InsaneJournal

Blair was still pacing the loft when Jim made it through the door some 20 minutes later. The young man was on him like a shot, taking the file and spreading it out on the kitchen table. Jim put his coat away, walked over to Blair and took off his neglected coat and hung it up as well. Snagging a beer from the fridge, Jim came to the table to see what had Blair excited.

 

“Right, it’s you and me now, Chief. You want to explain to me what that episode at the station was all about?” asked the big man. Blair watched his friend for a moment, judging just what he could to the Sentinel and be believed.

 

“Jim, what would you say if I told you I… no, you know what? It’s too early in our relationship to explain that.” Blair sighed as he sat heavily in the nearest chair. Jim sat across from him and gazed back at him.

 

“This is something I wouldn’t understand because I’m not college educated? Or because it is something out of your upbringing?” Jim asked to clarify. Blair shook his head once.

 

“Man I know you went to college, so don’t even pull that dumb jock shit on me. This is beyond that anyway. If I brought it up to any of my professors they would laugh their asses off.” Blair pulled the pictures around to show Jim the faces. “Ask me again some other time about that episode, I’ll be glad to tell you. But I didn’t want to blurt out what I suspect is going on with the killer while having a complete stranger in the room.”

 

While this was technically correct, it was enough obfuscation for Blair not to be lying to Jim. The Sentinel seemed to take it and carried on. He pointed at the pictures. Blair grinned again and began to launch into the explanation he had been about to give Jim and Simon in the office.

 

“So I went to Club Doom—“ oops… Blair winced as Jim’s face clouded up in anger.

 

“Damnit, Blair I told you to wait for me!” Jim’s yell was more growl than bark and Blair simple rolled his eyes.

 

“Jim, they were leaving for Portland today, it was either I go alone or we miss some valuable information. Now shut up and listen.” Blair waited until the Sentinel had complied with his wishes, and then started again. “It’s like I said before, this guy is taking on the persona of his victims for two and three months after their death.”

 

“And we know this how?” Jim asked soberly.

 

Blair pointed out the pictures one at a time, first Billy Bright, and then Adam Walker. “I just had a talk with Billy Bright's band over at Club Doom. And it turns out that the night Billy was killed he bought some dope from a guy in a wheelchair.”

 

Jim gazed at the pictures, “Adam Walker.”

 

“Got it in one,” cheered Blair. “Only according to the report, Adam had been dead for almost three weeks.”

 

“So, explain this to me, Einstein. Why take on the I.D. of a person in a wheelchair?” challenged Jim. Blair grinned.

 

“Blends in, doesn’t get noticed. My guess is that not only is Adam the first victim we found, he’s the first death this character has affected. So he didn’t want to get started with anything too heavy. But then, you see, Billy Bright is much more interesting, he’s in a band, he’s more of a challenge.”

 

Jim scanned the pictures and the witness statement on Billy Bright and Adam Walker. “So, our guy—“

 

“Unsub,” interrupted Blair. Jim glared, but seeing the need to keep everyone in their place, shrugged and carried on.

 

“Our Unsub picks out someone who is not unusual, can blend in, and uses this persona to climb higher?”

 

Blair smiled that mega-watt grin of his. “Exactly! See, Billy was more of a challenge. He was in the band, a band that required that drum player to be as much in the lime-light as the rest of its members. I watched them last night, man. Billy would have to be seen by everyone.”

 

“So from there, he continues to play as Billy until what, he passes Susan Frasier?”

 

“Actually, as *Billy* he didn’t play much. As soon as he had a chance, he jumped to the next body. He found Susan Frasier in the club when the band played. She used to watch the band all the time, and Billy in particular. The Unsub must have seen her as quite the challenge.” Blair finished smugly. Jim nodded as he began to understand what Blair was saying.

 

“From male to female. Yeah that could be a challenge. And she’s much more upbeat.” Jim said as he leafed through the file. “But why?”

 

Not why her, not why now. Blair could read that question like a book. He meant ‘Why is this person killing and stealing the identities in the first place’? Blair sat back in his chair, his arms across his chest. “In psychology they would call it a form of psychic ingestion. Like when the Aztec warriors used to eat the heart of their enemies because they would believe it would enhance their prowess in war.”

 

Jim nodded, “Yeah ok, that I can understand. So what do we have to worry about now? Where do we look for answers? Suspects?”

 

“Jim, we have to fall back on my original profile, only we need to add to it. This Unsub is looking for victims who are bigger and brighter than the last.” Blair broke off as the phone rang. Jim went to answer it, spoke to Simon for a minute, and then hung up again.

 

“That was Simon. We have ourselves another prowler. This time at the Maritime Museum. It's a female. She fits the description of our killer.” Jim grabbed his coat and gun. Blair stood, walking over to the door.

 

“Be careful, man. I don’t like this. Something isn’t right.”

 

Jim reached up and squeezed Blair’s shoulder once. “I’ll do that, Chief. Lock the door behind me.”

 

And then he was gone.

 

o-O-o

 

The next morning found Blair walking with Jim into the station, Jim’s face a stoic mask of frustration. The man he had apprehended at the museum was not the man they were searching for. He had been paid off. Blair glanced ahead to catch sight of Don Hass marching up the sidewalk towards them. This was going to be a bad scene.

 

“Detective Ellison, any statement on that transvestite you apprehended last night? Come on, you guys. All we want is a little confirmation!” Hass pestered like a little Chihuahua on steroids. Jim tried to gently push him back. Finally he stopped and faced the reporter.

 

“Okay. Since you seem to know more about this investigation than we do, I got a tip for you, Don.” Jim pulled in closer, grabbing the microphone and growling into it, “You're under suspicion for three murders. How do you feel about that?”

 

Hass fumed as he snatched the microphone back. Blair stepped in between them a moment and snarled at the annoying little distraction. “Look, if you stopped hounding us about stuff you already know, and by the way just how do you know all this? I know you don’t have to reveal your source or anything, but if you stopped nitpicking and stayed out of the way, we might be able to get our job done.”

 

Jim grabbed Blair’s jacket and steered him back towards the station. “Come on Chief, he ain’t worth it.”

 

Up in Simon’s office, Blair paced the wall near the window, his nerves on edge. He knew something was wrong, he just wasn’t seeing it. Jim lounged in one of the chairs at the conference table, Simon sat in another. They were going over what had happened the night before.

 

“Wayne Underwood, career junkie.” Jim tapped the file in his hands as he read. “He's been up a dozen times or so for using. Claims he was paid to stalk that museum worker by some plain-looking lady.”

 

“Susan Frasier,” muttered Blair distractedly. “Or rather the Unsub… the killer is taunting us.”

 

Simon sighed. “So, there's no chance that this guy is our killer?”

 

Jim shook his head, his eyes watching Blair warily. Blair chose to ignore him and continued to pace nervously. Jim shifted his attention back to answer the Captain. None. Underwood was in a detox tank the night that Susan Frasier died.”

 

Blair sighed as Simon rubbed his eyes wearily. This was getting them nowhere fast again. But Jim caught their attention yet again. “Now take a look at these, Simon.” He pushed the file towards Simon. “Forensics pulled them from Susan Frasier's Jaguar and we've got a match.”

 

Blair finally stopped pacing and sat in the chair directly across from Jim, his words running a mile a minute. “Yeah, severe head case. Escaped a California mental institution three months ago. His name's David Lash… Three months, Simon, er… Captain.”

 

Simon glared at Blair a moment, but obviously decided to let the slip get past. “Now that's the same time Adam Walker was killed.”

 

Blair nodded while Jim continued to fill his Captain in. “I've subpoenaed the patient's file from Watsonville.”

 

Blair leapt to his feet again and began to pace. Simon looked from Jim to Blair and back again. “What’s his problem?”

 

Jim sighed. “He’s been like that since earlier this morning when he came back from Club Doom. If it weren’t for the fact that I know he doesn’t do them, I’d say he was hopped up on speed.” Simon chuckled evilly as Blair turned to glare at the detective.

 

“Ha, ha, very funny. There is something I’m not getting here, and it’s bugging the hell out of me.” Jim stood and headed for the door and Blair fairly leaped over the conference table to his side. “Where are you going?”

 

Jim put out a hand to rest on Blair’s shoulder. “I’m headed down to forensics; Carolyn said she had the toxicology reports back.”

 

Blair took a breath, unsure as to why it was important to know where his friend was, only knowing that something was off. Eventually he shoved his insecure feelings onto the back burner and moved to study the files on the table again. He would hear the fax machine clearly enough from there and he really needed to occupy his mind. Idly he thought about going out into the bullpen and tackling the mountain of paperwork on Jim's desk just to get his mind working on something else, but decided against it. For some reason the idea made him feel horribly exposed.

 

 That’s of course when the vision hit.

 

 *||A overwhelming feeling of fear encompasses him, along with a sensation of being watched, hunted. He hears his own voice saying “Just relax. Relax. Oh, man, just calm down.” In the same tone he always uses to cajole. Himself or others it never mattered.

 

Then an unnatural and dizzying visual sweep of the loft. It was enough to give him vertigo. A noise above that doesn’t belong. Blair’s new and unimproved lens sweeps up to show there is someone there, walking along the skylights above the kitchen. The fear, which had subsided a bit, rushes back. The emotional barrage keeps getting stronger and stronger until it feels transmuted into something physical. The loft door bursts open and Blair instinctively yells, “Jim!”||*

 

“Sandburg!” Blair nearly fell out of his chair at the bark from Simon. The big man leaned in close, obviously attempting to gain Blair’s attention. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

 

Blair blinked owlishly for a moment, finally focusing on Simon’s angry glare. “What? I was daydreaming.”

 

“More like day-maring. You seemed agitated even more than usual and you yelled.” Simon moved away to allow Blair space again. Blair frowned. Yelled? Oh shit! He called out Jim’s name. That was not good, if the Captain didn’t think him a kook before, he had ample evidence now.

 

Re-adjusting his seat, Blair noted the sound of drums in his head. He flicked his gaze out the window and watched the blonde man, Dr. Bates, walk by the window. He shook his head once. No, he wasn’t imagining things. He really was hearing drums.

 

Simon let one last lingering and doubt filled look rest on Blair as he made his way to the door. "Listen, why don't you stay in here and rest till Jim comes back up - I'll fill in Dr. Bates with what we have uncovered so far." 

 

Blair gave the large man a weak smile, but didn't say anything. Simon shrugged and walked out to the bullpen where he started talking to the seemingly innocuous man in jeans and a button up shirt. The Doctor's blonde hair was pulled back in a short ponytail and his small glass frames perched on his hawk like nose. Nothing really noteworthy about the man, but Blair really felt something was off with him.

 

The last time Blair had seen him, he was sitting in the chair next to Jim, his face registering surprise when Blair marched in. Blair had been uncomfortable in his presence then, now he was positively creeped out by him. The way the man kept glancing over at Blair in the window, it was as if he wanted so badly to talk to Blair, but for some reason he just... he couldn’t.

 

Suddenly the Doctor’s head snapped up, his eyes fastening on Simon for a brief moment, his hands fidgeting as he listened to Simon’s words. Then he was nodding and pointing in the direction of the hallway. Simon nodded and waved him off, then headed back into the office. Blair stared after the rapidly retreating man, watched him speak to Jim a moment as the detective passed him in the hallway.

 

Blair turned around and began to pace the wall again, his eyes on the doors to the office. Something was wrong, something was very wrong. He flicked a glance at Simon as the Captain walked into his office. “Was that him? Bates, I mean?”

 

Simon nodded. “Yeah, he said he had to go to the men’s room, he’d be with us in a moment.”

 

Jim walked in and noticed Blair pacing again. He came to stand in front of Blair, laying hands on his shoulders and halting his frantic pacing. “Chief, tell me what’s wrong?”

 

“I dunno, Jim,” muttered Blair, his eyes darting to the doorway. “That Bates guy… something’s off about him… I dunno, I… I… shit!”

 

The fax machine next to Simon’s desk chimed to let the three men know that a fax was on its way in. Blair watched the papers flow out of it neatly. Jim walked over and began reading the sheets as soon as Simon handed them off. Simon read aloud for a moment.

 

“*Patient exhibits symptoms of multiple dissociative disorder. His primary identity is passive, extremely isolated, depressed. Alternate identities, however, are controlling and aggressive often absorbed from people in his proximity occurring in sudden shifts and for periods of short duration.* I don't know, Jim. Sandburg’s profile and Bates’ suggestions were right on with Lash's diagnosis. It's all right here in his file.”

 

"Who's his doctor?" Blair asked. "Maybe we can talk to them and get them to clarify some things for us."

 

Jim reached the last page of notes and cursed loudly, “What the hell is this? The diagnosis is signed *Dr. Bates.*”

 

Blair’s pacing halted, and he swayed unevenly on his feet. *Oh gods, oh gods, no… nononono!*

 

“Bates was Lash's psychiatrist?” Simon asked incredulously.

 

Jim snarled, “He's treating the son of a bitch.”

 

Blair locked eyes with Jim, his nerves shot to hell and back. “It’s worse than that, Jim. I know it is. Tell us the rest, man.”

 

Jim pulled the last page from the fax machine and sucked in a deep breath. “Our Dr. Bates is David Lash.”

 

“Ah, Christ!” Simon reached forward and snapped on the PA system, he fairly yelled into the mic. “This is Captain Banks. We have an emergency. Seal all the exits now!”

 

Jim and Blair bolted from the office, their destination, the men’s room. Slamming into the tiled room, Jim checked the stalls, coming up with jeans and a button up shirt, a blond wig and glasses. Blair was right behind him and stopped when he caught sight of the mirror. “Jim. Take a look at this.”

 

Jim followed Blair’s gaze to look at the mirror. Blair sighed. “Oh man.”

 

Scrawled across the glass in red lipstick were the words *Who am I now?* Jim grabbed Blair’s arm. “Let’s go.”

 

They came out of the bathroom, Jim headed for the stairs and Blair looking for Simon. Simon called after the retreating detective. “Jim!”

 

“He’s taking the stairs Simon, Lash has shed his disguise.” Blair grabbed the sleeve of the big Captain and hustled him towards the elevator. They reached the ground floor about the same time as Jim, and watched as he raced out the main lobby doors. Unfortunately, Lash was gone.

 

o-O-o

 

Blair watched the news report on the television screen, his hands still shaking from the adrenaline rush of chasing after Lash. Jim, Carolyn and Simon sat around the table in various poses, their posture stiff and uncompromising. They had been played, even Blair, all played by a serial killer.

 

*”Cascade's notorious serial killer has claimed a fourth victim -- F.B.I. forensic psychiatrist Dr. Anthony Bates. Dr. Bates, an expert on serial killers, was in town to assist the lead investigator in the case Detective James Ellison. Incredibly, while Dr. Bates lay decomposing in a bathtub for three days, the killer was actually masquerading as the expert conferring with the very officers who were supposedly pursuing him. Makes you wonder who's minding the store. Don Hass, KCDE News, live.”*

 

Simon turned off the set. Jim rubbed his forehead to stave off the headache that was moving in. Blair reached out strong fingers to massage the tension from Jim’s neck. Jim glanced up, his eyes haunted. “He was taunting us. Sitting right there, daring us to catch him the whole time, giving time lines.”

 

Carolyn leaned over the table. “Hang on a second. We only just established Bates' time in the bathtub.”

 

Blair canted his head to the side, letting Jim’s neck go, and asked,”We're the only ones who know?”

 

Carolyn nodded as Simon’s eyes closed. The light was dawning and it was bright. “Lash was feeding the information to Hass himself.”

 

Jim growled as he stood abruptly. “There’s your leak,” he snarled as he left. Blair paused a moment and looked to Simon and Carolyn.

 

“He’s not done, we know this. But now we have a direction, we can’t stop. He hasn’t won yet.” And then the Shaman was gone.