Character may be manifested in the great moments, but it is made in the small ones. ~ Phillips Brooks

Jim shifted, stretching to relieve muscles cramped from long hours of inactivity. The May evening was cool, perfect actually, although if Blair had been with him, he'd no doubt have been wearing a jacket. It was probably just as well that Blair was in Dry Falls visiting Buck.

"Okay, people, time to check in," said a voice from the passenger seat of Jim's Ford Expedition. Jim picked up the small police radio and waited. By the time the rotation climbed up to number six, he was ready. "Sector six... clear."

The last two cops checked in. None of the eight units on stakeout had anything to report, but the night was still young, so Jim forced himself to ignore the trail mix he'd brought as a snack and wait. If he opened the bag now, he'd have nothing to munch on later. His shift had just started. Jim glanced over at the empty seat beside him, spotting the row of pens and pencils sticking up from the door pocket. If forced to admit it, he'd say he missed Blair. He took a breath, isolating the scent of his friend's shampoo and shook his head gently, mystified with himself.

Solo stakeouts didn't hold the same appeal that they used to.

He looked out into the Cascade night, fixing his attention on the park. The faster they caught this perp, the faster he'd be off night shifts. The entire state of Washington was on edge over this killer. The victims were all women, but evidence suggested the killer would wait one to two days before murdering them. They already had a missing woman, taken from a Cascade Realtor's office yesterday. Desperate to end the killing spree when it had arrived at Cascade, the police chief had ordered mandatory overtime and dumped the case into the laps of Major Crime.

Jim twitched in response to the soft vibration coming from his pocket. Pulling out his cell phone, he checked the caller ID.

Buck's number.

"Ellison."

"Jim!" Blair practically shouted.

Jim grimaced, adjusting his hearing automatically. "What's wrong?"

"Buck, man, Buck! I've called an ambulance. He's h-having chest pains. God, Jim! He's not that old, man. Wha-"

"Blair, calm down," Jim ordered urgently, sitting straight. "Is he breathing okay?"

"Yeah."

"How far out's the ambulance?"

Blair drew a shaky breath. Jim pictured his friend standing bare-foot in the kitchen, his hair wild. "Maybe fifteen minutes..."

"Listen to me, Chief. Stay calm. Keep him calm. Give him an aspirin, okay? Nothing tight around his neck. If he's more comfortable sitting up, let him. You know the drill."

"Right, right, man. Okay, I can do that."

"You can. Buck's healthy. This could be a lot of things, not necessarily a heart problem."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, now go do what I said." Jim knew Buck didn't have a cordless. And Buck had refused to put an extension in his new bedroom after his old house had burned down.

"Jim, I wish you were here."

"Me too." Jim closed his eyes. "Call me, okay?"

"Later."

Jim terminated the call, his mood bleak.

No, Buck wasn't that old. In fact, he was just a few years older than Jim. Yet, Jim knew guys Blair's age that had died of heart attacks. You can't change genetics.

Jim uttered a curse as he shoved his phone back into his pocket. His chances of getting leave were squat. As much as Simon liked Buck, there was no way his boss could sign off on Jim getting out of this overtime.

"Damn it, Buck."

The local volunteer ambulance arrived a few minutes before the ice age was due to return. It was all Blair could do not to scream at them in frustration. Buck looked pale, his skin cool and damp with sweat. Pain lines etched deeply into his forehead and near the corners of his eyes and mouth.

The two attendants worked quickly, giving him pure oxygen from a long, green bottle. At first the man balked at the mask when the female EMT tried to put it over his mouth, but she quickly talked him into accepting it. Blair was glad, knowing Buck could be stubborn.

Hell, Buck was the first adult he'd ever met in his life that could outdistance himself in that department.

"Can I ride with him?" Blair pleaded.

The portly man working the blood pressure cuff nodded without looking up. "In front, with me."

Blair helped to transfer Buck onto a rolling gurney. As the two EMTs wheeled him through the house and out to the ambulance, Blair took a second to grab Buck's wallet from the night stand, then ran to his room to get his tennis shoes. He scooped up his pack, locked the house and jumped into the front of the old ambulance.

"Your dad's doing fine," the driver said, sparing Blair a kind glance as he started up the engine. "We've got a bit of a drive ahead. I know it's scary, but just the fact we're not calling for a helicopter is a good thing."

"Thanks." Blair swiped a trembling hand over his head, fruitlessly trying to tame his hair. He didn't bother to correct the guy. Buck might as well be his father for all intents and purposes, remembering the first time he'd come out to Dry Falls with Naomi.

God, how old had he been?

"Sweetie, you're going to love the desert," Naomi cooed, adjusting her oversized sunglasses.

Eleven-year old Blair frowned, turning his face away, purposefully hiding from the woman who looked back at him from the front passenger seat. He glared at the passing scenery.

"Naomi, relax. Once he sees all the stuff a kid can do, he's gonna change his tune," the driver muttered in an irritated tone.

Blair hid a smile. The faster his mom dumped this Eugene bozo, the faster he and Naomi would be driving back to Florida.

"I'm sure you're right." Naomi turned back to stare out the front windshield.

At least the weather was decent. But Blair hated the desert. It was dull and boring. They'd been driving for frigging hours through flat farm lands; pass unidentified crops planted in stupid rows. The entire trip was a mega-snooze, just like his mom's new boyfriend. Eugene hadn't wanted to stop at any of the attractions. It wasn't like when he and Naomi used to travel, back when he'd been a kid. She'd stop for any reason Blair thought up. They'd stay as long as they wanted and move on whenever they felt like it. Naomi had always consulted with him before.

Always.

So why didn't she listen this time? Blair wanted to stay in Florida. Damn it, he was starting to fit in. The school was awesome. He had real friends, who liked him - really, really liked him. And some were girls.

The road dropped down into a massive hole-like canyon thing. Now there were tall imposing brown cliffs on each side. The canyon ran south; to the north it had dead-ended. At least the cliffs were interesting to look at. Blair found himself wondering how something like this had been formed. Eugene slowed and turned his off-white Chevy, barf-a-rama, Impala onto a bumpy dirt road.

"Almost there, baby," Naomi told him as she studied the map in her hands.

Blair rolled his eyes. He liked his mom a lot, but could she lay off the `baby' comments?

The dirt road twisted and snaked over hills and between large boulders as big as cars, a few as big as houses. Every once in a while Blair could see pools of water, edged with tall reeds. A line of green trees ran down the length of the brown canyon, following the east cliff. Green trees needed water. Blair figured they must be growing near a creek. The road was totally wasted though, the Impala bounced across potholes that caused the heavy boxes stacked up to the roof to lean dangerously.

"I'm gonna get buried, Naomi," Blair grumbled as he shoved the top box back toward the far door. He'd be glad to finally get out of this car. All their worldly possessions crowded him and he was sick of it.

"Almost there, sugar."

Blair kicked the seat in front out of frustration.

"Knock it off," Eugene snapped.

Blair ignored him, but kept his feet still. He couldn't believe Naomi let The Jerk talk to him like he did. She really fell for this one. Blair cursed the day his mom had seen the flyer in the Florida open market. They'd been selling macram pot hangers - plants, not the stuff she sometimes smoked, and Eugene had walked by. He was starting some meditation group. Naomi had attended the first meeting and the two had hit it off right away. Before Blair knew it, she was packing all his stuff, kissing the rest of the people in the commune goodbye and plopping him into this tiny space in the back seat.

Blair's life sucked.

"Banks."

Jim grimaced. Simon had been sleeping. Considering it was nearly midnight, that had been a strong possibility.

"Sir? This is Ellison."

"What's wrong, Jim?"

Perhaps this wasn't such a good idea. Jim wavered, then took the plunge. "Buck is on his way to the hospital. Blair says he's having chest pains."

`What!" Simon was alert now.

"I'm not asking for leave or anything. But I was thinking... if I had someone to watch my back, I could really push these sentinel abilities without zoning. I know it's a long shot, but after the perp is caught, then I could drive over tonight and meet up with Sandburg."

"Give me fifteen."

"Thanks, Simon."

The ambulance reached the paved road. The driver, a guy who had identified himself as Matt, turned south toward the nearest hospital with the adequate medical care. Blair's mouth and throat felt dusty with fear. He tried to swallow, but his body seemed as arid as the land around them. He could see his image reflected back in the side window. Outside was dark, inside a square of light cast from the small window separating them from where Buck lay illuminated the cab. Blair ignored the look of terror in his own eyes and pushed his vision. Even in the midnight's blackness, Blair's memory filled in what the night hid.

Dry Falls had turned into such a haven for him, a place to come when he was hurt, tired and lonely. As much as he learned to love the desert, Blair knew it was the man in the back who had made this land special.

But, that hadn't been his first impression.

"You gotta be shitting me."

Naomi frowned down at her son, making unhappy sounds. Blair ignored her, knowing he could get away with several more cuss words before she'd gently admonish him. He continued to survey the house, barn and a pathetic looking trailer in the back. The house was tiny, nothing like the main commune house in Florida. It was ancient, too. The lower parts of the wall weren't even wood; they were just normal looking rocks. And the barn looked ready to fall down any second. Blair didn't see any animals to have fun with.

"I thought there was a horse," Blair groused.

"Honey." Naomi crouched down to get eye level with her son. She cast a glance toward Eugene who was striding toward the distant trailer. "Please don't make a fuss, okay?"

"Naomi, I wanna split," Blair demanded, stamping his foot to show just how serious he was. This was getting out of control. She needed to understand he was tired of putting up with Eugene and his lame idea to start a retreat.

"You promised me you'd give it a chance, Blair."

"And I am, mom. It failed. Now let's go."

That made his mom smile and Blair's heart soared. She really did like him more than Eugene. But her words still were not the ones he wanted to hear.

"That's not enough of a chance, sweetie. I'm sure you'll like this place once you start exploring. We're here for the summer at least. We're going to have a real adventure, honey!"

Whatever.

Eugene returned. "Okay, Buck's still cool with us having the main house. He even cleaned it up. Let's get unpacked."

Blair frowned. "Buck? Who's that?"

Eugene spared him a cool glance. "My older brother. He lives back in that trailer, so don't wander that way. He doesn't have time for kids, barely tolerates people." He rubbed his hands together and glanced around in a proprietary manner. "Let's get unpacked."

Blair noticed he wasn't ignored when there was work to do.

Two days later, Blair's entire waking moments revolved around planning his escape.

Naomi was like an alien to him. She acted all supportive and nice, but she wasn't agreeing with Blair's take on their situation. It scared him. He wanted to leave and she had said no. So fine then, he'd just leave for Florida by himself. One of several problems facing him was transportation. They were in the middle of this stupid canyon and the nearest paved road was way, way far. Even if he reached it, Blair remembered it had been lightly traveled.

It was early morning and Blair continued to dwell on the problem. He sat on a flat rock that had fallen from the towering cliff overhead and frowned at the vista below. It had taken a long time to climb this high. Zillions of fist-sized rocks had fallen from the cliffs and formed some sort of ramp to the canyon floor. He found walking on the loose rocks caused mini slides as they shifted under his feet. Blair had fooled around with that for a bit, but had quickly gotten bored.

He now studied the house and barn below. It wasn't much to look at. A large garden between the house and a small camping trailer looked well tended, but the barn looked ready to fall down. Blair eyed the lake to the south, wishing he knew how to swim better. Naomi had promised to take him there and, in an uncharacteristic manner, insisted he not go alone. Blair had promised not to.

Blair heard a door close. Below him, a man in a straw cowboy hat walked out of the trailer. So this was Eugene's brother; Buck. Blair had done what he'd been told, he hadn't bothered the guy. Still, he was curious. Blair watched the man hike in a northerly direction. Where was this guy going? He carried something that looked like a stick and maybe a small pack on his back, like Blair's book bag.

Blair stood, gnawing the inside of his cheek.

Following wasn't bothering.

An hour or so later, the mystery was solved. The guy was fishing. Blair had made a point of keeping out of sight. He hid behind the huge boulders and peered carefully through scratchy brush. His feet were sore from walking. Blair wished he could go barefoot, but he'd tried that yesterday and collected a ton of thorns. He'd had his mom look at the pincushions that were bottom of his feet, further evidence this place was evil. But she'd merely kissed his face and told him to go play.

Blair snorted at the memory.

Well, watching this Buck guy was a bust. He'd been almost hoping to observe some criminal activity. That would have been cool. He would have called the cops and they would come and arrest him, then arrest Eugene because... well, because Eugene surely was the mastermind behind the criminal deed - whatever that was.

Blair yawned, his jaw cracking. He was tired and the warmth from the sun was soothing. He'd stayed up too late last night. Naomi had said he would have his own room to sleep in if he came out here with her. Only Eugene-from-hell had declared the second bedroom his office and Blair only got a corner to sleep in. Blair didn't mind that he slept on a foam mattress on the floor, that was normal, but he'd wanted the whole room, not a corner. Shit, he might as well be living back in a commune.

Sleep pulled at his bones and Blair gave in. Soft, warm sand shifted underfoot. Blair curled up on his side and fell asleep.

"Wake up, runt."

Blair groaned. A shadow loomed over him. He jerked awake with a start.

"You stupid or something?" the shadow demanded harshly. "You looking to get snake bit?"

It was Buck. Even with his face shadowed by the wide brim of his hat Blair could see the guy looked totally pissed. Blair sat up with a start. Buck had him by the arm, keeping him from escaping.

"Lemmego!"

"Calm down," the adult demanded, eyes snapping with anger. He brushed fingers over Blair's bare arm. "You're getting sunburned and crawling with ticks, you idiot."

"Whaa...?" Blair glanced down. Sure, his left arm was a little red. No big deal. In a surprising move, Blair was lifted to his feet. A flash of vertigo hit. His head felt funny. "Hey!"

Buck kept him from falling down. "Come on. You need out of this sun."

Blair stumbled along at the man's side, getting manhandled over and around the tundra until they reached the path, then the strong fingers on his arm relaxed and he was turned free. Blair turned, instantly slowing down. "I'm fine. I ju-"

The hand was back and Blair was propelled forward again at a faster rate.

"Hey! Goddamnit, quit it!"

"Watch your mouth." That order was accompanied by a shake.

Blair was no idiot. He shut up.

They marched back to the house in silence. Blair was breathless when they arrived. The overhead sun tipped slightly toward the west, giving some idea how long he'd been asleep. The house looked deserted. Buck pulled Blair up the steps to the porch, tossed his hat on a bent twig chair and banged on the door twice before opening it.

In the living room, furnished with a much worn sofa and an old rocker, Buck halted and finally turned Blair loose. "Eugene!"

The brother came out of the office. "What?"

Eugene was younger than Buck. Blair saw the strong resemblance, only Buck was all hard and mean looking. Eugene was... dumpier, sort of like the guys at the commune that dodged assigned work and found lots of reasons to have meetings and talk on the phone.

"Did you explain to this kid about the desert?" Buck demanded angrily, jerking a thumb down at Blair.

Eugene glanced down and shrugged. "No, he's supposed to be so brilliant, I figured he knew. Besides, he's not my kid. Let his mother do it."

"You ass," Buck mumbled, running a hand through thick, wavy hair. "Where is she?"

Blair realized with sudden panic that Naomi would've normally come a running. "Mom?"

Eugene looked ugly, like when a bully knows he's about to have fun. "She left."

"No," Blair whispered, stepping back and calling as loud as he could. "Naomi? Mom!"

She wouldn't leave, she wouldn't. Blair ran to the back bedroom, the one that she and Eugene had carried their grocery bags of clothes into. The room was empty save for an old bed and a tall wooden dresser. Next, Blair checked the kitchen and utility room. He stood at the back door, his eyes raking the landscape. She wasn't around. He called her name again, feeling the panic build. Over his shoulder, he could hear the two brothers arguing loudly.

Running back through the house to go outside and check the barn, Blair was caught by Buck's hand on his arm.

"Relax, runt. She's just gone into town. She'll be back." Buck glared at his smirking brother. "Come on."

Blair was once again towed, this time out the front door and down the steps. The harsh midday heat hit, like a physical blow to the head. Blair stumbled, unable to keep up with the rate at which this tall man ate up the ground.

"Hey, man. Enough!" Blair demanded, unable to free his arm. "Let go, already. Where we going?"

"Barn," Buck answered tightly, not turning his prisoner loose.

The cooler shadows of the barn brought some relief. There was still plenty of light to see by.

Buck grabbed Blair, hands so large they formed a band around his ribcage, and lifted. He found himself standing on a bale of straw, now eye level with the man's chest.

"Strip," Buck ordered.

"What?"

"Take off your clothes, runt." Buck reached into his own shirt pocket with his right hand.

Okay, Naomi had really screwed up this time. She'd left him with `The Jerk' and his perv for a brother. Blair launched off the straw, his destination the wide barn doors. If he could make it to the creek, he could hide in the trees until she returned.

Buck caught him with ease. Blair swung and kicked; frustrated that his legs fell short of the man's long arms. Without ceremony, Blair was standing back on the straw bail.

Blair vented with every cuss word every kid had ever taught him. It took some time to list them all. In fact, Blair might have used a couple more than once. He was too mad to keep it all straight. "Let me go! I'm telling you NO, got that? NO!" Blair ended with a red-faced scream.

Calmly, the man waited for the tirade to end, a corner of his mouth twitched. He spoke in a calm, almost gentle voice. "Listen, Kid. I'm not going to touch you like that." He lifted Blair's arm high and pushed up the cotton sleeve of the T-shirt. "Look, see that?"

Blair looked, feeling stupid as he blinked at the underside of his own skinny arm. He frowned. What was that? A bug?

"That's a tick," Buck answered the unasked question. "You fell asleep near a nest of them. They burrow tiny heads into your skin and make you sick."

"Fine," Blair muttered, still feeling scared but not wanting the man to know. He tried plucking the bug off. "Shit, it's stuck."

Buck nudged Blair's hand away. "You can't pull them off, that will only leave their heads inside. You're guaranteed to get sick. We'll do this my way. Just hold still."

To Blair's horror, the man held a lighter. "NO!" He dropped his arm and tried to shrink away but Buck held him fast.

"I'm only using the flame to heat up this." He set the lighter down on the rim of a half wall that separated them from an empty stall and reached up to work a large nail out of a support beam. He held the nail out for Blair to see. "I get the tip of this really hot, then touch the tick. He pop's his head out to see why he's got a hot butt and we take him off. Sound like a plan?"

"That really works?" Blair asked. It sounded too simple.

"Want to see?" Buck asked.

Blair caught his lip between his teeth and gave this some thought. At least he was being talked to like an adult, which was more than `The Jerk' ever did. It would be kinda cool to see the tick do that. Sort of like an experiment. And, if truth be told, it creeped him out to know one was sucking his blood or whatever on his arm.

"Okay."

Buck spent several long minutes warming up the nail. When Blair lifted his arm, he could feel its radiant heat as Buck carefully rubbed the round, black end of the tick with the hot metal. After a few moments, something must have happened, because Buck was able to pluck the bug off. There was an old table made out of rough wood within reach. Buck turned one of the glass jars filled with old bolts upside down and dropped the bug into the jar.

"Okay, now for the rest," Buck said.

"Rest?" Blair checked his arm. He could see a pin-sized red mark. "I don't see any more."

Rolling his eyes to the high ceiling, Buck waved a hand at the boy standing in front of him. "You never get just one tick, runt. You've probably got a dozen crawling around in your clothes, looking for a nice hot meal. Now, strip."

Blair couldn't get out of his clothes fast enough.

Simon knew he was going to hear about this. He was a police captain, damn it. And police captains don't normally crash a stake-out on their own time to back up their detectives. But, then again, no other division enjoyed the solve ratio that he did, so what the hell, let the brass raise their eyebrows. After all, when was the last time any of them got their hands dirty?

"Thanks, Simon," Jim said with feeling as Simon opened the passenger door of the Expedition and got in.

"Not a problem." Simon removed his rain dampened hat. "How do we do this?"

"We need to get closer. The park is just a little over eight acres. All the other detectives are in vehicles right now, I checked." Jim reached for his door handle.

"Wait," Simon ordered. "Get on the radio, tell the detective in charge we're on foot. I don't want to be confused for the suspect."

"Okay."

After getting permission to make a cautious sweep of the perimeter on foot with his new partner, Jim and Simon moved toward the edge of the greenbelt. The park interfaced a neighborhood and a commercial block, providing a visual and audible sound buffer for folks living in their modest homes. But the city had all but forgotten the park's existence. Shrubs and trees were past their schedule for pruning, the beauty bark and gravel had long ago been kicked from its original positions along paths and playgrounds. What the city had forgotten, the neighborhood did not; the park was clean and devoid of litter. All that aside, the park perfectly fit the profile the killer liked to use. Cascade had already had one body turn up a few weeks ago at a park across town. The killer never struck more than two or three times before moving on, and never at the same park twice.

Jim paused by a park entrance sign. "Let's try from here."

"Okay, what do I do?" Simon could barely see Jim in the shadows. The few streetlights in the area were too dim to reach within the foliage. The rain had slacked off for now and he was grateful.

"I'm not sure. Blair just sort of knows when I go too far."

Great. Simon pulled a face. How was he supposed to help if he didn't know what to do?

The ambulance made some serious speed once they reached the straightaway. The night seemed empty, save for the multitudes of stars overhead and the ribbon of asphalt caught in the high beams. Blair was glad Matt didn't feel the need for small talk. He'd rather concentrate on Buck. Blair turned in his seat, looking through the small opening. He could see Buck's silver hair, still mussed from sleeping.

Blair remembered when it hadn't been that color, back when Buck had been that unmovable obstacle to Blair's great plan of escape. In the first week he'd lived with Naomi and Eugene at Dry Falls, even after the tick incident, Buck hadn't said more than two words to him, choosing instead to stay in his trailer or fish.

Yet that night, fourteen years ago, when he'd made his break for freedom, it was Buck that had come after him.

Blair felt a shiver of pride wrack his cold body. The Jerk had said it was seven miles to the paved road and Blair had hiked every one, making the roadway before the sun appeared over the cliff tops. Blair had tried it his mother's way, for a whole week. Yesterday's `talking to' had been the final straw. He didn't need his mother giving him grief about his karma. Blair knew it wasn't his aura that was sick, it was The Jerk's. In fact, he doubted his mother's current boyfriend even had one.

He shifted his small pack higher on his shoulders and turned north, walking along the road's shoulder. He heard a motor and stuck out his thumb. An old yellow truck passed by, not even slowing down.

No matter, Blair had food and water and money, lots of it. He'd gotten some more yesterday from his mom and The Jerk because it was his birthday. Blair was now twelve and he figured he was old enough to make his own way in the world. He'd walk back to Florida if he had too.

The second time he heard a motor, it sounded different. Not like a car, but like a...

Blair turned to see a yellow dirt bike zipping across the desert toward the main road. The rider was coming from the direction of The Jerk's house.

Crap.

Blair started to run, getting less than twenty feet before the dirt bike cut him off with a cloud of dust that caused him to sneeze.

"Going somewhere, Runt?"

Blair stood, back straight, stance wide. He wasn't going back. "I'm hitching to Florida." He had to yell over the un-muffled bike's noise.

The man on the dirt bike raised an eyebrow. "Hitch hiking? Are you stupid?"

"No."

"Do you know what happens to kids that accept rides from strangers?"

Blair rolled his eyes. "Duh. I'm not going to get into a perv's car, man, just normal folks."

Buck nodded sagely. "I see. You can tell the difference, can you?"

Blair really didn't have time to explain the basics to this guy. He wanted to reach Florida before he turned thirteen. With a dismissive wave, he moved to walk around the bike. "Tell Naomi I'll drop a postcard."

Buck gunned the motor, popped the clutch and cut him off. "Get on."

"No." Blair changed directions and went behind the bike this time. A second later his path was blocked again as Buck laid rubber in a tight arc. "Stop that."

"I'm not going to tell you again, get on the bike." Buck jerked a thumb over his shoulder.

Blair stuck his chin out. "I'm not going back. I'm going home."

"Right now, your home is down that dirt road, kid." Buck flicked a switch and silence fell. The man lowered his voice to a menacing whisper. "I told your mom I'd bring you back, got that? I made no promises as to what condition you'd be in."

That was a threat.

Blair felt his chest tighten. Was this guy going to hit him? He'd heard about `kid abuse' before, from older kids at the communes that liked to scare the younger ones, but he never thought he'd be on the receiving end. Maybe he should rethink his plan. Maybe he should save up more money, enough to get a bus ticket to Florida. Did they cost more than the twenty-seven dollars he currently had stashed away in his pack? Blair tried not to let the doubt show. He lifted his chin.

"Your choice, Kid," Buck said, his face complete neutral as if he was discussing the weather. "Either way you're going back." The man leaned toward Blair. "I'm bigger, stronger... meaner."

Without a word, Blair stepped forward. Buck moved his boot off the footrest and Blair swung a leg up and over to sit behind the man. Buck started the bike up again with a downward kick. Blair couldn't be sure, but he thought he caught a comment before the motor roared to life and they spun around one hundred and eighty degrees. Blair's sense of survival hit and he grabbed the man's jacket as they shot off the road across the desert.

"Maybe he's brilliant after all," Buck muttered.

"Jim... Jim."

Relief arrived for Simon as he watched the sentinel blink. How many times had Jim fallen into a zone? Simon had lost count. An hour had passed since they had started this. Thankfully, the rain hadn't returned. Simon held the radio, taking over the duty of answering role call while standing around with nothing to do but worry about the man next to him, worry about him being in a zone or not, not knowing what to expect, not knowing what to do if he even recognized something was wrong. Simon was exhausted.

No longer would Simon ever belittle Blair's role in this weird business. It was hard work watching Jim's back.

"Shit, Jim. Tell me this isn't a normal day for you."

That brought a fond expression from the cop standing at his side. Jim rubbed his brow hard, pressing the fingertips from both hands into his skin and rotating them in tiny circles. "I get that question asked a lot, Sir. No, this is not my normal attempt. I'm really pushing it. So many sounds..."

"Maybe we should take a break," Simon suggested.

"I'd rather not. I'm finally getting the hang of telling the different heartbeats apart."

Simon was surprised. He turned his head to peer into the darkness of the park. "How many people are in there?" he asked.

"Animal heartbeats from human," Jim answered. "The smaller they are, the faster they beat. I think I'm picking up some nearby neighbors sleeping in their beds." He rubbed the back of his neck while rolling his head from shoulder to shoulder. "Okay, I'm going to try again."

Simon sighed, remembering the reason for this. He settled down to watch Jim as the sentinel tilted his head to listen.

Buck felt the ambulance slow.

The pressure in his chest was not so bad now, and for the hundredth time he wished Blair had listened to him and not called the emergency number. Buck was sure this was just a bad case of heartburn. And when the doctor confirmed it, Buck was going to give that kid a...

No.

Buck all too clearly recalled the look in Blair's eyes when the chest pain had started. Buck never could stand firm against that particular look. Not when Blair had been twelve and not now.

The damn trailer's water pump was acting up again.

As much as Buck hated going into the main house, he needed to fill up some water jugs until he could fix it, one jug for the small kitchen, another for the bathroom. Buck retrieved the empty plastic milk jugs sitting under his trailer and followed the trail to the back door of his father's house. Buck hadn't intended on living in the cramped camping trailer. Then again, he hadn't expected Eugene to return either. Buck hadn't asked, but he'd guessed his younger brother - by less than one year - had run out of money, again. Even though Buck now owned this land outright, he wasn't going to chase his brother off it.

At first, the land had been jointly theirs, fifty-fifty. But over the years, while Buck was in the Navy, his brother had written letters and begged Buck to buy out his share. It was always the same yarn, some get rich quick scheme that needed capital. Buck had just gotten into the habit of sending the bulk of his checks to his brother, until He had finally decided to say good-bye to his military life. By now, all the land and the house belonged to Buck.

Slipping quietly through the back door, Buck headed for the sink. He could hear talk drifting in from the living room and tuned it out. As the water filled the first jug, he let his eyes roam over the kitchen. It looked nice. The windows sparkled, the floor was swept and all the surfaces free of dust. A twinge of nostalgia hit, a time when he and his brother had happily lived here with their parents.

Before the phone call.

"No!"

Buck shook his head in mild disbelief. Didn't that kid ever agree to anything? Last week when he'd hauled Blair back on the dirt bike - Buck still had a hard time believing that runt had walked all the way to the main road - he'd dropped the kid off with his mom and made a point of staying out of their business.

Now it would seem another crisis had hit.

He listened to Naomi answer, unable to clearly understand her words, just enough to know she was trying to talk her son into whatever it was she wanted. Buck rolled his eyes. No wonder that kid was such a brat. His own mother and father had never discussed an order with him or his brother. They were told once and that was it. The next `discussion' usually involved his dad's hand, the barn and not being able to sit for an hour or so.

"I'm not going, Naomi! You're just trying to get rid of me so you and `The Jerk' can do stuff together!"

"What's the problem? You've made it clear you don't want to be here. And it's just a few months," Eugene answered hotly, his loud voice reaching the kitchen. "We can't take you with us."

Uh oh. Buck didn't like the sound of that. Naomi might be a flake, but his take on the woman hadn't included her shipping the brat off somewhere. Sure, he was a pain, but Buck had admired the kid's grit. What was his brother doing? Had he managed to convince the woman to do something she normally wouldn't? Hell, Eugene always had a way with women. Buck never understood it.

Buck moved, just enough so he could see the drama unfold. Naomi sat on the sofa, her attention on the boy standing in the center of the room. Eugene stood with his back to the kitchen. Buck recognized the arrogant manner in that stance. Blair was turned so Buck could see his face, see the fear. Damn, the kid looked so young. Skinny and undersized for his age, Buck wondered if this Naomi woman knew a growing kid needed protein. Right now Blair's attention was on his mother, ignoring Eugene. "Naomi... I-I don't want to. I want to stay with you," he said in a small but determined voice.

"Baby, sometimes we have to go along with the plan. You know, for the greater good of the whole? This is one of those times. Eugene has a good chance to get some backing. We'll be traveling a lot. And you won't like it. It's better if you stay with Shag-dog and Izzy in Kansas."

"NO!" Blair stomped his foot, his hands clutching the air as if grasping for understanding. "They hate me! Florida, Naomi. Send me to Florida if I gotta go!"

Naomi shook her head, her long hair swinging. "I tried, sweetie. I tried. They won't take you without an adult. It's the rules. Remember?" She looked hesitant.

"Naomi, don't," Eugene growled. "We talked about this."

Naomi straightened with a nod and Buck knew then the runt was going to Kansas.

Shit.

What kind of name was Shag-dog?

Then Buck found himself staring into Blair's eyes as the kid acknowledged his new audience for the first time. It was as if a final wisp of straw had floated down to land on the boy's already heavily burdened back. Face red and eyes heavy with sudden tears, Blair broke for the door and was gone.

Buck felt haunted by those eyes. "Leave him with me this summer." The words were out before he could pull them back.

Jim ran.

The suspect could very possibly be an Olympic runner. He, or she - Jim still didn't know yet - had no problem keeping the distance between them from closing. In fact, Jim thought he was falling behind. The pursuit quickly took them out of the park and into the neighboring commercial district. Simon followed; Jim could hear the heavy breathing and leather soled shoes slapping the asphalt parking lot. Leaning forward and pumping his arms in hopes of gaining more speed from his body, Jim zoomed his vision down the dark back alley of the strip mall for any sign of the killer.

Nothing.

Damn, Jim would have to rely on his hearing until he could get close enough to catch a glimpse. If he could get close enough.

Behind him, Simon was trying to run and talk on the portable radio at the same time. Jim felt guilty, but he was happy his captain had taken the job off his hands. Let Simon co-ordinate the chase. Some of the manpower had stayed behind to help the victim, still wrapped in a sheet and very much alive. If nothing else went right tonight, Jim took some comfort in the fact one woman wasn't going to the morgue for an autopsy.

Jim reached the back corner of the long building and turned, certain the suspect wasn't waiting to ambush him. He could still hear the running feet, the steady breathing, the rapid heart rate and knew he was far ahead. Looking down the wide alley between the buildings and seeing no one, Jim squeezed a bit more speed from his legs, hoping for a view of the suspect once he reached the front of the buildings.

Columbia Basin Memorial Hospital's ER room was ready for them. Blair waited nervously as Buck's gurney rolled out from the back of the ambulance. The emergency medical crew raised the bed on telescoping legs before maneuvering it through the double glass doors. Blair hovered closely, not really registering the wide, sterile hospital corridors, shiny waxed floor or competent staffing within. They took him to a treatment room. Blair didn't get to stay, though. A no-nonsense woman with a teal blue nursing uniform hooked Blair by the arm and firmly drew him out.

"We're going to need some information, honey," she explained. "Are you family?"

"Yeah... no, I'm sort of..."

She nodded. "You know enough to fill these out for us?" She brought him to a counter where a short stack of clipboards waited.

Blair kept his neck twisted; head turned to watch Buck as the staff of nurses and a doctor rolled a machine near and started connecting electrodes. Tubing was switched from portable oxygen bottles to a metal spigot suspended from the ceiling. Then his view was cut off by the swish of fabric as a woman screened Buck's treatment from those watching from the hallway.

Blair felt a pat on his arm.

"I know this is the last thing you want to do right now," the paperwork lady said understandingly. "But your friend really needs to have these filled out. It helps the doctor to know everything he can about his patient."

A clipboard was pushed into his hands. Blair stared at it stupidly for a few seconds.

"Maybe you should sit down," she suggested.

Yeah, Blair moved his wooden feet, concentrating on keeping upright. His body wanted to shake apart, his relief was so great. They were in a hospital now. Buck was still alive and was getting help. Everything was going to be fine.

God, please let everything be fine.

Twelve year-old Blair kicked a dirt clod, watching it explode into a brown cloud.

His life sucked, major.

Naomi and The Jerk had left a few hours ago. Naomi had been all teary eyed and hugs, but Blair had acted like none of that mattered. Even though it did.

What was she thinking? She was breaking all the rules. No big deal that Blair was on his own, he was twelve now. That was pretty damn old. But, in the past when she'd left him behind while she went to a protest or something, he had been happy to stay with friends, even getting a say in where he went.

This was wrong. Naomi hadn't even listened to him, as if his opinion no longer mattered.

This was all The Jerk's fault.

Blair kicked another clod. This one was harder and it shot across the hard desert ground to land under a scruffy looking dusty green bush. Blair steered wide, recognizing and remembering all those ticks with a shudder.

"Hey!"

Blair turned.

Buck strode toward him on the faint trail, looking irritated - which pretty much seemed to be his constant mood. The man had insisted he be called Mr. Stevens, but Blair mentally stayed with Buck. The tall man arrived, the open weave of the straw cowboy-style hat casting a funny pattern of shadow and light down his face. He planted two fists on his hips and cocked his head to one side.

"Okay, kid. Let's establish the rules."

"Rules?" Could this day get any weirder? Blair tilted his head back to squint up at the adult in wonder. "What rules?"

"Number one - and this is a big one - I'm the boss," Buck said. "Number two - you will not wander off without telling me where you're going."

Blair looked around him. He had followed a trail that led north-east from the house and discovered the canyon actually forked. The part heading east looked pretty interesting. "I'm not wandering, I'm exploring."

"Refer back to number one, runt," Buck demanded. He jerked a thumb southward. "Start marching. Your exploring privilege just got yanked."

Blair liked to think he wasn't afraid of this guy. But the truth was hard to deny. When Buck said something in his low and gravely voice, it made Blair's gut tighten. When he leveled Blair with that steel-hardened gaze, Blair wanted to hide. Maybe Kansas would have been better. Sure, Blair would have been bored to tears, when he wasn't running from those creeps-for-kids that Izzy and Shag-dog spawned. Blair didn't enjoy getting shoved around by those two brothers who loved to find new ways to torment him. But this guy... he looked like he knew a hundred ways to kill you and three times as many ways to hide the body where no one would ever find it.

Without a word, Blair walked back toward the house.

The next morning Blair woke to a sharp rap on the door.

"Breakfast."

The temperature of the room was cool and Blair huddled down under his blanket. Buck had to be kidding. The window's curtains were open. It wasn't even light out. Yesterday Buck had moved his stuff into the other room, making it clear Blair wasn't going to have the house to himself. They'd eaten a boring meal of pinto beans and cornbread. There was a side plate of roast beef, but Blair knew better than to touch it, Naomi was constantly preaching the vegetarian lifestyle to him. After that Buck gave Blair orders to clean the kitchen while he'd gone back out to that little trailer of his and worked on some project. By the time he'd come back into the house and cleaned up, Blair was already in his bedroll on the foam mattress, reading his book.

Instinctively, Blair reached out, making sure nothing had happened to his book while he had slept. It was just where he'd left it, a few inches from his head on the floor. Fingertips touched the rough weave of the hard cloth binding. No matter where he and Naomi ended up, as long as he had his books to read, it was okay. Sometimes the book was lost or - during the worst possible times - callously destroyed, but Naomi always made a point of finding him another.

This one was on Greek mythology and Blair really liked the stories.

"I'm not calling you again," came the terse order from the back of the house.

With a groan, Blair rolled out of the blankets and stood.

This time the meal consisted of eggs, leftover cornbread and sausage. Blair couldn't help it. He loved the smell of sausage. Once, when Naomi wasn't looking, he took a bite. To this day, he had vivid memories of how that taste had exploded in his mouth. That same smell lingered heavily in the kitchen.

"What are you waiting for? There's plenty." Buck sat at the table, his own plate filled with eggs, several sausages and a buttered square of yellow bread. He had a well-worn manual with diagrams of car engines opened next to his plate, studying the picture as he carefully chewed.

Blair couldn't resist. A sausage found its way to his plate.

An hour later found Blair standing at the perimeter of a large vegetable garden.

"Work between the rows, take care not to damage the plants on top of the ridges, or we'll be missing vegetables on the table this summer," Buck explained.

"Why do I have to do this? What are you going to do?" Blair thought it was a fair question.

The sun was still absent over the eastern cliff, but there was plenty of light to see the deep frown on the man's face. "We both have chores to do. I'll be working on the truck. You're going to weed the garden." He extended a hand toward Blair, offering him the long wooden handle of a hoe. "You and `Old Guss'."

Blair took the garden tool. "You name your hoe?"

Buck snorted. "At least you know what it's called."

"Hey, I know how to work in a garden," Blair replied insolently. "I just don't like to work in a garden."

"Watch the mouth, runt. Or you'll be spending every day and evening out here until your mother comes back."

Whatever. Blair rolled his shoulders and glared at his tennis shoes.

Buck took off his hat and scratched his head. "After we get our chores done, we'll have some time to relax."

"Why can't we relax now and work later?" Blair couldn't help but ask. "It's not even daytime yet."

That seemed to amuse the man. "Believe me. You don't want to be working when the sun's up in the sky. According to the weatherman, today's going to be a hot one." Buck left, disappearing around the corner of the house in the direction of the barn.

Blair messed around in the dirt up and until Buck returned a few hours later. The sun had inched its way over the rim of the cliff but not directly overhead yet. Blair stopped his halfhearted attempts with the hoe. At least he hadn't been caught in one of his long breaks.

"This is all you've got done?" Buck's hands were marred with black grease and his jeans were dusty as if he'd been sitting and kneeling in dirt.

Blair tossed the hoe away, letting its handle fall to the ground, not caring when a few delicate looking plants took a direct hit. Yeah, he'd been working sort of slow, but he was bored. "Listen, man, I didn't ask to sign on to this prison camp. Who are you, my warden?" It felt good to vent. He copied the adult's stance from yesterday and planted his own small fists on his jeans-covered hips.

Buck acted as if Blair hadn't said a word. He glanced at the garden in obvious disapproval. Moving forward, he brought down his boot toe on the metal blade of the hoe. The handle sprung off the ground and he caught it neatly with his left hand, while his right hand caught Blair's upper arm. "Come on."

"Hey!" Blair didn't like the way the man was pulling him toward the kitchen door. Once inside the kitchen, Blair was turned loose with a small push toward the sink.

"Wash up."

Blair quickly washed the dirt from his hands. With a surprising move, both hands were captured while he reached for the small towel draped over a hook on the wall. "Hey," he repeated.

Buck inspected Blair's hands, running his thumbs over the palms. "No calluses, yet. Still, you're going to need some gloves. We'll pick some up."

"Calluses?" Blair was starting to wonder if this guy had a mental problem or something.

Buck washed up, then opened the old refrigerator and pulled out a jug of ice tea. He nodded toward the kitchen table. "Sit."

Mental patients could be dangerous when upset. Blair sat.

Filling two plastic glasses with tea and adding sugar, Buck sat at the table, placing one glass in front of Blair before taking a long drink. Wiping his lip with a hand, he studied Blair silently a minute before finally speaking. "A few more rules need covering. But let's get some things settled before we talk about rules, okay? This is not a prison. I am not a warden. I've seen prisons, met wardens - so I know the difference."

Blair's mind scratched mental problems and instantly leaped to escaped convict.

Shit, Naomi really screwed up big time. She's likely to find just a grave by the time she returned for him.

"You are the kid. I am the adult," Buck continued, pointing first a finger at Blair then transforming his hand to point his thumb back at himself. He spoke slowly, as if to a young child. "That makes me the boss. Keep referring back to that first rule if you get confused. Now... chores come first, that's rule number three. Whatever fun you might get to have - if your mouth lets you - comes after that." Buck took another drink.

Wait a second, what happened to the second rule? Then Blair remembered. No wandering off without permission. God, this guy should come with a reference manual. Blair decided to try the tea. It was cool and sweet and he hadn't realized how thirsty he had been until it slipped down his dry throat. He spoke after draining half the glass. His brain caught up to the last part of Buck's speech. "What kind of fun?"

Buck shrugged. "Swimming, fishing, hiking, dirt biking..."

Blair nearly fell out of his chair. "A-are you shitting me?" No one ever said anything about that kind of fun.

For some strange reason, Buck sighed. One hand covered his eyes. After a moment, he straightened and finished off his tea. "Well, that's what we do around here for fun, as soon as you're no longer grounded, that is."

"Grounded?" Blair looked at the floor. He felt like he needed his own instruction manual complete with warning labels around this guy. "What's grounded?"

When Simon caught up to Jim, he was breathing hard. The parking lot was empty save a few cars left over for unknown reasons by their owners. Jim tilted his head, continuing to listen hard. The suspect had disappeared.

"Anything?" Simon gasped, still out of breath.

Jim shook his head in irritation. Blair knew better than to talk at the wrong times. Jim recalibrated his hearing and tried again. Why couldn't he hear this guy? Where had he gone? A moment of panic, of failure, hit his chest. Jim forced himself to ignore it and switched to smell. Something familiar had lingered back in the park when he and Simon had first found the woman. What was it? Jim studied the long row of closed businesses; a bookstore, one of those new cellular phone places that were popping up all over town, a Laundromat, a jewelry store and a dollar store.

The radio squawked for attention. Other officers demanded updates. Jim could hear their movements in the surrounding darkness, knowing each police team would be carrying a similar radio, tuned to the same frequency. Hearing the stereo-like effect of the radio's simultaneous sounds identified them as cops, not the killer.

Back to the smell, what the hell was it? So familiar...

"A smell..."

Simon grunted.

Jim looked over at his friend, mildly disappointed. But it wasn't Simon's fault. Not that Jim and Blair ever had a rule book to consult when they'd first started, but Simon was missing the point of why he was along. Blair would have been all over Jim's comment. Teasing, pushing and pulling, until together they had identified the smell.

Damn it.

Jim closed his eyes and focused. The ridiculous image of a mountain meadow, crowded with wild flowers appeared in his mind.

Wonderful. They were trying to catch a killer and all he could think about was camping.

There was no more room on his body for anymore of those sticky pads to go. Buck watched the nurse zero in on a patch of skin on his chest. A small disposable razor descended and he felt the minute pulls as more of his chest hair fell victim under her hand. Another patch with a connecting wire found its place on his body. Buck silently endured.

This was ridiculous. There was no history of heart disease in his family. He had even told the doctor this fact, but these people weren't listening to him. They wanted to play with their machines and read charts. It reminded him of the Navy, of technicians and officers that would ignore the field reports he and his men provided, insisting on pushing forward with the plan.

Buck glanced toward the doorway and saw a sheet of fabric, hung from a track that was mounted in the ceiling surrounded him. Blair must be handling the paperwork, taking care of him. Buck smiled. Who was he kidding? Blair's first week with him had shown Buck how adept - even at twelve - the kid had been at taking care of him.

If Buck had had any idea how miserable living with a moody and surly twelve year-old was going to be, he would have reenlisted for another stint in the Navy. Day two of Blair's punishment had every indication of being worse than the first.

"I'm just saying," Blair repeated for the third time that morning as he haphazardly worked on cleaning out the junk from the corner of the barn, "that it's not fair to get punished when you're not told there could be a punishment."

Buck chose to answer this time, even though he was pretty sure the kid wasn't listening. Sprawled on his back under his old GMC truck, he glanced down his supine body to see a tiny pair of tennis shoes pass. It was starting to look as if the runt was actually getting some work done. "Every action has a consequence, kid."

"Well, this consequence sucks."

Buck strained to loosen the bolt overhead, refraining from answering. At least Blair wasn't cussing today. What rule was that? Buck was starting to lose count. He'd need to start a chart. The truck rocked a little from his efforts and he instantly checked to see if the old jack was doing its job. He had the truck's front left tire off in order to get access to the brake drum. It was due for replacement. He tuned out Blair's petty complaining and tried again, putting more muscle into turning the bolt.

With a sudden jolt, the wrench moved, the bolt loosened...

And the jack kicked out. The heavy frame shuddered and started to drop. Buck didn't even have time to close his eyes before it hit with a...

...Loud metallic sounding boom?

Buck gasped in surprise, expecting - but not feeling - the pain. Not sparing a half second to question the unexplainable broken law of physics, Buck shot out from under the GMC, his shoulder knocking over an open toolbox. Wrenches, hammers and hose clamps spilled over the hard packed dirt floor.

"You okay?" Blair asked in a scared voice.

Buck sized up the scene. A metal ammo box, battered and old, had been shoved under the GMC's frame, less than a foot from where he had lain. Blair knelt by the truck, both hands still on the ammo box. He must have been carrying it when the jack started to go. God, this kid was fast on his feet when he put his mind to it.

The truck twitched, still looking for a way to fall to the ground. Buck reacted without thinking, snatching the startled child away. He rose on shaky legs, Blair still in his arms. One of Blair's hands felt sticky as the kid grabbed his neck. Buck smelled blood.

"Let me see," Buck demanded, using one arm to support Blair on his hip while capturing the hand to get a look. A ragged rip in Blair's palm flowed with blood.

Blair's breath hitched. "Ow, ow, ow..." he hissed softly, wide eyed.

He set Blair down on the ground. The cut needed cleaning.

The truck shuddered one more time as the old ammo box crumbled. The front wheel's axle dug into the dirt with all the weight of the large engine bearing down. Buck and Blair stared together at the tilted vehicle.

"You ready for an ice tea break, kid?" Buck asked in an oddly strangled voice.

Blair nodded his head. "Shit, yeah."

He'd overlook that rule violation.

Somehow, Buck managed to walk back to the house without collapsing, all the while unconsciously rubbing a hand over his undamaged chest. He took Blair into the bathroom and sat him on the closed toilet lid. Blair didn't protest while Buck examined the damage. The ragged cut was only an inch, but on such a small hand, it looked enormous. Buck didn't like the way the wound gapped. The kid needed stitches.

"When was your last tetanus shot?" Buck asked.

Blue eyes widened. "Shots?"

Buck cleaned the blood off and examined the hand carefully. "'When's the last time your mom took you to the doctor?"

"Ah, I had a cold when I was seven. We went to a clinic." Blair gasped as Buck gently probed the area for possible embedded pieces from the box.

Buck remembered the rust on the ammo box. "I think we're looking at a trip into town."

After wrapping the hand, Buck had the kid lay down on the sofa and fetched him some ice tea. With orders not to move, he left Blair alone to get the truck ready to drive. He replaced the wheel, relieved to see it still fit. The brake shoe was worn, but it should get them into Soap Lake. The old truck started without a complaint and Buck drove it out of the barn and left it running while he went back into the house to collect the kid. He carefully buckled Blair into the passenger seat and they were off. Blair silently cradled his injured left hand in his lap. Both windows were down and the breeze that blew into the cab made the temperature in the truck bearable.

Three quarters of an hour later they parked in front of a single story clinic, the only medical facility in Soap Lake. It wasn't much; a small building and a gravel parking lot, but Buck preferred it to the new hospital in Moses Lake. Blair stared at the building in obvious trepidation. The kid's hair stood on end, curls filled out by wind, reminding Buck of those Raggedy Andy dolls.

"My hand's fine," Blair said in a scared voice. "Can't we just skip this?"

Buck tilted his head as he looked down at the pale face. "When the infection gets bad, they cut off the hand to save the patient."

Blue eyes widened in horror.

The clinic's lobby was as warm as the parking lot. But they were lucky. It wasn't crowded. An elderly woman sat by herself in the waiting room. It wouldn't be a long wait. It had been years since Buck had visited the clinic. Things were just as he remembered. The furnishings were old and mismatched, but clean. A boxy radio played softly on low bookshelf filled with miscellaneous books and toys designed to keep waiting kids busy. The Eagles were playing, `Heartache Tonight'. A receptionist, probably another kid fresh out of high school, greeted them with a toothy smile. While Buck filled out the required paperwork, an elderly man came out from the back room, collected the old woman and left.

"Buck Stevens, you old dog," a woman's voice called out happily.

"Hi, Patty," Buck answered.

The newcomer wore a pale yellow doctor's smock, her lavender stethoscope slung around her neck. She had a hefty build that reminded Buck of their high school days when they both worked part-time at a local dairy. Patty could single-handedly muscle a cow into the milk barn. The doctor looked down at Blair, her smile widening. She had a friendly, honest looking face framed by soft brown curls. "Hello there, what's wrong with your hand?"

Blair's body language broadcasted his lack of interest in anything which involved talking to the doctor. "Nothin'."

"Cut on a rusty metal box," Buck explained. "Kid saved my life."

Patty looked surprised, assessing Blair with obvious interest. "Really? You did? You realize what that means, right?"

In spite of Blair's reluctance, he showed some interest. "What?"

"Well," she drawled, while gently guiding Blair into the back room with a gentle hand on his shoulder. "The Chinese have a tradition about when one person saves another person's life."

"They do?" Blair's voice carried back as he disappeared into the treatment area.

Buck shook his head, unable to keep from rolling his eyes. Same old Patty, always had a story for every circumstance. The woman loved to read about faraway places. Yet Buck doubted she'd ever left the state. All her money and energy had gone toward earning her medical degree from the University of Washington. Buck finished up the forms, listing Blair as a nephew. He'd talk to Patty later about the unusual situation. She'd understand. The priority here was getting the kid patched up. They'd deal with the fallout of treating a minor without the legal guardian's permission later.

Buck handed the clipboard over, along with his credit card. After the receptionist made the swipe, leaving the amount for Patty to fill in later, Buck slipped into the back of the clinic to watch.

Blair sat on the exam table, looking pathetically small. The injured hand rested in the kid's lap. Patty was busy giving an injection; probably something to numb the hand. Buck watched Blair's face scrunch. But he didn't cry out. He didn't jerk his hand away while Patty murmured soft encouragements. When the shot was done, she patted his shoulder.

"Let's give that a second to take, then I'll show you a cool stitch I learned."

Blair sniffed his reply, seemingly resigned to put up with the medical treatment. Patty left him to gather his thoughts and maybe spare him further embarrassment. She joined Buck, pulling him back out into the short hallway.

"Who is this kid?" she asked.

"Son of Eugene's latest," Buck replied quietly, knowing Patty wouldn't push it. She had been resistant to Eugene's ways from the beginning, which was another reason Buck liked her. "He really did save me, Patty. I got stupid with the truck. The jack slipped out, would've crushed me. The kid slammed an ammo box under the frame."

"You idiot," Patty admonished, but her eyes widened with surprise as she leaned back to look in on her patient. She turned back to Buck. "That little guy? What is he, nine? Ten?"

"Twelve, as of last week."

She frowned. "He's way under his weight percentile, Buck. He needs some protein, fat and carbs. What's his medical history?"

"No clue, he said he went to a clinic five years ago."

"For crying out..." Patty cut her own sentence off, rubbing a large hand over her mouth. "Okay, okay. Let's do a tetanus; I don't want to start any antibiotics unless I have to. You did a decent job cleaning him up. But watch it okay? And get him some vitamins and on a good diet."

"Already going there. So, how many stitches?" Buck asked.

"Not too many, three or four," Patty answered. "How long is he staying with you?"

"A couple of months. They weren't too clear on dates." Buck frowned, a thought coming to mind. "Hopefully before the next school year starts. I didn't think about that."

She slapped his arm. "I'm just glad you're keeping him, and not that worthless brother of yours. I'll get him stitched up. Go make an appointment with Julie. Two weeks. He'd better have a couple pounds on him by the time I take those stitches out or I'll smash your face into some cow dung again." She wagged her finger in a mock-threat as her eyes sparkled with mischief.

Buck growled. "Now I remember why I left to join the Navy. You're a bully."

Later, while pursuing the aisles at the local grocery store, Blair seemed to tap into a fresh energy source.

"Why's this town called Soap Lake?"

"It's named after that lake we passed on the way in." Buck leaned over the waist high case of cut and packaged beef, feeling like indulging in something different for dinner. His hand drifted toward a package of beef liver.

"Why?" Blair was sorting through a freestanding display case, picking up bottles of marinades and reading the labels. He sported a new bandage that covered his left palm in a figure eight wrap.

"If you drink the water, it'll taste like soap." Buck switched to a beef tongue. He'd never get the kid to eat liver. He added a few pounds of hamburger to the stuff in the cart.

"You guys dump soap into your water supply? You gotta be kidding. Do you know how bad that is? You're polluting the planet."

A middle aged couple stood near by, the woman sniggering softly as she covered her lower face with a hand.

Tossing a package of bacon in, Buck pushed the cart ahead. "Come on, runt. Let's buy this stuff and go."

At the cashier, he added a bag of ice. A small icebox sat in the truck bed, nothing fancy, just something to store his perishables for the long drive back to Dry Falls. They had two more stops to make. Buck needed to pick up a part to repair that water pump, then he wanted to treat the kid for being a trooper during the doctor visit. The idea came to him as they'd shopped. The last couple of nights, when locking up the house at night, he'd check on the kid, finding him asleep, holding a book. Blair was obviously an avid reader. Buck turned into a gravel parking lot and turned off the engine.

Blair's eyes widened when he saw the used bookstore. "We're going in?"

"Thought you might like to pick out a book, my treat," Buck explained as he turned off the engine. "Can't spend too long, though; need to get these groceries home."

The bookstore had once been a house. The rooms were gutted. Walls were fitted with shelves. Wide passageways between each room held signs suspended from the ceiling that pointed to areas of interest: mysteries, science fiction, non-fiction and others. The place was well lit and smelled of musty books and cinnamon.

"Hey, Buck. Decided to rejoin the civilian world, I see."

"Hi, Warren." Buck raised a hand to greet the old man sitting in a comfortable looking brown recliner. Books surrounded his chair in tall stacks. Slips of papers stuck out from their pages. On a metal TV dinner tray, a small color TV was playing a daytime soap opera. The sound was too low to hear any dialogue.

The owner placed a long bony finger between the pages of a large book with a tooled leather cover and peered at Blair over the top of his reading glasses. "Who do ya have here?"

"This is Blair Sandburg," Buck introduced. "He's staying with me this summer. Blair, this is Mister Shores."

"Hi," Blair greeted the owner, his face still displaying wonder. "You own all these books?"

"Sure do," Warren answered. "Do you like to read?" When Blair nodded, he continued. "What do you fancy?"

"Excuse me?"

"What do you like to read?" Warren asked.

Blair looked at the shelves of books, then craned his head to peer into the other rooms. "Books mostly. But sometimes magazines."

The bookkeeper laughed. Long wisps of white hair that had escaped from his ponytail waved back and forth around his face as he shook his head in amusement.

"How about a book that explains Soap Lake?" Buck suggested. "In fact, I think I recall a book in here that tells how Dry Falls was formed."

"Really? I'd like that one." Blair turned to Warren. "Do you have one like that? Does it say how those big boulders ended up in the middle of nowhere?"

"Umm..." Warren set his book on a nearby stack and unfolded his spindly form from his chair. "You might be in luck, young man. Follow me."

In a smaller room that might have once been a bedroom, Warren searched the shelves and pulled out a book by the spine. "Here we are, a good copy, published two years ago. You're going to enjoy reading this. For years and years, no one would listen to old J Harlen Bretz. Then about ten years ago, no one could deny his theory. It's all in here."

Blair eagerly accepted the book. Buck recognized the title: "The Magnificent Gateway - a Layman's Guide to the geology of the Columbia River Gorge" by J. E. Allen. He'd almost bought it for himself. If the kid didn't like it, Buck would keep it. "Bretz must be pushing ninety."

Warren sighed. "He passed away last February. Ninety-eight."

Buck hadn't heard that. "That's a shame. He was a smart guy."

"No argument there. You heard he got the Penrose Medal? That's the nation's highest geological award. Didn't you tell me you met him once?"

Buck nodded. "I was about Blair's age. Bretz was in his seventies, still doing field expeditions. Had a bunch of college kids with him."

"That man was amazing," Warren admitted. "He walked over every patch of Eastern Washington. I'm glad he lived to see the scientific world come around to seeing the validity of his theory."

Buck nodded, checking his watch. "So, runt, that the book you want?"

Caught in the act of thumbing through the pages, he looked up with a smile. "Thanks, man. This is so cool."

Buck nodded, feeling pleased with his idea. When the kid wasn't whining or demanding his way, he was actually pretty good company. He reached for his wallet as they walked back to the front room together.

Warren hand wrote the receipt. "By the way, did those guys find your brother?"

"What guys?" Buck fished a five out and set it on the counter.

Warren counted out the change. "I overheard a couple of men yesterday, looking for Eugene. I didn't even know your brother was back in town."

Buck pocketed his change. "Already come and gone."

Jim felt the cell phone vibrate against his rib. Out of habit, he pulled it out and flipped it open. He might as well; he had no idea where to look for this guy. He could have gone anywhere. It irked him that he'd gotten so close to this creep and still managed to lose him.

"Ellison," Jim whispered.

"Jim? Buck's at the hospital in Moses Lake now, we just got here."

"That's good, Chief." Jim absentmindedly scrubbed a palm over his mouth. He could hear Simon coordinating the search. It was not known if the suspect was still within the business area or had cut back into the park, or even pressed further down the street toward another residential neighborhood. "Thought I'd be able to wrap this up, but I lost our suspect."

"What?" Blair's sound of astonishment caused Jim to grimace. "You lost him? What happened?"

"Basically, he ran faster than I ran," Jim explained with dry annoyance.

"Okay, okay. What about hearing, you try listening?"

"Yeah, no luck."

"How about smell, pick up anything?"

"Yeah, but I can't place it, gave me an image of a mountain meadow."

"Really? Some place you've been before maybe?" Blair asked hopefully.

"No, not like that." Jim shook his head. "I'm firing blanks, Sandburg. It's just not working tonight."

"Wait, Jim. Don't discredit yourself so fast. Think association, man. Your brain's making a logical connection; you're just not seeing it yet. Forget location, think more scent. This is what's causing the image, anyway."

Then suddenly, it made sense. "Gotta go, Chief!" He slammed the phone shut and turned to Simon. "The sheet!"

"What?" Simon broke off from his radio conversation, giving his attention to Jim.

They were still tucked out of sight near the corner of the building. The long row of storefronts stretched out before them. Jim looked down the businesses, seeing the one he figured would be there. "Simon, that scent is the same one I get whenever I pick up my cleaning. It's some `mountain freshness' crap they advertise. I smelled the same thing on the sheet. All the victims were found in a sheet, right?"

"Right, and no damn physical evidence to go along with it," Simon answered.

Jim pointed. "Let's start with that dry cleaners. There's a van parked out front."

"You're basing this on a smell?"

"I know it's slim, but all the victims were found in parks near a commercial strip. Seems to me they had a dry cleaner business, right?" Jim liked this theory more and more as he explained it. "What if the killer is making nightly deliveries to the cleaners? Could they all be ordering from the same company?"

Simon nodded. "Riight... I see your point. Okay, Jim. Let's do it."

If you enjoyed this story, please send feedback to LKY

Home

[an error occurred while processing this directive]