I tapped Blair's shoulder. He started and took off his headphones.
"Hi, Chief."
He turned his face in my direction with a big smile. "Jim! I didn't hear you come in."
"No wonder, Dr. Bookworm. What has you so engrossed?" I sat down on the couch next to him and gathered him in my arms. He tilted his head up and kissed me.
"Just reading the latest journal."
"You in that one?" I picked up the empty box. Journal of Urban Anthropology. "That thing on cops as an urban tribe?"
"Nah. I'm in next quarter's." He sniffed. "Good thing you came home. Dinner's ready." He disentangled himself from my arms, made sure his tape machine was off and made his way into the kitchen to poke and sniff at the food he'd prepared.
I got up to set the table. When he heard me clatter around the silverware drawer, he turned to give me another smile. I smiled back, even though he couldn't see it.
**************************
"Roger, you *don't* have to do this...yes, I am. I swear to you. Look, just let it go, man." Blair took a deep breath, holding in his anger. I just shook my head. He was wearing his Academy uniform, a white uniform shirt and dark blue pants with a blue clip-on tie, but his hair was still brushing his shoulders, so the effect was very Blair. "Okay, okay. It's a waste of time and I'm out of that life, but if you're going to do it, do it. Let's cut the last cord....yeah, thanks. I'll talk to you." He hung up the phone."What's up, Sandburg?"
He looked at me. "I've tested those ears. You heard every word."
"Yep. And if he can get you cleared..."
"It's a waste of time. And useless. I'm a *cop* now. Or I will be. I don't give a damn if some peer review clears me. Which they won't." He closed his eyes and shook his head, sending his curls flying. "Any leads on that thief?"
"Yeah...while you were in class." He'd tested out of most of his classes, but not all. He had permission to "observe" me the rest of the time, so long as he wore his cadet's uniform and no gun. He hated the uniform, which was why he rebelled and wore his hair loose when he worked with me. As I said, the effect was very Blair. Made it difficult to keep my mind on work. A few weeks earlier, I would have believed he was doing it on purpose. He would have grinned and flirted and tossed those curls around and dared me to grab him in the break room with his eyes. These days, he was quiet and subdued except when he spoke to this Roger guy.
"So?" He leaned forward on my desk.
"It was actually something that you said at breakfast this morning...that tomorrow sometime, another jeweler store will be robbed and we'll talk to the owner or the manager and that Manzo guy would be there shaking his head and denying the claim."
"Hiding in plain sight, too. He's the insurance guy, isn't he? So it make sense he was there."
"Yes, but there are two other firms besides his who handle claims like that. I checked."
His eyes widened. "How many other agents does his firm have for jewelers?"
"Just him. He specializes in these things, and it's not a big one."
"And part of insurance is seeing how security is handled..." He was sitting up straight now. "That's not enough...you got anything else?"
"Yeah. He gambles. A lot. I spoke to some of his co-workers this morning. He's always taking trips to Vegas, he goes to the track every week and he hosts the weekly firm poker game...where he always loses and he owed all of them mucho dinero. Except he paid all of them back a few months ago. Said he got a windfall inheritance from some relative. They weren't clear which."
"That's before these burglaries."
"You noticed."
"So...Richard gets a loan from someone he shouldn't have gotten a loan from, and now he has to pay them back. So he's stealing the jewelry because he knows he can sell the gems and not be traced because he knows the business..." Blair was on his feet now. God, he was beautiful.
"You got it, Chief. All we need is a search warrant for Richard's apartment..."
Right on cue, Henri walked in waving an envelope. "Judge likes you, Jim."
I smiled and took it from him. Blair looked for his uniform cap while I stuck my head into Simon's office and let him know everything was in order. He growled at me to get the guy and to watch myself and my partner.
We road the elevator up to the seventeenth floor of the twenty story building. To my surprise, there was a heartbeat in the apartment at 3 in the afternoon. I gestured for Blair to fall in behind me, cell phone at the ready, and, holding my gun high in one hand, I knocked on the door with the other. There was no answer, but the heartbeat sped up.
I kicked in the door. Manzo stood in his living room. He was a little mouse of a man - balding, big glasses. He had his hands behind his back.
"What are you doing here, detective?" He was trying to sound calm. He was failing.
"I have a search warrant, Richard. If you will just step aside, my partner and I will have a look around." I used my left hand to fish out the warrant to show to him.
He looked at it. He looked at the gun pointed at him. He ran.
"Sandburg! Back up! Now!" I chased after him. I could hear Blair talking to dispatch. Then he ran after me. I couldn't stop him. He was almost a cop. He was my partner.
There was an open door at the end of the hallway. Seventeen floors down, three up. I looked at Blair. He pointed towards the roof. I nodded and we both took off. Something was odd in the air. I sniffed.
"Gunpowder! He's armed!" I shouldn't have been surprised. We climbed as fast as we could. I wanted Blair downstairs. That wouldn't work anymore.
The roof was almost empty. There were a couple of exhaust pipes in one corner, while the center held a large air conditioning unit, with a water tank nearby. That was about it.
Manzo ran like a cornered mouse. First he tried to go behind the pipes. I caught him. He ducked behind the ac unit. Blair found him. He even tried the water tanks. Between us, he had nowhere to go. As I said. Cornered. "Give it up, Richard."
He aimed his gun at me. "No!"
Blair stuck his hands in the air. He began to move closer. "Richard, man..."
"You!"
"Hey, I don't have a gun, man. I'm only a cadet. Look, all you've done is take property. Maybe some fraud. That's *nothing* compared to hurting a couple of cops. All you'll do is time."
"I can't go to prison, I *can't*." He was shaking, near tears.
"You haven't sold the jewels yet, right? Richard, we can do a deal for you. Get you *easy* time." Blair kept moving closer, his arms still in the air.
"Sandburg, get back here." What the hell was he thinking?
"Listen to him, Sandburg. I...I can't do prison. They'll kill me. They'll find me and they'll kill me." He back up into the air conditioning unit. "They'll...kill me slowly. I *can't*...I can't let you take me in...I can't..."
I learned in the military never to corner someone that desperate. You have to leave them a way out. I couldn't do that with Manzo. There was no way out. He knew it. Even a mouse will fight. He picked up his gun and aimed it at me. His hands shook. He pulled the trigger. I could see the muscles of his hand flex as he did.
And I could see Blair diving in the path of the bullet meant for me.
I emptied my gun into Manzo. I swear he smiled as he died.
Then I was on my knees next to my partner. The bullet had gotten him in the head. All of his soft curls were filling with blood. I couldn't stop it. I wanted to hold him in my arms but I knew I couldn't. Instead, I held his hand and willed his heart to keep beating, and for him to keep breathing. My whole world was filled with the sounds of him living. I knew nothing else until Simon showed up and woke me up.
****************
"He *can't* be blind. He's not even awake yet, Doc!" I paced back and forth in the tiny office, staring at the tall woman. Blair had just had the bullet removed, and was "resting comfortably", whatever that means after brain surgery. I was aching to get to him.
"Detective Ellison, I've seen injuries like this before. The bullet reached his optic nerves. He exhibited no response towards light. There is a good chance that your...friend will lose his vision."
Simon, who sitting by the doctor's desk, looked at her. "Is it possible that Blair will see again?"
"Anything is possible, captain. Medicine is not an exact science. But I need to prepare you and him for what is most probable. Have you reached his mother yet?"
"We're trying, Dr. Harris." How the hell could Simon sound so calm?
"*I'm* Blair's next of kin. He's mine. We have that all set up." I kept on pacing. I had to move, had to do *something*.
"Naomi has a right to know. After all, if Blair is...you know...someone will have to take care of him while he..."
"That's what *I'm* for." I stopped in front of Simon's chair. "You know that. You know *everything*." He had to know. He had eyes.
Simon pressed his lips together and nodded tightly. "We'll discuss what I know if and when it becomes...reasonable." I couldn't ask for more from him.
The doctor picked up some papers from her desk. She looked me straight in the eyes. "I'm sorry, Detective Ellison. I've seen wounds of this nature before. The possibility exists that he will see, but in most of the cases I've treated, the patient never regains his eyesight. I'm afraid you and your...partner will have to face this." She put on an expression of professional compassion, but she didn't know Blair, so how could she care about him? The phone rang. "Dr. Harris....Is he?....Right here....Yes....I'll tell him now. Thank you."
Blair was awake. Blair was calling for me. I'd heard every word the nurse on the other side said. I wanted to race to him right then. Simon stood up, and took my arm. He knew I'd heard, and knew I didn't give a damn about my secret. Luckily, he did. I waited until she told us. She was fast, though, and I was striding down the hall minutes later.
"Jim!" I could hear Blair well before I got to recovery. He sounded terrified. It made my blood run cold, because if Blair was that scared, how could he think his way out of this? And if Blair couldn't think his way out, we were both trapped. Just the thought of him being helpless made my heart stop.
I began to run. No one stopped me. They had the doors open. Blair was blinking his eyes and turning his head this way and that and waving his hands, still stuck with IV's, in the air. His head was wrapped in bandages. He'd need to cut his hair when he got out - they'd shaved it off the side that had caught the bullet. That didn't matter. Hair grew. There were two nurses next to him, one on each side, both trying to restrain him, but he moved too quickly. His hair was gone
I waved them away and caught his right hand in both of mine. "Chief! Chief, it's me."
"Jim? You're there?" The desperation in his voice cut right through me.
"Yeah, buddy. I'm here." I tried to be as easy as I could.
"Thank God." His breathing, which had been rough and harsh, began to slow. I could feel his fingers grasp mine. "Jim, I can't see. There's nothing over my eyes but I can't see."
"I know. They said this would happen."
"How long? How long until things get fixed?" I could hear the pleading behind those words.
I had no good answer for him. "They don't know."
"They *have* to know. Unless...unless...no! No! No!" He held my hand tighter still. I didn't care. He could have broken the fingers off and I wouldn't have cared.
"I'm sorry, Chief. I...they don't know everything, you know. Your doctor *said* that."
Blair nodded. "They don't. Tomorrow...tomorrow, you go down to the med school library...I'll give you contacts...and find articles on this type of injury. *You* do it."
"I can't read medical journals, Sandburg. I'm no doctor. Neither are you." This was Blair, using his best weapon other than his mouth. He'd find a way out, but I couldn't give in too easily. And then I looked in his face and wondered.
"I *have* to know. I can't *not* know. Please?" His heart monitor began jumping.
One of the nurses tried to take me away. "Mr. Sandburg is recovering from surgery. You'll have to let him rest..."
"Let Detective Ellison stay here. Please." Blair never begged. He just assumed things would happen the way he wanted - because they usually did. But this time, he knew better. I could see it in his face, despite his demand for journal articles. He knew he'd finally hit something he couldn't control.
It rocked my world out of orbit, too.
To my surprise, the nurse found me a chair and let me stay. I held Blair's hand until he fell asleep, helped by whatever drugs they were pumping into his system. They even let me stay by him while they transferred him to a regular room in the neurology wing. Maybe they realized they didn't have a choice. I slept in the room on a chair next to his bed. Blair wasn't afraid of the dark, but I wasn't going to let him wake up there alone.
I knew I'd done the right thing when he held my hand tighter that next morning.
Simon came in and relieved me so I could shave and change, and Megan was there when I returned with Blair's favorite pillow and a personal stereo with his favorite tapes - and a sheaf of photocopies of articles on his injury and its effects. His medical school contacts fell all over themselves to help him.
I scanned them and read what I thought were relevant passages out loud. We tried reading the complete articles, where my almost-forgotten prep school Greek and Latin helped, but they were dense and full of jargon and we got bogged down in data. Didn't matter...all of them said pretty much what Harris said - most of the patients with this sort of injury lost their sight permanently, and those few who didn't, well, no one could explain why.
Blair threw those articles across the room.