The old Ford careened around corners, the flashing light clearing a path through the afternoon traffic as Jim sped to the trace location. A pay phone, near the Cascade marina, right on one far edge of the city. He knew black and white units were at the scene, he knew that Simon had given orders not to touch anything until he got there, but he cursed anyway. The caller, Jenn, would be gone. And she was his only link to his Guide.

The marina was upscale, the direct opposite of the gritty docks downtown. The uniformed police had already talked to several people who remembered seeing a young woman who looked "out of place" hanging around, but they couldn't get a good description. In layers of clothing so maybe a medium build, medium height, somewhere between fifteen and twenty-five, with a gray knitted hat/ faded blue scarf/ dark baseball cap pulled over her brown/blonde/bald head. Jim wisely left the citizens to the uniforms and walked over to where one officer guarded the phone booth.

"No one's been in since I got here, sir, per Captain Banks' orders. I can't vouch for before I arrived though." The younger man looked worried and Ellison spared him a nod meant to be reassuring before entering the booth.

The big man stood in the cramped space and tried to imagine Blair walking him through the crime scene. He KNEW how to investigate, but his partner's habit of thinking out loud not only anchored Jim's senses, it often triggered his hunches. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply, sifting the scents of diesel fuel and harbour water out, dismissing the roar of the motorboats in an instinctive pairing with the engine he'd heard in the background before. There was a familiar..why was it familiar? And why did he associate it with Blair? Warm, and childhood memories, and candlewax. Candlewax and.. woodsmoke. Woodsmoke? Not a city dweller's scent at all.

He swept the phone booth visually as well, hoping that in her rush to leave, the mysterious Jenn might have forgotten something. The black receiver had obviously had a recent polish, by the looks of it, maybe a sweater or a glove. There was nothing else. Damn.

Ellison stepped outside, and called Simon on his cellphone, to give him the bad news. Without an accurate description, Jenn was gone.. and Blair was gone with her.

Jazz threaded her way through the late afternoon pedestrian traffic. She wasn't running, running would attract attention, but she was shedding layers of clothing as she went. The faded beige knitted hat was first to go, into a garbage can, she dumped a deliberately baggy dark green sweater into a Goodwill box, and got rid of her equally large long print skirt two blocks away. This left her in an oversized Henley worn over dark leggings, socks and fourth hand Doc Martens, patched with electrician's tape over the toes. She wrapped Cha Cha's yards of lavender babushka style scarf around her waist, letting the fringe hang almost to her knees, and fluffed her bright cap of hair. In a storefront window, Jazz could tell that she was passing again, a really eccentric student from the U, or a starving artist. Then she set off at a trot for home. Blair had to know, she couldn't call his friend again.

"What if Jazz hadn't been prepared, man? Your buddy would have caged her and tried to muscle your whereabouts out of her!" Retro was furious, pacing Blair's small room.

Sandburg struggled to sit up. "Look, Jim's a cop but he's a good guy. He wouldn't have hurt her, you, Jazz. You gotta believe me."

She was sitting on the edge of his pallet, one leg curled under her, and now the red-haired girl leaned over, put a comforting hand on his shoulder. Charlie sat on his other side and pushed the pillows up behind him so he could sit more comfortably. "No one is blaming you, Blair." and she turned a steel gray glare at her posturing friend. "I'm sure your partner's a good person. But I can't afford to get arrested. None of us can. We don't have good ID, some of us have records for petty stuff, but that's the sort of things that cops use against us.

Retro saw how pale their guest was, and came over, crouched beside the others in a reconciliatory way. "No, man, I ain't blaming you. But, the truth of the matter is, he set her up. He's going to have to hold for a couple of days until Sonata says you can move. Then we'll get you back home or wherever and trust you not to rat us out."

Cha Cha moved restlessly on the three legged stool she perched on, pushing her black hair off her face, tying it back with a bit of red cloth. Her expression was unusually serious. "You understand what we are trusting you with, don't you? Our freedom, our lives. Our family. This is no game to us." And the dark eyes in the tanned face were fierce.

Before Blair could reassure her, Sonata walked in and scattered them, asking just how they thought her patient was ever going to get well enough to leave if they kept him from sleeping? She carried two mugs, one of willowbark tea and another of soup, substantial soup, that sent the rest of the crows scrambling for the other room. Handing him the willowbark first, the older woman took his pulse again, and smiled down at him.

"You don't mind them, child. They can see the goodness in you as clearly as I can. What happened today just scared them, scared Jazz. We've gotten used to each other, used to our world. Used to this place, I reckon. If we have to move on, it won't hurt us any in the long run. We'll have each other, and family is all that counts at day's end."

A sudden impulse moved him. "What happened to your family, Sonata?"

She closed her eyes a moment, her large expressive face going blank and impassive. When she spoke, it was from far away. "My husband was a doctor, one of the best colored doctors in the city we lived in, too. Our boys, I had three boys, and a little girl too. My husband and our oldest boy died in Korea. My youngest two went to Vietnam..and came home in plastic. My baby girl..she picked the wrong man to fall in love with. One Christmas, he beat her to death before killing his sorry self with his service revolver." The dark eyes were suddenly very bright in the dim light, and Blair groped for her work hardened hand.

"That was a long time ago, child." Sonata told him. "My parents wanted me to have opportunities and I did. I met my husband in medical school, and when he died, I went back. So I could always support my children, and now, I can take care of my new family. Life isn't easy, Blair, but it's always precious, at least to me. You eat that soup now, and you get some sleep." And, like before, she brushed the soft hair back from his forehead and left him alone with his meal, and his thoughts.

So much pain, and no bitterness. How many people have that kind of heart? His mind was racing as he slowly ate, imagining Naomi in those circumstances, thankful that her losses had never been that great.

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