down on it. I kind of crushed them." He glanced at Jim. "Well, not
crushed. Just bent the frame and cracked one of the lenses. But these are
fine in a pinch."
"Yeah, I can tell by the way you're squinting," he muttered.
Blair glared at him over the top of his glasses. "Type now. Harass
later."
Jim turned back to his work, glad Blair seemed to be putting what had
happened with Henderson behind him. Now all Jim had to do was fix the mess
at the station.
-------------------------------------------------
Simon walked through the uniformed division, heading directly to the
captain's office. He'd planned to talk to the man yesterday but Renkin had
been out all afternoon at a seminar. Simon wasn't wasting any time today.
He'd made Renkin his first morning appointment. He could see the captain
sitting inside his office, his brow furrowed as he stared down at the
report in front of him. Simon knocked on the open door. "Captain Renkin?"
The man looked up, weariness evident in his tired eyes. "Yes?"
"I'm Captain Banks, Major Crimes. Do you have a minute?"
He motioned Simon in. As he stepped over the threshold and closed the door
behind him, Simon was very aware of the stares of the uniformed officers
just outside the office.
"What can I do for you, Captain?" Renkin leaned back in his seat, rubbing
his eyes.
"Seems we have a problem." Simon took a seat across from the man. "I've
heard that some of your men have a problem with Blair Sandburg."
Renkin's brow creased. "Who?"
"The police observer who works with Detective Ellison."
"The hippie," Renkin said, recognition coming into his voice.
Simon's jaw clenched. "Yes, that's him. I've heard that some of your men
don't like him. Have been slow to respond when he calls for backup. Do
you know anything about this?"
Renkin leaned forward, his hands clasped tightly together where they rested
on the desk top. "If you have a problem with one of your...men, then I
think it's your problem."
"Not if the action's of your men are causing delays in backup reaching my
men."
"Well now, Sandburg's not really one of your men, is he?"
"He may not be a cop but I do consider him a part of our team," Simon
explained, working hard to keep his tone even and cool in the face of this
man's obvious disdain. "Sandburg has done some outstanding work within my
department, helped us close several important cases and I would appreciate
it if you could at least set aside a few hours to look into this."
Renkin reached out and placed a hand on a stack of folders on the edge of
his desk. "This is my in box, Captain Banks. I assume you have a similar
pile on your desk. Now if I came to you with this, would you have the time
or the inclination to look into it? Especially when the person causing the
problem isn't even a cop?"
And with those words, Simon realized that coming here had been a mistake.
This man would not help him. He stood and left the office.
-------------------------------------------------
Jim glanced at Blair as they rode in the elevator toward the seventh floor.
"You okay, Chief?"
"I'm fine," he answered, keeping his gaze on the numbers above the door.
"Then why did you heart rate just spike?"
"I'm just a little nervous."
Jim reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Just relax.
Everything's going to be fine. We're just going to type up your statement,
do a little paperwork and cut out early. I don't know about you, but I
need more than three hours of sleep in order to function."
They hadn't finished with Blair's grading until almost four a.m. To Jim,
it seemed that he had just fallen into bed when the alarm went off, forcing
him up again.
"Thanks for helping me out last night, Jim."
"No problem, Chief. You've spent many a late night with me on stakeouts.
It kind of evens things out a little."
The doors slid open and the two of them moved toward the bullpen. Jim kept
a hand at the center of Blair's back, guiding him into the room.
"Hey, Sandburg." Joel Taggert was out of his seat and crossing toward them
before they had taken three steps inside. "You okay?"
Jim wanted to reach out and shake the man's hand. He could always count on
Joel to worry where Blair was concerned. Today was no different.
"I'm fine, Joel. Just a little sore."
"That bastard, Henderson. I never liked him." Joel clapped Blair on the
back. "I'm just glad to see you're okay."
As they made their way through the bullpen, several of the other detectives
expressed similar feelings or just nodded a hello. Blair seemed to relax
with each word said.
When they reached Jim's desk, Blair plopped down in front of the computer.
"Type up your statement, Chief. I'm going to talk to Simon."
Blair's gaze shifted around the bullpen. Everyone was working, not paying
attention to either one of them, business as usual, exactly as Jim had
predicted and that more than anything else seemed to put Blair at ease. He
flicked on the computer in front of him and pulling out his glasses, began
punching in the keys to get to the appropriate screen.
Jim crossed into Simon's office and after knocking briefly, opened the door
and leaned inside. "Do you have a minute?"
Simon looked up. His gaze shifted past Jim to Blair. "How's the kid?"
Jim stepped inside and closed the door behind him. "He's fine. He's
worried about testifying, about having to tell what Henderson tried to do
to him. Have you heard anything? Do you know if they made him an offer?"
Simon pulled off his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Yeah,
the D.A. called me this morning. He offered him assault with intent to do
bodily harm but he turned it down."
"Dammit! How could he turn it down? He's got two men willing to swear
that he tried to rape them. You'd think he wouldn't want something like
that coming out in open court."
"One man," Simon corrected. "Sandburg's alone in this."
"What? What about that other kid? What's his name…"
"Michaelson," Simon supplied. "He's dead. Was gunned down in front of his
house this morning."
"Gunned down?" Jim ran a hand across his forehead as the words sunk in.
"What the hell?"
"The kid was in a gang. Violent Crimes seems to think it was related to
that somehow. They're still investigating." He leaned back in his chair,
his gaze hard. "So Sandburg is alone in this. It'll be his word against a
veteran cop. I think Henderson is willing to take his chances with a
jury."
Jim could imagine the whole thing in his mind. Blair in the witness chair
with his long hair and earrings, nervously answering each question. And
then Henderson with his conventional hair style and practiced experience at
testifying. "This is just going from bad to worse," he muttered.
"No, worse is what I'm about to tell you."
Jim looked up, his gaze narrowing suspiciously. "What?"
"You already know, Jim. There is a problem with the uniform division. I
can't just ignore it."
"Simon, Henderson did not go after Sandburg out of some kind of jealousy
over his position in this precinct. He went after him because he's his
type. Christ, I just had this conversation with Sandburg last night. I
didn't think I'd have to have it with you too."
"I'm not just talking about Henderson," Simon said, his voice cool,
unaffected by Jim's escalating anger. "Until I know how many men are
involved and how deeply this resentment runs, I have no choice, I have to
pull Sandburg's credentials."
-------------------------------------------------
Blair looked up as Jim's angry voice carried across the bullpen. Why do I
think this is about me? He pushed up from his chair and crossed to
Simon's office. He knocked once before opening the door. "What's going on
guys?"
"Nothing," Jim said too quickly. "Just go back to my--"
"Come in, Sandburg," Simon said, his voice overriding Jim's.
Jim crossed to Blair and putting his hand on his shoulder, tried to force
him back out the door. "There's nothing to worry about. Simon and I are
just trying to work some things out--"
"Jim, come on." Blair pulled out of his grip. "Half the bullpen can hear
you guys. What's going on? I'm going to find out so just tell me."
"Shut the door and take a seat." Simon indicated the chairs flanking his
desk. Blair glanced once more at Jim before doing as he was told.
"Something came up as a result of your....attack," Simon began. "There's a
problem within the department. A problem with the uniformed division."
"What kind of problem?" Blair asked hesitantly.
"There's been talk that some of the uniforms resent your presence in the
department."
Blair's brow creased. "What?" His gaze shifted from Simon to Jim and back
again. "How long has this been going on?"
"We didn't find out until Henderson's attack on you." Briefly, Simon
filled him in on what Dorcel had told him and his subsequent talk with
Captain Renkin.
"How many?" Blair asked when he was finished.
"What--"
"How many feel that way? How many...resent me?"
"I don't know," Simon said softly. "When I talked to Renkin, he wasn't
willing to go to his men about this. He just feels that…" Simon's voice
trailed off. His gaze shifted away from Blair.
"He feels I'm not one of you so what's the point," Blair finished for him,
unable to keep the anger from his voice. "I may be a little naïve about
all this but I'm not stupid."
"Sandburg," Simon began. "You are a part--"
"Don't say it," he ground out. "Don't say I'm part of the team because I
know now that I'm not." He pushed up from his seat. "You know, I was
worried about coming here today. Did Jim tell you that? I was afraid of
what the guys would think of me because of what Henderson tried to do. But
they were fine with that. Treated me the same as always and I thought, hey
maybe I really do belong here." His voice cracked on the last word and he
stopped, swallowing hard against the sudden swell of emotions.
"Listen, Blair--"
"No, Simon, you listen. I have worked damn hard for you. You yourself
told me I was doing a good job, that I was an asset to the department but
now you're ready to just toss me out."
"I'm not tossing you out," Simon said, his voice rising with his own anger.
"I just need time to clear this up. But in the meantime, I don't want it
to escalate any further. The uniforms know what is going on, know that
Dorcel told me, know that I went to Renkin. If I don't at least appear to
be doing something to appease them, then it could just get worse. I'm
sorry but those are the facts. I can't change them just because I don't
like them."
"I'm sorry too." Taking off his credentials, Blair tossed the I.D. badge
on Simon's desk and turned to leave.
Jim grabbed his arm, stopping him. "Blair, you're not doing this."
"I've already done it," he said softly.
Jim pulled out his shield and dropped it on top of the credentials. "Then
I'm out too. I won't come back to work until Blair does."
-------------------------------------------------
"Jim, you can't quite." Blair glanced at his partner.
Jim sat behind the wheel of the truck, steering toward the loft, his face
impassive -- just as it had been during the entire ride. Blair had tried
even told Jim that he wished he hadn't gotten so angry. Simon was just
doing his job. Blair could see that now. Knew he really didn't have a
choice."
"We have to discuss this." Blair turned slightly in his seat, leaning
against his door. "You have to go back and tell Simon that you weren't
serious."
"I can't do that because I was serious." Jim pulled the truck to a stop in
front of the loft and shut off the engine. "I won't go back until you go
back. It's that simple so don't--" His words cut off as he cocked his
head to the side, listening.
Blair glanced around, suddenly nervous. "What--"
"Get down!" Jim grabbed Blair and pulled him down across the seat before
covering him with his own body. Blair gritted his teeth against the sudden
flare of pain in his still sore shoulder. Seconds later, the windshield
exploded inward. Glass rained down on them. The sound of gunshots echoed
all around.
As soon as the shooting stopped, Jim was up and out of the truck.
"Sandburg, call it in!" he yelled over his shoulder.
Blair sat up slowly, his gaze taking in the shattered windshield --
shattered on his side only. He pulled out his cell phone and automatically
hit the speed dial to the precinct. He relayed the information about the
shooting and asked for backup. His gaze never left the windshield.
Hanging up, he brushed the glass from the front of his jeans and slid from
the truck cab. He landed on shaky legs and would have fallen but Jim's
hand caught him under his arm and held him upright.
"You okay? I didn't think you got hit." Jim's gaze swept over him.
"No, I'm okay. I just..." He looked back at the windshield.
"Yeah, I know, Chief. He was definitely aiming at you not me." He slid
his gun back into its holster.
Blair looked up at his partner. "He? You saw who it was?"
"I heard the gun cock just before he fired." He nodded up the street. "He
was parked over there."
The sound of sirens could be heard in the distance. But before they
reached them, a black sedan skidded around the corner. Joel Taggert jerked
his car to a stop in front of the loft and shoving open his door, spilled
out into the street. "You guys okay? I heard the call."
"Yeah, Joel, we're fine." Jim crossed to him. "But I need your car. Can
you stay here with Sandburg until I get back?"
Joel tossed him the keys. "Sure."
Jim slid into the car. "Put out an APB on a green Mustang, license plate
4J7 6Y2. He's the shooter."
"You got it," Joel said.
"Where are you going?" Blair called as Jim swung the car in a wide U-turn,
heading in the o
pposite direction Joel had come.
"Just go upstairs and stay there until I get back. Joel, you watch him."
Jim roared up the street.
Blair stared after the car until the taillights disappeared around the
corner.
-------------------------------------------------
Jim sat in the visitor's section of the prison, waiting. He had arranged
this visit without Simon's approval. But he didn't want or need Simon's
approval for this. As soon as he'd seen where those bullets had gone, he'd
known who'd put the hit out on his partner. And he was determined to make
sure it didn't happen again.
Henderson came in and sat on the other side of the Plexiglas. A bandage
covered his nose but the black and blue bruising was still evident. Jim
felt a small amount of pleasure at the sight, knowing it had been Blair who
had inflicted the injury. His gaze flicked briefly to the bandaged hand