River's Edge Read online

  “You work the extremes with your emotions, though, Jim. You either walk around with a blank, ultra-calm look on your face, or else you’re … I don’t know … Remember when Tommy died? Or even sitting like this in the station garage. You didn’t care what anyone else thought. Sandburg’s different. He cruises through life with his emotions visible, always on low throttle, so he gives the appearance of being more emotional than you. But he’s better at hiding them, submerging them, when he wants to, when they get too much for him.”

  “He thinks you’re going to take away his Observer’s pass because of this.”

  “Because he had a flashback? I knew the possibility existed before and I let him stay. Now that I see that you can handle it, it’s no different from before. No, I’ve felt like pulling it at times, but that’s because he can be damned infuriating, not because of something that happened to him in the line of duty.”

  “Hear that, Chief?” Jim asked, looking down.

  Blair blinked sleepily, but didn’t say anything.

  “He’s drifting. Maybe I will use your help, Simon. Help me get him into the tent without dropping him. I think my legs have fallen asleep. He’s heavier than he looks.”

  “May I remind you this was your idea?” Blair mumbled, lifting his head from Jim’s shoulder. “Just get me to my feet and steer me in the right direction.”

  “Will do, Chief.”

  *

  It was raining lightly the next morning when Jim woke. He glanced at his watch, but 5:30 a.m. was too early to get up on a day off, and he closed his eyes again. The wet canvas smell of the tent wasn’t entirely unpleasant. He was warm enough, especially with his loftmate sleeping pressed up against his back. Blair hated being cold.

  So what were you doing swimming in the river, Chief?

  In the next tent, he could hear Simon softly snoring, and he touched on Daryl’s restful breathing. Both had slept soundly through the night. Even Blair had slept most of it, just occasionally waking, disoriented, then rolling over and going back to sleep.

  Half an hour later, Jim was still awake and it had stopped raining. A good time to fish. He slipped from his sleeping bag, pulled on his jeans and shoes, then eased out of the tent. Already the clouds were breaking up in the north and the radio’s promise of good weather for the weekend seemed to be a possibility.

  He made use of a tree nearby, then set about gathering some wood from under their tarp to get a fire going. Twenty minutes later, he had a drinkable thermos of coffee, and he was already set to go, hipwaders, a hat full of lures, and fishing gear.

  He wandered down the shore until he reached a good location, still within normal hearing of the campsite, in case someone called out for him and he needed to answer them. Blair was still sleeping. He listened for a few minutes, satisfied with the regularity and ease, and turned his attention back to the water. It was time to get on with life. His Guide would be fine. They were on the right path again.

  The water beckoned, clear and cold. He could see the individual stones on the riverbed, beneath the current. The first few steps in were always the most difficult. His boots were slightly damp from getting them wet inside the day before; he had practically raced through the water to get to Blair and had managed to get a fair amount of water into the hipwaders. It wasn’t uncomfortable, and he played with his touch sensitivity dial until he had toned down the coolness of the water. The lure was already on his hook; he cast out into the river and juggled the rod under one arm as he opened the thermos and poured himself some coffee, finally settling into the moment.

  There were low clouds hovering in the mountains, but their peaks were already clear. The rest would burn off by midmorning. Mount Baker was silent in the distance, no plumes of smoking issuing from it. The air was heavy with moisture and dew. He sipped at the coffee, enjoying Simon’s choice of blend. It was a roast he hadn’t heard of before, and he carefully breathed in its fragrance, letting the similarities and differences of the blend register on each of his senses.

  A tug on his line and he returned his attention to the matter at hand. Five rewarding minutes later, and he had a small trout in his basket. One more, and he would have breakfast to bring back to the others. He put on another lure and recast the line.

  “How’s the big game hunter?”

  Ellison turned his head, glancing behind him to his partner. Blair stood behind him on the shore, bundled in his coat, his hands around a mug of coffee. “Good morning, Chief. Here to do some fishing?”

  “Maybe a little later,” Blair grinned at him. “A little too cold for my taste.”

  “How are you feeling?”

  “Generally or specifically?”

  “Specifically.”

  Blair nodded, shrugging self-consciously. “Okay, I guess. I’ve got a bit of a headache, but I guess that’s to be expected.”

  “With a bump like that, it is.”

  “Uh, where’d I get it from? Did I piss you off more than usual and you hit me?”

  “You fell, remember?”

  “I fell? Oh. Right. How’s your cheek? It got scratched by my jacket zipper, didn’t it? I seem to recall—”

  “Forget it. It’s fine. I put some stuff on it last night and I can hardly see it today.”

  “Good.” Blair stood nodding, still clutching his mug of coffee.

  Ellison smiled and looked back at him. “You look like one of the little plastic dogs that sit in the rear windows of old cars, their heads bobbing.”

  “Thanks, Jim. I appreciate that,” he said sarcastically.

  “No problem.” He stole another look at Blair, noting the slight tremble still in his hands. “Maybe when you get back from your hike with Daryl, you can show me how that fishing spear works.”

  “The hike? Is that still on?” Blair seemed honestly surprised.

  “Unless you don’t want to go anymore. Daryl asked about it again last night.”

  “The hike? Like, Simon won’t freak out or something?”

  “Not if you’re back before dinner. He wants a little more help tonight.”

  Blair could hardly breathe normally. “So, Jim … are you saying that Simon is okay with me going on a hike alone with his kid?”

  “They’re both okay with the idea, Chief.”

  “And you?” The voice was strained, nervous.

  “If you want to waste a good fishing day by hiking, go ahead. Maybe when you get back later, we can do a little of that spear fishing. We need to head out Sunday by midmorning at the latest, so this might be our last chance for you to show me how it’s done.”

  Blair was at the very edge of the water. “We’re staying?”

  “Of course we’re staying. Haven’t you been listening? How about it? Show me how that spear fishing works?”

  “Sure.” Blair smiled and the sun broke through the clouds at the same instant. “Hey, Jim.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Thanks. For all that stuff; for you guys believing in me. And … for the fifteen minutes.”

  “You survived intact, I see.”

  Blair nodded. “I don’t think I could handle a steady diet of it, but if it makes you feel better, big guy, then I’ll do my best.”

  “You always do, Chief.”