A disappearence into thin air
Hi everyone! I'm back with my new Sentinel fanficton. Please be gentle, but I'll be thankful for any ideas and, of course, constructive critic. English isn't my first language. Sorry for any mistakes which I made, although it was beta read by Brynn87 who I thank from the bottom of the heart for amazing beta job and reading in my mind.
Brynn, this story is for you.
I don't own the main characters, just the storyline, it's written only for entertainment.
Hope you enjoy it
A disappearence into thin air
Sandburg had been gone for three days now and none of his numerous friends and acquaintances had any idea where the anthropologist may be. He’d just vanished without a trace. Ellison had been having a hard time finding out where Sandburg might have gone and why he hadn’t called first. Even though he was one of the best detectives in the Major Crimes Unit, he didn’t have a clue.
He had called every one of Blair’s friends. As his roommate he knew most of them by sight; the others he had heard about and didn’t mind calling. All of them sounded really worried, but no one had any idea of where he could be. He didn’t have any better luck calling Rainier. The most difficult call, by far, though, was the quick conversation he had with Naomi. She was short with Ellison, and seemed more concerned about her trip through Nepal than about her son’s life.
Four hours and too many cups of coffee later, Jim stood in the observation room at the station, watching the interrogation of a very ordinary looking man named Patrick Lane. The man claimed that he had murdered three people and had kidnapped Sandburg. However, he refused to reveal the whereabouts of the captive or the reason he had committed these crimes.
The name Patrick Lane was run through the police database with no success. He had no previous criminal record, not even a speeding or parking ticket. Nothing! He had apparently been a model citizen. Jim had examined what little was known about the suspect; Patrick Lane owned a small, but popular, bookshop and had seemingly lived peacefully in a suburb of eastern Cascade. Jim was suspicious of this record. It was too perfect to be real. He planned to check into this more thoroughly as soon as the interrogation was over and was sure he would find something less than perfect behind the façade of this ‘model citizen’.
Jim’s attention was drawn back to the interrogation as Simon used yet another approach to breaking this guy. But, Lane refused to say anything else, even to a lawyer.
Lane’s silence was irritating Jim. He felt totally powerless against this man. He couldn’t help but wonder what this guy had done to his chatty, overactive friend. He tried to put dark thoughts out of his exhausted mind, but couldn’t help wanting to go in there and force Lane to talk. But, as much as he wanted to do just that, he knew he had to keep his temper under control for the sake of his lost friend.
After a short break, the three men in the small interrogation room faced each other before restarting the interview. They were determined to do everything they could to make this guy tell them where they could find Sandburg. Captain Simon Banks, who was standing against the wall near Lane, observing him attentively, was the one who broke the long silence. His low voice was amazingly emotionless.
“Mr. Lane,” the captain began. “You’ve already confessed to killing three people in cold blood within the last six months, and to kidnapping and holding a young man against his will. Now, the best thing you could do is to tell us where you left Blair Sandburg, and where we can find the remains of your previous victims.”
After a while longer, it became obvious that the interrogation was futile. Lane was taken to his cell, and everyone in Major Crimes worked to solve the case. Jim concentrated on Lane’s personal life.
It took almost twenty-four hours for Jim to uncover the real story behind the man in their holding cell. He wasn’t Patrick Lane. He was really Jerry Smith. He never owned a bookshop, or much of anything else. He had actually worked in the bookshop owned by the real Patrick Lane, but was let go because of his fiery temper and rudeness to the customers. Jerry had a wife and two kids, but the wife had gone missing three months ago, and the kids were currently living with Jerry’s mother-in-law in California. When Jim called her, she was less than pleased to hear about her son-in-law, and described him as an emotionally disturbed man who was obsessively jealous and abusive. Jim promised her that he would do everything in his power to determine exactly what had happened to her daughter and to bring her kidnapper to justice. Keeping his temper in check the best he could, he took a few deep breaths, and headed down to the lock-up. He had a few questions of his own to ask Mr. Jerry Smith.
Ellison woke Simon in the middle of the night and now the two men, along with several officers as backup, rushed to a small, ruined building that had been Smith’s high school. According to the man in lock up, this was the place where he had held, and ultimately buried, his victims. It turned out that Smith just couldn’t control his jealousy. Two of the people he killed were men who had been kind to his wife. Jim figured that was why Blair had been kidnapped, too. It was just like Blair to befriend a woman who had been beaten and who had such a rotten life. Jim figured the third person Smith had confessed to murdering was his wife, since the perp said that Blair was alive when he left him. Jim just hoped that the young man was still alive when they found him.
Finally, they entered the abandoned building and searched every inch of the dark, cold place until they found Sandburg. He was lying in one of the first floor classrooms, injured, bloodstained, and unresponsive. Jim checked him over the best he could but resigned himself to waiting for the ambulance to get any real answers.
That night was one of the worst in Jim’s life. He could only wait in small waiting-room for the results of the examination and hope that everything would be okay.
Ten days later, Blair was anxious to go home. He was slowly regaining his strength, and even though he was still weaker than normal he, Jim, and the doctor all felt that he could do the rest of his recuperating at home. He was still battered and bruised, and moved abnormally slowly as Jim helped him into the wheelchair they needed to get him to the car.
“C’mon, Rambo,” Jim said playfully, “Let’s get you home.”
END