"I will *not* have this...man look for my son." Timothy Martin, whose dark eyes were baggy from lack of sleep and red from recent crying, faced Simon Banks in his office.
"Mr. Martin, Detective Ellison is the finest officer in this division. Maybe the entire PD. He's the best chance we - and your boy - have."
"*Him*?" Timothy gestured towards Jim Ellison, who was leaning negligently against Simon's office door. Blair, unnoticed in the crowd, followed the nail-bitten hand. He grinned. Jim was actually subdued today - tailored natural linen pants, a blue and natural seersucker vest over a collarless shirt, and a plain stud in his ear. He'd left the jacket that matched the vest over his chair - and he could have been wearing yesterday's yellow sport coat. The one that made Henri shade his eyes.
"Yes, Mr. Martin. *Me.* And *without* a *penny* of your money going to those hoodlums, either."
Simon nodded. Sometime Blair wondered if the captain had gotten used to Jim's mannerisms - God knew *he* hadn't - or simply chose to ignore them.
Lisa Martin, who had been weeping silently, finally spoke up. "Timothy, please. We have to get TJ back." She put a hand on her husband's shoulder.
"I know, Lees, But - a - a..."
Jim smirked. "Faggot? Queen?" Timothy opened and closed his mouth. "Oh, stop, Mr. Martin. I *do* know the words."
"Find my son, Ellison, or your ass is mine."
"Promises, promises."
***********
"Yes! Harder! Harder! Oh, Blair, honey, that's *so* good!"
"My hands are getting a little tired, Jim."
"Don't you *dare* stop. Oh, yes! That's got it. Yes!"
Jim went completely limp with relief. "You are *such* an angel." His words were muffled by his pillow.
Blair grinned as he shook his hands out. "Next time, no dipping, okay?"
"But it's *so* much fun." Jim turned to face him.
"Then don't dip guys bigger than you are. It always hurts your back."
"I *know*. But you're too butch to dip, and you won't do me."
Blair leaned forward to kiss him. "You're cute when you whine." He smiled to himself. He'd never imagined a world where he'd be the "butchest" guy in the room. *Oh, the places you've taken me, Jim.*
Jim moaned at the kiss. Thus encouraged, Blair began nibbling down his back, while kneading that sweet rear gently. His lover sighed, wriggled and parted his legs when Blair got to the small fuzzy patch just above it.
"Want me there, Jim?"
"Oh, yeah...now..."
"Not going to be dipping any more guys?"
"But *sweetie...*"
"Come on, Jim..."
"Blair..."
"There's that cute whine." And with those words, Blair parted those perfect cheeks and dived right in. Six months ago, he would have thought rimming to be beyond him, but turned out to be one of his biggest turnons.
Especially with Jim's moans ringing in his ears.
Ringing? That wasn't Jim. That was his phone. Damn. Blair reluctantly rolled off. Jim pouted as he answered the phone.
"Ellison. Simon, if you only *knew*...Oh, dear." He sat straight up, his arousal disappearing along with Blair's. "How old? Seven? And how long...I'll be right there. Where are his parents? Oh, the poor things. We're on our way."
"What's up?" Blair began pulling on clothing."
"Do you remember Timothy Martin? Won the lottery?" Jim took some silk boxers out of his dresser drawer.
Blair nodded. "Yeah." He buttoned a blue plaid shirt over his tee and looked for a sweater.
"His son was kidnapped."
Blair followed Jim downstairs. "How are his parents?"
"Hysterical, of course. Poor baby must be scared to death." Jim disappeared into Blair's old room, which he'd converted into a wardrobe coded by color, material and season. When he emerged, Blair was relieved to see he'd left off the eyeliner. Simon *hated* the eyeliner.
As usual, Jim wrinkled his nose when they got to the truck. "I *don't* know *what* possessed me to buy this *thing*."
"It works. Most of the time. We'll paint it lavender next time, okay?"
Jim just grinned at him and they sped off to the PD through the early morning light. Blair held on tightly to his seat. *He changes his speech, his clothes, our living room but his driving habits? *They* stay the same.*
Now they were standing in Simon's office, along with two distraught parents who'd not slept that entire night.
Simon shot Jim a quelling look.
"Oh, my. I'm *so* sorry, sir."
Jim looked truly contrite. "That was totally uncalled for, and I *do* apologize. Mr. Martin, if we do not recover TJ safe and sound, you can do what you want with my career."
"You bet I will, Ellison."
"Um...not to barge in here or anything, but maybe we should get started." The couple looked up, startled.
"Who are you?" Timothy looked at him suspiciously.
"I'm Blair Sandburg. I'm a consultant to the department, and I work with Jim." Blair decided that selective truth would be his best option.
"You're not a cop?"
"He most certainly is not." Simon's growl made Blair smile. "But he is a valued member of this department."
"*He's* a cop, and *you're* not?" Timothy looked amazed.
Blair and Simon exchanged glances. "That's it. And Blair had a good idea. Let's get the parents' statements down first. Blair, you go with Mr. Martin to the break room, while Jim talks to Mrs. Martin here."
They nodded.
"Darling, why don't you come with me to the conference table? There you can tell me *just* what happened." Lisa looked at her husband for a moment and then moved to the other side of the room. Jim snagged a pad and followed her.
"Mr. Martin? It's this way."
Timothy nodded. He paused just outside the door. "Lees will be all right in there? With him?"
Blair rolled his eyes, but made allowances. "She'll be fine. Jim's the best. There's coffee in the break room. I think you could use a cup."
"Yeah...yeah, I can. Thanks."
They settled down in the still empty room. Blair filled two cups and sat down at the table with the father. He pulled a notebook out of his pocket and, after searching, found a pen that worked. "Sorry, man. Pens don't like to stay with me."
"It's okay. I used to be like that, too, back when I used to work."
"Before the lottery?"
"Gotta tell you...Blair, right?" He nodded. "Blair, don't *ever* win the lottery. You got all this money, but you didn't earn it and you didn't grow up with it so it don't feel like yours. And you got all these taxes, and people just aren't the same."
"Not the same?"
"My old friends...they don't know who I am, and my new friends don't know who I was. It's like I don't fit in anyplace."
"Oh, man, I totally understand you. I mean, I'm not a cop but I work here, and I'm also a teacher at the University and those two worlds just *don't* work together. And then there's Jim. He's the best, and I love him, but he's into this entirely *different* world."
"I hear that. How is he to work with? I mean, you okay with him...like that?"
Blair grinned. Jim could be slightly annoying, but..."Yeah. I wouldn't have him any other way. Now, when did you know that TJ was missing, Mr. Martin?"
"Call me Timothy. He was supposed to come straight home from school..."
Timothy kept wandering all over the place, but slowly the story built. TJ went to the neighborhood K-3 school, where he had enrichment classes.
"I don't understand my own kid, sometimes. Always reading, always talking about stuff. Only good thing about the damn lottery is that we know we can afford any school."
Blair just nodded. "So..."
"So, anyway, it was three thirty and Teege is always home by three fifteen, unless he has his nose in some book. Kid walks and reads at the same time...can you beat that?"
Blair maintained a diplomatic silence while surreptitiously rubbing the knees he'd skinned doing just that.
"Anyway...it's 3:30, and Lees is going nuts. Okay, so am I. He's weird, but he's the only kid I got. We call the police, but they say don't worry. Kids forget, kids play with friends, kids get into stuff. Not our kid. They don't know our kid."
"Then what did you do, Timothy?"
"Lees and I took the dog and walked TJ's route to school. No sign of the kid at all. The school's empty, too. So we come back and call all of his friends' parents. Not that he got much. Too smart for 'em, I guess. Anyway, they don't know anything, either. Say their kids came home all right."
"So, the cops are no good and no one else can help. So we sit and worry for hours and hours. Lees even tries to make dinner, but who can eat? And every time the phone rings, we jump. And every car that comes down to our little culdysac we run to see if it stops or we know it. We're goin' nuts!"
"Then the phone rings...it's about 8:30 last night. And there's this guy. I don't know his name at all. He says, 'Mr. Martin, we got your kid.' Except he says it much better, like the way you or your captain talks. Like, 'Mr. Martin, we are in possession of your child' or something."
Blair nodded. "What else did they day?"
"That Teege was fine, and he'd stay fine for awhile. Gotta tell you, that put some chills in me. So I asked what they wanted...all the time signaling Lees to get on that cellphone that isn't worth the money I paid for it and call the cops. Then he said not to call the cops and I snatch the phone outta her hands.
"He says he'll get back to me about how much I gotta pay to get my kid back safe and sound. I ask to speak to my son, to make sure he's okay. So then I hear Teege's voice saying 'Daddy! Daddy! Where are you?' and he's gone. Then the phone goes click and that's that."
"Have you heard from them again?"
"Yeah...couple hours later. They said they wanted a million dollars. I don't *got* a million dollars. I get a check for like eight hundred grand a year and I gotta pay taxes on *that*. Which I told him. And he said that he'd get back to me, and that Teege was sleeping, which of course he was, since he never stays up past eight. We're real strict on bedtimes."
"And then?"
"And then he called again and said that a quarter mill would be fine, which is exactly what I got in the bank. And that he'd call tomorrow afternoon. And we spent the rest of the night talking and worrying and finally Lees said we hadda call the cops. I was gonna give'em the money, but Lees said that we couldn't."
"Okay."
"You married, Blair?"
As he automatically reached up to touch the silver ring hanging on its cord under his shirt, he wondered where that question came from. "I'm...in a relationship."
"That means no. If you ever get married, you'll know...that's the last decision you'll ever make. And a good thing, too."
"Then?"
"We called the cops and they woke up Captain Banks and he called you and that fru..that other cop and that's that."
Blair looked over at his notes. "This is going to be useful, Timothy. Thank you."
"Blair...you gotta find my kid."
"We will. Jim and I will."
"Yeah...I guess he'd better be good. No way would he have the job he does if he weren't."
"Jim should be done with his interview. Want to join them?"
Timothy nodded and gulped down his coffee. "Let's go. You know, for a professor type, you're easy to talk to. Just a regular guy."
Blair shook his head as he followed him back to the bullpen.
* * * * * * *
TJ blinked for a second. Where was he?
"Is he up, Melvin?"
"No. He's asleep. He looks like a cherub."
Okay. He was with those guys. The ones who took him. And they thought he looked like a cherub? What was that? One of those cupid things? He grimaced for a second and then put his face back to sleep mode. He was good at that. Mommy and Daddy had no idea he was up way past ten reading at night.
One guy was Melvin. Melvin was tall and talked funny - not an accent, just funny. The other was Freddie. Freddie was round and strong and could lift TJ up with no problems. Just like Daddy.
"Oh, yes. A little angel. Oh, Melvin, you think this will work?"
"Of course it will. If he were *your* son..." here Melvin sighed like someone on TV, "wouldn't *you* pay for him."
"He already bargained us down."
"If he lacks the funds, Freddie, what *can* we do? Anyway, even a quarter of a million will be of help."
"But...what if he *can't* pay? Or brings in the cops? We'll have to...have to hurt the kid."
"Perish the thought, Frederick! We'll...think of something. I promise."
"Yeah...you're the brains here."
TJ shook his head. What kind of people were holding him for ransom?
He got bored just lying there listening to those two weird guys, and anyway, it was breakfast time.
"Hello? You guys there?"
"Right here, ba...TJ."
"I'm hungry! And where's the bathroom?"
Melvin ran into the room. He was wearing purple. TJ didn't know any grownup men who wore purple. He didn't know why not. It was a nice color.
"I'll show you where the bathroom is, sweetie, and Au...Uncle Freddie will make you something to eat. What would you like?"
"Oatmeal. Mommy always makes me oatmeal. With raisins."
"Frederick! Make some oatmeal!"
"Irish or instant?"
"Frederick!"
"Umm, Melvin? I *really* need to go."
The guy nodded and led him out of the room with the bed bigger than mommy and daddy's, and down the hall.
"Here you go."
TJ blinked. It was even nicer than the bathroom Mommy made after they got all that money. He'd *never* seen plants in a bathroom before, or gold faucets. Then he noticed that the faucets were scratched and the plants were sick looking.
He was very careful when he went because he knew he shouldn't make a mess, and there was this carpet thing under the toilet.
***************************
"Don't you think Ellison and my wife have been in that room long enough?"
Blair nodded. "We also should have heard from the kidnappers again."
"If those bastards hurt a hair on Teege's head, I'll break them in half." Timothy looked ready to do it.
"Jim will get your son back, Timothy."
Timothy just looked dubious. Blair grinned at him and they walked back to Simon's office.
Simon was standing outside. "What did you find out, Sandburg?"
"That TJ was on his way home from school, that he likes to read and that the kidnappers are willing to bargain."
"You sure about that?"
Simon's eyes held a mixture of relief and incredulity.
"Yeah. Tell him, Timothy." Blair patted the man's shoulder.
"Yeah...when I told them I didn't *have* a million bucks, which I don't because of how the lottery is run, they lowered it to a quarter mill."
Simon nodded. "I'm not sure if this means they're willing to be reasonable or they're really desperate for whatever they can get, but it's something."
"Captain...may I see Lees, please?"
"I'll see if Jim is finished."
As Simon poked his head into his office, Timothy leaned closer to Blair. "Will she be all right with him in there alone?"
Blair shook his head in disbelief. "You think *Jim* would..."
He dissolved in laughter.
That earned him a glare from both men. "Jim's finished in there. Please, gentlemen?" He gestured towards the door.
Jim was sitting on one of the around the conference table next to Lisa. He was holding her hands and she was crying.
"Oh, darling, you did just *fine*. You did *exactly* the *right* thing." Jim handed her a tissue.
"Are you sure, Detective?" He pouted. "'Jim.' Are you sure, *Jim*?"
"Absolutely, darling."
"But...but they said not to call the police. And we're...we're here, talking to you. Won't they hurt TJ?"
"Lisa, do you *think* I'd let them hurt *your* baby?" Jim handed her another one of his sparkling clean handkerchiefs.
"None of us will, Mrs. Martin." They both looked at Simon. "And you did do the correct thing."
"Thank you, Captain." She wiped her eyes and tried to hand the handkerchief back to Jim, but he shook his head.
"Thank you,[sniff] Captain." She blew her nose and tried to hand the handkerchief back to Jim, but he shook his head. She blinked and held on to it.
"Jim, what did you learn from Mrs. Martin?" Simon sat down at his desk and got down to business.
Jim patted her hand, took out a pad and read off his notes. They were substantially the same as Blair's.
"That's a good thing, right?" Timothy looked imploring at all three men. "It means we have all the facts?"
Simon nodded. "At least, it doesn't hurt."
He clearly was about to go on when Timothy's cellphone rang. Jim winced a little.
"Sorry, Ellison. I don't know how to turn it down. Hello?"
He mouthed "it's them".
Simon looked at Lisa. She shrugged. "We have that service that reroutes your phone calls if you don't answer."
"Let me talk to my kid!"
As Timothy shouted, Simon made the calls necessary to begin tracing. "Hey, Teege. You okay, guy? Oatmeal, huh? Those guys touch you or anything? Good, cause you know what I'd have to do, right? Mommy? Damn you, let my kid talk to his mother! What do you want? Give me the instructions already!"
He closed the phone so hard that Blair was surprised he didn't break it. At the same time, Jim was looking thoughtful.
"They were using a cell phone. No way to trace where they were." Simon looked apologetic.
Timothy shook his head. "Stupid stuff. If he'd used a normal phone...."
"Umm, Timothy, if *you'd* used a normal phone, you'd have missed the phone call ." Blair looked straight at him.
"Damn! Can't live with'em, can't live without 'em. Sunk both ways."
"Timothy only likes things he can fix with a wrench." Lisa almost smiled.
"Damn straight."
Jim nodded. "I *completely* agree with you, Timothy. I can spend simply *hours* under my truck just...fiddling, but computers? Oh, please. That's Blair's department."
Timothy stared. "Don't that ruin your manicure or something?"
"I stopped worrying about *my* nails a *long* time ago. Now, can you give us a list of all TJ's little friends?"
"We already talked to their parents, Jim. Timothy and I both said so."
"Yes, but, darling, you didn't speak to the little angels themselves. They must have seen *something.*"
Lisa nodded and pulled an address book out of her purse. Simon handed her a notepad, and she and her husband sat down to confer.
Blair felt a hand on his shoulder. "Sweetie, let's find someplace...private."
"Jim, this isn't..." He caught sight of Jim's eyes. "Let's go to one of the interrogation rooms."
They settled in one of the drab, windowless rooms, where Jim drew the blinds over the mirror. He sat on one of the chairs while Blair climbed on the table.
"What is it, Jim?"
"I think I *knew* that voice. It's been *absolutely* years and she'd *never* do anything like this, but it was *so* *her*."
"Jim, is this a her her or a him her?"
Six months ago, Blair never would have had to ask that question.
Jim grinned. "Sorry, babycakes. She's a him, if it's *her* at all. Miss Melly would *never*..."
"We can't rule out anyone, baby. You know people can change."
Jim sighed dramatically. "*Tell* me about it. I'll keep Miss Melly in mind, but...ohhh, you *do* look so gorgeous like that."
Blair blinked. "Stay on the program, Jim."
"The program *is* you right now. We *were* interrupted *so* rudely before, and we *do* have this place all to ourselves."
He stood up and moved closer to the table, forcing Blair's legs apart.
"Jim...the Martins..."
"Oh, them."
"Jim! Their little boy is..."
"I know...but we might not get any chance later, and you are *so* adorable."
"You are *so* bad." Blair grinned ruefully and opened his arms, which were soon full. "Mmmmm, yeah...oh, Jim...." Those talented lips were sucking oh, so gently on his neck and, once again, Blair remembered that when he sat on the table, it brought *other* parts of their bodies to just the *right* level.
"Have you...oh...yes...been ready *all*...this time?" Blair hadn't been, but he was now.
"Oh, what you *do* to me, Blair...Let me have that shirt..."
He slipped it off Blair's shoulders and dropped it to the floor, and then followed it. Blair had to fight to stifle moans as Jim's skillful fingers unfastened his jeans and began fondling him. And then...when he felt that mouth, he had to literally bite his own hand to stay silent.
"J...Jim...n...now?"
Jim didn't answer, since his mouth was quite full. Over flowing, fact.
So much so that he had to use his hand, and did, quite well. Blair found himself reduced quickly to moans and gasps as he clutched convulsively at Jim's shoulders. Jim knew exactly what to do to give him the most pleasure, and within minutes he was pouring his seed into Jim's mouth as he bit down hard on his own lips.
Bonelessly, Blair fell backwards onto the table as Jim, having swallowed everything possible, proceeded to quite thoroughly lick him clean.
"What about you?"
Jim paused for a moment. "Don't you worry about me, honey. I'll get mine *after* this is over. There you go...nice and spanking clean." He gave Blair a final little pat and tucked him back into his jeans. Then he hauled Blair up and kissed him, hard. Blair could taste himself in Jim's mouth. This wasn't his favorite thing, but kissing Jim *was* and he set out to enjoy it as much as he could.
Finally, though, they pulled apart. Blair sighed.
"I guess we'd better go back to work...how do I look?"
"Delicious. Utterly delicious. I am *not* leaving you alone for a second." Jim smiled. He bent to pick up Blair's shirt.
He shook off the dust from the floor and slipped it around Blair's shoulders. "That bad, huh? As in, Simon's going to guess as soon as I show my face?"
"That *wonderful*. The Martins should be finished with their little list. I'll get them so you can stay out of Simon's way. Don't want him getting ideas."
Blair rolled his eyes. "What about not leaving me alone? How soon they forget."
Jim giggled and helped him off the table. Twenty minutes later, they were following the Martins to their home.
They spent that Saturday morning setting up meetings with TJ's friends. There weren't many, but people seemed to be out for breakfast, so they had to call some more than once. Lisa insisted on making them pancakes herself, refusing both Jim and Blair's offers of help.
"Both you guys cook?" Timothy looked in awe, which quickly changed to sympathy. "I guess bachelors gotta know. Me, I married Lees almost as soon as I left home, so I never hadda learn. Course, you're not gettin' married, are you, Ellison?"
Jim shrugged and smirked. "Oh, honey, you *never* know." He looked at Blair, who struggled to hold in the laughter.
By the time the pancakes were finished, they'd managed to reach all of TJ's friends' families and set up appointments.
"Darling, these are delicious."
Lisa blushed as she passed the syrup. "Just Aunt Jemima, Jim, plus a little extra cinnamon."
"More than that." Blair closed his eyes. "You also added a bit of vanilla and...orange juice?"
"Orange peel, actually. Very good, Blair. I guess you have a sensitive tongue."
"Lees makes *the* best."
"We'd better go. Zack Thompson has Little League practice in an hour."
"You sure you don't want me to go with you?" Timothy jumped up, his plate in hand.
"That might not be a bad idea, Jim."
He pursed his lips, and nodded. "Lisa, you'll be all right here alone?"
"I'll be fine, Jim."
"Lees, them guys call again, you call us, okay?"
Lisa nodded.
The three men took their plates into the kitchen, where Jim all but washed them before sticking them in the dishwasher.
The three of them climbed into Jim's truck. Timothy seemed incredulous at first, but said nothing as he rode shotgun beside Blair, who was in the middle.
He directed them to the Thompson house. It was a modest colonial like most houses in the development. The parents, who were in their early thirties, met them at the door.
They got out of the truck and walked to the front door. Jim looked at Timothy. "Hon, maybe you'd better knock, since they *do* know you."
The man grinned. "This'll give'em some gossip." The grin faded. "I just hope their Zacky saw something."
"Kids see plenty, Timothy." Blair hastened to reassure him.
He squared his shoulders and rang the door bell. A man in his mid-thirties - a few years older than Blair and Timothy. "Martin, I'm sorry about your kid."
He ushered the three of them into the house.
"I'm Jeff Thompson."
"Jeff, these are Detective Jim Ellison and his partner Blair Sandburg. They're from the Cascade PD."
"Nice to meet both of you." He stuck out a hand. As he shook with them, he seemed to noticed something.
"Umm, Martin...these are *cops*?"
He looked at Timothy, who nodded. "Yep. These guys are cops. Good ones, too."
"Okay...My wife's in the kitchen. I'll introduce you and get Zacky."
Meg Thompson was about the same age as her husband. She, too, was slightly startled by Jim and Blair, but she hid it a better. Blair did notice her watching them with interest.
They made awkward smalltalk for a couple of minutes, but after Meg inquired after Lisa's wellbeing, it all sort of died. She only stared when Jim asked who decorated her kitchen so delightfully.
Finally, Jeff came downstairs with a small boy in a baseball uniform. He smiled apologetically. "We couldn't find Zacky's baseball socks."
Blair stood up and went to the boy. "Hi, Zacky. My name's Blair, and this is Detective Ellison."
"A real policeman?" Zacky's eyes went wide. "Can I see your gun?"
Meg's eyes widened in fear. "Zacky..."
Jim held up a hand. "Zack, one of the things we learn is not to draw a weapon unless we intend to use it. Your mom and dad would be unhappy if I fired my weapon in here."
Zack nodded. "Okay."
"Why don't you have a seat, guy?" The little boy nodded and sat next to his mother, who put a bowl of cereal in front of him.
"You have to have something before the game, boyo." He rolled his eyes, but took a spoonful.
"Zack, what do you remember about yesterday afternoon?"
"Lots." He spoke around a mouthful of Cheerios. "Came home from school, played video games, watched TV."
"I mean about TJ. Do you remember what happened to TJ?"
"He left school with the rest of us. He was reading a book. TJ is a real dork. He walks and reads at the same time."
"Zacky! Don't talk like that."
"Awww, mommmmm."
"What happened then, Zack?"
"This guy stopped him, and talked to him. Zack walked away with him and got into a car."
"Did you see the guy?"
"Uh-huh."
"Can you describe him?"
Zack screwed up his face. "Funny guy. Tall, and real skinny, and he wore funny clothes."
"Funny how?"
"They were bright colors and kinda tight an'...an' he wore a thing on his neck...a cloth thing."
"A...scarf?"
Zack shrugged. "Like in winter? Just cloth. Purple cloth. Shiny."
"Did he wear a necklace?"
"Didn't see."
"That's okay, honey. You were very helpful. Good luck at the game."
"I'm first baseman!"
"I was shortstop on my Little League team. Got the homerun record when I was ten."
Both Jeff and Timothy gave Jim a long look for this. "*You* played baseball?" Timothy was frankly incredulous.
Jim smirked. "Honey, I'll have you know I *could* have had a football scholarship. *And* I was all-state for basketball." He tossed his head back.
Meg stared. "I'm going to take Zacky to the game now. You coming, Jeffrey?"
"Sure...*football* scholarship? Er - Detective, why didn't you...?"
"Oh, the *army* paid my way, sugar."
"Ummm...let's go, Meg." He took his wife's hand and held it very tightly as they left the house. The others followed them so they could lock up.
They watched the Thompsons speed off before they climbed back into the truck.
"Where are we going next, Timothy?" Blair closed the door, which meant that Timothy was between them.
"The Lesters, just a couple of houses down."
Blair grinned: their new friend was doing his best to not touch either of them as he sat dead center on the truck seat.
"Just point the way, hon."
The Lesters were almost a replay of the Thompsons, except that their son Zacky was dressed for soccer and Bill Lester wouldn't even look at Jim. Zacky Lester did see a bit more - TJ was being pulled around the corner and looked unhappy.
The third family was named Glass. And so was their house...a wall of smoked glass and wood that was as far from the traditional ranches and colonials in the neighborhood as it could be.
"Oh, my, my, my. And in the middle of suburbia, too. How *did* this happen, Timothy?"
He shrugged. "Was there before I moved in. Prettiest house around here, even if it don't really fit. Some people don't like it cause of that, but they don't like me much either."
Timothy didn't seem bothered by that statement. Blair looked at him a little more closely. All he could see was a pleased smile as the man looked at the house, which was spectacular.
They knocked on a natural pine door. A tall woman with black hair that she could probably sit on answered the door. "Timothy! Please, come in. I just made a pot of tea."
"Thanks."
She ushered the three of them in to the house, which was filled with eclectic furniture and huge potted plants.
"Who are your friends?"
"These are the cops helping me...Detective Ellison and his partner Blair Sandburg."
She shook both men's hands. "I'm Miri Glass. My husband Jake is getting Zack ready for practice."
The kitchen took up most of the first floor, with a restaurant quality cooktop and oven, and despite the wood and stainless steel color scheme, managed to feel warm and inviting. She gestured to a table with a basket of various pastries. "Please, have a seat, gentlemen."
"Mrs. Glass, this place is *spectacular*. Did you do it yourself, darling?" Jim was looking at everything.
"Call me 'Miri', detective. We had some help." She took an old-fashioned tea pot from the stainless steel counter and set it and several mugs on a tray.
"I hope you like herbal tea, gentlemen." At their nods, she poured them each a mug. "Timothy...how is Lisa?"
"Not good, Meer. She's all alone in that damn house, waiting for the phone, you know?"
"As soon as Jake takes Zacky to practice, I'll go over there. Is TJ all right? Do you know?"
He nodded. "I got to talk to him a couple times. He's not even scared, so I think they're treatin' him okay."
"Good morning, people." A tall man with a head full of curls came downstairs, holding his son's hand. Blair blinked while Jim grinned...*this* Zacky wasn't wearing a baseball or a soccer uniform. He was wearing a pair of tights under a Star Wars t-shirt.
"Sorry I took so long. Young Mr. Glass here insisted that he wear his tights to the studio this morning."
"But daad, if I talk to these guys, I'll be late. This way, I won't have to change, which will save time. Maestro hates if we're late."
The father waved a paint-stained hand in the air. "He *does* have a point. I'm Jacob Glass, and if there is anything we can do to help you find TJ, just ask." Miri nodded emphatically before she introduced everyone. Blair noticed that Jake Glass had no problem shaking Jim's hand.
Zacky got a cup of juice out of the refrigerator and sat down next to the two "cops." "Okay, what do you want to know?"
"What did you see yesterday, Zack? Anything?" Jim picked up his tea mug and sipped daintily.
The boy shrugged. "I saw TJ talking to this man. He dressed like Maestro does sometimes...lots of purple. The man, I mean. And TJ didn't want to go with him at first, but then he did. And then he took him to a car."
"A car? What sort of a car, Zack?" Blair leaned forward.
"One of those new Volkswagens. Not like the one that Uncle Ari drives, the new kind. And it was...what's that color, Mama? Not pink, but not really purple? More...light..."
"Light?"
"Like that one that you put in the drawers...la..lav.."
"Lavender." Five adult voices chimed as one.
Zack rolled his eyes. "Musta been custom. Pretty color. Anyway, he put TJ in the car and that was that."
Glass looked straight at his son. "Why didn't you tell us last night?"
"Nobody asked me. And I didn't know TJ was missing 'till just now."
"Sometimes adults can be *so* silly." Jim grinned. "Can you describe the man in purple, Zack?"
He nodded. And then proceeded to deliver a description so clear and precise that Blair stared at him in wonder. Then he noticed something. "Jim...why aren't you taking notes?"
"Don't need to, sweetcheeks. I just don't understand *why*..."
"Good job, honey!" Miri looked very proud.
"How'd you get so good, Zack?" Blair played with his tea.
The boy shrugged. "Mama and Papa taught me how to see and I've been taking drawing class."
Jim nodded to the parents in appreciation. "Well, you did a good job. I think you solved it for us."
Zacky nodded solemnly. "Then I guess it was worth being late for ballet class. Even if Maestro gets mad and makes someone else the lead dancer."
"You think you solved it, Ellison?" Timothy nearly spilled his own cup.
"I think so, hon. Thanks a lot, Zacky."
Zacky smiled, shook everyone's hands politely and dragged his father out of the house.
"Now what?" Timothy looked at them.
"Now we go back to your house and see how Lisa is holding up." Blair stood up. "Thank you for the tea, Miri."
"I'll see you there after I get this place cleaned up. Bring TJ home, please." She smiled warmly as she began to gather up the cups and teapot.
"We will, darling." Jim nodded emphatically as they left the lovely house.
It didn't take long to get back to the Martins. In fact, Blair wondered why they didn't just walk to the other kids' houses. Lisa was waiting for them in their kitchen - a normal suburban kitchen, nothing like the Glass's.
But it wasn't like the Lesters or Thompsons, either. There was something he couldn't put a finger on - something warmer.
He shrugged. "How are you doing, Lisa?"
"I'm a nervous wreck. Look! I made enough cakes to feed your entire division!"
She pointed to a line of cake layers on her counter. "That's how you can tell I'm nervous. I cook."
"Can't blame you, darling. And they smell *divine*. We can use them for the party when we get TJ back."
"Do you think we can?"
She looked at him with eyes full of hope.
"Sweetheart, I just need to make a couple of phone calls, and I'm *sure* we'll have him safe and sound. I just need to make a couple of phone calls to be *absolutely* certain."
"You got all that from the Glass kid's description?" Timothy sounded amazed.
"Timothy, is there *some* place where I can make those calls in *private*? Can't give away *all* our secrets."
"Oh, sure. I gotta study just this way." Timothy led the way to a sunny room off the living room. Blair didn't know what he expected, but this wasn't it. There was a large TV, but it was off in the corner, and what would be a nice sound system except it was in pieces. There were some very decent original oils on the walls and some small sculptures scattered on the book cases, which were filled with neatly arranged and well-thumbed magazines.
Timothy left them alone with every sign of reluctance. Jim called up the station and asked if a Melvin Forster had a lavender Beetle registered to him. "Yes, darling. I said *lavender Beetle*. Yes, of course I'll hold, honey." He sighed and motioned to Blair. "Come keep me company, sweetcheeks."
Blair put the motorcycle magazine he'd been leafing through carefully back where he'd found it and sauntered over to Jim, who pulled him into his lap. "Jim, be careful! We don't want...mmmm...mmmm...you are soooo....mmmm"
Blair succumbed to his talented mouth. "Wha...ohh..."
As he did, he noticed that while one hand was quite happily roaming Blair's body, the other was holding the phone (issuing tinny Muzak - since when did they do that to "Dust in the Wind"?) firmly to his ear. Blair let his own hands explore, discovering that Jim was still quite firm even after their interruption of the morning. He took a moment to stroke him to hardness just to hear his breathing change. Blair grinned. He didn't want to go too far, not here and not now, but his lover was *so* much fun to play with.
"Wha..." Jim broke free. "You are a complete *doll*, darling. Do you have a current address on him? Oh, that is wonderful! Yes...yes, I got it. Oh, *Miss Melly*...What? No, not you, honey. Thank you again."
He clicked off his phone and put it in his pocket. "We have to go, Sandburg."
Blair sighed dramatically, which got him an amused grin, and stood up. "You know where we're going?"
"Yeah. I just can't figure out *why*...it was her voice. Miss Melly, Miss Melly, Miss Melly."
Jim shook his head.
"Jim?"
"I just...I'll call Simon and then we'll head out. Tell the Martins."
Miri was there holding Lisa's hand while Timothy paced. "Guys? We may have good news. Jim thinks he knows who the kidnappers are. Actually...Jim thinks he *knows* the kidnappers themselves."
"So he knows where they are?" Timothy's face just lit up.
"He seems to. We'll be out of here as soon as he finishes talking to our captain."
"I want to go with you." Both husband and wife spoke in unison.
"I...there isn't much room in the truck and it could get dangerous."
"Blair, you told me you're a civilian. You're going."
"That's...that's different. I'm...I'm Jim's partner. And I've...and...Jim!"
"What is it, Sandburg?"
"They want to come along with us."
Jim shrugged. "Good idea. TJ will be happy to see his parents. Timothy, here's the address. Give us a few minutes lead time, okay?"
Blair stood numb with shock as Jim handed over a card without a word of protest, and then led him out of the house.
They were halfway there before Blair was calm enough to even ask why he let the Martins go with them.
Jim smiled and said nothing.
***********
The oatmeal had been funny...chewy and tasted like nuts. Freddie had cooked it in a pan, not in a bowl in the microwave. But it was okay and the two funny men were very happy he ate it all.
And then they let him talk to his daddy. Daddy was upset...TJ could tell. And he couldn't talk to Mommy. But Uncle Melvin smiled and said that he'd be safe at home very soon.
"What is your daddy like, TJ?"
TJ shrugged. "He's daddy. I think he wants me to play outside more, but everyone is always busy, and there is no one to play with. I'm not good at sports or dancing like they are."
Freddie gave him a big glass of juice. "What are you good at? Do you like music?"
"I like to read. I read fast. The other kids think it's funny, except for Zacky G, and he's busy with his dancing and art stuff. Do you think it's funny to read a lot?"
"Oh, my, *no*. Auntie Freddie and I read all the time. What sort of books do *you* like to read?"
TJ didn't understand why Uncle Melvin said "Auntie" when Freddie was a man, but grownups were funny and these two were funnier. So he ignored it. "I like to read lots of stuff. Stuff about bugs and birds and the stars - science books. And books about real people. And space books, with monsters and dragons and space battles. I like those the best."
"Why? Drink your juice." Freddie sat down across from him.
He shrugged. "They're fun. And I can imagine myself different places all over the universe. When I get big, I'm going to go all sorts of places. My daddy used to drive a truck before he won the lottery, and he went all over the country, and brought very neat stuff back."
"What sort of places do you want to go?" The big man looked actually interested. So TJ described all the places of his dreams to him, and how he wanted to have an RV and how he wanted to go around the Earth and all the fun stuff he wanted to do. And when he was finished, instead of saying something about how "nice" that was, Auntie Freddie went into another room and came back with a *huge* book full of maps, all painted in fancy colors and gold, and showed him how to find all those good places.
***********
The address was a condominium complex just off of Stonewall Street.
Jim flashed his badge at the doorman.
"Cascade PD, sweetheart. Are Miss Melly and Freddie home?"
The doorman blinked. "I should guessed the cops around here would be like *them*. Yeah, they're home. At least, I've seen Forster come and go at least once already."
Jim shook his head and rolled his eyes. "Oh, darlings, you are *sooo*..."
The doorman looked at him askance. "My partner and I are going up. Be a love and don't tell them, kay?"
"Uhh...sure, umm, detective."
Blair just shrugged as he followed his partner to the elevator banks. "You don't seem worried at all, Jim."
"I'd be more worried if TJ was held by Zacky Glass."
Blair let that percolate in his head during the elevator ride and the stroll...yes, stroll...down the hallway.
Jim knocked on the door. "Miss Melly, I know you're there, darling. Let me in."
"Who is it?"
"It's Jimmy Ellison. Who did you *think*? Now let us in, darling or we'll have to do things the ugly way."
Even Blair could hear that sigh. The door was opened, and there was a man about Jim's height, in a double breasted coat and tan pant, and a purple paisley ascot. His hair was combed precisely over his bald spot and his lips were just not a natural red.
"I should have *known* you'd find us, Jimmy. I heard you were out and about again. And that you had the most beautiful boy...oooh, if this is *him*, you are a lucky girl, Jimmy."
"*You* are a *bad* girl, Miss Melly. Can we please come in?"
He sighed. "Of course you may. FredDIE! Oh, FredDIE! Put some coffee up." He ushered them in to an exquisitely decorated apartment, filled with beautiful works of art all arranged *just* so.
"Where's the boy, Mr. Forster?"
"He's just fine, handsome." Forster fluttered his eyes at him.
"Hands off, Miss Melly. What *would* Freddie say?"
"I can *look*. He's down the hall in the guest bedroom. And he's been a *perfect* angel."
Sure enough, there was a seven-year-old boy sitting in the ornate room, looking at what had to be an antique atlas almost as tall as he was.
"TJ?"
The little boy looked up. "Who are you?"
"I'm Blair, and this is Jim. Jim's a cop. We're going to take you home to your parents."
"Are they okay? Mom didn't make too many cakes, did she?"
"Just five or six." Blair grinned.
"I *told* them Mom and Dad would worry. I *told* them."
"Are *you* okay, honey?" Jim sat down on the bed next to him.
"I'm fine. Uncle Melvin and Uncle Freddie have been very nice to me. They got me this cool book to read."
"Did they hurt you at all?"
He shook his head. "They kept asking me if they did. They need the money, they said. And since Daddy won the lottery and all...They felt bad."
"They did?"
TJ nodded. "They kept saying they didn't want to do this and it was a mistake and they needed the money *sooo* bad, and making me nice things. Uncle Melvin even went out to get me ice cream."
"You want to come say good bye to them?"
"Am I going home now?" TJ brightened.
"Yep, guy. Your folks are probably downstairs already. Let's go."
The three of them and the atlas went back to the kitchen. Blair grinned when he thought of all the kitchens he'd been in that day...his own clean but cluttered workstation, the cold suburban splendor of the Lesters and the Thompsons, the chocolate smelling hominess of the Martins, the beauty of the Glass kitchen...and now this one, immaculate and perfectly decorated but definitely used.
Forster was on intercom phone when they got there. "Yes, Tony, send them up now." He hung up. He turned to them. "Angel, your parents are on their way." TJ nodded, grinning.
A large man fussing by an espresso machine turned at those words. There were tears in his eyes that he wiped with a pink apron. "Oh, sweet boy. I'm going to miss you *so* much! Say you'll miss Auntie Freddie, please."
"I'll...miss you. But..."
"I'm sorry...you know we are."
There was a knock on the door. Jim nodded at Blair, who opened it.
"Blair, is Teege...Teege! You're okay!"
The little boy ran straight to his parents. "Mommy! Daddy! I missed you! You're here!"
At this outburst, both Freddie and Melly started to bawl in earnest, and collapsed in each other's arms.
"Be strong, Freddie my love."
"WE must, Melly."
They let go and, bracing themselves, held out their hands. "Take us away, Jimmy. We deserve to be punished."
Blair had a hard time holding in his laughter.
Jim just shook his head. "Girls, girls, girls. First, tell me *why*. I've been *simply* dying to find out since I recognized Miss Melly's voice."
"Yeah, Forster, why'd you take my kid?"
"Well, if Jimmy *isn't* going to drag us off to the hoosegow as we deserve, I suppose we'd better come clean."
"Well...let me read your rights, ladies. We don't want any of this to be illegal, now, do we?"
When all was properly taken care of, Freddie served espresso and homemade biscotti to the adults and milk and Oreos to TJ as they settled around yet another kitchen table.
"Okay, Forster. Why my kid?"
"Quite bluntly, Mr. Martin, we needed the cash. We're about to lose our business."
"Why not a loan, then?"
"This apartment is mortgaged to the hilt, as is the gallery. All our money is gone, and the banks will *not* give us more."
"You run a gallery, Mr. Forster?" Lisa stopped gazing at TJ for a moment.
"Yes, Mrs. Martin. We run the *finest* gallery on Stonewall Street. People *clamor* to have shows there."
"If it's so popular, how come you need money so badly?"
"That's a good question, Miss Melly. When *I* was here, you were certainly pulling a profit. You *bought* the building before I left. What *happened*?"
Freddie and Melly looked at each other. "You *left*, girlfriend. That's what happened. The current crop doesn't give a damn about 'fags'. We've been robbed several times. Our insurance is through the *roof*, and it wasn't exactly *bargain basement* before, and the police don't do a *thing*. And *now* someone is trying to get *protection* out of us. Protection *here*! Did you *ever*!"
Freddie's face was red by the time he finished.
Jim's, on the other hand, was white.
"I have been out again for *six* months. I've been at Purple at *least* once a week. And nobody says *anything*? I *thought*..."
"So did we, Jimmy. But how do we know you're *not* going to ditch that beautiful boy and do the straight thing again? And we *know* how tight cops are."
Jim pursed his lips, and ran a hand through his hair, while the Martins kept looking from him to Blair and back again. Blair shook his head.
"I *will* get to the bottom of this, girls. You can count on this. And Blair and I...I used to be *so* jealous of the two of you, and now I got what you have. I'm *not* tossing that away." He squeezed Blair's hand.
Timothy leaned towards Blair. "You and Ellison are..."
Blair nodded.
"Wow. You fooled *me*."
"Sorry, Timothy."
"It's all right. You got my boy back. Now...Mr. Forster...can we take a look at this gallery of yours? Since you didn't hurt my Teege and he likes you so much?"
"Of course, Mr. Martin..."
"You understand I'm still taking you ladies in?"
The two men nodded.
The gallery was in a lovely space in the middle of the district. Blair found himself captivated by some of the artwork displayed. A lot of it was new and different, and all of it was beautiful in it's own way.
"This stuff is great, you guys. Lookit the lines on that sculpture, Lees...doesn't it just make you feel something?" Timothy was everywhere, touching gently, standing back from a painting, moving close to a sculpture, listening carefully to a set of works designed to be heard...
"This is the most incredible stuff. Hey, isn't that Meer's?" He pointed to a small collection of carved rock.
"*That* belongs to Miriam Glass, Mr. Martin."
"Yeah, I know. She's a neighbor. I didn't know you did regular people, Forster."
Melly smirked. "We do *not* discriminate on the basis of sexual preference."
"Good for you, guy!"
"You have an excellent eye, Mr. Martin. Did you...study this?"
"Nah. Folks had no money, so I drove a truck instead. And all I can do is take things apart and put'em back together, but I like stuff that makes me *think*."
"Indeed?"
"Even before we got that money, Timothy was always bringing home these things that looked like nothing else. Took a some time, but after a while I noticed that there was always *somethin* about'em. Still have some around the house."
Lisa looked at him with pride.
"Mr. Martin...Timothy...tell me about this over here." Forster led him to the corner, where something incomprehensible stood.
Blair couldn't hear a word, but he could see Forster nodding as Timothy gestured and spoke. Then Forster's eyes grew wide as Timothy's stance changed.
The two men walked back to the rest.
"Ellison, you gotta take these guys in, right?"
"Of course, hon."
"Okay...and since kidnapping is a federal offense and all, they're gonna get some jailtime?"
Jim shrugged.
"Well, they're gonna need someone to watch the place while they're away, right?"
"Not if they lose it." Blair hated bringing in more reality.
"Well, that's the thing...I got all this money. And this place could make money if the police did their jobs. And I got nothing but time. Melly here just said he thinks I could do it...and Lees used to do the books for the truck company..."
"Timothy...they *just* kidnapped your *son*. How *could* you *think* of helping them?"
"Cause they're nice guys and it would be a crime to let a place like this close down. What do you think, Lees?"
Lisa looked around. "Yes. I'm bored silly at home and this place...this place has class. Jim, you bring the...the girls in, and we'll get the lawyers working on all of this, right, Timothy?"
"Yep, Lees. Now then...it's time for lunch, isn't it?"
Jim and Blair looked at each other. They'd been fed at all those kitchen tables. "We'll pass, guy. Let's bring two in and let you folks have the rest of your Saturday."
"Melly, Freddie, mind if we stay here for a while?"
"Enjoy yourselves."
"And take care of that *angel*, Mrs. Martin."
"I will, Freddie."
"Come on, ladies. We'll take you in."
"Ooh, handcuffs! You cops are *so* lucky to get your toys for *free*."
Blair just shook his head as he followed them.
****************
"Jim, what the...are you wearing?"
"You don't like blue satin?" Jim pouted, then grinned as he modeled his new pajamas.
"Where did you get them?" Blair shook his head. Of all the things that had changed about his lover, one thing had remained steady - his perfect taste in everything.
"There's shop right next to the gallery...and these just felt so *good*...come, touch."
Blair looked at him...the blue exactly matched his eyes and made them seem to glow. He moved closer and touched them. Oh, yeah...smooth and silky and cool, and they were gliding over Jim's muscles as if...
"Jim..."
"Oh, loverboy...yess..." Blair drew Jim down for a kiss.
"I've been waiting for this all day...." Blair knew he was purring, and didn't care. "We were interrupted, after all..."
He took off his own sweats and slipped down to his knees, gliding down the satin. He gave Jim a grin and then pulled him into his so-hungry mouth. He felt Jim grow inside of him as he moved his tongue around the soft velvet skin.
Jim's hands tangled in his hair and he moaned softly. Blair smiled internally and used his own hands to stimulate the length that escaped his lips until Jim screamed his pleasure.
He swallowed all he could, careful to keep it away from the silk surrounding him. Then he smiled at Jim, who had fallen backwards onto the bed, boneless and happy, and swarmed up his body.
When he got high enough, he took Jim's mouth again. He knew Jim could taste himself, and that thought drove his arousal further, rendering him rock hard with anticipation. He groaned and rubbed himself on the soft material.
"Take it off, Jim." Blair could not speak above a whisper, but he knew Jim would obey. He pulled himself off to watch. Jim unbuttoned the top slowly, stroking his nipples as he removed it. Blair drank in that sight. He loved to watch Jim pleasure himself, and Jim knew it.
Finally, his nipples were fully erect and the top was off, fluttering to the floor unheeded. Then Jim got to work on his satin covered legs, rubbing himself through the material, touching himself directly though the opening. Blair licked his lips, remembering, savoring, the taste.
And then Jim was splendidly naked, all smooth skin and muscles and slowly hardening again at his own touch. Blair stroked his penis as he watched Jim, as Jim watched him.
"Lay down, Jim. Open yourself to me."
Once again, Jim complied with the whispered command, spreading his legs and displaying himself joyfully.
Blair found the condoms and the lube and got himself ready, his hands trembling from need and desire.
He could barely prepare him, stretching him as quickly as he could without pain...never pain, and covering himself with lube. Then...hard, fast, driving, he plunged into his lover with the urgency both felt.
Oh, God, he'd been waiting for this all day, ever since that phone call far too early in the morning. Even that interlude in the breakroom didn't help. But he was here now, and Jim was pushing against him, shouting in pleasure, calling his name to the heavens and he moved faster.
Jim's legs were wrapped around him now and pushing him, making him find the right angle to make Jim gasp in pleasure and it was going to be soon and soon and Blair reached forward and found Jim's arousal again and pumped it hard and Jim exploded and Blair shot inside of him, and then collapsed, exhausted and sated, on top of him.
He wanted to stay there forever, but he could feel Jim's legs trembling around him, so he slowly slipped out and let him relax before cleaning them both up.
Then he slipped back into his lover's arms beneath the covers.
"I love you, Jim, so much."
"Love you, too, Blair...but...next time we go dancing..."
"Please dip me."
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