean, Hannah’s a great kid. Well adjusted, smart, and she’s good as gold. Ashley obviously did something right there.”

“Maybe,” Jim shrugged, wondering if his partner was speaking from his own experiences. “Maybe I’m wrong about her. Or maybe I’m right, and whatever she was into was what got her killed.”

“Which we won’t know until we find out what happened,” Blair said firmly. “So until then, I’m giving her the benefit of the doubt. Innocent until proven guilty, remember?”

“Ok, Chief, you just stick with the cultural theories and leave the law to me, all right?” The detective signaled the end of the discussion, but he wasn’t annoyed with his friend. If anything, he wished he could take the optimistic view of his young partner, but unfortunately, too many years dealing with the worst society had to offer had left him cynical and jaded. Sandburg always chose to believe the best about people, and Ellison could only hope that this time he wouldn’t be let down.

They found the apartment building easily enough in what was obviously an older area of town, a bit neglected but not derelict. As promised, the manager met them out front.

“I’m just sick about this,” he told them, leading the way to the apartment. “Ashley was such a beautiful young woman. Is her little girl all right?”

“Yes, she’s fine,” Sandburg piped up.

“I just can’t believe this happened to her,” the man continued, shaking his head in disbelief. He stopped in front of one of the doors and slid a key into the lock. “Cecilia, her grandmother, had a rent controlled lease here. Ashley and her daughter moved in about three years ago, and when Cecilia died last year, that lease was supposed to have been terminated and a standard one put in place if Ashley wanted to keep the apartment. But, I always liked her... I mean, she was a sweet girl who had some rough times, so I just never reported it to the main office. She’d been paying in six month increments, and she still has two months left before rent’s due again. That’s why I didn’t notice she’d left. What do you think I should do with all her belongings?”

“We’re still trying to track down a next of kin,” Ellison told him absently as he carefully scanned the apartment.

“I don’t suppose you could help us with that?” Blair asked. “Did she ever fill out a ‘who to notify’ card or anything?”

“When she moved in,” the man replied. “But it won’t help you any, since she listed her grandmother. Ashley never updated it after her death.”

“Did you ever see anyone suspicious hanging around the building?” Jim interrogated. “Did she ever mention being afraid of anyone?”

“No, of course not,” he answered, a bit indignantly. “I would have alerted the police if I’d suspected she might be in danger.”

“What about friends who might have visited her here?” the detective persisted. “Anyone looking a little questionable, or a guy she may have fought with?”

“Not many people came here to see her, that I’m aware of. I don’t think she had a boyfriend, but you might want to check with Cathy, down the hall, last apartment on the left. She and Ashley were friends and she would probably know better than I would.”

“Thanks, we’ll do that,” Ellison told him. “We appreciate all your help.”

“So what should I do with her things?” the man asked again. “I mean, technically this apartment is still hers for two more months, so it’s no problem to leave everything here for a little while...”

“We’ll get back to you on that,” Blair promised, tactfully trying to steer the man toward the door, since he hadn’t seemed to pick up on Jim’s dismissal. It took a bit of finagling, but the observer finally managed to get rid of the building supervisor, leaving the Sentinel to work in peace. “Are you getting anything?” Sandburg asked, after several minutes of silence.

“Nothing,” the detective muttered in frustration. “There’s no trace of that smell, and I can’t find anything else out of the ordinary.”

Blair trailed after his friend as Ellison made one more sweep of the apartment. The furnishings were old and a bit worn, but the place was clean and tidy and homey. Jim led the way into the single bedroom, which had been decorated on a modest budget but with the intent of pleasing a young girl.

“I’d say Hannah helped with the interior design,” Sandburg grinned, taking in the magazine pictures and crayon drawings that littered the walls.

“Why don’t you gather up some things for her?” the Sentinel suggested. “I’ll go see if I can find a box or bags or something, but we should at least take some more clothes back with us.”

Blair nodded, taking inventory of what was available and quickly gathering up an array of clothing for the child, as well as a few hair accessories and some other small trinkets and a few toys he found. Pausing, he picked up a framed picture that was sitting on top of the dresser. It was a portrait of Hannah and her mother, cuddled together and smiling happily for the camera. The anthropologist again had to shake his head over the waste of such a beautiful young woman’s life, and idly thought that if Hannah grew up to be half as pretty as her mother, she was going to be a real heartbreaker when she was older. He carefully added the picture to the pile of clothing he’d stacked on the bed, renewing his fierce determination to bring justice to the animal that had stolen one life and had shattered another.

Ellison returned with a garbage bag, and Sandburg packed it as neatly as he was able. They took the bundle out to the truck, then returned to the apartment building to knock on the door that the supervisor had indicated. A young woman answered, a bit hesitant to find the police at her home, but she admitted them readily enough. Blair voluntarily took on the task of occupying her small son while Jim quietly broke the news to her about her neighbor’s murder. She was understandably upset, but the time constraints didn’t afford the detective more than a few minutes to allow her to absorb the initial shock.

“Cathy,” he began gently. “I know this is hard for you and I’m sorry to have to ask you to talk about all this now. But we don’t have much to go on at this point, and we really would appreciate anything you could tell us.”

“I’ll try, but I don’t think I can help you,” she sniffed, trying to choke back her sobs. The Sentinel reached behind him, grabbing a box of Kleenex off the table behind the sofa and handing it to her.

“Did she say anything to you that made you think she was in danger?” Jim asked.

“Oh, I knew something was wrong,” Cathy admitted, after wiping her eyes and blowing her nose. “She came over here late one night and told me she and Hannah were leaving town for awhile. She wouldn’t tell me why, just that there was something she had to do and she’d call me in a few days. Ashley looked scared, though, so I figured she was in some sort of trouble. And she never called... I was afraid something had happened to her. I just can’t believe she’s dead.”

Ellison put a comforting hand on her shoulder as the young woman began crying again.

“I’m sorry,” she gasped.

“It’s all right,” he murmured. “Is there anything else you can tell us? Any other people that we should maybe talk to? Any friends or boyfriends she might have mentioned by name?”

“No,” she gulped, shaking her head. “Ashley didn’t have much of a social life. She danced nights over at the Ribald Room. I’d watch Hannah for her while she worked, and she’d take care of my son during the day while I was at work. All of her free time was devoted to Hannah. Her daughter was her whole world to her. Everything she did, she did for that girl, and nothing was ever for herself. How is Hannah? Is she all right? Where is she?”

“She’s fine,” the detective reassured her. “We’re keeping an eye on her for now, just as a precaution, until we find whoever did this. But we’ve been trying to track down any other family members.”

“I don’t know if you’ll find any,” Cathy told him. “Ashley’s parents are both dead, and I got the impression that when her grandmother died last year, that was the last of her family.”

“What about Hannah’s father? Did she ever mention him?”

“Not kindly,” she replied. “Phil. She never said his last name. Ashley got pregnant with Hannah when she was nineteen, and I gather he just bailed out on her. It’s not easy trying to raise a child on your own, but Ashley really did a great job with Hannah. She’s such a good kid. My son can be a handful sometimes, but I never had any problems with Hannah.” Cathy looked across the room to where Blair was sprawled on the floor, racing Matchbox cars with the little boy, and smiled. “And I’ll bet she has that one wrapped right around her little finger .”

“You don’t know the half of it,” Ellison said wryly. He pulled a card out of his jacket pocket and handed it to her. “Cathy, we appreciate the help. If you can think of anything else that might be important, give me a call, ok?”

“I will,” she promised.

“Let’s go, Chief,” the detective called out, getting to his feet and heading for the door. “Playtime’s over.”

“Bye, Adam,” Sandburg said to the child. “You take care.” He clambered up off the floor, nodding at Cathy and dusting off his clothes as he hurried to catch up. “What now?”

“Well, it’s a little early yet,” Jim told him, glancing at his watch. “But let’s head over to that Ribald Room and see what we can find out.”

“The strip club? All right! I’d say playtime’s just beginning.” The observer shot his partner a coy grin, getting a weary head shaking in return as they got in the truck and drove to the establishment across town.

They entered the largely deserted club, finding the manager and informing him of his former employee’s death. He couldn’t tell them anything helpful, but directed them to another dancer who was back in the communal dressing room getting ready for her first set of the night. Ellison led the way, pulling his fascinated partner past the exotic looking beauty who was swinging elegantly around a pole up on the brightly lit stage. They found the woman in question, and after breaking the news to her and giving her a few minutes to come to grips with the tragedy, they all convened in the club manager’s office where it was more or less quiet.

“Sierra,” the detective began, pulling out a chair for the young woman. “I’m sorry to have to ask you about all this now, but we really need your help if we’re going to find out who did this to Ashley. Your manager tells us you two were pretty tight.”

“We were friends,” she shrugged, pulling her robe tightly around her as she took the offered chair. “We had some things in common, you know? You tend to spend a lot of time back in the dressing room waiting for your next turn, so we would talk.”

“About what?”

“Mainly about getting out of here,” Sierra told them with a wistful smile. “I mean, no girl ever dreams about becoming a stripper. I do it to pay the bills while I take classes during the day. Ashley did it for her daughter, so that she could be with Hannah all day and not have to stick her in day care. And it’s decent money for a few hours work.”

“This is something of a difficult question,” the Sentinel began. “Believe me, I’m not trying to get you to incriminate yourself or the club, but I need to know. Did Ashley ever do anything here beyond dance?”

“I’m not going to pretend that nothing illegal ever goes on in the back rooms,” she said candidly. “But Ashley never had anything to do with that.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes,” Sierra declared vehemently. “This gig pays all right, but some of the girls really clean up by performing a few extra services here and there. Everything from lap dances to drugs to hard core sex. But Ashley and I are what they call ‘eye candy’. We don’t do anything off the stage and don’t go any further than topless. Not a lot of tips in that, so we cooked up an act together. Mostly suggestive, but it worked. Men are really such simple creatures...”

The young woman trailed off suddenly, looking up and blushing as she realized what she was saying to the two men before her.

“I don’t think we can really argue with that,” Blair agreed quickly, giving her an understanding smile.

“So Ashley wasn’t involved with anything illegal,” Ellison clarified. “What about what she did do? Did she ever mention a jealous boyfriend, or talk about anyone hanging around that she was worried about? Anyone come into the club that had any special interest in her beyond the usual?”

“She didn’t date,” Sierra replied, a thoughtful look coming over her face. “All her time was spent with her daughter. But, there were two men who would come into the club regularly that paid a lot of attention to her. I mean, even if she was just eye candy, Ashley was gorgeous and she really was a sweet person. It made her fairly popular in the club, but these two in particular stood out enough to notice.”

“Do you know who they were?”

“One of them is dead now. His car went over a cliff a few weeks back. We called him the Schlub, but after he died we found out his name was Harry Baker. He was in his 50's, one of those milquetoast born losers that just reminds you of a sad puppy. I think he took a shine to Ashley because she acknowledged him where most of the other girls didn’t. Always gave him a smile and a little wink, like he was something special. Ash said she felt sorry for him, but she thought he was harmless enough.”

“What about her second admirer?” Blair asked.

“We never knew his name, either, but Ashley dubbed him King Leer. He had these really intense, dark eyes and he’d just sit at a corner table pounding whiskey sours and ogling her every move. One day she came back all freaked out, because he had given her a fifty dollar bill and told her it was for her daughter’s college fund. She couldn’t figure out how he’d known about her daughter, but I told her he’d probably seen her around town with Hannah, or maybe he had a kid in the same kindergarten class or something.”

“Have you seen him at the club since Ashley left?” the detective inquired.

“No,” Sierra answered, shaking her head. “But he really only ever came in to see Ashley, so it didn’t really surprise me that he stopped coming when she quit.”

“What about that night she quit? What did she tell you then?”

“She just said that this had gotten to be too much for her and she couldn’t do it anymore. That she was taking Hannah away for a little while to think things over and reevaluate her life, and she’d get in touch with me when she landed somewhere. I knew there was something she wasn’t telling me and I wondered if she was in some kind of trouble, but she didn’t want to talk about it and seemed in a hurry to get out of here. I think she had Hannah in the car, like they were leaving right then and she just stopped to say goodbye. I asked her if there was anything I could do, but she just said no and bolted. I figured she’d tell me everything when she got it all settled. I guess I should have pressed her on it more... If I had known....”

“I’m sure you did everything you could,” Blair reassured her.

“I should have tried harder to help her,” Sierra whispered, turning away as the tears stung her eyes.

“You can still help her now,” Jim told her. “We need a description on this leering guy.”

“Um, he was in his early thirties,” she gulped, blinking back the tears. “Those dark, beady eyes, and dark hair, in a mullet if you can believe it. Sharp nose and thin lips. Really pale.”

“That’s very good,” the detective nodded, jotting down notes on a small pad he’d pulled from his coat pocket. “Do you think you could meet with a police artist at the station tomorrow and make a composite sketch of this guy?”

“I can,” she said hesitantly. “But why? You don’t think he killed Ashley, do you? I mean, the guy was a little creepy, but he never struck me as the murdering type.”

“Right now he’s all we have to go on,” Ellison explained. “I don’t want to upset you further, Sierra, but the circumstances surrounding Ashley’s murder suggest to us that it wasn’t random. It was a vengeful killing, and most likely by someone she knew.”

“Oh, my God,” the young woman murmured, pressing a hand against her mouth.

“I’ll set it up with the local police here in Everett,” he continued. “They’ll know to expect you tomorrow to make that sketch.” Rising, he motioned to his partner and started for the door, but abruptly turned back. “And whatever you do,” he counseled. “Don’t be too hard on yourself. There’s nothing you could have done to prevent this.”

“That’s what I’m trying to tell myself,” she said softly, not looking like she was having much luck convincing herself.

“We appreciate all your help,” Jim told her sincerely.

“Sierra, there’s just one more thing,” Blair interjected, halting his partner’s exit. “This may seem like a strange question, but did you ever notice a strong smell on this King Leer? Some kind of incense or cologne or anything?”

“I don’t think he wore cologne,” she replied, puzzled. “But, he was a chain smoker. Clove cigarettes. Hard to tell in the club where there’s so much smoke anyway, but maybe the clove smell lingered?”

“Thank you. We’ll let you know if we make any progress on the case.” Sandburg shot her a parting smile and followed the detective out of the club, which was currently much more animated than when they had first entered.

“Forget about it, Chief,” Ellison advised wryly as they climbed back into the truck. “Long distance relationships never pan out.”

“It’s only a little over an hour’s drive,” the young anthropologist argued. “And she would be worth it. Did you see the legs on her?”

The detective turned to glare at him, and Blair laughed, protesting that he had only been joking. Shaking his head, which he seemed to do a lot of around his incorrigible partner, Jim started the truck and pulled out of the parking lot of the Ribald Room, setting the course back to Cascade.

“So, what do you think about the clove cigarettes? Is that the scent you keep picking up?”

“I don’t know, maybe,” the Sentinel hedged. He glanced at the expectant look on the observer’s face and sighed. “Yeah, it probably is.”

“Finally,” Sandburg sighed, leaning back against his seat. “We’re starting to get somewhere.”

“This is just an area to look at, Chief,” Ellison reminded him. “Remember, innocent until proven guilty. And we don’t even know who this guy is yet. First we need to get an ID, then we have to find him.”

Blair nodded, turning to look out the darkened window. That was all just detail work that would fall into place. Despite his partner’s warnings against optimism, he couldn’t help harboring a feeling of satisfaction. They had a lead, which he felt pretty good about, and he was already envisioning a scenario where the brutal killer was behind bars and Hannah would be safe for good.



Sandburg turned off his laptop, closing the lid and unplugging the machine as he downed the last of his coffee. He rinsed the mug out and left it in the sink, then gathered up the pages he’d printed out and stuffed them in his backpack before heading to his room.

“Hannah,” he called out, poking his head through the door. “What are you doing?”

“Making a picture for Joel,” she replied, intent on the drawing in front of her.

“Yeah?” Blair entered the room and sat down on the edge of his bed, looking down at the artwork. “That’s really good. I guess you two had fun last night, huh?”

“We had a tea party,” the child informed him distractedly.

The anthropologist grinned broadly at the thought of the dignified captain participating in an animated game of tea party with the little girl.

“Well, let’s get ready and go to the station and then you can give it to him. Come on up here.”

Hannah scrambled up from the floor where she’d been sprawled amongst scattered papers and crayons to sit beside him on the bed. Sandburg gently brushed the snarls out of her hair and then he skillfully began to weave the long, blond curls into a neat braid.

“We had to just pretend, though,” she continued. “But next time we can do it for real.” She glanced over in the corner of the room where some of the toys, including a rose decorated plastic tea set, that Blair had brought her from Everett had taken up residence. The little girl had been happy to receive some of her possessions, although she hadn’t asked any questions as to where they had come from. Sandburg hesitated, having a few questions of his own he was curious to ask the child. The psychologists hadn’t wanted to push her on any of her memories, and Blair wholeheartedly agreed with that school of thought. But there was something nobody had bothered to ask her, and curiosity got the better of the young scholar. He decided to plunge ahead, hoping he wasn’t making a big mistake.

“Hannah,” he began softly as he resumed braiding. “Do you know where Jim and I got this stuff for you?”

“From my old house?”

“That’s right,” he confirmed. “We went to Everett last night and we brought it back. So you remember when you used to live there?”

“Sure,” she replied. “Me and Mommy and Grammy lived there.”

Blair picked up a sparkling pink hair tie and used it to secure the braid he’d created.

“Hannah, do you know where your mom is now?”

“She’s dead.” The little girl squirmed down off the bed and picked up the doll that she’d left on floor, placing in it her lap as she plopped down and resumed coloring.

“How do you know that?” Sandburg murmured, his throat tightening.

“Because the policemen all came to our house here,” she answered matter of factly. “Mandy says that’s what happens when somebody dies. They came to our old house when my Grammy died. Mommy said Grammy went up to Heaven and became an angel and would always watch over us.” Hannah turned to gaze up at Blair, her brown eyes thoughtful and serious. “Do the police come to take the people to Heaven?”

“No, not exactly,” he replied. “They try to find out why the people died, and make sure nobody hurt them.”

“Mandy said that Mommy’s an angel in Heaven now, with my Grammy,” she continued, going back to work on her picture. “And that I have to be good, ‘cause she’s still watching me from up there. Mandy told me not to be scared, though. She said that you’d take care of us.” The child picked up her drawing from the floor and swirled around to hold it up. “I’m done. Do you think Joel will like it?”

“I’m sure he’ll love it.” Sandburg cleared his throat and stood up. “Pick up your crayons and find your coat and then we’ll go.”

As the little girl began cleaning up, Blair hurried into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him as he took a few deep breaths and tried to calm himself. There was no doubt in his mind that the child had seen her mother murdered in front of her, even if she couldn’t remember it. In truth, as much as he wanted to catch the killer, a part of him couldn’t help wishing she never remembered it. The thought of the trauma she had witnessed was distressing to his sensitive heart, but something else she had said was now eating away at him as well.

Initially, he had thought it would be a good thing to care for the child, so that she could have something familiar and stable and feel loved and wanted as she learned to cope with what had happened. But now he was left wondering if he had done the right thing. Did he just set her up for another blow? Lulling her into a feeling of safety and security, getting her to trust him, only to have to turn around and upheave her from her world once again. Sighing heavily, he splashed a handful of water on his face and swabbed himself dry with a towel. He opened the door and hit the light, emerging to find Hannah sitting on the sofa with her coat on and a stack of drawings in her hand, waiting for him. Blair added the pictures to his backpack, slipping on his own jacket and slinging his bag over his shoulder. They left the loft, and as they walked down the hallway, she slipped her small hand into his. Sandburg muted another sigh, never having been one for looking at the past and dwelling on regrets. So instead of wishing he’d handled the situation differently, he could only make a strong resolve that when the time came to let the little girl go, he would do everything in his power to make it as easy on her as possible.



As they stepped inside the door that led to Major Crimes, Blair knelt down and helped the child take off her coat. Then he dug around in his backpack, pulling out the pictures she’d drawn.

“Here,” he told her, giving her the artwork. “Why don’t you go hand these out to everyone? I’m going to go and talk to Jim.”

Hannah scampered off, passing out her gifts to the delight of the detectives, Captains Banks and Taggert, and Rhonda, as Sandburg approached his partner’s desk.

“Hey, Chief,” Ellison greeted him, handing him a sheet of paper. “The Everett P.D. got an ID on the sketch that Sierra made. Guy named Joey Milner. He doesn’t have a formal record, but get this. The police responded to a call at the Ribald Room about a month ago. A fight had broken out between Milner and one Harry Baker. Milner was ejected from the club, but no charges were filed.”

“Do you think that fight could have been over Ashley?” Blair asked, studying the composite sketch carefully.

“Nobody knows, but I’d say it’s a safe bet,” the detective replied, handing him a second sheet of paper. The anthropologist scanned the police report quickly, then dug his own findings out of his backpack, placing them on the desk before his friend.

“Jim, look at this,” he exclaimed. “I checked out the website for the Everett paper and they had an archive section. This is the article they ran about the accident that killed Harry Baker.” He placed the police report on the desk beside it. “The accident happened two days after he fought with Milner, and four days before Ashley skipped town. It has to all be connected, right?”

“It’s pretty far from being conclusive,” the Sentinel mused. “But it definitely gives us something to focus on. I’ve got some calls to make. Go borrow a phone and call up that Everett paper. See if you can get an obituary on Baker. I want a background on him, anything you can find out.”

Sandburg dashed off as Ellison picked up the phone. Twenty minutes later, the younger man returned to his partner’s desk.

“They faxed me the obituary,” he informed the detective, glancing at his notepad. “He was an accountant, so I called up the firm and also talked to his boss and a few of his coworkers. They all said he’d been a good guy. Real quiet, shy, but he’d give you the shirt off his back. Volunteered a lot around town. Hard worker, on the level.”

“So he was a real straight arrow?” Jim asked, cocking an eyebrow.

“From what everyone says.”

“That’s surprising,” the Sentinel commented, pushing back his chair and getting to his feet. “Being that I just spoke to the ME in Everett and he found traces of drugs in Baker’s system on autopsy.”

“He was on drugs?”

“Or else he WAS drugged,” Ellison concluded, grabbing his coat off the rack. “His car’s apparently pretty totaled, but they still have it impounded. I’m going to drive back down there and check it out. See if I can find anything. Up for another road trip?”

“I can’t,” Blair told him reluctantly. “Hannah’s got another appointment with Dr. Willis this morning, and I have office hours all afternoon. With midterms coming up, I hate to cancel.”

“Fine,” Jim told him, glancing at his watch. “I’ll run down there now and I should be back late this afternoon.”

“Good luck.” Sandburg watched his friend stride out of the office and went to find his young charge, hoping that the police psychologist would be able to make more progress this time.



“Hey, Jim,” Blair greeted his partner as he came through the door. “How did it go?”

“I talked to the ME,” Ellison answered, hanging up his jacket and moving into the kitchen, helping himself to a slice of the carrot that his roommate was cutting up. He glanced over at the child who was absorbed in watching cartoons and conscientiously lowered his voice. “He found traces of barbiturates in Baker’s system, but the body was so mangled from the crash it was hard to tell if there was anything physical done to him before the accident.”

“What about the car?” the anthropologist pressed. “Did you get anything there?”

“They weren’t kidding when they said it was totaled,” the detective replied. “But I did find one thing. We had to pry the ashtray open with a crowbar, but I got a cigarette butt out of it.”

“Clove?” Blair asked, getting a confirming nod. “Do you think it was Milner?”

“That’s what I’m hoping Forensics can tell me,” the Sentinel said, going to the fridge and pulling out a can of soda. “If we’re lucky, there will still be enough DNA from the saliva on the butt. But even if there is,” he cautioned, seeing the look of excitement creeping across his young partner’s face. “We still have to get a sample from Milner to compare. And then even if it matches, it still doesn’t prove that he did anything wrong. So don’t start planning his conviction just yet, all right, Chief?”

“All right,” Blair sighed, tucking his hair behind his ears. He glanced at the clock to check the time, and pulled on an oven mitt to take a glass dish out of the oven. “Anyway, I’m glad you’re home. I need a favor.”

“What’s that?” Ellison inquired, cracking open his can and taking a drink.

“I need you to watch Hannah for me for a couple hours.”

“You have to be kidding,” he blurted out, almost choking on his soda.

“Jim, come on,” Sandburg pleaded. “You know I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important. I’ve got a TA meeting in half an hour and I can’t take her with me. I missed last week’s because of the stakeout and the week before because we were setting up that sting on Giordella and the week before that because I was unconscious...”

“Ok, Chief, I get it,” the detective interrupted him, fending off the verbal barrage.

“The point is, if I keep missing the meetings they could take my classes away from me, and then I lose my teaching stipend,” Blair explained. “Look, I’ve got dinner all ready and I’ll come back the second the meeting is done and put her to bed. Please, Jim.”

“It’s not that I mind keeping an eye on her,” Ellison told him. He glanced again at the little girl and leaned in to whisper to his friend. “But she doesn’t like me.”

“That’s not true,” Blair argued, pulling a plate out of the cupboard and retrieving a knife from the drawer. “It’s just that you can’t fake it with her. Kids are pure souls, Jim, and most people think they don’t know anything because they’re young and naive. But you can’t mistake that for ignorance. A child is uncorrupted and unencumbered by the blinders that the cynicism of life slaps on adults. Kids can read between the lines, and they see the world for how it really is. And they definitely know when you’re trying to snow them. Just quit trying so hard. Be yourself with her, and she’ll like you just fine.”

“I don’t know how I let you talk me into these things,” the Sentinel murmured with a weary sigh, but he quickly got distracted from his martyred routine. “Sandburg, what the hell are you feeding her?”

“Tofu casserole,” his friend replied, carrying the plate out to the table. “What? It’s good for you. The guys have been pumping her full of junk for the last couple of days, and it’s high time she got a little nutrition. Hannah, turn off the tv and come and eat.”

The little girl complied, skipping over to climb up into a chair after first arranging her doll carefully on the seat next to her.

“I’ve got to run over to the university for a little bit,” Blair told her, pushing her chair closer to the table. “Jim’ll be here with you until I get back. So be good, ok?” The anthropologist hurriedly grabbed his jacket and his keys and slung his backpack over his shoulder. “Thanks, Jim,” he called out as he headed for the door. “I owe you one, man.”

“One?” Ellison muttered, shaking his head. “One hundred, maybe.” He slowly walked around the island to the table, sitting down across from the child. They stared at each other warily for several long moments, until the detective broke his gaze and looked down at her untouched plate. “Not hungry?”

Hannah reached for her doll, picking up the toy and hugging it tightly to her chest. If he hadn’t had Sentinel hearing, Jim knew he wouldn’t have made out her reply.

“I don’t think Mandy likes this stuff.”

He glanced down again at the bland, soft mound on her plate.

“Well, I can’t really say that I blame her,” he said amiably. “How does Mandy feel about pizza?”

The little girl looked up at him and smiled.



The meeting, naturally, had run long, and during the drive home, Sandburg had tried to speculate which of many possible scenarios would be greeting him when he entered the loft, wondering which one of the two adversaries would be the most traumatized by having been thrown together. But of all the scenes he’d envisioned, he hadn’t been prepared for the one that he stumbled into.

Opening the door, Blair saw that the furniture had been rearranged and draped with blankets to make a large tent in the middle of the living room. As he entered the loft and shut the door behind him, his ears were filled with the delighted laughter of a little girl and some other noises that sounded like a dying farm animal. Just then, Jim came bounding down the stairs with the child riding on his strong shoulders, and the detective froze in his place as he spied his friend standing in the doorway.

“Oh, you’re back,” he stammered, lifting Hannah up and setting her down before running his hand over his short hair with exaggerated casualness.

“Yeah, I am,” Sandburg confirmed, his blue eyes dancing with amusement at his embarrassed roommate’s expense. “Everything go ok?”

“Fine,” the Sentinel replied, looking away with a casual shrug. “You know.”

“Mmm hmmm.” The anthropologist nodded knowingly, his grin getting larger. “Well, it’s getting late. Come on, Hannah. Let’s go get ready for bed, and you can tell me all the fun things you and Jim did tonight while I was gone.”

Ellison sighed heavily as he began to dismantle their fort, knowing that his friend would most likely never let him live this down. But his stone face melted when the little girl returned to say goodnight, reaching up to him in an invitation for a hug. The detective knelt down, wrapping his strong arms around her.

“Good night, Hannah,” he murmured, stroking her blond curls gently. She kissed him on the cheek and ran back to Blair, who was watching from the doorway of his room with a smile. But this time there was no teasing in his gaze.

The Sentinel had the house back in order and was cleaning up the kitchen by the time his roommate emerged from the bedroom, his arms loaded with a pillow and blankets.

“How’d she do with the shrink this morning?” he asked. “Did he get anything new out of her?”

“No,” Sandburg replied, tucking a sheet into the cushions on the couch. “She refuses to talk about what happened while she was in that closet. Just says she can’t remember and changes the subject.”

“It’s bad for our case,” Ellison said softly. “But I hope she never remembers what happened.”

“I was thinking the same thing,” Blair confessed, plopping down to sit cross-legged on the bed he’d made for himself. “But Dr. Willis says repressed memories eventually come out. It might take years, but they will work themselves out. And Hannah will never be completely emotionally healthy until they do.”

The Sentinel absorbed this sobering thought, and found himself hoping that her memories were able to surface sooner rather than later. Not to help his case, but rather because he knew in his heart that his compassionate friend would be able to help her through them, as much as anyone could.

“So,” Sandburg interjected into his thoughts. “Is there any of that pizza left?”

Jim grinned, for although he’d tried to hide the evidence as quick as he could after his roommate had come home, his crime had been discovered. He opened the refrigerator and pulled out the plate that he’d shoved way in the back, setting it on the island.

“Knock yourself out, Chief.”



“Excuse me, sir.” Ellison stuck his head into his captain’s office. “I managed to track down Milner’s wife. She’s living right here in Cascade, so I thought I’d head over there and see if I could talk to her. Maybe she has some idea of where we can find him.”

“Do you think you need backup, just in case he’s there with her?”

“I don’t think he’ll be there,” the detective assured his boss. “She’s been at this present address for six months, and Milner’s been in Everett at least up until a month ago. I’m assuming they’re separated.”

“That still doesn’t mean he wouldn’t look her up if he’s in town,” Banks warned him. “Just be careful, Jim. I’ll have Rafe and Brown standing by if you need them.”

“Thanks, sir.”

The Sentinel left the office, making his way down to the garage to his truck. He consulted the slip of paper in his shirt pocket, confirming the address, then fired up the vehicle and pulled out onto the street. Twenty minutes later, he pulled up in front of a modest apartment building, parked and went inside.

“Sarah Milner?” he inquired of the woman who answered his knock.

“Yes,” she replied. “Can I help you?”

“Detective Ellison, Cascade P.D.” He held up his badge for inspection. “Ma’am, would it be all right if I came in and talked to you for a few minutes? I just have a few questions I’d like to ask you.”

She shut the door briefly to remove the chain, then opened it and stepped aside.

“What’s this about? Is my daughter all right?”

“Yes, she’s fine,” the Sentinel assured her as he entered the apartment. “I’d like to talk to you about your husband.”

“Oh my God,” the woman whispered, leaning against the door briefly as she shut it. “What did he do?”

“What makes you think he did anything?”

“If you’re here to ask me about Joey,” she rationally concluded, leading him into the living room and indicating for him to sit. “Then he must have done something.”

“We’re not sure about that,” the detective told her, easing himself down into a plush chair. “Right now we’d just like to find him. Do you have any idea where your husband is, Sarah?”

“No, I really don’t,” she replied, shaking her head. “I took Christy and left him back in Everett six months ago, and I haven’t seen him since.”

“If you don’t mind me asking, why did you and Joey split up?”

“That could be a long conversation,” Sarah told him with a bitter smile. “Can I get you anything, Detective?”

“No, thank you. And the abridged version is fine.”

“About two years ago,” she began, leaning back in her own chair. “Joey started behaving strangely. At first it was just little things. Some odd little quirks that were easily overlooked. But then he started getting worse.”

“What do you mean by ‘strange’?” Ellison asked.

“He’d get these really off the wall ideas,” she explained. “Ideas for inventions, or scientific theories. They were all totally crackpot ideas, but you just couldn’t convince him that he was wrong, not even if you showed him proof to refute him. He was always imaginative. Joey and our daughter used to make up these wild stories together, full of fantasy places and animals and people. But then sometimes he’d start acting like it was all real, and I don’t think he was pretending. He also got real suspicious of everyone.”

“Paranoid?”

“I don’t know if I’d call it paranoid,” Sarah said slowly, wrinkling her forehead in thought. “He was convinced everyone was up to something, but it wasn’t necessarily directed at him, not like he thought they were out to get him. He kept accusing me of having affairs, with almost everyone I came in contact with. Sometimes he’d be angry, but then other times he’d be casual about it, like he knew but didn’t care, and other times he’d even be excited by the thought.”

“Did he ever see a doctor?” the detective inquired.

“I begged him to go, but he absolutely refused.”

“There are ways around that,” Jim informed her.

“What? Having the men in white coats come in with a straightjacket and carry him off?” She smiled slightly. “That would have been a little extreme. Joey would act a little crazy sometimes, but he never acted like he was going to hurt anyone, or himself. He never threatened anyone with violence, and he certainly never gave me any indication that he was a danger to Christy or I. I know that he loved me, and he adored our daughter.”

“If he wasn’t that bad, then why did you leave him?”

“I just got tired of it all,” she sighed, running a hand through her hair. “He lost his job, and instead of finding another, he just hung around the house all day, coming up with his harebrained schemes and accusing me of sleeping with the paper boy. There was tension between us all the time, which was hard on Christy. And she didn’t know what to make of her dad’s erratic behavior. So, I decided it would be better for everyone if I took her and left and didn’t tell him where. I did tell him that if he got some help for himself, that we’d think about coming back. But last I heard, he was still the same.”

“Sarah, I want to thank you for all your help,” Ellison told her, getting to his feet and pulling a card out of his pocket. “If you can think of anything else, or if Joey tries to contact you, I’d appreciate a call. My cell number’s on the back, so feel free to use it anytime, day or night.”

“Detective,” she began hesitantly, rising to her feet and taking his card. “You never did say why you wanted to talk to Joey. What do you think he might have done?”

“Maybe nothing,” the Sentinel hedged. “And I wouldn’t feel comfortable giving you any details until we get the facts straight.”

Sarah Milner nodded sadly, wise enough to understand that whatever crime they were looking at her husband in conjunction with, it was obviously something very serious.

“Will you let me know what you find out when you locate Joey? Please?”

“I will, I promise.” The detective touched her lightly on the arm before heading to the door to let himself out.

Deciding there wasn’t any use in going back to the office, Ellison decided he might as well call it a day and head home. He made a quick call to Simon to inform him of his plans, and to let him know that Rafe and Brown could pack it in as well, then he maneuvered out into the late afternoon traffic. Pulling up in front of his building, he parked the truck and jumped out, striding toward the door. But he stopped abruptly in the entrance way, his heart skipping a beat. Sentinel senses on full alert, the detective raced up the three flights of stairs and down the hallway. The scent of cloves was thicker up there, and he swore under his breath as he skidded to a stop in front of his door. It was locked, and his sensitive ears let him know no one was inside. No one alive, anyway. Jim quickly unlocked the door and dashed inside, letting out a small sigh of relief to see everything in order and discovering that the clove scent was restricted to the hallway outside. Pulling out his cell phone, he dialed his roommate’s number.

“Come on, Sandburg,” he muttered impatiently. “Answer the damn phone.”

“Hello,” came the slightly breathless reply after the fifth ring.

“Where are you?” Ellison barked into the receiver.

“At the park.”

“What park?”

“You know, that playground over on Mayfield,” the anthropologist told him. “What’s the matter, Jim? Is everything all right?”

“Yeah,” the Sentinel lied, calming down as he assured himself that Blair and Hannah were safe, at least for the moment. “Look, you stay put. I’m going to meet you two over there. I’ll be there in five minutes.”

The detective closed his phone, jamming it back into his pocket as he left the loft, making sure the door was locked securely behind him. Since Sandburg’s car was parked outside, he figured that they had walked to the park, which was only a few blocks away. But Jim didn’t want to waste any time, so he hopped into his truck and fired it up, squealing the tires slightly as he threw it in reverse. All his lectures about circumstantial evidence aside, in his gut the Sentinel knew that Joey Milner had found his target and had returned to finish the job.

When he got to the park, Ellison immediately spotted his partner. As dinnertime was approaching, most of the other visitors were pulling out and heading home. There were only a few stragglers left in the playground, so it was easy to pick out Sandburg sitting alone on a swing.

“Hey,” he greeted as Jim came up and took the swing next to him. “What’s up?”

“We’ve got a problem,” the detective told him.

“I’m watching you, Hannah,” Blair called out, waving at the child who had been entreating him to witness her death defying trip down the sliding board. “What problem?”

“Milner was at the loft,” Ellison said, not beating around the bush. “I was just there and I could smell cloves in the hallway. Somehow he must have figured out we have Hannah and went there looking for her.”

“God, Jim,” Sandburg murmured, paling at the thought. “What are we going to do?”

“You and Hannah are going to go somewhere safe tonight,” the Sentinel informed him. “We’ll get someone to stake out the loft, and I’ll stay there and we’ll just have to hope he comes back.”

“Alone?” Nervous as he was at the thought of a killer out there on the prowl, the observer shot his partner a dubious look that said he was not about to be excluded.

“Don’t start with me, Chief,” the detective began wearily. “This guy has already killed at least one person, so I want you where I can be sure you’re not in any danger.”

“Look, Jim...” But Sandburg’s arguments were halted by his friend grabbing his knee and squeezing slightly. He looked up to see the little girl running toward them. She climbed up into Blair’s lap to whisper in his ear. “Oh, man,” he sighed, looking down the hill from the playground to the building that was nestled among the shaded picnic tables. “I don’t suppose you want to take this one?”

“This mission’s all yours, buddy,” Jim replied with a grin.

“Thanks a lot. Come on, Hannah.”

The anthropologist escorted the child down to the bathrooms, where he was confronted with the dilemma of which one to enter. He didn’t want to let her go alone, having heard one too many stories of perverts ambushing little girls in public facilities. But he also didn’t want to expose her to any sights in the men’s room, and he was not especially looking forward to entering the women’s room. There was also the worry that someone else would mistake him for one of those perverts that he was so concerned about. But he didn’t have much time to decide, with Hannah hopping from one foot to the other beside him. Taking a deep breath, he peeked into the men’s room, backing out quickly as he saw a figure facing one of the urinals. With an even deeper breath, Blair cracked open the door to the ladies’ room and called out a soft hello, wishing Jim had come down with him to at least tell him if the bathroom was unoccupied and to stand guard. But, when nobody answered, he quickly ushered the child inside, uttering a silent prayer that they could make it back out before any unsuspecting women felt nature’s call.

Upon exiting the bathroom, Blair opened the door and shyly peeked out to make sure the coast was clear. He was momentarily blinded by the flash of the setting sun reflecting off of something metal, and he looked up just in time to see a gleaming blade cutting through the air toward him. Fortunately, thanks to the fortuitous modesty that kept him from walking straight out of the bathroom, he was still largely protected by the heavy door and he immediately pulled his head back inside like a scared turtle. Without any time to think about or process what was happening, Blair just reacted. He kicked the door as hard as he could, and he was rewarded with the crunch of it striking something solid. It swung back, and he kicked it open again, spying a figure writhing painfully on the ground. The anthropologist picked up the child and dashed out the door, setting her down on the ground.

"Hannah," he commanded desperately, hoping that the Sentinel would pick up his voice as he saw the attacker struggling to his feet out of the corner of his eye. "Go back to Jim. Run as fast as you can. Go!"

The child hesitated for a moment, wincing slightly at the forcefulness in Sandburg's tone, but then she obeyed, turning and running up the grassy hill back to the playground as Blair threw himself at the man who was already advancing, the deadly knife poised and ready.

The detective had indeed heard his partner and had already begun sprinting in their direction when the little girl came bursting over the top of the hill toward him.

"Hannah," he exclaimed, dropping to his knees and intercepting the child. "What happened?"

"He's hurting Blair," she gasped in a quivering voice, her brown eyes huge with fear.

"Stay right here and don't move," Ellison ordered before getting to his feet and running down the hill, pulling his gun from the holster and cocking it as he went.

His eyes took in the unmoving form of his partner sprawled in front of the bathroom doors, and the bile rose up in his throat as he caught the scent of blood in the air. But he was also able to hear a strong, steady heartbeat, so he relaxed long enough to quickly secure the perimeter and make sure they were alone before he knelt beside his friend and gently rolled him over. There was a telltale bruising on the anthropologist's temple and blood was flowing from a wound on his left arm. Ellison pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket, wadding it up and pressing it firmly against the injury as Sandburg moaned softly.

"Are you with me, Chief?" he asked anxiously.

Blair moaned again, and after a moment his eyes fluttered open. Fear quickly replaced the confusion in his gaze as his head cleared and he suddenly remembered what had happened.

"Hannah," he blurted out, trying to sit up and falling back against the ground, wincing with pain.

"It's ok," the detective soothed him, preventing him from another attempt to rise. "She's safe."

"Where?" Blue eyes darted around frantically, seeking out the child.

"I left her up the hill," the Sentinel told him.

"Jim, you have to go get her," Blair insisted. "It was Milner, I know it was. He had a ski mask on, but it had to be him. He's after her."

"All right," Ellison agreed, again pushing his friend back down. "I'll go get her. You just stay here and relax, ok? Here, hold that there."

He pressed the bloody handkerchief into Sandburg's hand and positioned it against the seeping wound. After lingering a moment to make sure that his partner was strong enough to keep sufficient pressure on the injury, the detective began sprinting back up toward the playground, calling 911 on his cell phone as he ran and ordering an ambulance and backup. But when he reached the top of the hill, there was no sign of the little girl.

"Hannah!" he called out, his eyes sweeping the playground desperately, for a moment afraid that his partner had been onto something and Milner had doubled back to snatch the girl out from under his nose. But then he picked up her rapid heartbeat and spied her huddled underneath a tunnel made of tires in the corner of the playground. He darted over to her, getting on his hands and knees and peering into the gloomy space. "Hannah, are you all right?"

She nodded slightly, curled into a tiny ball, Mandy tight in her arms.

"It's ok," Ellison told her. "You can come out of there now."

"Are you mad at me?" the child whispered.

"No, of course not," he answered. "Why would you think I'd be mad at you?"

"Because I didn't stay where you told me to."

"No, sweetheart, I'm not mad," the Sentinel said in a gentle voice, realizing that he had been bellowing for her as he'd come up the hill and had probably scared her. "I was just worried that something had happened to you, that's all. But I'm not mad. Come on out now."

She crawled out of the tunnel to face him, her brown eyes wide in her tear stained face.

"Mandy wanted to hide," she explained.

"That wasn't a bad idea Mandy had," he told her. "That was a good thing to do."

“Is Blair dead?” the child whispered in a trembling voice.

“No, honey, Blair’s not dead,” Jim quickly reassured her, reaching out to pull her into his arms. “Blair’s going to be fine, I promise you.” He hugged the little girl tightly, rocking her gently as she began to cry.

Within minutes, the wail of sirens announced the arrival of reinforcements. A patrol car pulled up, followed closely by H and Rafe. Ellison got to his feet, carrying Hannah with him as he waved his fellow detectives over.

“Milner was here,” he informed them, passing the little girl into Brown’s arms. “Here, take her. Sandburg’s down the hill there. Send the EMTs down there when that ambulance gets here.”

Not waiting for confirmation, he turned and sprinted back down the hill, relieved to see his partner sitting up with his back propped up against the building.

“Hannah?” Blair called out to his friend.

“She’s safe, Chief,” the detective told him, crouching beside him to check the wound on his arm. “Brown’s got her. Are you ok?”

“Yeah,” the observer replied. “I’m all right.”

He was too pale and Ellison could feel him shaking as he pressed his hand back against the wound. But Jim got to his feet and clapped him briefly on the shoulder.

“Hang in there, buddy,” he said. “An ambulance is on the way. You’re going to be fine.” Straightening, the Sentinel looked off into the trees, a fierce scowl hardening his features. “I’m going after Milner.”



It was late by the time Ellison made it to the hospital, and visiting hours were over. But, he hadn’t spent the past three years with one Blair Sandburg without learning a thing or two, and he was able to turn up the charm and get one of the nurses to agree to allow him a quick hello, much to the delight of the anthropologist.

“Hey, Jim,” Sandburg greeted his friend. “I didn’t think they’d let you in this late.”

“I was able to con my way into a few minutes,” the detective told him, perching on the edge of his partner’s bed since there didn’t seem to be a chair in the room. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m fine. I don’t know why I have to stay here,” Blair grumbled.

“Just a precaution, Chief,” Jim reminded him. “You were in shock when they got you here, and the doctor wants to make sure that knock on the head is nothing to worry about. They’ll spring you in the morning.”

“They’d better. But what happened with you, man? Rafe said that you caught Milner.”

“Yeah. Between the cloves and the blood from his nose, which you so thoughtfully broke when you bashed him with that door, I tailed him through the park. The idiot was actually standing there a block away, waiting for the bus.”

Sandburg chuckled at the imagery.

“He took off when he saw me, but he came pretty quietly once I caught up to him,” the Sentinel continued. “We had to take him to the hospital to get him treated, and they gave him a dose of painkillers, so now I’m not sure if he’s crazy or just medicated.”

“I know how he feels,” the anthropologist murmured, having received a shot of his own that was causing him to have to concentrate to keep his focus.

“Anyway, he’s cooling his heels in lockup tonight and I’m going to question him tomorrow morning.”

“Has he said anything?” Blair asked. “Anything at all that would make you think he might have done it?”

“He’s said quite a lot,” Ellison told him. “But not much that made any sense. That could be the pain meds, but from what his wife said this afternoon, I’m guessing he’s not rowing with both oars even on a good day.”

Sandburg sighed, absently rubbing his fingers across the bandage on his forehead.

“How’s Hannah? Is she all right?”

“She’s furious that the hospital staff wouldn’t let her come in to see you,” the detective relayed with a grin. “But yeah, she’s fine. Joel’s got her back at the loft.”

“Poor kid,” Blair murmured. “After all she’s already been through, she’s got to go through this, too. She must have been scared to death. Make sure she knows I’m ok, all right, Jim?”

"I almost forgot," Ellison said, reaching into his coat pocket and pulling out Hannah's doll. "She wanted me to give this to you. Said Mandy would take care of you until you can come home."

Blair took the toy, touched to the depth of his soul, for he knew how much Hannah relied on the doll for security and he could only imagine what it must have cost her to give it up. Suddenly, a lightbulb snapped on in his mind.

"Jim, maybe that's it," he said slowly. "Our problem with this case isn't that we don't have a witness. We've just been asking the wrong one."

Ellison looked at his partner staring intently at the rag doll and frowned.

"How much dope have they given you, Chief?"

"No, man, just listen to me for a second," the anthropologist protested, struggling to sit up as the excitement began to take hold. "Hannah takes this doll everywhere with her, right? She talks about her like she's a real, live person."

"And?" the detective asked, not following his friend's train of thought.

"Well, what if we looked at that in the same light as someone with a pyschosis, like multiple personality disorder?"

"What are you saying, Sandburg? That this little girl is schizo because she carries a doll around? That's what kids do."

"But why?" Blair persisted. "Why do they attach themselves to toys, or invent imaginary friends?"

"I'm sure you did it just to have someone to listen to you," the Sentinel said wryly.

"Exactly," the young scholar told him, refusing to rise to his teasing. "They don't have anyone to play with, so they invent someone. Or they carry a toy around so they have company going into the unknown. It's a type of defense mechanism, to fulfil something missing in their lives, make it easier to cope."

"I'm still not getting how this is helping our case."

"Look at the role that Mandy fills for Hannah. The doll is the aggressor for a shy little girl. Whenever Hannah has to ask for anything, it's for Mandy. If she doesn't like something, she blames it on Mandy. It's just like someone with multiple personalities. Whenever anything bad happens, or something unpleasant needs to be done, the aggressive personality comes out and takes care of it. And Mandy is also Hannah's protector. It keeps her from feeling helpless and scared, because she believes Mandy will take care of everything."

"So you think that the way to get Hannah to talk about what happened is through Mandy?" Ellison was beginning to understand, but he remained doubtful.

"We both know Hannah had to have seen, or at least heard, what happened to her mother," Blair reasoned. "She was right there the whole time. There was no way she couldn't have. But rather than deal with it, maybe she projected it all onto Mandy. And maybe if we ask her what Mandy saw, she'll be able to tell us what happened."

"It's an interesting theory, Chief," the detective mused. "But it's still a pretty big leap."

"Just ask her," Sandburg insisted. "It's worth a try, isn't it?"

"Tomorrow," the Sentinel promised, putting a gentle restraining hand on his partner's shoulder to ease him back down against the pillows. "It's been a rough day for everyone, and Milner isn't going anywhere tonight. I'll come pick you up in the morning, and then we can interrogate a doll."

The young observer grinned in spite of himself, for when his friend put it that way, it did sound rather absurd. But he had a gut feeling that he was on to something, and as a scientist, he had learned long ago never to write off an instinct. And he had proven himself enough times to apparently make the hardened detective trust those instincts, for Jim was willing to follow through, even though he may have felt the idea was the result of a hefty dose of painkillers.

"Try and get some sleep," Ellison advised. "I'll be back in the morning." He rose and headed for the door, but abruptly turned around to face his partner. "I'm glad you're ok, Chief," he said quietly, for a moment shedding his tough-as-nails fascade and letting the genuine affection and warmth he felt creep into his face and voice before ducking out of the room.

"Thanks, Jim," Blair murmured. His friend was already gone, but he knew the Sentinel would hear him. Despite the recommendations that he sleep, Sandburg was far too excited about the idea he'd hit upon, and spent a long time lying awake thinking about his hypothesis, and what it would mean for the case, and for Hannah, if he were right. But eventually, the drugs he'd been given began to work their soporific effect, and the anthropologist dropped off into a deep, dreamless sleep.



Blair was more than ready to be released in the morning by the time the doctor had gotten around to giving him a final check and completing his paperwork. When he was finally sprung, he was almost beside himself with impatience, grumbling under his breath as he was wheeled out of his room with a souvenir bag of medical supplies and wound care instruction sheets in his right hand, his left arm in a sling, and a rag doll riding in his lap. But his frown quickly became a huge smile when he saw Jim and Hannah waiting for him by the reception desk. The little girl was beyond happy to see him, throwing herself excitedly at his legs when he stood up from the wheelchair.

“Whoa,” Sandburg chuckled, hugging her to him with his good arm. “I missed you, too.” He knelt down in front of the child to look her in the eyes as he gave her back her doll. “Thank you so much for sending Mandy,” he murmured quietly. “She took very good care of me.”

“I thought we’d all go out for some breakfast, and then, if you feel up to it, go in to the station,” Ellison told his partner.

“Sounds good to me.” The anthropologist could sense there was something more his friend wanted to tell him, but that he most likely didn’t want to discuss in front of the child. “I don’t have to tell you that hospital food leaves a lot to be desired.”

The detective insisted on going out and pulling the truck around from the parking lot to the front entrance of the hospital. He hopped out and went around to the passenger side to lift Hannah in and to give his one armed partner a hand in climbing up. Then he jumped back into the driver’s seat and within minutes they were seated at a nearby restaurant. After a pancake breakfast, the Sentinel saw his opportunity to speak to Sandburg privately when Hannah spied a gumball machine across the room. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a handful of change, giving it all to the child.

“What is it?” Blair asked as the little girl skipped off.

“She had another one of those night terrors last night,” Ellison told him, his face a mask of unease. “I guess it’s not surprising, after what happened yesterday. But do you really think we should go ahead with this now?”

“I do,” the younger man replied softly. “She needs to get this out, Jim, and talk about it so she can deal with it. I don’t want to push her too hard or force her into something she’s not ready for, but I think we need to at least give it a try.”

“All right,” the detective said, trusting his friend’s judgement. “But I think we should do it at the station and I think we should have Willis there, just in case.”

“That’s probably a good idea,” Sandburg agreed, grinning as the child returned to their table, her small hands loaded with gumballs.

“Should we head over there now, or do you want to go home and rest for awhile first?”

“I’m fine,” Blair assured him. “Let’s go get it done.”

Ellison nodded, pulling out his wallet and dropping a few bills on the table before he got up and went to the register to pay the check.

When they got to the station, Jim left Blair and the child in the break room while he made a few phone calls and got things set up. After about a half hour, he stuck his head through the door, motioning his partner out into the hallway.

“Did you talk to Milner?” Sandburg asked in a low voice, closing the door behind him.

“Not much,” Ellison answered. “As of right now we can only hold him on assault charges. I don’t really want to interrogate him until I can go at him for murder, as well.”

“What about that cigarette butt you found?” Blair persisted. “Did forensics come up with anything on that?”

“The DNA matches Milner’s,” the detective admitted. “But that just proves he was in the car at some point. It doesn’t mean he killed Baker.”

“Oh, come on,” the young observer protested. “You can’t honestly believe...”

“It doesn’t matter, Chief,” Jim interrupted. “The simple fact is that we either need a statement or hard evidence to convict him. All the speculation and circumstantial evidence in the world isn’t going to change that. A good lawyer could come up with a hundred ways that cigarette butt could have gotten in Baker’s ashtray, other than the fact that Milner put it there before he killed the man.”

“I know,” Sandburg sighed, scratching his head absently. “I just want this whole thing to be over and done with.”

“Well, let’s move into Simon’s office,” Ellison told him, putting an understanding hand on his shoulder. “Dr. Willis is on his way up. Let’s see what we can get from Hannah, and then we’ll decided where to go from there.”

“Ok.” Blair opened the door to the break room to fetch the child, and the three of them headed across the hall into the Major Crimes office.

“Hey, Blair,” Banks greeted him as they entered his office. “How are you doing?”

“I’m all right,” Sandburg replied. “Shoulder’s going to be a little sore for awhile, but the knife didn’t hit anything major so I should be good as new before too long.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” Simon told him sincerely, having long since grown to appreciate the energy and the ideas and the help the unconventional observer had brought to his department. Once the psychologist arrived, the captain shut the door to his office after leaving instructions that they weren’t to be disturbed. He and the doctor stayed back, trying to be unobtrusive, as the detective sat down at the conference table across from the little girl, Blair close beside her.

“Hannah,” Ellison began. “I need to talk to you about something. It’s very important, so I need you to try and tell me everything you can remember, ok?”

The child stared at him suspiciously, already knowing where he was going with his questions.

“I want you to think back to that day when we found you hiding in the closet,” he continued. “Do you remember Blair coming in there to talk to you?”

She nodded, an almost imperceptible movement.

“Good,” Jim encouraged. “Now, do you remember what you were doing in there?”

She shook her head emphatically. The detective glanced up at his partner, who gave him a nod.

“What about Mandy?” the detective asked, feeling a little silly. “Does she remember why you were in there?”

The child didn’t answer, staring down at the table with her doll in a death grip in her arms.

“Hannah,” Ellison said very gently. “Yesterday at the park, you told me that Mandy had wanted you to hide. Did the same thing happen that day we found you? Did Mandy tell you to hide then, too?”

“No,” she whispered. “We weren’t hiding.”

“What were you doing?”

“We were just playing,” she answered slowly.

“Did you play in the closet a lot?” he pressed.

“Mommy said it could be our place,” the child told him. “Until we moved to a new house where we could have our own room. It was our clubhouse.”

“So you and Mandy were playing in there, in your clubhouse,” the detective clarified. “Then what happened?”

“I don’t know,” she insisted.

“There wasn’t any light in your clubhouse,” Blair spoke up. “Did you leave the door open while you were in there?” She nodded.

“The door was closed when we found you,” Ellison reminded the little girl. “Did you shut it that day?” She shook her head. “Who did?”

“Somebody... came in,” Hannah murmured. “There was a crash outside, and then the door slammed shut.”

The Sentinel nodded to himself, recalling the layout of the room and concluding that when the suspect had broken down the door to the apartment, it had swung in, colliding with the open closet door and pushing it closed.

“What happened after the door slammed shut?”

“I don’t know,” the child repeated earnestly. “Mandy said we should stay there. It was dark, and there was yelling outside so I covered my ears. And we stayed there, until Blair came.”

“What about Mandy?” Jim continued. “Did she cover her ears, too?”

“No,” the little girl replied, after a long pause.

“Did she look outside?” the detective asked. “When you were hiding, did Mandy look out to see what was happening?”

“Mandy wants to go now,” the child said abruptly, looking up to beseech Sandburg with her large brown eyes.

“Hannah,” he murmured softly. “I know this is hard, but it’s also very important. We really need to know what Mandy saw while you were in the closet. Can you ask her to tell us what happened?”

“She doesn’t want to,” the little girl whimpered in a trembling voice.

“Please, Hannah,” Jim urged. “I know it was scary for you and Mandy, but we also know that the man who came in hurt your mom. We can’t put him in jail until we know what happened, and we really need you and Mandy to tell us.”

Blair slid out of his chair as the tears began to spill down the child’s cheeks. He knelt on the floor next to her, his good arm around her shaking frame, stroking her golden curls back from her face.

“I know it hurts,” he whispered in her ear. “But it’s ok to remember now. If you tell us what happened, Jim will arrest the man who did this, and he’ll never hurt anybody again. It’s ok, Hannah. I’m here with you, and I’ll take care of you. Everything will be all right, I promise. Just tell us what Mandy saw.”

The little girl reached up and placed her doll on the table, smoothing the green checked dress before she slid of her chair and snuggled up against Blair’s chest, careful not to touch his injured arm. Sandburg shrugged out of his sling, wincing as he felt the pull of the wound but ignoring it in order to hug the child tightly.

“Mandy opened the door and looked out when the yelling started,” she sobbed against his shoulder. “There was a man there, yelling at my Mommy. She was yelling at him too, telling him to get out and leave her alone. She tried to push him out the door, but he grabbed her and hit her and she fell on the floor. Then he hurt her with a knife, and she was bleeding and she wouldn’t get up...”

The child’s words trailed off as she wept, and Blair hugged her tight and rocked her gently, trying his best to comfort her. Captain Banks looked away, sick to think about what the little girl had been forced to witness. But the Sentinel couldn’t take his eyes from the shaking child, his jaw clenched tightly and his eyes burning with anger. When she finally started to calm down, he rose from his chair and walked around the table to take her from his partner’s arms and sit her on his knee.

“Hannah, I’m so proud of you,” he told her, wiping the tears from her face. “I know that was a hard thing to talk about, and I really appreciate you helping us. I just have one more thing to ask you. I’ve got a few pictures I want you and Mandy to look at, and see if you can recognize the man who hurt your mom. Do you think you can do that for me?”

The little girl hiccuped and nodded slightly, so Ellison took out a series of Polaroids and laid them out on the table. Hannah seized Mandy in her arms once more, clutching the doll tightly as she looked at the pictures, immediately pointing to one of them.

“Milner,” Jim announced, picking up the snapshot and tucking it into his pocket. “And I think its time he and I had a little chat.”

Banks approached the table, ruffling the child’s hair as he knelt down to be eye level with her.

“You did really well, Hannah,” he praised her. “Dr. Willis wants to talk to you for a few minutes, and then the ice cream’s on me, ok?”

The detective left his captain’s office, pausing by his desk to take off his long sleeved shirt and toss it onto a chair so that he was clad only in a tight gray t-shirt that emphasized his muscular physique. He had his proof that Milner had committed the murder, but he was not about to make that scared little girl into a witness, forcing her to relive what happened to a bunch of strangers at the arraignment hearing, and then again for the grand jury. All the while having to see that monster sitting across the room leering at her. The Sentinel went to the interrogation room where Milner was waiting, stopping outside the door to plaster a menacing scowl across his face. What had happened to Hannah was bad enough, and he simply refused to further put her through the trauma of testifying. Which left confession as his only option, and Ellison vowed he was not leaving that room until Milner gave him one.



“Hey,” Ellison greeted, finding his partner at the stove as he entered the loft, Simon having sent Sandburg and Hannah home hours earlier.

“Hey, Jim,” Blair responded. “How’d it go with Milner?”

“He gave a statement,” the Sentinel told him, getting a long sigh of relief from his roommate.

“So Hannah won’t have to do the lineup or testify or anything?” he asked.

“Nothing,” Ellison said with satisfaction, moving into the kitchen to lean against the island after he hung up his coat. “How’s she doing?”

“Ok, I guess,” Sandburg replied. “She’s pretty shaken up. But she talked to Willis for awhile, and we talked a little more when we got back home. He thinks she’ll need some counseling, but he’s got a lot of hope that she’ll be fine in time.”

“Good,” the detective murmured.

“She’s been asleep for about an hour,” Blair continued. “Poor kid had a rough day. She was exhausted.”

“You don’t look so hot yourself,” Jim observed, taking in the lines of strain on his friend’s face. “You are supposed to be taking it easy, may I remind you?”

“I am,” the anthropologist protested. “Cooking up a little pasta isn’t exactly labor intensive, you know. Besides, I feel fine. I’m just a little sore.”

“Why don’t you let me take over?” the Sentinel suggested, moving around the island to stand next to his friend. “Go take a hot shower. It’ll take care of some of the stiffness and soak that bandage loose, and then when you’re ready I’ll help you with that arm.”

“Really, Jim, I’m ok. You don’t have to...”

“Sandburg,” the detective sighed, grabbing the spoon from his hand. “Will you just shut up and do what you’re told for once?”

“Thanks, man,” Blair grinned.

“Go,” Ellison insisted, waving in the direction of the bathroom with the spoon. As his roommate moved off, he stirred the pasta gently, smiling smugly to himself. He may have been saddled with the cooking, but at least this way he could go easy on the oregano.

The meal was almost ready by the time the anthropologist returned, bare chested, to sit at the table. Jim already had all the supplies laid out in anticipation, and he came over unbidden to begin the process of cleaning and rebandaging the wound on his friend’s arm.

“So, what did Milner say?” Sandburg asked, wincing slightly over his partner’s ministrations. “Why did he kill Ashley?”

“From what I could understand,” the detective explained, applying antibiotic cream to the injury as gingerly as he was able. “Something snapped in Milner when his wife and daughter left him. He wanted Ashley and Hannah to become his family to replace them. When she refused him, he apparently blamed it on Baker, assuming she was in love with him.”

“So that was what the fight in the club was all about?”

“Supposedly. But then Milner took it a step further and decided to eliminate his competition. He conned Baker into having a drink with him, as an apology for attacking him. Slipped him the barbiturates, then when Baker was too drugged to resist, Milner drove his car out to the cliffs and pushed it over, with Baker still inside.”

“I’m guessing that Milner then went running to Ashley to tell her what he’d done for her,” Sandburg concluded.

“Right on the money, Chief,” Ellison confirmed, helping his friend slip his shirt over his head. “He thought she’d be impressed, and appreciative, but naturally she freaked out on him. She said she was going to go to the police, but he threatened her, saying that she didn’t have any proof and that they’d never make the charges stick. And that if she tried to turn him in, they wouldn’t be able to hold him and first chance he got he’d make her pay for her betrayal. I can just imagine what all he threatened her and Hannah with.”

“Now there’s a surefire way to win a lady’s heart,” Blair said wryly, slipping his arm back into the sling.

“He apparently scared her badly enough to make her run,” Jim went on, clearing off the table so that he could set it. “And I hate to say it, but he probably was right. The Everett police probably wouldn’t have been able to hold him without hard evidence, and he most likely would have gone after Ashley anyway.”

“I suppose that by running away and coming here she at least saved her daughter’s life,” Sandburg speculated. “He might have gotten to Hannah, too, if they’d stayed in Everett.”

“He claims he wasn’t trying to hurt Hannah,” the Sentinel told him, setting out plates and silverware on the table. “Apparently he tailed them here to Cascade, still thinking he could win Ashley over. When she told him where to go, he decided if he couldn’t have her, nobody would. And once she was out of the way, he wanted to take Hannah with him and raise her as his own daughter.”

“Do you believe that?” Blair asked quietly.

“I don’t know what to believe, Chief,” Ellison replied. “The guy is definitely delusional and has more than one marble rolling around up there. His wife claims he was a good guy once. Maybe if he gets some therapy and some medication he could be again. But I’m just glad he’s off the streets for now, and that Hannah’s safe.”

“Yeah,” the anthropologist agreed. He glanced back to his closed bedroom doors. “Do you think we ought to wake her up for dinner, or just let her sleep?”

“Let her sleep for now,” Jim advised. “The rest will do her good and she’s earned a little peace.”

Blair nodded as his roommate started bringing dishes to the table, fully aware there was one last loose end that needed wrapping up, but not wanting to discuss it. He assumed his partner didn’t want to talk about it either, or he would have mentioned something about what was next in Hannah’s future. Sandburg had really come to love the little girl, and he really hated the thought of letting her go. But there had been enough drama for one day, so both men kept the conversation light as they enjoyed their meal, dutifully ignoring the problem looming over them as they tried to stall the inevitable.



Sandburg was in a good mood as he pulled up in front of the Cascade P.D. He’d given one of his favorite lectures in class that morning, and now he was free for the afternoon to enjoy what had shaped up to be a glorious day. The sun was warm in the bright blue sky and a light breeze kept it from being too hot. And to top it all off, he had just gotten a killer parking spot right in front of the building. He jumped out of his car, quickly making his way upstairs to Major Crimes where he found his partner working at his desk.

“Hey, Jim.” The anthropologist shrugged out of his light jacket and hung it up before sitting on the edge of the detective’s desk. “Are you working on something important, or can you get away this afternoon? It’s a beautiful day outside, and I was thinking of taking Hannah to the zoo. Want to come?”

“We need to talk, Chief,” Ellison said soberly, turning off his computer and turning to face his friend.

“What about?” Blair demanded, feeling distinctly uneasy. “Where’s Hannah?”

“She’s in Simon’s office with Willis and a social worker,” the detective replied. “And her father.”

“Father?” Sandburg yelped. “What father?”

“Social services managed to track down her biological father,” Ellison explained. “He drove up here from Tacoma this morning, and he wants to take Hannah back with him.”

“This is the father that abandoned a girl that he got pregnant?” the observer questioned. “And now he decides he wants to raise his daughter. After six damn years?”

“He was only twenty when that happened,” the Sentinel began.

“Yeah, and Ashley was only nineteen,” the anthropologist seethed, getting up to pace around the desk in agitation. “So what right does he have to show up now and lay claim to Hannah?”

“Because he’s her father,” Jim told him sternly. “And he knows he screwed up, but he wants to make up for that now.” The detective rose and intercepted his partner. “Look, Blair, you did a great job with her. But you knew from the start that this was only a temporary situation. The way that we live, that’s no life for a little girl. And it’s no kind of life for you, either. Not right now, when you’re already overburdened with school and our project.”

“I know,” Sandburg whispered. “I just... I really care about her.”

“I know that you do.” Ellison reached out to rub him comfortingly on the shoulder. “But she’s going to be all right. I met her dad and his wife. He’s a construction worker, and his wife’s a stay at home mom. They have a two year old son of their own, and another one on the way. A house in Tacoma with a big backyard. And both of them seem to really want her. You know I’d never let her go with anyone that I didn’t feel would take care of her. But they’re good people. She’s going to a loving family, Chief. Her real family, at that. We couldn’t have asked for anything better.”

“You’re right,” Blair conceded. “I just hate to let her go.”

“But you will,” the Sentinel said softly. “Because it’s the best thing for her. And you’ll see that when you meet them.”

Sandburg wasn’t at all sure about that, eying Phil Walker with a measure of hostility when they were introduced. But he soon saw, as his partner had, that the man truly regretted the mistakes of his past, and sincerely wanted to make up for what he’d done. Melissa Walker, who had just learned via ultrasound that she was carrying another boy, was delighted to welcome a little girl to their family. Their small son appeared to be happy and healthy, and Blair had to admit that once Hannah adjusted to her new family, she would be happy there, too.

But knowing that didn’t make it any easier. It had been arranged that the Walkers would spend the night in Cascade and depart with Hannah in the morning, allowing her one more night at the loft to give her a little time to get used to the idea and to say goodbye. Jim and Blair did everything they could to make the evening festive and fun for the little girl, but as Sandburg was putting her to bed that night, she turned to him with tears in her eyes.

“Can’t I stay here with you, Blair?” she whispered.

“No, Hannah,” he answered softly, his throat tight. “You can’t. I wish you could, but your dad really wants you to be with him. It might not seem like it now, but you’ll be happier there, I promise.”

“I don’t want to go.”

Sandburg lifted the child into his lap, noticing that she had been using “I” instead of “Mandy” and taking it as a good sign.

“Let me tell you something that might help you,” he murmured into her ear. “When I was a kid, it was just me and my mom, too. I didn’t have a dad either.”

“Really?” She looked up at him with large, trusting brown eyes.

“Really,” he confirmed. “I never did get to meet my dad. Even now, I don’t know who he is. And there’ve been lots of times when I’ve wished I’d gotten the chance to know him. So I think that if you don’t go with your dad now, someday, when you’re older, you’re going to look back and wish you had. I don’t want you to go through that, so I really think you ought to give him a chance.”

“Will you come and visit me?” she asked solemnly.

“You bet,” Blair assured her, giving her a warm smile. “And you can come back and visit Jim and I here. And you can call me anytime you want to, ok?”

“Ok,” the child agreed, still not happy with the idea but trusting him implicitly.

“Good girl.” Sandburg hugged her tight and dropped a kiss on the top of her head. “Now hop into bed. It’s late, and if we oversleep, Jim won’t be able to buy us pancakes in the morning.”

“I heard that,” the Sentinel called out from the other room.



“You ok, Chief?”

Blair looked up at his partner, realizing he’d been staring aimlessly into space.

“Yeah, fine,” he replied. “I just miss her, you know?”

“I know,” the detective murmured, clapping him sympathetically on the shoulder. “Come on, let’s go home.”

Sandburg got up from behind the desk, taking his jacket off the stand and slipping it on.

“This experience has taught me one thing, though,” he commented as they left Major Crimes. “I definitely want kids of my own someday. A whole bunch of them.”

“That’s all I need,” the Sentinel sighed dramatically. “An army of little Sandburgs, following me around with notepads and tape recorders and subjecting me to countless sensory tests.”

“Oh, they’d back off long enough for some fort building and horsey rides now and then,” Blair countered, pleased that his teasing garnered a slight blush from his friend. “But you know, Jim, that could be a very interesting area of study. Whether or not your Sentinel abilities have any degree of heredity.”

“I’ve got a better topic for you, Chief,” Ellison said dryly. “Whether or not you’ll have any degree of heredity if you even think about going there. Do you read me?”

“Loud and clear, good buddy.” The anthropologist paused next to the truck, a grin creeping across his face. “Like I would even wish that on myself. An army of grouchy little Ellisons telling me just where I can shove all my tests.”

The Sentinel shook his head as his partner climbed up into the passenger seat and slammed the door, but as he continued around the vehicle to the driver’s side, he couldn’t suppress a grin of his own. For it struck him as not necessarily being a bad idea, someday having an army of little Ellisons. If only to keep that army of little Sandburgs in line.

Finis

The Sandburg Zone
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