Willow Springs, Arkansas
January 9

The woman paced in front of the class as she lectured, her long red vest flying over her entirely black ensemble.  Her coffee brown hair whipped around her shoulders as she moved, the curls bouncing.  She had the students' complete attention.

"Remember, Anthropology is not an exact science, but it is a science! You'll get all sorts of flack from your fellow students about your
choice of studies, but don't let that get to you."  The warm, alto voice floated easily in the large room.  She turned warm green eyes to her class, smiling.  "And while this is just an introduction to Anthro, you might want to hang around for the entire year, just to make sure that you don't miss out on the lecture I have planned for this spring about the Maasi."

The sound of a pager going off interrupted her and several students reached down to their waists to check for the offending device.  So did the lecturer.

"Sorry, class.  It's mine."  She beckoned to a student sitting near the door to the room; he came over to her side quickly. "Thomas?  Take over for me here?"

" No problem, Dr. McConnel.  Was that your college pager or the other one?"  Thomas McCaigh asked.

Dr. McConnel smiled at her Teaching Assistant.  "The other one.  I'm sure that Andrews wouldn't have paged me unless it was important."

"The Sheriff likes the assistance you give his department."  He reached out and gave her a reassuring tap on the arm.  "Now go, before he sends that uncle of yours looking for you.  I'll take care of the class. We've only about 20 or so minutes to go anyway."

Dr. McConnel nodded as she gathered up her books, stuffing them into her backpack, leaving the notes for Thomas.  She was just about to leave when a thought occurred to her.  "Oh, Thomas?  If Dean Meltons should come looking for me…."

"I'll just tell him you got a page.  He'll understand."

"Thanks."  She smiled as she flew out of the room, that vest of hers flapping in her wake.

Thomas turned his attention back to the class.  "Okay, now that we've had our little excitement for the day, let's get on with it, shall we?"

Caragh McConnel wondered why the Sheriff's Office would be paging her, especially when they knew her class schedule.  Something must have come up.  Only one way to find out.   She paused long enough at the door to the Science building to pull out her compact cell phone.  Flipping it open, she hit the preprogrammed button, then the #3, then send as she walked out to the parking lot.

"Galloway County Sheriff's Office."

"Doris, Mike.  You paged?"

"Yeah, Sheriff Andrews wants you to high tail it over to Emeritus Wilkins' place.  Sean's already enroute."

Caragh reached her truck, opened the door, and threw her backpack into the passenger's seat.  "Any idea why, Doris?"  She climbed in and slammed the door shut, then dug her keys out of her pocket and stuck them in the ignition.

Doris Speer wondered how much she could get away with telling the Doctor.  She decided that it would better for her career to let the
woman find out on her own.  "Sorry, Mike.  I really can't say.  Just get over there, I'm sure that Leland will fill you in."

"All right, Doris, I understand.  Tell GS-1 I'll be there in about 15 minutes."

"Will do, Sean should be there by then too.  Bye."

Caragh made sure she fully disconnected before starting her vehicle. Some called it a tank, she called it her baby.  The powerful V-8 engine roared to life and she smiled.  Reaching over into her glove box she pulled out the shielded, rotating, blue light, placed it on her
dashboard and plugged it into the lighter socket.  She pulled out of the parking lot and onto the main drag of Willow Springs and hit a toggle switch.  A siren blared to life.

The townsfolk of Willow Springs were used to seeing the green and white '67 Chevy race through town and knew to get out of the way of Doctor Caragh "Mike" Michaels McConnel.  Not that the young woman was a bad driver or anything, but they all knew that she was not only a professor at the private college, but a Special Deputy with the Sheriff's Department.  You just didn't mess with her or her husband either.  Sean Patrick McConnel was the head of the Criminal Investigation Division of the Galloway County Sheriff's office, had been for the past three years. Under his guidance, cases were quickly solved and the violent crimes statistics had plummeted.  No, one didn't mess with the McConnels or anyone else in the Sheriff's Department; you just did your damnedest to get the hell out of their way.

Sheriff Leland 'Lee' Andrews came back down the steps from the entrance to Professor Wilkins home, drawing in deep breaths of clear Ozark mountain air to clear the stench from his nose.  He walked over to the young deputy that had taken the call; a simple welfare check called in by the Professor's daughter, Alyssa.  The deputy was leaning over the backend of his unit, dry heaving.

"You gonna be okay, O'Brian?"  Andrews asked as he ran a comforting hand up and down the young man's back.

Craig O'Brian took in a deep breath, willing the nausea away.  "I think so, sir.  I just have never seen anyone so, so…."  He never finished as yet another wave of nausea hit and the dry heaves started up again.

"I know, son.  It got to me too, and I've seen a lot of murders." Andrews straightened up as the sound of an approaching car reached his ears.  Looking down the long gravel drive, he saw the dark blue Suburban belonging to his Chief of Detectives coming.  "Craig, Sean's here.  I'll go back in with him, can you set up the perimeter?"

"Yes, sir.  Thank you."

The Sheriff nodded and walked over to where his detective had parked.

Sean McConnel stepped out of his unit, having checked in with Doris, and turned to meet his boss halfway.  "What have we got, Lee?"

"Murder.  Old man Wilkins.  Alyssa called in to the station that she hadn't heard from her father in two days and was worried.  I sent
O'Brian on the call.  He found the front door wide open and the Professor on the floor of his library."

Sean nodded.  "Craig going to be okay?  He looks a little shaky."

"First DB and a bad one to boot.  I'll take care of him."

Sean smiled.  "You always do.  Someone already get a hold of Mike?"

"She's enroute.  Haven't told her anything yet."  Leland watched as his detective tilted his head, as if listening to something.  "Let me guess, you hear her coming, right?"

Dark green eyes flashed.  "Yeah.  Her and the Ambulance and whatever coroner happened to be on duty.  She'll be here in about two minutes." Stretching out with his hearing, he winced.  "Oh great.  She's playing that tribal crap of hers again."

"Sean, I thought that by now you'd be used to Mike's tastes in music. After all it's been, what, six years?"

"More like seven."  He walked back to his unit and pulled out his notebook, and a pair of powderless latex gloves.  Just then the wind
that had gently been blowing from the street changed directions and he caught a whiff of blood.  Human blood, and a lot of it.

Caragh pulled to a screeching halt on the gravel drive, and without killing the engine to her truck, hopped out and ran up to Leland and
Sean.  "Oh Shit!  What the hell happened, Lee?"

"I don't know.  We were talking about your tastes in music then he froze."

"Damn!  Zone out.  Okay, keep the others busy for a minute, will you?"

Leland nodded and walked off to gather the deputy coroner and ambulance team together and explain to them what to expect ? after his detective had gone through the scene and cleared it.  As he walked over to them he called O'Brian over to him and let the young man give his story to the coroner.

Caragh waited until she was sure that the Sheriff had diverted enough attention away from Sean and herself before starting her job.  "Sean?" She reached out and clasped his shoulder, needing to anchor him somehow. "Sean?  Come on, follow my voice.  Take the dial to whatever it is that's affecting you and turn it down.  That's it.  Come on, you can do this."

Sean heard the voice of his wife, his Guardian, calling him back from that place that had drawn him.  He heard her sigh as he drew in a deep breath, coming back from the edge of the abyss.  "Hi, there, Mike. Zoned again, huh?"

Caragh smiled at her husband.  "Yeah, big time.  You weren't breathing when I got to you.  Scared the hell out of Lee too, but he won't admit to it."

"Never does."

She pulled him around to the front of his unit and out of sight of the others by the ambulance.  "Now, what did you zone on?"

"Smell."

"Okay, what happened?  What did you smell?"

"Wind changed directions, caught me off-guard."  He looked down into his wife's leaf green eyes.   This is going to be hard.  "Mike, there's no easy way for me to say this, but the Emeritus is dead."

Caragh rocked back on her heels, coming to rest against the Suburban. "Emeritus?  Oh, man!"

Sean watched as the color faded from her face.  Reaching out a hand, he gently lowered her to rest on the front bumper.  "Mike, I can do this by myself.  You don't have to go in with me."

She shook her head. "No.  I can do this.  Besides, what if you zone again?"  Caragh got back on her feet and steadied herself, willing the weakness in her knees to go away.  "I have to do this, Sean.  Wilkins was my mentor, my friend.  I have to know what happened, what to tell Alyssa.  Besides, I'm the crime scene photographer."  She got herself under control, then, squaring her shoulders,  she walked back to her truck to grab her camera gear.   Sean followed her.

"Mike, Lee can handle breaking the news to Alyssa.  You know that."

"I know, but I've known Alyssa for years, since grade school.  She's the youngest, all he had left after the accident.  I'll have to talk to her
sometime."  Opening her camera bag, she removed her camera, flash attachment and several rolls of film, which she dropped into vest.

"Okay.  We'll tell her then, together."  Sean watched as his wife looked up at him, not exactly grateful, but appreciating his support.  "So, you ready to go in there?"  He pointed over his shoulder at the large Victorian house.

"As ready as I'll ever be."  She followed him to the front porch, where the Sheriff joined them.

"You sure you're up to this, Mike?"  Lee asked, concern in his voice.

Caragh nodded.  "I have to be.  He's already zoned once, which means he's primed for another."  She paused in the doorway, the smell reaching her finally.  "Oh, man.  Good thing I haven't eaten yet."

Leland reached into his coat pocket, pulling out a couple of masks. "Here, got these from the medics.  Might help a little."  He handed one to Sean, then one to Caragh.

Sean grimaced. "Like it'll really help me, but thanks anyway."  He put the mask on.

Caragh put her mask on as well, after taking a small vial of camphor oil and placing a single drop of the fluid on the inside.  "Sean, dial this out, will you?"  He nodded his compliance. " Good.  Lee?  Want a little?"  The burly Sheriff nodded and after everything was in place, the three of them fully entered the house.

Cascade, Washington
January 9

"Come on, Chief!  We haven't got all day!"

"Coming, Jim!  Jeez, can't even let me take the time to let me get my hair dried."

"I heard that!  Come on!  Shake a leg!"

Blair Sandburg grumbled as he pulled the comb through his long hair, finally getting the last tangle worked out.  He came out of the
bathroom, pulling his hair back into a ponytail.  "What's the rush about anyway, Jim?"  He found his roommate standing in the kitchen, holding out a travel mug to him.  Blair took it and sniffed at the steam rising from the small holes.  "Hmm, coffee.  Thanks."

"You're welcome," James Ellison said as he took a sip from his own travel mug of coffee.  "Simon called while you where in the shower.  He needs us at the station ASAP."

Blair took the hint and walked over to the coat rack to grab his heavy winter coat, carefully balancing his coffee as he pulled the coat on
over his blue, heavy wool, sweater.  "Did he say why?  I have classes this afternoon."  Grabbing up his backpack, he managed to open the door to the loft, letting Jim precede him out.

Jim turned and locked the door behind them, pulling his own jacket on. "Nope.  Just that we needed to get there as soon as."

"Great.  I'll call Kevin when we get to the truck, just in case."

"Sounds like a plan, Chief."

"Ellison!  Sandburg!  My office!  NOW!"  The raised voice of Captain Simon Banks rolled through the bullpen of Major Crimes just as the men in question came in the door.

Not taking the time to shed their jackets, the two men proceeded to the Captain's office.  Blair entered first, Jim right behind him.  "You wanted to see us, Captain?" the taller of the two men asked as he shut the door.

"Sit!"  Simon pointed to the chairs the two usually occupied.  He caught the silent exchange between them: the looks, the barely shrugged shoulders, the tension building in the jaw of his detective.  Oh, this is going to be fun!  Not!

"What has Sandburg done now, Captain?"  Jim asked as he settled into the chair.

"Hey!"  Blair nearly got back to his feet before Jim pulled him back to his seat.

"What makes you so sure that Sandburg did anything, Ellison?"  Simon's voice was low and near deadly in its tone.

Jim blanched, his mind racing, trying to think of anything he might have done, anyone he might have pissed off.  " 'Cause I can't think of
anything that I did?"

"Oh, right!  Like it was me that pissed off that Febbie last night?" Blair said accusingly.

"Hey!   It wasn't my fault he didn't watch where he stepped!  Even you smelled that cesspool and managed not to step in it!"  Jim retorted.

"Well, you could've told him before he stepped in it."

"Gentlemen, enough."  Simon didn't even raise his voice, but they settled down and looked at him expectantly.  "Oddly enough, I haven't
received a call from Agent Murrow's boss, so I'm guessing the man is taking it fairly well."

Jim shifted, his eyes softening.  "So then, what's up?  I wasn't supposed to even be in here until 10 am, and it's now," he glanced at
his watch, " 7:45."

Simon reached over his desk to shove a file towards them. "I got a call from Chief Warren at five this morning, wanted to know what progress you had made on the break in at Rainier and at Wilkerson Towers."

Blair and Jim both squirmed a little.  "Uh, Simon, we really don't have anything.  Serena and her team have gone over both places with a fine toothed comb and came up with zilch," Jim explained.

"And the Library hasn't completed inventory yet, so we still don't know what, if anything, was taken," Blair volunteered.

"That's what I told the Chief.  Blair, you saw the damage there, do you think this may have just been a case of vandalism?"  Simon asked.

"No.  Not really."  He paused as a thought occurred to him. "You know, now that I think about it, most of the damage was restricted to the research area.  Lots of the books in there are valuable, priceless even."

Simon looked at the still fairly new detective, glad that the young man had taken up the offer of joining the police force.  "Valuable enough to steal, Sandburg?"

"Only if the thief, or thieves, had a buyer already lined up."  Blair shook his head. "No, books like those aren't something you can just
pawn."

Simon chewed on his unlit cigar. "Okay, do what you can with the case." He turned his attention back to his chief detective.  "Jim, what
progress have Rafe and Brown made with the Millicent case?"

"They're working it.  I've seen their notes, helped them out with some of the questioning, so far everything seems to be pointing to the son- in-law, Nichols.  I'm backing their decision." Jim reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small note pad, consulting his notes. "Yeah, everything is pointing to him right now.  History of problems with Millicent, fired from his job at the firm due to personal problems, financial situation in the red…"

"Not to mention that every time Jim questions him, his heart rate and respiration go through the roof."

"Can't take that to court, Chief.  You know that."

"Yeah, I know, Jim.  But you said it yourself at the murder scene; Nichols had been way too cool about hearing about his father in law's
murder.  Like he'd been expecting it."

"Sandburg, let Jim finish his story."

"Sorry, Simon."

"You were saying, Jim?"  Sometimes it was just too much fun to watch these two work things out.  He sipped his coffee again, savoring the rich flavor of hazelnut.

"Blair's right, Simon.  William Millicent had fired Nichols the day before, yet he was the one that called in the murder.  Said he'd come to clear out the rest of his things from his office, but Millicent's secretary told Rafe that he'd finished that up the previous evening. That she couldn't think of why he was there at the office that morning."

Simon let the silence build for a few minutes, thinking about the case. William Millicent was, had been, a prominent Corporate lawyer.  Over half of Cascade's businesses used him or his firm, Millicent & Millicent, for their various needs for well over twenty years.  The
man's daughter was just as competent as the man himself.  When she had married David Nichols two years ago, her father had been furious.  But after a while, he forgave her, and brought Nichols into the firm…after making his daughter, Virginia, a full partner.  But the old man had insisted that the firm's name be Millicent & Millicent, not Millicent & Nichols, a snub that most men wouldn't take too kindly to.

"Okay, I'm giving the go ahead, pull him in for questioning.  Just make sure that everyone involved follows the rules, Jim.  You know what it's like to play with lawyers."

"Thanks, Simon.  We'll pull him in later, I want to back Rafe and Brown when they go to get him at home."

"Fine, whatever.  Now, Don't you two have some work to do?"

Taking his cue, the two of them stood up and left the office.   Blair started on the preliminary reports on the two break ins, while Jim
coordinated with the other detectives and went about getting the search warrants they'd need to fully go after David Nichols later that
afternoon.

Blair finished up his classes for the day and headed over to the campus library to see if, by chance, they had completed their inventory yet. When he got to the entrance, he found a note plastered to the glass doors ? CLOSED FOR INVENTORY ? smiled and knocked anyway.  His persistent knocking got the attention of one of the Library Sciences students, Amy Wolfe, who came to the door.

"Sorry, but we're closed."  She told him, as if he couldn't read the sign.

"I know.  Tell Mrs. Gordon that Blair Sandburg needs to talk with her." He flashed a smile, causing the young student to blush.

"Oh!  I'm so sorry, Mr. Sandburg!"  Amy rushed to unlock the door, opening it to let him in. " Mrs. Gordon told us to expect you and to let
you in when you showed up."

"That's okay," He told her as he slipped in the door. "You all finished cleaning up yet?"

Amy sighed, as she re-locked the door. "No, not yet.  Maybe by this weekend, if we're lucky.  Who ever did this really trashed the place.
We've already got about a hundred books that we'll have to replace as they were completely destroyed."

Blair shook his head, understanding the disgust in the student's voice. "Hopefully, the police will catch the vandals."

"Blair!  Thought I heard your voice!"

He turned to see Mrs. Gordon coming towards him.  The Head Librarian was short, about 5'0, skinny, with very short black hair, and reportedly more bounce and energy than most students here at Rainier.  She quickly embraced him and let him go as she began pulling him towards her office. "Come, come.  I just finished the list from the Research Section…. You won't believe what's missing!"

He allowed himself to be pulled as he turned and smiled over his shoulder at the student they had just abandoned.  She waved and went back to cleaning the mess that was still very much in evidence around the large library.  As he and the Librarian entered her office, he asked, "So, what's missing?"

Mrs. Gordon, nicknamed The Flash by all that knew her, whipped around her desk to the printer and pulled off the sheets of paper.  "Oh, mostly the really rare books: H.G.Wells' Outline of History, The Travels by Marco Polo, you know, rare.  Expensive as hell to replace, if you can find a copy anymore.  But this will get your attention… The Sentinels of Paraguay by Richard Burton."

Blair felt the blood drain from his face as the woman went on.

"Isn't that the book you based your Master's Thesis on?"

"Yeah."  He managed to find his voice. "It's missing?  Not just misplaced or checked out?"

"Blair!  You know that book never leaves this library, and all my students are very good at properly shelving books!  No, I'm afraid that
it is one of the stolen books."

"Oh man, that really sucks!"  No that really, really sucks!  Why would anyone want that book?

"Yes, it does.  Doesn't it?  I've already contacted the Burton Estate to see if they could possibly help us with replacing it.  My contact there wasn't sure, but said she'd call me back later today with an answer." She placed a friendly hand on the young man's shoulder.  "It's a long shot, but it's the only one I have right now."

"It may not be possible.  Burton's wife destroyed a number of his writings after he died, that may have been one of them."

Mrs. Gordon shook her head, if anyone knew whether or not a Burton Manuscript could be replaced, it would be one Blair Sandburg.  He was somewhat the local equivalent of a Burton Expert here on Rainier campus. "Well, we'll just have to hope for the best then, won't we?"  She went back to her desk and stapled the sheath of papers in her hand and handed them to the young man.  "Now, you make sure that your Detective friend gets this, won't you?"

Blair took the papers and carefully placed them into his backpack. "Don't worry, Mrs. Gordon, I'll see that Jim gets these as soon as
possible."

"Blair, after all these years, don't you think you could call me 'Flash' by now?"

He felt the blood rush back into his face.  "I don't think so, Mrs. Gordon, it just doesn't seem, well, right.  You know?"

"Then what about Alice?  Can you do that?  I mean, after that debacle last year with your doctorate thesis, getting that all cleared up and everything, you're nearly one of the staff members again."  She smiled as they walked out of her office.

Blair smiled, remembering that Alice Gordon was one of the members of his review board that had fought for him.  "Yeah, I guess I can do that. Alice."

"Great!  Now, you run along and give those to Jim for me.  I've got to get back to cracking the whip over these students of mine!"  And with that she was off again in a flash of bright colors and strident voice. "AMY!  J.J.!  Haven't you got that room finished yet?!?  I'd like to
reopen this Friday, not the next!"

Blair let himself out, the door automatically locking behind him.  He walked out to his Volvo and once seated behind the wheel, pulled the papers out that had the books listed on it that were missing, presumed stolen.  "Oh, man!  Not just Burton's Sentinel monograph, but his research on the African Watchers as well!  This is so not good!"  He scanned further down the list.  "What have we here?  The Guardians and Protectors?  Must be a Master's or Doctorate Thesis, but by whom?  Looks like it was published in 1890. Oh well, guess I'll have to ask Alice tomorrow about it."  He replaced the papers in his pack, started the Volvo and headed for home.

"I still don't see how you do it, Ellison!  I mean, Nichols was not going to say a word to me, but you walk in there.  Never saying a word,
just looking at him, and he cracks!  How do you do it?"  Rafe asked as they returned to the bullpen.

"Just a gift I have."

Rafe chuckled. "Yeah, right!  More like those eyes of yours, Jim.  I saw the look, you froze him to his chair!"

Jim smirked, pleased with himself.  "Rafe, I did no such thing!  He was ready to crack, I just gave him the 'out' he wanted."

"But five minutes, he started babbling five minutes after you walked in! I'm just glad we got it all on video and audiotape!  Once he started, he just, well, babbled."  He snickered again.  "I feel sorry for the transcriptionist that is going to have to sit through all that to type it up for the courts!"

Jim clasped the younger detective on the shoulders.  "Well, as I understand it, Rafe, it's probably going to be Missy Walters."  The
detective knew that the youngest of the bullpen bunch was attracted to the newest addition to the support staff.

Rafe stopped and thought about something.  "Mmm, maybe I should drop by later and thank her personally?  Maybe offer to buy her lunch or something?"

"Sounds like a plan, Rafe."  Jim smiled as they approached the other man's desk.

"So, you gonna go tell the Captain how it went down?" Rafe asked, hoping.

"Yeah, unless you want to do it?" Jim heard the silent plea in the other's voice, knowing that the young detective had no desire to
approach the Captain, who had been in a real mood all morning.

Rafe shook his head. "Nope!  I've already been in there three times this week, and it's only Tuesday.  I'm not going back in there unless I have back up and H is off the rest of the day."

"Coward."

"No, self preservationist.  I want my hide intact when I reach 40." Rafe managed to duck the swat that Ellison tried to deliver.  "Hey!  My
name ain't Blair Sandburg!  What you do to your partner is your business!  I get enough abuse from Henry!"

"Smart ass!"  Jim retorted as he walked towards the Captain's office, where he knocked before sticking his head in. "You got a minute,
Captain?"

Simon waved him in as he hung up his phone.  "That was the Chief again, asking about the Wilkerson Towers case."  He removed his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to stave off the headache he felt building behind his eyes.  "So?  What have you got for me, Jim?"

"Nichols just confessed."

The Captain actually smiled.  "That is good news!  Rafe put him down, or you?"

"ME?  Simon, I never said a word."

"You usually don't have to if someone else has warmed up the suspect." Simon laughed, " But then I really don't care how it was done, as long as the case is now closed?"

"It's all over except for the trial."

"And officially Rafe and Brown were the primaries, so you and Sandburg shouldn't even be needed to testify."

"Hopefully."

Simon glanced at his watch.  "Damn, six o'clock already.  Jim, why don't you knock off for the day?  I have one more phone call to make then I'm outta here myself."

Jim rotated his neck, trying to relieve some of the tension this day had caused.  "Sounds good to me, Simon."

"Then get out of here before I change my mind."

"Go ahead, I don't mind the overtime."

"Oh, shit!  That's right, you got here before 8, didn't you?  Fine, I have to cut you back somewhere…Don't show your face around here until around noon."

"Hmm, a chance to sleep in."

Simon chuckled.  "Get out of here.  Go bug Sandburg all night for me."

"Good night, Simon."

"Night, Jim."

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