Disclaimer: The characters depicted within this story do not belong to us, but are the property of Pet Fly, UPN, Paramount and The SciFi Channel. No money has been made from the writing of this story.

  Note from the Authors: In our Sentinel universe, the events depicted in "The Sentinel by Blair Sandburg" did not occur. Therefore, any "canonical" references that may be found in this story are related to episodes up to and including "Most Wanted."

  Dedication: This series is dedicated to friendship, for only through caring for others can we truly find a sense of peace and belonging.

  Guilty Until Proven Innocent

  Part Eighteen of "The Progressions" Series

  by Beth Manz and

  Shiloh < mailto:sandyb26@juno.com?>

  Part One

  "Ellison! My office!"

  Jim looked up from his desk as the captain's booming voice reached him. He blinked against the onslaught and wondered how Simon would react if he knew his voice actually rattled glass at times-though only Jim, with his sentinel senses, could detect the minute vibrations.

  But any amusement Jim may have felt over the idea of presenting Simon with such information was immediately quenched as his gaze came to rest on the man already inside the captain's office. Detective Ray Hernandez. Homicide Detective Ray Hernandez.

  Jim frowned as he stood. This can't be good. Weaving between the desks, he reached the captain's office and stepped inside.

  "Close the door," Simon ordered.

  Jim complied, his curiosity growing stronger with each passing second.

  "Jim," Simon began even as he turned back to face the two men, "I believe you know Detective Hernandez."

  Jim nodded, extending a hand and offering the detective a warm smile. "Haven't seen you in a while, Ray. How are things down in Homicide?"

  "Busy," Ray answered, reaching out to shake Jim's hand. "Too busy."

  Ellison grimaced. "I hear that."

  "Jim, where's Sandburg today?" Simon asked, the no-nonsense tone in his voice clearly alerting the sentinel that the question wasn't intended as casual conversation.

  "Um, he's home," Jim answered slowly as his mind began to speculate why Simon might be inquiring into Blair's whereabouts. "His doctor wants him to rest for at least a few more days." His gaze shifted from Banks to Hernandez and back again. "Look guys, he's only been out of the hospital for a couple of days. I really don't want to involve him in any cases right now if that's what this is about."

  "No, no," Simon assured him. "I just wanted to make sure you knew where he was."

  Jim gave his captain a confused look. "Should I tell him you were asking about him?" he asked dryly, hoping to inject a bit of levity into the serious nature of the two men.

  "You're sure he'll stay there?" Simon pressed, ignoring the question. "At home, I mean?"

  "Yes. Why?" Jim crossed to the captain's desk and stared down at Simon, folding his arms across his chest and making a concerted effort to ignore the knot of worry that was forming in his stomach. "What's this all about, sir?"

  "I can answer that for you, Jim," Hernandez spoke up from where he had seated himself on the edge of Simon's desk. The detective's gaze was dark, intense, and deep frown lines were etched in his forehead. "Day before yesterday, Homicide got a tip that a man was looking to put a hit out on you."

  A huff of contemptuous laughter passed Jim's lips. "A hit? On me?"

  "This is serious, Jim. Someone wanted you dead."

  The detective shrugged his shoulders. "So I have a few enemies out there. What cop doesn't?" Again, he glanced between Hernandez and Captain Banks. "But what does all of this have to do with Sandburg?"

  Hernandez drew in a deep breath and exhaled it slowly. "He wanted Sandburg offed as well. And he was willing to pay twenty-five thousand dollars to make sure the job got done."

  Jim ran a hand back across his hair as the knot in his stomach tightened. "What the hell," he muttered to no one in particular. He looked over at Ray. "Did you catch the guy? How worried should I be about this?"

  Hernandez waved a hand, dismissing Jim's fears. "We sent one of our best men undercover for the meet last night." The detective smiled a bit. "And just to show you that we schmucks down in Homicide know how to do our jobs, we even managed to tape the meet. The whole thing." He nodded toward Simon's television and VCR on the other side of the room.

  Jim licked nervously at his lips as moved toward the couch at the far end of Simon's office. He lowered himself down in front of the television. Banks and Hernandez joined him and a moment later the tape was turned on.

  The sentinel leaned forward and squinted, studying the grainy black and white video display. Hernandez' undercover man was at the center of the screen, leaning nonchalantly against a graffiti-scarred wall, picking idly at his fingernails-the epitome of cool detachment. Debris littered darkened doorways and the ground, and in the distance Jim could hear a woman's high-pitched laughter underscored by the voices of two men raised in anger. Okay, not one of the better areas of Cascade, he found himself thinking. No surprise there.

  He continued to stare at the picture before him, his patience wearing thin as seconds passed with no discernible action. He was just about to ask Hernandez to fast forward to the actual meet when a movement to the left of the screen caught his eye. Jim watched as a man stepped slowly out of the shadows. A hat was pulled low on his forehead, obscuring his face even as he stepped into a pool of light cast by an overhead street lamp.

  But then the camera zoomed in, framing the man's face in the screen, and Jim exhaled a small sound of surprise as he found himself staring at a face he knew-the face of Douglas Merrick.

  "Son of a bitch," he muttered to himself as he watched Hannah Merrick's father continue to move toward the undercover officer. Shifting closer to the screen, Jim focused in on the two men, waiting for them to begin speaking. Merrick wasted no time in getting to the point.

  "I want Sandburg done first," he said in a low voice, glancing briefly over his shoulder to make sure no one was close enough to listen in on his conversation. "And I want it done in front of Ellison. Then you can do Ellison. Take your time with the detective; I want him to hurt before he dies."

  "What about my money?" the cop asked casually. "This kinda thing ain't free, you know."

  "All taken care of."

  Jim's jaw tightened as he watched Douglas Merrick pull an envelope from his inside jacket pocket and hand it to the cop. "Ten now," Merrick told the police officer, "fifteen more when the job is done."

  The cop took the envelope, looked inside, and smiled. "Mr. Merrick," he said, removing a wallet from his pocket and flipping it open. "Cascade PD. You're under arrest for solicitation of murder. You have the right to remain silent..." The officer turned Merrick and cuffed him as he finished the Miranda warning. Around the two men, Homicide's backup moved in, quickly searching Merrick for concealed weapons then taking him into custody.

  Merrick responded to the bust more like a hardened criminal than a small town lawyer who'd probably never been in trouble with the law. The man never flinched. The smug expression on his face remained firmly in place as he was Mirandized and handcuffed. Jim watched in amazement as he was placed into a squad car and driven away. There were a few more seconds of unremarkable footage, then the tape turned to snow.

  "Where is he now?" Jim ground out, turning to face Hernandez.

  "Downstairs, cooling his heels in lockup. But like I said, he was arrested last night. There's a good chance he'll get out later today. I came by because I thought you and Captain Banks should be aware of what's going on. I get the feeling that once Merrick's out, he'll try this again, and we wanted you to be aware of what you were up against."

  Simon turned to Ellison. Spreading his hands, he said, "I can try to pull a few strings, Jim. Maybe get his arraignment pushed back a day or two so we have time to deal with this."

  "That'd help, sir."

  "But you know it's only a matter of time, Captain," Hernandez reminded Banks. "Merrick's an attorney; he knows the ins and outs of the system and he will get out. We can put a tail on him, but if he really wants to hire another hit man, he'll find a way to do it, even with us watching." The seasoned detective shook his head. "I hate to be the voice of gloom here, but depending on his contacts, he may already have another hit man lined up."

  "I'm afraid I have to agree," Simon put in.

  Jim nodded. "I'll keep that in mind."

  "Well, guys," Ray said, his gaze shifting between Jim and Simon, "I need to get going here. Let me know if I can help in any way."

  "Thanks, Ray. We appreciate your help." The captain moved toward the VCR and popped the tape out. "You'll be wanting this for evidence," he added wearily as he held the tape toward Hernandez.

  "You can keep it," Ray informed the captain. "It's a copy."

  Simon turned the tape over to Jim. "You should probably show this to your partner. Let him know what's going on."

  Jim nodded, staring down solemnly at the black case he held in his hand.

  "Ellison?"

  Jim looked toward Ray, who had moved across the office and was standing at Simon's office door.

  "You watch your partner's back. If Merrick does try this again, it's pretty clear he'll go after Sandburg first."

  "Don't worry," Jim replied coolly, "Merrick's not going to get anywhere near my partner."<

br />
  /

  /

  /

  "Hello?"

  "Chief, it's me," Jim spoke into the phone.

  "Hey, man! What's goin' on?"

  "Not much," Jim lied, his hand tightening around the receiver. "Just called to check in. Everything okay there?"

  "Yeah, everything's great."

  "How are you feeling?"

  "My shoulder's a little achy today but it's nothing I can't handle."

  "That's good." Jim hesitated for a moment, then took a deep breath and broached the reason for his call. "Listen, Chief...I need you do something for me."

  "Sure."

  "I...I need you to stay home. Can you do that?"

  There was a moment of stunned silence at the other end of the line, then a tolerant chuckle came across the line. "Um, I don't exactly think I have many other options here, Jim. I can't even walk from my bedroom to the balcony without getting totally out of breath. And let's not even mention the freaky golden halo I see around everything! Home is where I am and home is where I intend to stay."

  Jim sighed audibly, relieved that Blair was happy to remain in the loft. "Okay. Good," he replied quietly, immediately reprimanding himself as he heard the concern that radiated from his voice. He knew Blair well enough to know the kid would pick up on his worry and would call him on it. He didn't have long to wait....

  "Jim? What's wrong?"

  Ellison pinched at the bridge of his nose as he tried to decide how much he should tell his partner over the phone. He could hear Blair's slow footfalls in the background, the soft exhalation as his partner lowered himself into a chair or onto one of the couches. "You okay?" Sandburg's slightly winded voice reached him. "Talk to me, man."

  The detective rubbed his hand across his face, quickly deciding he wouldn't give Blair the details of what he'd found out from Hernandez. Not yet. The kid was at home, safe, and Merrick was still in jail. "I'll tell you all about it tonight," he promised. "For now I just need you to stay in the loft, okay? Promise me you'll do that?"

  There was another long pause. Jim could picture Blair's face creased with worry, his overactive imagination and innate curiosity racing in an effort to figure out what was going on. "Okay. Sure," Blair answered after several seconds, but the detective could hear the worry that lingered in his guide's tone.

  "Blair-I'll explain everything when I get home," he assured his partner. "For now just be sure the door is locked and if anyone shows up, don't answer. You got it?"

  "Well, I hope that doesn't include Dr. Stoddard, because he called just before you did. He'll be here in about twenty minutes. We planned to spend the afternoon working on my books."

  A wave of relief washed across Ellison. This was an unexpected...and pleasant...bit of news. Blair won't be alone... "No, Eli's fine," he told his partner, settling back into his desk chair and loosening the grip he had on the receiver. "Let Eli in, lock the door behind you, and see if you can't convince him to stay there for the afternoon."

  "No problem, man. I've already asked him to stay for dinner. In fact, I told him you were planning on picking up some takeout on the way home."

  Jim couldn't help but grin in spite of his worries. "Really? I don't remember having any plans along those lines."

  Blair snorted in amused tolerance. "But you do now, right?" he hinted.

  Jim's smile widened. "Takeout, huh? Okay, Sandburg, I'll bring dinner home. You happy now?"

  "Ecstatic," was Blair's cheeky reply. "Oh, Dr. Stoddard prefers Italian, by the way."

  The bold-faced lie actually elicited a light laugh from the detective. "Stop obfuscating, Chief. I happen to know for a fact that Eli's favorite is Chinese. If you wanted Italian, why didn't you just ask?"

  "And make it easy on you? C'mon, man!"

  /

  /

  /

  Jim scrawled his name into the visitor log and nodded for the officer on duty to open the barred door-the door that led to the temporary holding cells located on the subbasement level of the Cascade Police station. It wasn't often that Jim journeyed down to the bowels of the building. Most often the perpetrators of his city's crimes were handled face to face on the streets or in one of the station's many interrogation rooms.

  But this prisoner deserves a special visit...

  The detective walked behind the uniformed guard, purposely ignoring the inhabitants of the cells on either side of the tiled hall, his steely gaze fixed straight ahead. Suddenly, the guard stopped. "We're here," he announced, pointing to the cell at his left. Jim stepped around the officer and peered in to find Douglas Merrick reclining on the cell's lone cot. A fleeting sensation of disgust superimposed itself over the anger Jim was already feeling-even in jail the successful seemed to get their privileges, and Douglas Merrick was no different. Somehow the attorney had managed to get himself assigned to a private cell.

  Jim bit back his disgust as he turned and nodded at the guard, indicating that he wanted a moment alone with Merrick.

  "I have to stay with you, Detective," the guard informed him.

  "I realize that," Jim replied. "Just give us a little privacy."

  The guard nodded and moved back several feet. Within seconds he was engaged in small talk with one of the other prisoners, his distraction giving Jim the privacy he wanted. Ellison turned his attention back to Merrick. Moving close to the bars, he stared in at the man, noting the casual body language, the arrogance and disdain in Merrick's facial expression and dark eyes. And the malevolence. It was obvious to Jim that just beneath the calm exterior flowed a strong current of hatred-hatred aimed toward the man who had been with his daughter when she died.

  Slowly, Merrick levered himself off the cot and stepped toward the bars, careful to remain just out of Ellison's reach. "Hello, Detective Ellison," he greeted acidly. "What an unexpected pleasure."

  "I don't see anything pleasant about it." His cool gaze bore into Merrick, but the older man met his scrutiny without flinching. "I came to let you know that I'm fully aware of what you tried to do-of what you'll try to do the minute you're released."

  "The only thing I plan to do once I'm released is to go home and take a long hot shower." The man looked around him, his lip curling in disgust. "Long and hot enough to wash away the stench of this place."

  A slow smile broke its way across Jim's features. "Better get used to places like this, Merrick, because I intend to make sure that's where you end up-permanently."

  "For what? A little lapse in judgment? For being so distraught over my daughter's death that I made a mistake and tried to set up a hit on you?" The man snorted disdainfully. "How stupid do you think I am, Detective? Did you forget that I'm a lawyer? Don't you think I know just how to work the system?"

  Jim's jaw clenched tight at the man's cold recklessness but he forced himself to remain calm-to give nothing away. He narrowed his eyes and leaned into the bars, trying to bring himself closer to Merrick. "You tried to hire a hit man to kill two people," he stated calmly. "You really think the system is going to let you get away with that?"

  Surprisingly, Merrick stepped closer to the bars. The attorney's self-satisfaction was firmly in place as he breathed out, "In the long run, Detective, I don't really care if I get away with it or not. You killed my daughter and all that matters to me is seeing that you and your partner pay." He shrugged and gave Jim a confident smile. "If I can kill you and get off scot-free, all the better. But if I don't get off?" Again, he shrugged. "It really doesn't matter. You killed my Hannah; I have nothing left that I really care to live for."

  "I didn't kill your daughter, Merrick," Jim reminded him evenly. "She killed herself."

  "Because of you."

  Jim stared at the man, dumbfounded at his line of reasoning. "Fine," he announced after several seconds, "have it your way." Jim reached up and gripped the bars, moved even closer. "But you want someone to blame for your daughter's death, then blame me. Come after me. But you leave Sandburg out of it."

  Merrick's mouth twisted in abhorrence as he studied the detective. "If only it could be that simple. But unfortunately, I blame you both. I just happen to blame you more, which means I want you to hurt more." Merrick smiled again, an almost feral gleam shining from his eyes. "You see, Detective, Hannah told me all about you and your partner. About how protective you are of him." He inched closer to the bars. "So in order to let you know how painful it is to lose someone you care about, your friend dies first. In front of you." Merrick narrowed his eyes and stared up at Jim. "That will happen."

 

1 2 3 4