InsaneJournal

Jim returned home late that night. Blair was finishing up on his journal reading when he heard the key in the lock. He flowed from Living room to kitchen area with as much stealth as possible, attempting to remove as many stress variables as possible. Something in Jim’s stance told Blair that the big man was having trouble. Blair remained silent as he took the jacket from too tense shoulders and hung it on the requisite hook. He gently pushed the man towards the bathroom.

 

Jim turned to object, only to come up against the firm face of his friend. “Go, Jim. Take a hot shower, let it ease some of the tension from your muscles. You know this stuff. I’ll have dinner ready when you get out.”

 

“Not hungry,” muttered Jim. Blair shook his head.

 

“Not something heavy. Go, now.”

 

Jim begrudgingly obeyed and it was a much calmer Sentinel who came from the bathroom with his hair still damp and his robe cinched at the waist. He sat at the table gingerly, his shoulders slumped. Blair set a plate of toast and a mug of cocoa in front of him and went to check the bathroom. He was trying very hard to keep the loft clean and tidy, since Jim was such a stickler for organization. The curse double whammy of being a Sentinel Warrior as well as a Cop. Made hiding evidence difficult and kept spikes and zones to a minimum.

 

When he was certain that the loft was ready for shrink wrapping, he returned to find Jim had finished the toast, half the cocoa, and was about to fall asleep with his head in one hand. Blair smiled. Poor man must have been frustrated. He tugged on Jim’s sleeve, encouraging him to rise from his seat and climb the stairs to his bed. After tucking the big man under the warm sheets, Blair turned out the lights, cleaned the dishes on the table, locked the door, and went to bed. They would have time tomorrow to deal with the heavy stuff. Now was time for sleep.

 

o-O-o

 

Blair was the one running the next morning before Jim was even out of bed. Leaving a note on the table as to where he was going, Blair made it to the University library before the doors opened. His first stop was sociology and psychology. After reading up on a few text books that he remembered from his undergraduate days, he set out to write a profile for Jim and his team to sort through.

 

            *Age: 25-35, White male, history of apathy towards others. Has a weak sense of self, loner, stand-offish as a child.

*Abused by one or both parents as a child.

*Doesn’t react typically towards subjects such as death or loss.

*Is unremorseful of his actions.

*Chooses people who tend to stand out in a crowd.

*Probably wonders why they have the strength to move among people and he can’t muster the ability.

*Is not punishing these people, but wants to become like them.*

 

Blair paused in his writing as he thought back over the funeral yesterday afternoon. The woman that Jim had chased after, Blair could have sworn that it was Susan Frasier, which was what had thrown him for a loop and scared him. That plus the sounds of the Vodun drums and shekeres had really shaken him.

 

Sitting back in his seat, Blair rubbed his eyes with his hands, displacing his glasses momentarily. This was a weak individual, but it was most definitely a man, had to be. Blair just didn’t know how to prove it. But this individual was tripping more than Blair’s people buttons. Something else was going on with this person. Something, mystical…

 

Blair sighed as he packed his things and headed for the door. He had two classes to teach and a paper to finish for his own class today. If he had time, he would have to stop by the grocery store today and get a few extra ingredients for dinner tonight. Even though, technically, it was Jim’s night to cook, last night had not been a typical evening for either of them. And Blair felt certain that a decent home cooked meal waiting for Jim at home would make him feel much better after a long day trying to figure out which direction to go next.

 

He had seen the press report on the news this morning and knew that Jim had lost the mysterious ‘woman in black’ who had been wearing, of all things, Susan Frasier’s dress and shoes… and driving her car. Suddenly, Blair was struck with a thought, an idea that might give himself and Jim a better idea of their killer. He wanted that tape, he just had to figure out a way to coax it out of Don Hass’ hands!

 

o-O-o

 

In between classes, Blair called Jim, telling the cop about his suspicions. Jim thought the tape was a good idea, but suggested that he be the one to get the tape from Hass, on the pretext that it was evidence in the investigation, and that it was already a public forum, since Hass had displayed it that very morning. Blair had agreed and it was as if a weight had been lifted. He wasn’t sure if he, as a consultant to the department, would have been able to push for the tape.

 

Later, after a hearty dinner, he and Jim set the tape up for viewing, and discussed the conversation that Jim had with Simon earlier that morning.

 

“So the pushing wasn’t so hard, eh?” asked Blair as he knelt before the VCR player and cued up the tape. Jim snickered.

 

“Nah, once I reminded Hass that he didn’t have a leg to stand on and that, as a concerned citizen, it was in his best interests to provide a copy to me, he was only so happy to oblige.”

 

Blair glanced at Jim, his expression relaying that he could see through the bullshit just fine. “You threatened him with obstruction of justice, didn’t you?”

 

Jim snickered around his beer bottle. “Folded like a tin can. Come on, get that thing started all ready. Simon is getting tired of this leak going on, so he’s instructed me not to voice my suspicions with anyone but you.”

 

Blair paused in the action of picking up the control, his face tightened as he tried to come to terms with what Jim had just said. “Simon said that? I was sure that I would be the first suspect in terms of a leak.”

 

“You would think. But when Caro and I both backed you up, he had to admit that some of this stuff was getting out long before you even knew of it. That 911 call report was out before I told you, you didn’t have enough time to go running to Hass with that information.” Jim sat forward and clasped Blair’s arm warmly. “Plus, I know you wouldn’t. You aren’t the type to give out secrets for any reason. You understand discretion.”

 

Blair flushed red from the praise, then finally turned back to the TV and switched on the tape. From the speakers, they could hear Hass sputtering “What the hell? Roll the camera. Get some footage of this. Lady!”

 

This was the moment after Jim had rushed after the woman in black, Hass had gotten her in profile, but they couldn’t make out her face. Blair sighed. Jim sat forward again, his eyes taking in every detail he could. “Freeze it right there.”

 

Blair obeyed quickly, scanning the scene before him, looking for what Jim might have seen. It was as he had thought, the hair, the clothes, the car… “It looks like Susan Frasier.”

 

“Play it further,” Jim ordered as he came off the couch to kneel before the screen. Blair watched the tape continue and Hass speaking again.

 

“Get some footage of this. Keep on the car.” The tape showed the woman, her hair and face nearly covered by a black veil attached to her black hat, She was trying to get to the car ahead of Jim. Blair growled in frustration.

 

“Damnit, Hass, why couldn’t you have gotten a better look at the face!” Blair snarled. Jim waved a hand excitedly.

 

“Freeze it right there. Now back it up a little bit. Right there. You see it?” Blair did as told, stared at the sight that Jim had him stop at, and blinked.

 

“What am I looking at here, Jim?” he asked helplessly. He was frustrated and confused. This had not gotten him any closer to what he thought was the truth. Jim reached out and stroked Blair’s throat softly, his fingers light yet determined. He stopped on Blair’s Adam’s apple and rested for a moment there. Blair looked at the tape again. “Is that what I think it is?”

 

Jim nodded wordlessly. Blair began to vibrate with excitement. “I was right,” he whispered. “Gods, I was right!”

 

Leaping to his feet, he ran to his room and came out with his notebook. Jim was turning away from the screen and noticed the pages Blair was ripping out. “What were you right about?”

 

“This,” Blair thrust the paper into Jim’s hands, who turned them and began to read. After a minute, Jim looked up and stared Blair straight in the eye.

 

“You had this before you saw the tape. But we both saw a woman. Why did you say it was a man?”

 

Blair smiled. “Statistics, man. Any FBI profiler can tell you that most serial killers begin their careers in the 25-45 age range, and it is male rather than female. This one isn’t sexual, am I right? No rape involved with Susan Frasier or Billy Bright, or Adam Walker? It’s camouflage.  He’s taking on the persona of his victims.”

 

“That’s why he takes the victim’s things. So that he has a readymade disguise.” Jim’s face unclouded as he began to understand. “I need to reexamine the other victims, first I want to get into Adam Walker’s neighborhood, then I want to check on Billy Bright. He used to play in a band at a place called Club Doom.”

 

“Club Doom… oh yeah, I’ve heard of that place. Best time to get any questions answered is well after dark… we’re talking about nearly midnight. But, I dunno man.” Blair gazed dubiously on his friend. “I think you might stand out too much.”

 

Jim lounged against the nearby counter, his arms crossed over his chest. “What makes you say that, Sandburg? I did undercover work in Vice.”

 

Blair shook his head. “Jim that as years ago, before Simon got a hold of you. Now you’re all stodgy and ‘cop’ like. You’re get nothing but silence.” He thought for a moment before suggesting, “I could go in for you, ask a few questions?”

 

Jim glared. With a shake of his head and a chopping motion with his hand he argued, “No, no way, not without me.”

 

Blair sighed. “It’s a question and answer session, Jim. I don’t expect that our Unsub is going to come back there any time soon. He’s most likely already moved on to his next victim.”

 

Jim remained impassive. “It’s too risky. Look, let me run this by Bates tomorrow and then we can go together. You can ask all the questions and I’ll follow along.”

 

“And be all closed mouth?” Blair shook his head. “I would get more answers alone, rather than have to explain Mr. Strong and Silent. “

 

“And I still don’t want you going in alone.” Jim retorted back. Blair sighed as he leaned back against the couch cushions. This was getting them nowhere and Jim was getting angry. Time to throw him off a bit, lighten the mood.

 

“Ok, fine, but I pick what you wear. This is a more, liberal, back set. No one would argue with you being my... well..."

 

Jim’s eyes narrowed. "Your bodyguard?"

 

Blair smirked, deciding to up the ante a bit. He thrust his pelvis out a bit and slouched on the couch, his legs spread. Dropping his voice to a much lower register he asked, “That all you wanna guard, Big Guy?"

 

Jim’s eyes darken a bit as he took in the implications of Blair’s question. He blinked and canted his head to the side as he attempted to assimilate what Blair was suggesting. “Are you suggesting we go in there like...”

 

Blair shrugged carelessly before answering Jim’s questions with one of his own. "You object to being my... partner...?"

 

Jim said nothing for a moment and Blair was almost afraid he had overstepped. But then Jim gazed significantly back at him and rejoined with, “Fine, I'm the strong, silent type... you are my perky little love bunny.”

 

"You did not just say that... me? Perky?" Blair blustered for a moment, taken aback not by the words but the fact that Jim had accepted and snapped back in kind! Not to concern his friend, he felt duty bound to retort to the part that reflected against him. “Perky? Why does everyone have editorial comments about my energy level?”

 

Jim’s laughter filled the loft and Blair felt his work here was done.

 

o-O-o

 

Unfortunately, their plans didn’t play out the way they had talked them out. Jim got stuck at the station the night he and Blair were supposed to go talk to the band. Statements from the Adam Walker case and meeting Bates, the Forensic Psychiatrist from San Francisco’s FBI office, had Jim all tied up. And since the band was about to move onto another town and gig, Blair made the choice to go on his own. 

 

So Blair put on his best clubbing clothes and drove over to the warehouse where Club Doom held shop, with spirit guides in tow, barely making it before they bolted the doors shut. Now all he had to do was find out if Susan or Adam had ever been here and if anybody had known them, that shouldn’t be too hard should it? He’d watched carefully when Jim had asked around Adam Walker’s neighborhood in order to get a better feel for the victim, his habits, flaws and faults. Applying that knowledge here shouldn’t be too difficult. He set off for the bar, a picture of Adam Walker and Susan Frasier each respectively in his pocket to ask questions. The band would be his second line of inquiry.

 

The place was a booming madhouse and within minutes Blair was grateful that Jim hadn’t been able to make it. The big man would never have managed with his senses. That plus the smoke and the thick, cloying mask of perfume and aftershave from everyone around him, even Blair was having trouble breathing at times. Eventually he reached the bar and ordered one beer, something on tap. He wasn’t picky; he just wanted to wash the stale air out of his system. Taking a swift swig of the beer, he plucked the sleeve of the bartender and asked him if he had ever seen the two people in the pictures.

 

“What are you, cop?” asked the bartender. Blair grinned.

 

“Do I look like a cop, man?” He thought for a moment, not wanting to spook the guy, but not wanting to look any less credible than he would if he told the guy he was an anthropologist. “The girl’s my sister, and I was told she used to hang out here and meet this guy in the chair.”

 

The bartender must have bought it because he looked a bit more seriously at the pictures. “The girl, yeah I’ve seen her around. Always got a vodka martini and sat at the end of the bar to watch the band play. I haven’t seen her in days though… Hey, isn’t she that girl on the news that got strangled?”

 

Blair waved the man away as he pulled off from the bar and made his way towards the band that was just setting up. The doors were bolted and he had a good three hours before they would open again. Plenty of time to sit back, relax and enjoy some decent music. Watching the four members gear up, he could tell that one of them was uncertain of his position on the stage. He must have been the new guy. After trying unsuccessfully for the third time to get his instrument plugged in and tuned, Blair sauntered over and offered to give him a hand.

 

“Used to be in a band in high school, man. Let me give you a hand.” Blair took the base guitar in hand, fitted the amp plug in its socket, and expertly tuned the instrument to pitch. The young man watched avidly and smiled when Blair handed it back to him.

 

“Man, that was cool, thanks. It’s only been the third night with me on stage, usually I was only in for practice sessions when Billy didn’t show up in time and Derek had to fill in on drums.” The young man settled himself and went through his scales with practiced ease. He knew how to work an axe that was for sure. Blair grinned with him as the guitar was put through its paces. When he was finished, the young man stuck his hand out to the grad student. “Max Williams, base.”

 

Blair smiled as he shook hands. “Blair Sandburg, Anthropologist.”

 

The young man blinked. “Man, that’s a long way from High School grunge band.”

 

Blair chuckled. “Yeah, I’m doing a paper on the Grunge bands in the cellars of Seattle and how they found their primal beats from the war chant of the Yanomamo headhunters.”

 

Again the slow blink. Blair chuckled inwardly. “No seriously, I was looking for a girl I once knew. I was told she hung out here to watch the band. I’m hoping you might have seen her?”

 

Max stared at the picture for a moment. “Nah, man I don’t recognize her, but then I’m usually back stage. Wait till we are done with the first set and we can ask the others.”

 

Blair nodded his understanding. “Sure and I’ll buy you guys the first round, okay?”

 

Max grinned. “Works fine, man! Just sit back and enjoy the show.”

 

And enjoy he did. Blair listened to the group go through four songs before they called for a break. They had a comfortable feel. You could tell that Max wasn’t the odd man out, he had just finally been promoted. As the four men tromped down the stairs from the stage to the main dance area, Blair called for a round of beer to be brought over. The four joined him and he congratulated them on their work.

 

“You guys sure do know how to make music.” He praised. They had the good grace to blush. One of them reached out his hand. “Peter Winsome. Max here says you were looking for some girl?”

 

Blair nodded as he shook the offered hand, then pulled out the pictures. “This is her, Susie. And this is the guy she was supposed to be seeing…”

 

Peter glanced over Adam Walker for a moment, gazed at Susan Frasier and shook his head. “Sorry man, don’t know her. Or him, for that matter.”

 

One of the others, a heavy set black man who banged the drums now, pointed to Adam’s picture. “Yeah, but him I know. Billy did drugs, bought some from this guy just before he disappeared. Same night they say he died, in fact.”

 

Blair felt the need to quell his excitement. The bartender had seen Susan and now Billy’s fellow band member had seen Adam… There was a connection! On the outside, he affected an air of calm. “Thanks for that, man. I know Susie wouldn’t do that sort of shit. Wasn’t her scene, you know?”

 

All four nodded in agreement, downed their beers and headed back to the stage, tossing back thanks for the drinks and encouragement for Blair finding his missing friend. As they began their second set, Blair glanced at his watch and noted that the time was about midnight. Another hour and he would be able to head to the station and tell Jim the good news!

 

He ordered a tall glass of water and began to down it to sober himself up enough to drive. This information could not wait until he was in a clear mind. And he had reached his two drink limit. Now he just had to hang out until they unbolted the doors and he could bolt for his car.