Willow Springs, Arkansas
Evening, January 9

Caragh McConnel was back in the home of Emeritus Professor Wilkins, going through the library with his daughter, Alyssa. "'Lyss, you don't have to do this tonight, we can do it later."

"No, Mike. I have to do it now, before the realization sets in and I can't function at all." Alyssa Wilkins was a slender young lady, about the same age as Caragh McConnel. But that was all they had in common. Both women were slender, but Alyssa was the living embodiment of a fair and delicate porcelain doll. Caragh, on the other hand, was built like a solid running back ? from her years of 'rough housing' with her cousins and playing various sports throughout her life.

They were there in the library, trying to figure out if anything had been stolen. Both had been frequent visitors to the room as children, and after Caragh came back from school on the West Coast. As students they had perused the shelves of rare books that Alyssa's father collected for material for various papers for their fields of study. Caragh's had been Anthropology and Alyssa's was Behavioral Psychology.

"'Lyss, you really shouldn't be alone for a while. Why don't you come out to the Caer and stay with the clan for a day or two?"

"What? You afraid I'll self destruct or something, Mike?"

"You're the psychologist, you tell me."

Alyssa put down the book she'd picked up form the floor, sighing. "You're right. I shouldn't be alone. But I don't want to impose on anyone."

Caragh walked over and pulled the other woman into an embrace. "You wouldn't be. You know Moiré, she'll just love to have someone to look after. Let her. Let the Clan help you. Please?"

Pale blue eyes met vibrant green and Alyssa felt better, knowing that her other family would be willing to take care of her. "Oh, okay. But only for a night or two."

"For as long as you need, 'Lyss."

They broke the embrace and went back to straightening the room. A clean up crew had been in already and cleaned up most of the bloodstains, but the place was still a wreck. Outside, Sean McConnel and Craig O'Brian were searching the grounds, still looking for some clue as to how the murderer had gained entrance and left without being noticed.

"Sean! Come here!" Craig called from the tree line some fifty yards away from the back of the house.

Sean ran up to the younger man. "What have you got, Craig?"

"Looks like a book. Maybe our murderer was also a thief?" He bent down to pick up the book.

"No, wait a minute. Let me get a few photos before you move it."

Craig blushed. "Oh, right. Forgot."

"No problem. It takes a while to learn all the stuff. The police academy can't teach it all in six weeks you know."

"No, but they sure as hell try. My head's still spinning from all those courses and I've been graduated for nearly six months!"

Sean snapped off about three pictures, using the flash attachment as it was getting dark, thinking that the young man had been lucky to find the book at all. "Just wait until Andrews decides to send you to an Investigator's school, then you'll really know what it means to have a spinning head." He bent down and with his gloved hands, carefully picked up the book from where it lay on the soft bed of rotting oak leaves. He dug a large evidence bag out of his coat pocket and slipped the book inside. "Look, it's getting dark, take that in to Mike and Alyssa and see if they can ID it as belonging to Wilkins' collection."

"What about you?"

"I'll be there in a few, I just want to see if I can find anything else." He pulled a small, but powerful, flashlight from another pocket and clicked it on. "I'll be fine. Now go ahead and take that to the girls."

"Okay." Craig jogged off towards the house, never looking back.

If he had, he would've noticed that Sean turned off the flashlight and proceeded a little deeper into the woods, following a trail of broken limbs and mangled underbrush that he detected earlier. Using his heightened sense of sight, he zeroed in on a trail that had clearly been left by an ATV some thirty yards into the woods. The trail led off to the South, but it was getting way too late to follow it now, not without Caragh's help. He stood there and thought about the terrain, wondering where he would end up if he followed the trail straight south. He focused in a little tighter and followed with his eyesight, coming to a stop where the marking from the ATV suddenly just vanished. No more tire tracks. Frustrated, he turned and made his way back to the house.

"Mike? Alyssa? Sean wanted me to show you this. We found it in the woods behind the house." Craig had found the two women still in the library, trying to clean it up a bit it looked like.

"What is it, Craig?" Caragh walked over to take a look. Alyssa Wilkins followed her.

Looking over Caragh's shoulder as the taller woman handled the evidence bag, she caught a glimpse of the book's title on the spine. "Oh my! That's Grandfather Wilkins research notes!"

"Research notes? On what?" Caragh turned the book over in her hands and read the spine herself. "The Guardians and Protectors?" She tried to control her reaction, relieved to not feel blood rushing to her face as her stomach dropped, but she knew her heart was trying to pound its way through her chest. Oh, shit! That cannot be what I think it is! She thought to herself, I cannot let anyone other than Sean see this damn thing! Let alone take the chance that someone might read it! Collecting herself, she turned to face her friend. "'Lyssa, what was your Grandfather supposedly researching? Do you know?"

She thought for a moment. "I think I recall Dad saying that his paw-pa was something of an adventurer, supposedly traveled a lot with some fella named Burton as a young man. And it's actually my Great Grandfather, not Grandfather."

Caragh's heart skipped a beat at the mention of Burton. "'Lyssa, do you mind if we take this with us? We may have to keep it a while, maybe even send it off the Crime Lab in Little Rock for testing." Like Hell!

"Sure, not a big deal. Keep it. I read it once a long time ago. I think that Grandfather Wilkins was a great man, adventurous and a good storyteller, but that thing reads like a science fiction novel. Just not my style."

"Thank you." She felt her heart slowing down just as Sean entered the room.

"Well? Did you recognize the book, Alyssa?" he asked, stealing a glance at his wife whose panicky heart beat that had nearly sent him running now slowing to its normal pattern.

"Yeah, it's my great-grandfather's research notes. From his travels with some guy named Burton. At least that's what Dad told me. But I think it's more likely that it was a fictional novel that he just couldn't sell."

He had heard part of the conversation that had gone on before he appeared. "So, Mike told you we might have to keep it a while? Maybe send it off to Little Rock?"

"Yeah. No big deal. When it comes back you can even keep it. I'll have more than enough to try to keep up with." She gestured around to the wall to wall, floor to ceiling shelves of the Wilkins library. As she did so, the other three in the room could see the realization hit her. She lowered her arm and started to softly cry.

Caragh handed the book back to Sean, whispering so that only he could hear, "Don't let go of that," and went to comfort her hurting friend.

After about 20 minutes, Alyssa's sobbing stopped and she looked up from the floor where Caragh had settled with her during her fit. "Sorry."

Craig leaned over and helped the young woman to her feet. "Nothing to be sorry about, Alyssa. You've been bottling all that's happened up inside, trying to be strong. It was bound to happen, sooner or later. Better that it happen here, with your friends, rather than when you were by yourself."

Sean and Caragh exchanged a glance behind the two, then Caragh spoke up. "Alyssa, why do you let Craig take you home, where you can gather a few things? Then he can bring you out to the Caer."

The still distraught woman nodded her head while Craig spoke, "Yeah, I can do that. And we'll stop and get something to eat." Alyssa shook her head. "Come on, 'Lyssa, you've got to eat something. Or at least get something to drink. Keep me company."

She gave a shy smile. "Okay. I am a bit thirsty."

"Crying's thirsty work. Come on, let's get you home, packed and fed. Then I'll take you over to the Caer." They left the house, leaving the two McConnels behind to lock up.

"Mike? Was I seeing what I thought I saw?"

"Maybe. But then, Craig's always had a crush on Alyssa since High School. Next time you see him, remind him to take it slow, she's not going to be ready for anything serious for a while." She walked with him over to her pickup.

"I will. But it looked to me like Craig knew that." He stopped to open the driver's door for her. "Now, what's so special about this book that you didn't want me to let it go?"

Caragh climbed into her truck, settling behind the wheel. "Take a look at the title and you tell me."

Sean turned the book toward the light coming from the cab of Caragh's truck, only having to focus his sight a little to read the spine. "Oh, shit!"

She let out a chuckle. "My thoughts exactly. Check it into Evidence, but don't let anyone tamper with it. I haven't read it, so I have no idea what it contains, but it could be dangerous for both of us." She pulled her seatbelt on, but not before leaning over to kiss her husband on the cheek. "I'll see you at home. I've got to get something started for dinner. Any requests?"

"No, whatever you decide you want to fix, I'll eat." He closed the truck's door, making sure it was secure after Caragh had rolled down the window. "I may be a little late, I'm sure that Lee will want an update and I have to get this, as well as a strew of other things checked into evidenceÖ"

"And get what you can entered into the state's crime computer. I know. I used to play dispatcher once in a while, remember?" Caragh finished for him. "I'll make something that can easily be warmed up. Call me if you're gonna be really late."

Sean smiled. "My idea of late or yours, night creature?"

"Yours of course. I have no sense of when to go to bed, never have. Not since my early college years."

"Okay, but I shouldn't be any later than nine." He leaned into the truck's window and planted a kiss of his own on his wife's cheek. "See you later, be careful. Not all the ice from that last storm has melted off by the Caer."

"I will. Till later, Sean Pat."

"Later, my anam Caragh." He watched as she cranked over the old pickup and backed down the driveway. He smiled when he heard her music selection for the drive home. "Well, at least it's classic rock." He was still chuckling as he pulled into his assigned slot at the Sheriff's department.

Cascade, Washington
Late Evening, 9 January

Jim Ellison could smell something delicious as he got closer to the door to the apartment loft that he shared with Blair Sandburg. It was his roommate's night to cook and it smelled like he was going with some kind of chicken dish. Maybe Polynesian, and without pineapples in it. But he could smell the curry and coconut oil and milk. But not too much curry, just enough to spice up the dish a bit without overwhelming the hyperactive sense of taste that one Jim Ellison, Detective, former Ranger, and Sentinel, had.

Blair looked up as he heard the loft's door open. "Hey, Jim! How did it go today?"

Jim removed his jacket, hanging it on the coat rack, then proceeded into the kitchen to raid the refrigerator for a beer. "Not bad, Rafe and Brown put down the Millicent case this afternoon." He opened the bottle and took a swig. "What about your day? Did you get a chance to stop by the library?"

Pulling the deep frying pan off the fire, Blair turned to face his roommate. "Yeah, I stopped by. Alice Gordon had just finished printing up the list of missing books from the research archives. The list is in my coat pocket." He went about finishing the meal, dishing the lightly curried ginger chicken and sauce over a bed of orange rice on two plates which he then carried over to the table.

Rifling through the coat, Jim found the list that his partner had picked up. Scanning it he noticed one very familiar title. "Shit!"

Blair snorted. "That was my reaction too. I can't think of any reason why a thief would want Burton's monographs and field notes ? unless he has a buyer lined up already and they want anything rare." He sat down at the table and waited for Jim to seat himself before going on. "I did have one crazy thought on the way home, however."

Jim looked over the table at him. "You get those all the time, Chief. What was it this time?"

"Ha-ha, very funny!" Blair aimed his best 'don't-screw-with-me' look at his partner, then continued. "What if someone out there got the idea that my "Sentinel" thesis wasn't just a work of fiction like I claimed it was?"

Jim had been eating, and enjoying the flavors of the dish that his roommate had prepared, but putting his fork down, realized that he had just lost his appetite. Across the table, he could hear Blair's heart rate pick up and knew it was from the fear that he might be right. Hell, he just might be. "Chief, what makes you think that?"

Realizing that he had lost his appetite, Blair gave up playing with his food and looked up at the detective. "Well, look at the list. Burton's monograph, his field notes from his Watcher's study in Africa ? both of which I had used, and credited, in my Master's paper. I mean, yeah, they're rare books, but both of them taken in the same robbery? The Watcher notes were filed way back in the stacks; a person would've had to have been searching for them to find them. Not a random chance thing, you see what I'm driving at?"

Jim finished off his beer, grimacing as he got up from the table to throw the bottle away. "Yeah, I see where you're going with this, and I don't like it. But the place was pretty well trashed, maybe the thieves found it while they were trashing the place and figured 'what the hell.' Maybe they even had instructions from this mythical buyer of theirs to grab anything with Burton's name on it."

Blair pushed his plate away and leaned his elbows on the table. "Okay, I'll go with that for a moment. But Jim, why Burton?"

Stopping at the refrigerator, he pulled out another beer for himself and silently asked Blair if he wanted one. The anthropologist nodded. Opening the bottles in the kitchen, he walked back over and handed one to him. "Chief, if I recall correctly, you once told me that after his death, Burton's wife burned a number of his notes and publications. Right?"

"Yeah."

He sat back down and pushed his own plate away from his place. "Okay, so there's only a few copies of any of Burton's works still around. That makes them rare and as such, very valuable to a collector."

"I can see that. But what if this collector was actually actively looking for confirmation of the existence of Sentinels?" Fear gripped Blair's heart. If that was the case, they'd already dealt with one such person, Bracket. The anthropologist knew that many people would look at a living Sentinel as something to fear. Or worse, study like a lab rat ? something to be dissected.

Jim knew the fear that was causing Blair's heart to race again, it was one of his own. Especially after the Zeller incident that had placed both Captain Simon Banks and Inspector Megan Connor in the hospital. He sighed. "Look, Blair, let's not go looking for trouble."

"Just let it find us? Man, I just hate that thought." Blair grabbed up his plate and went back into the kitchen. He pulled out a couple of Tupperware dishes and started to put his leftovers into one, saving the other for Jim ? just in case the other man decided he needed it.

"I don't like it either, but it seems to happen a lot to us." Jim took his own plate out to the kitchen, where Blair took it and put the leftovers into another dish. "Thanks. Let's just treat this as what it appears to be. A simple robbery of rare booksÖ"

"ÖWhich probably can't be replaced, let alone traced."

"There is that." Jim reached out and clasped Blair on the shoulder. "I'm just saying let's not worry about it until, and if, we get to that bridge. Got it?"

Blair smiled as he pulled his hair back from his face. "Got it. This stuff will probably be better for sitting in the 'fridge over night anyway. Your turn to clean the kitchen, right?"

"You cooked, I clean." Jim reached around to a drawer and pulled out his favorite apron, the one that Blair laughed at. "What was that anyway?"

"You liked it?"

"Yeah. It was, different, but good."

"Curry-ginger Chicken. Picked up the recipe from a friend of mine who's into Polynesian studies." Blair walked back out to the dining table and cleared off the last of the dishes, dropping them into the sink, then returned to set up his laptop and drag out his books. "Aamike warned me to go light on the curry since I told her you couldn't handle things that were too hot. The orange rice was something I thought to add in."

"Well, if you ever decide to give up your studies and your police work for something else, you could become a cook." Jim started to run the hot water for dishwater.

"Like that's ever gonna happen," Blair muttered under his breath.

Jim smiled. "I heard that, Chief," he called over his shoulder.

"No? Really!? Man, I never would've guessed!" He ducked the dishtowel that came flying out of the kitchen.

Willow Springs, Arkansas
Late evening, 9 January

Caragh looked in the refrigerator, searching for something to whip up for dinner. Something that would keep until Sean made it home. Opening the door seemed to be a mystical way of calling the cats' attention. The two of them came racing before she had made up her mind. The white one made her presence known by rubbing against Caragh's black trousers while the black and white tom just stood in the door, daring to be shut up inside. "Guineth, Aidan, behave yourselves. I'll feed you in a second." Making up her mind, she pulled out the large container holding the winter vegetable stew she'd made two nights ago. She then proceeded to feed the two cats before setting everything up to feed her and Sean.

"There you go." She put the food dish down in their spot. "See? I got it right tonight. Feed cats first, then I can go about feeding myself and my mate." She was rewarded with sound of two very loud purrs. "Whatever."

The stew reheated nicely, and, after adding a bit more rosemary to the mix, Caragh sat down to eat while mulling over the events of the day. That was a mistake, thinking about the crime scene, seeing her mentor on the floor of his studyÖ That does it! Might as well chuck the rest of this in the trash, I'm never gonna be able to eat it now. She did just that and went about making a fresh pot of chamomile tea.

Sean finished his notes on the Wilkins case and started to clean off his desk. Detective Joe Kelley walked in the room just as he was finishing up.

"Hey, Sean, heard you caught a bad one today?"

"Yeah, Joe. One of the worse I've ever seen."

Joe Kelley had been on the force about six years, came on about a year behind Sean, and while it wasn't uncommon to have a murder in Galloway County, they were mostly domestic situations gone bad. "I didn't hear, who's the victim?"

"Art Wilkins. Looks like he may have interrupted a burglary in progress." Sean got sick thinking of what the intruders had done to the older man.

"Wilkins? Wasn't he your wife's mentor or something? Mike taking this okay?"

He watched as Joe took a seat at his own desk. "Yeah, Mike's taking it okay. She was one of the first to see the crime scene."

"Took the photos again?" Joe had to admire Caragh McConnel, even with what he knew had to be a heavy workload at the college; she made time to help out the local law enforcement departments. Good thing too, she took excellent photographs, sometimes catching on film what was missed during the initial sweep of a scene.

"As always. Look, Joe, I've got to get these NCIC entry forms down to Toni and then I have to get home. You know how Mike can be."

Joe waved him off. "Yeah, but only because we went to school together. Go on. Looks like I'll have a slow night to catch up on my case load."

Sean put his jacket on, picked up his files and headed out the door, then stopped. "Joe? How's that drug case of yours working out? Any leads?"

"A few. But not enough. I'll let you know the minute I get a break."

"Thanks. See you in the morning?"

"I'll be here. Can't miss those weekly bull sessions with the Sheriff."

Sean left the office, dropping by dispatch on his way out to his Suburban to hand off the entry forms. He then headed home, where he was greeted by the smells of reheated stew and the sight of his wife pouring over her notes for her classes. "Mike? Anything wrong?" He had noticed her pale coloring.

"Hi, Sean. No. Nothing's wrong. I just got a little ill earlier." Seeing the concern flare in his eyes, she reassured him. "Don't worry. I made myself sick thinking about what had happened to the Emeritus." She watched as he divested himself of his heavy uniform jacket and continued, "By the way, Craig dropped off Alyssa about an hour ago. She's over at Moiré's place getting settled in."

"That's good. Moiré didn't mind?"

"Not a bit."

"And Craig?" He stripped out of his jacket.

"You must have passed him on the road. He just left. He's not handling the situation very well." Caragh got up from the table she'd been sitting at and dished up a large bowl of the stew for her husband.

Sean nodded. "I'll talk with Lee in the morning, maybe we can get a post-traumatic psychologist to come in and talk with everyone about the call." He took his seat at the table.

"Good idea." She placed the bowl down in front of him. "Maybe you could suggest to Lee that Dean Meltons could be called in? He's really good at dealing with stressed out patients, even if he doesn't practice actively anymore."

"I'll suggest it."

"Great."

Sean looked up at his wife. "Still trying to score 'brownie' points with the man?"

Caragh turned away reaching for the mug she'd abandoned earlier. "Always."

Something in her tone caught his ear. Not even thinking about it, he focused in on her heart. It was beating way too fast. "Caragh? Mike? What's wrong?"

She refilled her tea, turned back to him and smiled. "Never could hide anything from you, could I?"

"Not since you taught me how to control these senses of mine." He pushed his bowl away and took a sip of the tea that she had pour for him. "Now, what's up?"

"I've been thinking."

"That's dangerous."

"Oh, hush!" She sat back down at the table next to him. "I was thinking about that book that you and Craig found."

Sean leaned back in the chair. "I should've known. Mike, it's been bugging me too. But I don't know why."

"Really? I thought that would've been rather obvious to a detective such as yourself."

"Funny. Now, tell me. Why have you been thinking about it?"

Caragh leaned forward, elbows on the table, hands over her mouth as if she were afraid to actually say anything out loud. "The title's got me worried. Coupled with what Alyssa said about her great- grandfather. What if he really had been researching Guardians and Protectors? What if he named names? What if that book got into the hands of the wrong people? What if that was the real reason behind the robbery and Art's death was just 'one of those things'?"

"I put it in the heavy lock up evidence room. Only I have the key at the moment. It's safe now."

"I know that. But, Sean, the Clan has been Guardians for way too many years for me to just let this go. WE are the Guardians of the Protectors, it's our duty to keep the secret of the Protector's existence ? your existence."

Sean sat forward in his seat, reaching up to take a hand away from her face. "I know that. I wasn't comfortable with the idea at first, but I know now that these past seven years have been rough on you."

Caragh shook her head. "True, it's not been easy. But, Sean, I'd do it all over again in a heartbeat. You know that." She squeezed his hand, to show her depth of commitment.

"Yeah." He squeezed back, then let go to take another sip of tea. "So, tell me. What would make you rest a little easier about that book? As if I couldn't guess."

"Bring it home? Let me read it? Just so I can see what 'Blackie' Wilkins was up to?"

"That's not normal procedure, Mike. You know that. It would break the chain of evidence."

Biting her lip, she plunged on, "But I really can't let that book become evidence, and neither can you."

Sean nearly slammed his tea mug back down on the table. "You're asking me to break the chain, aren't you?"

She looked over at him, her green eyes chilling with their intensity. "If you don't, I will. Damn it, Sean! I've got to do this! My duty as a Guardian demands that I do everything in my power to keep you, the Protector, safe!"

"And that duty is enough to make you break the law? To risk your commission?" He was furious with her.

Her returning tone was deadly. "Yes."

"Why?!?"

"You know why! I know Moiré would understand. So would Angus and Lee for that matter." She stood up from the table, making eye contact with him again, not afraid of the anger she saw flashing there. "So, you going to help me with this? Or am I on my own?"

His anger faded. "I'll probably regret thisÖ"

She smiled, the heat of her own anger fading. "No. You won't. Trust me?"

He walked over to her, not remembering that he had stood up during his tirade. He pulled her into an embrace. "I always trust you, Mike. I'll bring it home tomorrow."

Caragh returned the embrace. "Thank you."

"I just hope that this is all worth it."

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