Author’s Note: This story unfortunately does NOT come with the Quiet Wolf Happy Ending Guarantee, although I tried to end it on as positive a note as possible. But it deals with subject matter that could be upsetting to some (nothing graphic) and is generally depressing in tone. You’ve been warned. The usual disclaimers apply - don’t own the characters and definitely not profiting. Comments always welcome.
The truck eased to a stop next to a dilapidated house and the detective cast a doubtful glance at the young man sitting in the seat next to him. After all, Blair Sandburg was not known for his keen navigational skills.
“Are you sure this is the right address?”
“It’s the one you have written down,” the anthropologist told him, holding up the slip of paper in his hands to prove it.
Hoping he hadn’t mixed up the numbers when he’d scribbled out the information, knowing he’d never live it down if he had, Jim Ellison exited his truck and approached the residence with his unofficial partner in tow. It was the last known address of a suspect wanted for questioning in an arson case they were working on, but it didn’t appear as if anyone had lived there for awhile. The grass in the front yard was overgrown and some of the window panes in the first story were broken out. Carefully the detective stepped up on the porch, feeling the rotten boards sag under his weight. He rapped his knuckles against the door, not surprised when nobody answered as his sensitive hearing had failed to detect any signs of life within.
“Let’s check around back,” he suggested, wanting to cover all the bases before writing their lead off as dead. It was the cop in him. Standard operating procedure had to be followed, even though his sentinel abilities had already told him everything he needed to know. Blair knew this but also knew better than to argue the point, so he just shrugged his assent and followed him through a gate that creaked a protest of rusty hinges as they entered the backyard. It was worse than the front, piled with trash and junk that was half obscured by tangles of overgrown weeds.
“I feel like I need a tetanus shot just being here,” Sandburg muttered in disgust as he gingerly followed in his partner’s footsteps. Ellison silently agreed but didn’t comment as he knocked on the back door, predictably getting no answer. Moving over to one of the windows, he hooked his fingers on the ledge and hefted himself up to peer inside.
“Empty,” he reported dejectedly as he dropped back down to the ground and unconsciously rubbed his hands on his khaki pants.
“Well, now what?”
The sentinel wasn’t sure, and as he tried to think of an answer a small flicker of movement caught his eye. His gaze immediately swept the area as he went into alert mode, although he knew the chance of real danger was practically nil. The yard was a bit of an urban jungle and a paradise for local wildlife. He’d been filtering out the sounds of small animals rustling through the weeds, but as he focused in on a slow heartbeat he realized it was not a bird or a squirrel or a rat that had captured his attention.
“Good God,” he murmured in horror. “Is that a dog?”
At first Blair didn’t see it nestled among the junk, but then the animal struggled to its feet. It looked vaguely dog-like, but its fur was so long and matted it was difficult to ID. They watched it take two hobbling steps toward them before it collapsed back down to the ground. It outwardly didn’t appear like much of a threat, but Sandburg wasn’t sure approaching it was a good idea in case it turned out to be vicious or rabid. A concern his older and supposedly wiser friend obviously didn’t share, judging by the way he was slowly walking up to the animal, holding out a hand to him. The dog sniffed him when he was in reach, and after a moment a pink tongue emerged out of the thick, black fur and gave his hand a lick.
“Ok, buddy,” Jim said soothingly, reaching out to stroke the canine’s head. “Let’s have a look at you and see what we’ve got.”
The dog was chained to the rusted frame of an old car. He’d originally had a decent reach, but the chain had gotten wrapped around the metal to the point where he was restricted to just a few feet of slack, barely enough to turn around. The ground where he was tied was bare, indicating he’d been there for awhile. Ellison dug around into the tangled fur, looking for a way to release the animal, but his fingers came away sticky with blood.
“The collar’s embedded into his neck,” he growled quietly to his partner. Deciding to leave it in place for the moment, not wanting to hurt the dog further, Jim gave up on attempting to free him. Trying to reassure the animal, his fingers dug down into the matted fur on the canine’s back to give him a scratch, but again he drew blood. “There’s no telling what kind of injuries or sores he’s got under all this hair.” He wanted to vent his frustration but he didn’t want to scare the dog, so he kept his voice as calm as he could under the circumstances. Heaving a sigh as he again wiped his hands on his pants, irrevocably staining them this time to his friend’s amazement, the sentinel gave the dog’s head another pat as he glanced around the area. Spying a metal bowl buried under the weeds, he retrieved it and passed it over to his guide. “See if you can get any water out of that spigot on the side of the house.”
Blair trotted off to do as he was instructed, glad that a gush of liquid came out when he turned the tap. He let it run for a minute to flush the pipe before he filled up the bowl and cut the flow. But when he turned around he almost dropped the whole thing. Jim was sprawled there in the dirt with the pitiful creature’s head resting in his lap. Recovering from the momentary shock the sight had caused, Sandburg took the water to him.
“Thanks.” Ellison pushed back the thick mats of hair and grinned. “I knew you had eyes in there somewhere.” The brown orbs were crusted with goop and the dog blinked almost painfully at the suddenly bright and clear world. But he recovered quickly as the bowl of water was placed in front of his nose. “There you go, pal.” As the dog began to lap up the liquid with eager desperation, Jim looked up at his friend as he stroked one hand down the animal’s side. “He’s completely emaciated. I can feel every one of his ribs, even through all this fur.”
Blair crouched down next to them and joined in with the gentle petting. The thought of the sweet dog being abandoned and forgotten, denied the basic essentials of life and left to waste away alone, day by day in agony until the mercy of death finally claimed him, made the bile rise up in his throat. He swallowed it down and gazed earnestly at his partner.
“We can’t leave him here like this, Jim.”
“I know, but we have to do this right. Go call the SPCA and ask them to send someone over here as soon as they can.”
Blair nodded and headed off for the truck where he’d left his backpack and his cell phone. Jim turned his attentions back to the dog as he finished off the water and plopped his head back down on his new friend’s leg.
“It’s ok, buddy,” the sentinel crooned to him softly, scratching at his ears. “We’re going to get you some help, I promise. You’ll be all right. And I’m not going to let anyone hurt you anymore.”
A long tail began to thump happily against the ground.
The animal cruelty unit of the Cascade SPCA did respond quickly, although it still took them awhile to arrive on the scene. Jim sat with the dog the entire time, seemingly having forgotten all about their arson case as he kept up a constant stream of soft reassurances. Blair watched the whole thing with a bit of fascination. He was naturally sickened by the neglect the animal had suffered and his heart went out to the poor creature. But he never would have expected his partner to feel the same way. Or rather, he never would have expected Jim to act like he felt the same way. Blair knew better than anyone that under that often cold and remote exterior, Ellison hid a big, compassionate heart. It was just rare to see it surface, and he never thought that a mangy mutt, more dead than alive, would elicit such open kindness and caring.
The sentinel heard the vehicle pull up in front of the house and Sandburg went out to meet the two SPCA agents, explaining the circumstances that led to them finding the dog as he escorted them to the backyard. One of them immediately began snapping pictures of the animal and the immediate area to be used as future evidence, and the other gave the dog a quick examination. There was no need to debate. They both agreed they needed to take the dog then and there. Producing a pair of bolt cutters from their truck, the chain was soon cut and the canine was freed, although they decided to leave the embedded collar in place and let the veterinarian at the animal shelter deal with removing it. Jim wrapped the dog in a blanket that he was handed and lifted him in his arms, an effortless task as the animal was nearly skeletal. The dog whimpered softly and the sentinel leaned down to whisper into his ear.
“I know, buddy. Hang in there. We’re going to go get you fixed up, ok? That’s a good boy.”
He carried the dog out to the truck and gently eased him into a large kennel. The canine immediately curled up, lacking the strength to stand. Jim scratched the dog’s head, getting a lick in return before he stepped back and let the agent close up the vehicle.
“Is he going to be all right?”
“It’s too early to tell,” the investigator replied. “First we need to get him shaved and cleaned up so we can see what we’re dealing with. Then the vet will examine him and see what’s what. If he’s not too far gone he’ll probably be ok.”
“I understand,” Ellison said, a bit woodenly. “Thanks for coming out.”
“Just let us know if you catch the guy,” the agent told him as he climbed into the truck with his partner. The sentinel watched them drive off, unmoving until a hand touched his arm.
“Jim, you ok?”
“Yeah.” Ellison shook himself slightly. “Let’s get out of here and go back to the station.”
“Maybe we ought to swing by the loft first,” Blair suggested.
Jim glanced down at his filthy, bloodstained clothing.
“Yeah.”
With a sigh, Sandburg followed his partner out to the truck. Any hope of getting his sentinel to talk about his behavior with the dog went out the window as he realized he was going to be stuck with icy glares and monotone answers for the rest of the day while Ellison vented his anger over the animal’s treatment on the rest of the world.
It had been a long day at Rainier and darkness was falling by the time Blair pulled onto Prospect. He was not surprised to see his roommate’s truck parked out front of the building, but as he entered and went upstairs he did find it odd that the loft was dark and quiet. As he dropped his backpack by the door and carried a bag into the kitchen, Sandburg caught sight of Jim out on the balcony, staring over the city with his arms crossed tightly over his chest. The something’s-bothering-me-but-I’ll-be-damned-if-I’ll-talk-about-it posture, he realized with a heavy sigh of resignation. Blair turned on a few lights and put his groceries away, and when his sentinel still hadn’t moved to acknowledge him he decided to go out and force the issue. Which meant getting his head bitten off, but once the growling was out of his system Ellison could be manipulated into telling him what was wrong. Then once the air was cleared Blair would be able to pass a pleasant evening with a nice dinner and some random tv. Because he knew from experience that if the sentinel were tense, there was no peace or relaxation to be had for anyone.
“Hey, man,” Sandburg greeted his partner as he stuck his head through the balcony door. “I stopped by the horticulture lab before I left campus and raided their stash. How does a fresh salad and eggplant parmesan grab you?”
“I’m not hungry,” the detective replied tonelessly, his gaze riveted to the darkening landscape.
‘Of course not,’ Blair thought to himself. Out loud he inquired, “need a beer?”
“No.”
Bracing himself for the cold front that had nothing to do with the weather, the younger man stepped outside to stand beside his friend.
“What’s up?”
“Nothing.”
“Come on, Jim,” he wheedled. “Something’s eating you.”
“I said it’s nothing! Now just drop it.”
Blair sighed, running a hand through his curls, pushing them back off his face where the breeze had blown them. Normally he’d be a little more inclined to play along and dance the dance of subtle interrogation with his roommate, but it was getting colder and he was hungry and he wanted to move things along before it got any later.
“Damn it, Jim, will you just talk to me?” he snapped, sounding more irritated than he was. But when he used that tone his stubborn friend was more apt to give him his attention and take him seriously. “If you’re going to be a pain in the ass for the rest of the night I at least deserve to know why.”
Ellison turned and gave him a long, hard glare, and Blair wondered if maybe he’d gone too far. But he made himself hold his sentinel’s gaze, and after several moments Jim looked away, his gaze sweeping back over the horizon as he unclenched his jaw.
“The dog’s dead.”
“What dog?” Sandburg asked, before he remembered. “You mean the one we found?”
“Yeah,” Jim answered quietly. “They tried to treat him but he had a pretty bad infection and wasn’t in any shape to fight it off.”
“I’m sorry, man.” Blair was quiet for a minute, feeling sorrow for all the animal had suffered and regret that they hadn’t found him sooner. But his curiosity was piqued by the fixation his friend seemed to have for the dog and he wanted to know why. “Did the SPCA call you and tell you?”
“I called them,” Ellison admitted. “I wanted to know how he was doing, and... I was going to tell them that I’d take him.”
“You?” Sandburg blurted out in surprise. “You were going to bring a dog here? To the loft? Inside?”
“Yes,” the sentinel said impatiently. “What’s so astounding about that?”
“Nothing. It’s just that you thought I was hard to housebreak...”
“This is NOT funny, Sandburg!” Real anger, not the displaced kind, and Blair was instantly contrite.
“You’re right. I’m sorry,” he apologized. “I guess I just don’t understand why this is affecting you so much. I mean, you see dead bodies all the time and you’re completely stoic about it. So why is this dog getting to you now?”
“I don’t know,” Jim said wearily, his shoulders slumping as he leaned heavily on the railing. “I guess there’s just something inherently innocent and helpless about an animal like that and I can’t get my head around the fact that he was treated with such a level of cruelty. There wasn’t anything behind it, you know? This wasn’t a crime of passion or motivated by greed or even a case of insanity. Someone just maliciously tied that poor guy up there and left him to suffer a horrible death. And yet, after all he’d been through, that dog still had it in him to trust me. That amazes me. And... it breaks my heart.”
“I’m sorry,” Blair repeated as he tried to think of consoling words. He was distracted by a shiver that ran through his frame suddenly and the tremor did not go unnoticed by his sentinel.
“Why don’t you go inside where it’s warm?” he suggested.
“Are you coming?”
“Soon,” Jim responded. “I want to stay out here for a little while longer.”
Sandburg felt bad leaving his friend alone when he was obviously upset, but he decided that it was best to give the detective some time to work through his thoughts and feelings. Blair entered the loft and went to his room to snag a warm sweatshirt, yet again simultaneously marveling and cursing his partner’s immunity to the cold. Then he returned to the kitchen and started dinner preparations, although he realized his plans for a peaceful evening had gone down the tubes. The sentinel’s words had hit home with his guide and a somber atmosphere descended over the loft that night. For both of them.
Jim finally came back inside just as Blair was getting ready to eat and he managed to talk his sentinel into sitting down with him. The younger man studied his friend, methodically stuffing salad into his mouth with a bland, neutral expression plastered on his face. Well, at least he was eating. Blair dove into his own greens as his gaze swept through the loft. As bizarre as the idea had initially struck him, he found that it was actually rather easy to envision a dog living in the clean and orderly loft. Lying next to the fireplace, waiting at the door with wagging tail to greet them when they got home, sitting under the table, begging for scraps from a hardened detective who wouldn’t be able to refuse him... Not to mention the fact that pets had a calming effect on people. Sandburg conjured up a mental image of his friend coming home after a bad day at work and being welcomed by a furry mass of unconditional love. After a few minutes of tummy rubs, that stone face would just melt away. Now that, he thought to himself in amusement, was his idea of a sentinel AND guide’s best friend.
“What are you grinning about?”
“Nothing,” Blair said hastily, not realizing his daydreams had transcended into reality and scrambling to cover himself. “I was just thinking. How it might be nice to have a dog around here.”
“I always wanted one,” Jim confessed quietly as he shoved his salad bowl away and pulled his dinner plate closer, picking absently at the eggplant with his fork. “When I was a kid. I used to get... lonely sometimes. And I thought a dog would be a ready made friend. Guess I just watched too much “Lassie” growing up.”
Blair could only imagine what his partner had gone through as a child. His mom bailing on the family, not even wanting to take the boys for brief visitations. A dad who put everything into his work, neglecting his kids when he wasn’t pitting them against each other. Not to mention making his oldest boy feel like a freak because of his abilities and forcing him to suppress them out of shame and humiliation. Then finding Bud, his mentor and perhaps the only real friend he’d had, dead in the woods. It was no wonder that he’d longed for the loyal and loving companionship that only a canine could give. And Blair felt sadness for his friend that he’d been denied it when he’d so needed it. Back then, and again now.
“You know, Jim,” he began thoughtfully, “I really am sorry that the dog didn’t make it. But there are lots of others at the SPCA that come from similar situations and need good homes.”
“I thought about it, Chief,” Ellison told him as he decided to stop mashing his dinner and started to eat it. “But the bottom line is, as much as I might want it, this just wouldn’t be a good home for a dog. We don’t even have a yard, and we both have unpredictable schedules. It just wouldn’t be fair to the dog.”
Blair had to admit he was right. They both worked long, irregular hours on a good week. If Jim was wrapped up in a tough case, he could easily put in 15 hour days of relentless investigation. Not to mention the penchant they both seemed to have for getting kidnaped or involved in hostage situations. They just couldn’t guarantee a regular schedule and sufficient attention, or even that they’d make it home from one day to the next, and that wouldn’t be fair to a dog.
“Well, maybe someday,” he offered.
“Yeah, maybe.” The sentinel glanced over at his guide and a slight sparkle formed in his sad blue eyes. “I need to finish getting you trained first, and then we’ll see.”
“Hey,” Blair protested, but mildly as he was willing to take a little abuse if the joking made his friend feel a little better.
They finished dinner and Ellison insisted on cleaning up and doing the dishes. When he was finished he joined his roommate in the living room and they spent the rest of the evening arguing good naturedly over the remote. Jim was in better spirits by the time he announced he was going to bed, causing Blair to hesitate, wondering if he should even bring up the subject again. But he halted his friend as he was about to climb the stairs.
“Jim, I know you’re upset because you couldn’t save the dog,” he said quietly. “But don’t dwell on that, man. You got him out of that hell and he didn’t have to die there, alone. When he went he was somewhere clean and safe with food and water and probably painkillers, too. But most of all, you gave that animal a little love and kindness when he needed it the most. And that really is everything.”
“Thanks, Chief,” the sentinel murmured after a long pause. In the pre-Blair world he used to just sit on his feelings of anger or loss or guilt until they escaped from him, usually in inappropriate situations or at innocent targets. But he had to admit that talking things over had helped, and he was glad his guide had pushed him to it, even though he had to have known from past experience that he was tempting fate. “And I’m sorry if I was a ‘pain in the ass’ tonight.”
“No more than usual,” Blair told him with a cheeky grin.
Shaking his head, Jim continued upstairs. He fell asleep relatively easily, losing himself to dreams of a happy, healthy, shaggy black dog being escorted into the jungle by a sleek black jaguar. The cat’s yellow eyes seemed to reflect a weary tolerance for the dog’s happy go lucky playfulness, but it’s powerful body radiated strength and a fierce protectiveness. For the jaguar was on duty, and nothing was ever going to hurt the dog again, not on his watch. And while the sentinel couldn’t help but feel a little silly over his subconscious flight of fancy, he also couldn’t deny that the image made him smile.
Finis
The Sandburg Zone
Cascade Library