Alicia had blown into the offices of Hallstatt Trust International, breezing past the receptionist without a word of greeting. Fuming in repressed anger, she rode the elevator up to the sixth floor. Bursting into her office, she startled the only occupant.

Bernice "Bernie" Goldwater looked up from the fax machine, which was spewing copious amounts of paper, "Damn Al! Give a girl a heart attack, why don't you?"

"Sorry." Moving towards her desk, she stripped out of her jacket, revealing her sidearm - secure in a shoulder holster. "I'm still in a rotten mood."

Gathering up the papers from the machine, Bernie said, "Uh, huh. I can see that. You talk with Hiram yet this morning?" She walked over to the desk, placing the papers before her friend. "Here, Roberto sends his regards."

"Great!" Alicia picked up the papers, guessing that there had to be no less than thirty sheets, and glanced over the cover page. "Well, that was a fast turn around. Wait a minute, Hiram? Why would I need to talk to him?"

About to leave the office, Bernie glanced over her shoulder, just as Alicia's private phone rang. "That's probably him now. Said something about an "incident' at Corporate Headquarters."

"Oh, now what?" She picked up the phone, "Andreson."

"Alicia, Hiram. We've got a problem."

"I already know about the Director's decision."

"Not that. Worse."

Alicia sat up, leaning on her elbows. "Worse? Hiram, out with it."

"The Director's entire traveling entourage has taken ill, he'll be arriving in Cascade with only Wilhelm, Roberto and, of course, myself."

"What the hell happened?"

"Food poisoning. Over half the Headquarters staff had to be treated at St. Katarina's Hospital. Near as the medical staff can figure out, it had to be either the kartoffelsalat or the brats that were served for supper in the cafeteria."

"Oh, that's just great, Hiram! I don't have enough staff here to cover what needs to be done, and now the Director expects me to provide security for him?!?" She kicked the desk as she pushed away from it, sending her chair rolling until it crashed into the wall behind her.

"Alicia, he trusts you. We've not received any threats against the Director since you took care of the last problem a year ago. He feels that your presence, with Wilhelm and Roberto's should be enough to deter anyone foolish enough to take the chance."

Switching the call to her cordless phone, she got up to pace the office. "Fine! Just tell me one thing, Hiram."

"Anything, angel."

"Don't try to snow me! I'm really not in the mood."

"Sorry, I meant no offense. What is it you need to know?"

"When are you scheduled to arrive in Cascade?"

"Ah, Wednesday evening. Your time."

"I'll see you then. Give the Director my regards." She didn't wait for him to say anything, just hung up on him. Looking out the large window that showed the rather impressive sight of Cascade Harbor, Alicia contemplated her life. "What the hell did I do so wrong in a past life that I got stuck with this one?"

Alan Casland looked up as the door chimes announced he had customers. Spotting two of his favorite police officers, he put aside the book he was reading and greeted them. "Jim! Blair! What brings you out to my place on such a fine morning? Looking for a new weapon already, Sandburg?"

"Not yet, Alan. I haven't even finished paying for my last one," Blair answered as he and his partner walked up to the counter that the owner of Cascade Rod and Field was leaning against.

"That Para-Ordinance P12 working out okay?"

Jim chuckled, "Oh yeah, you could say that, Alan. Damn near out scored me on the range with it."

"Great! See? I told you, that piece was meant for you, Blair!" Alan stepped out from behind the counter, his face showing his concern. "Okay, I'm just guessing here, but neither of you is shopping, so you must be tracking something?"

"Alan, you know a Stuart Phelps?" Jim asked as they followed the owner towards the back of the well-kept shop.

"Stu? Oh, yeah. Regular customer. Works, or I should say, worked for Delta One. This visit have something to do with his arrest a few weeks ago?" Alan had reached the area where he kept his sales records and pulled open a file drawer.

"Yeah, we're doing leg work for the PA."

"Ouch. Crawford?" Alan Casland had served as a fellow officer in blue, State Patrol, until twelve years ago when a severe accident on a traffic stop, ended his career. He was still friendly with all the officers that served in the area, and kept track of certain ones, like Ellison and Sandburg. As a team, they were unbelievable, separately they could still work a case like nobody's business.

Blair blinked in surprise. "You know her?"

"Oh, you could say that. She was just a wet behind the ears deputy PA when my case came to trial, but like those bulldogs she raises, Deborah went after the guy that clipped me and nailed his hide to the wall." Alan pulled a file out of the cabinet. "Here we are, that should have everything you need." He handed the file over to Jim.

Opening the file, Jim noticed that Alan was a meticulous record keeper. Every transaction that Stuart Phelps had had at Cascade Rod And Field, was noted, ammo purchases, weapons bought, times that he visited the indoor firing range out back. "Alan? You recall this last visit of his?" Jim flipped the file around so that the proprietor could read his own notes.

Pulling a pair of reading glasses from his pocket, he glanced over the page, "Oh, yeah! He came in, looking for another Berretta 9mm. Must have had a used one in stock, I'm showing a test fire notation."

Blair looked over the notes. "You let him test fire a gun that he didn't purchase?"

"Only because it was a used gun. I don't allow test fires on brand new ones, unless the buyer has already put a substantial down payment on it." He smiled at the young man. "I rarely make exceptions, like I did in your case."

Jim broke in, "Do you recall if you went onto the range with him? Stuart that is?"

Alan closed his eyes and thought. "I don't think so. I had another customer in at the same time, I just handed Stu the key and let him go." He opened his eyes again, looking into Jim's pale blue orbs. "Okay, spit it out, Ellison. What are you looking for?"

Jim sagged against the wall. "We're trying to connect Phelps to the murder of the Claiborne kid. The convenience store clerk that was shot by the clown?" He saw Alan nod. "Anyway, the ballistics test didn't match up."

Alan interrupted, "And there's a chance that Stu pulled a barrel switch on you, and me, after that kid was killed. Right?"

Blair looked up from the file he was reading. "Could he have done it?"

The shop owner smiled at the younger officer's naivet*. "Yeah, he could have done it. Right out there on the firing range. Let me see that file again, Blair."

Handing the file back, he looked up at Jim, who refused to let the smile in his eyes reach his face. There's a chance that that other gun's still here. Blair thought to himself.

"Damn! Sold it! Two days ago."

Sighing, Jim pulled out his notebook. "To who, Alan?"

Seeing that Jim was going to hand copy the information, Alan shook his head. "Hold off, I'll get you a copy of the bill of sale. And you can have Stu's file to copy as well ? if you promise to bring it back. Can't have the Feds breathing down my neck." He walked over to where he kept a desktop copier. The casual observer would never notice the slight hitch in the man's walk that told the two visiting officers just what the extent of the former Trooper's injury was. For Jim, it was the barely audible creak of the polymer composite that told him the story: A prosthetic leg, below the knee. Blair just knew the story, as told to him by Alan.

A simple traffic stop turned ugly. Alan had pulled over a speeder, and was issuing the ticket, when a drunk driver swerved in and clipped the officer against the vehicle. The damage to his left leg was so severe that the only recourse the surgeons had was to remove the limb. The knee had been badly mangled, and the lower leg totally chewed up. If not for the fast thinking speeder, Alan could've bled to death on the highway. Luckily for him, the speeder was a trauma nurse, late getting to work, and she was able to assist him until the ambulance pulled up. Then she'd proven a valuable witness, for she had recognized the car that had hit the officer and was able to direct investigators to the drunk's doorstep. It had been her ex husband. She and Alan had been married now for nine years.

Blair pulled himself back from his memories just as Alan came back over to them.

"Here you go. Good luck getting a hold of the new owner. I understand that he travels a lot on business." Alan handed off the paperwork to Blair, who read the name on the bill of sale and groaned.

"Who is it, Chief?" Jim reached over and snagged the copied bill from his partner's limp hand and read it for himself. "Oh, Shit! That's just great!" He turned on his heel and stormed out of the store.

Blair looked at Alan as he trotted after Jim. "Thanks, Alan! I'll make sure to get the file back to you!"

"Just make sure that partner of yours goes easy on the new owner!"

"I'll try!" And he busted out the door to catch up with Jim who was waiting outside, pacing in an agitated state.

The drive back to Central Precinct was tense, and silent. Jim had called in, after cooling down a bit, and found out that Captain Simon Banks was looking for them, as was the Commander of the Detention Division. They arrived in the Major Crimes bullpen and from Rhonda discovered that the Captain was in a foul mood, and the Detention Commander was there as well, sitting in Simon's office.

Walking up to the Captain's door, Jim knocked once, then entered, Blair on his heels. "Rhonda said you were looking for us, Captain?"

Simon nodded curtly, "Jim, Blair. Close the door."

Jim moved further into the office as Blair closed the door behind them. The Commander stood up as they entered.

"Commander Rick Johansen, this is Detectives Ellison and Sandburg," Simon introduced the fair haired, stout, man. "You want to tell them what you just told me?"

"Sure." Johansen turned to face the mismatched pair, "You two were the ones that brought Hackett in, right?"

Something in the Commander's tone, sent up red flags in Blair's mind. "That was the kid we brought in from the Garden Spot, right?"

Johansen nodded. "That's the one. I hate to tell you two this, but you won't be going to trial on his case."

Dread dropped like a lead ball into the young officer's stomach. "Why?"

"He hung himself in his cell this morning."

"Shit!" Blair spun on his heels, leaving the office at a near run.

Jim nodded towards Simon, indicating that he'd check on his partner in a minute. "Commander, do you have any idea why? From what we were able to gather, this was Hackett's first offense. He had a good chance of just getting probation."

Johansen sat back down, raking his hands over his close cut scalp. "My officers found a note, he claimed that the need was too bad, too hard to just survive. Hackett had refused recreation time, and fifteen minutes later, when the Jailer went to check on him, he was gone."

Jim closed his eyes. It was one thing to lose a case in court, but to lose one before it ever got to trial simply because the defendant had a drug problem so severe that he couldn't imagine living without his daily 'fix'

"We did everything we could, Detective. Had him on a suicide watch, in a populated cell block, but he slipped through the cracks." Johansen was unnerved by the seasoned detective's reaction. "The medics believe that he managed to break his neck, if that's any consolation."

Simon waited for a response, any response, from his detective. "Jim?"

He opened his eyes, looked over at Johansen, then back at Simon. "I'm okay, Captain." He nodded at the Detention officer. "Commander, let me know if your investigators find anything else, and thank you for telling me in person." He stepped out of the office, and walked through the bullpen, looking for his partner. He knew, without using his senses, where to find the young man.

Entering the men's bathroom, he found his partner leaning over one of the sinks, his face damp from where he had obviously splashed water, probably to try to regain control of himself. "Chief?"

Reaching up for a couple of paper towels, Blair dried off his face. "I'm okay."

Leaning against the door frame, folding his arms across his chest, Jim smiled weakly. "No you're not. Look, the Commander promised to get back to me when they finish the investigation."

Throwing the used towels into the trash, Blair sighed. "Fine. Like it's really going to help anything. That kid needed help, not to be arrested and tossed into a cell." He turned his back to his friend, trying to hide his rising emotions.

Standing back up right, Jim walked over to his friend and gently turned him to face him. "Chief, Blair, you're right. But that 'kid' had made his choice. He didn't have to pick up a gun, or a drug-laden needle, and ultimately end his life, but he did. I'm not trying to justify what he did, nor make excuses for it. But it was his choice."

"I know. But it doesn't make it any easier to handle."

Jim shook his head. "No, it doesn't. And I hope that you never lose touch with that part of yourself that makes you understand, or try to, why people do what they do."

Blair brought his hands up to clasp Jim's where they rested on his shoulders. "Me neither. Duty and Humanity, are often incompatible. The road forks -- but my body is one. I just can't check my humanity at the door. I wouldn't be me if I could."

"You must be doing better if you can quote Zen." Jim released his partner and cocked his head towards the door. "So? You ready to head over to see if we can pick up that gun?"

"Yeah, let's go." They stepped out of the bathroom and proceeded to the elevators. "Wait a minute, won't we need a warrant?" Blair asked as they entered the waiting car.

"Honestly?" Jim took his partner's nod for an answer. "I don't think that will be necessary, even if I haven't spoken to him for two weeks." The small talk faded and they entered the underground police garage, walked over to Jim's truck, then left.

Alicia was just getting ready to leave for the day, when her phone rang. Scowling, she answered. "Hello?"

"Alicia, I really hate to do this to you."

Her shoulders dropped as she threw her jacket over the back of her chair and sat down. "Hiram? Now what?"

"The Director has changed his mind. Again. We're leaving Austrian airspace even as we speak."

"Excuse me a moment, Hiram." She reached out, put the call on hold, then let out a blood-curdling scream, thankful that the office was sound proof and no one outside would've heard her. Taking a couple of deep breaths, she returned to her call, her voice once again calm and business like. "Sorry about that. Just had to get something off my chest. So, what's your updated ETA?" Alicia reached into her desk for a pen, and a large legal pad, and began to take notes.

"We should touch down in Cascade Tuesday night, early Wednesday morning. Wilhelm and Roberto are with us and have already demonstrated their displeasure."

"Uh, huh. Were you able to get anyone else cleared by the doctors? Or will I need to look into hiring local help?"

"No, no one else. And the Director doesn't want you to hire local help."

Alicia screwed her eyes shut and felt the tension in her jaw, neck, and upper back increase exponentially. "Fine. I'll see what I can do. I have about four men on the current security staff that I trust." She let out a sigh. "Guess that will have to do. Okay, so tell me the rest."

"We were able to change our hotel reservations, same place, same room, just an earlier arrival time."

"Hiram, that is not what I meant." She placed the pen onto her desk blotter. "What have you found out about the incident at Headquarters?"

"Simple accident. There is no conspiracy here, Alicia." Hiram was amused and it showed in his voice.

"Well, excuse me if I don't believe you. It's just too coincidental for me."

"Do you wish to speak with Wilhelm or Roberto about this? I'm sure that they will be able to soothe your paranoid mind."

She let out a short snort of laughter. "That is why you hired me, but yeah, let me speak to one of them."

"Just a moment."

"Alicia?"

"Roberto, so tell me. What caused the outbreak of food poisoning at HTI HQ?" She sat back and listened to his response.

"So you're both satisfied that it wasn't intentional?" she asked.

"Yes."

Alicia stood up and stretched, easing some of the tension that had crept down her back. "Okay. Go get some sleep, Rob. I'll need you and Will wide awake and alert when you land in Cascade. Also, you are to call me when you're no less than two hours out. That will give me time to get to the airfield to meet you."

"I understand. You're not real happy about this situation, are you?"

"What do you think?"

"Well, if it's any consolation, neither are we."

She looked at the receiver in her hand as the phone line went dead. "Yes, but we'll do our jobs first, then bitch later." Placing the handset back in the cradle, she snatched up her jacket, slung it on, then headed out of the office, grateful that Bernie had left earlier and hadn't heard that shameful display of temper when Alicia hadn't been able to hold back her scream of frustration.