Author:  Freya-Kendra

Fandom: Sentinel

Category: ? a sprig of angst, a dash of humor and just a pinch of philosophy

 

Notes:  One morning I encountered the dilemma -- okay, only a portion of the dilemma -- Blair experiences in this little story.  I saw what he sees.  I angsted.  But what I thought I saw turned out not to be what I saw at all.

 

Confused?  Okay, let's move on.  Read the story.  It'll make sense.

 

*   *   * 

 

Some Body No Body Knows

 

With the morning rush hour coming to a close, southbound traffic heading into the city of Cascade was still heavy, but it was moving.  Blair was able to maintain a nearly constant speed, only ten miles per hour under the posted limit.  It was a good pace, under the circumstances -- which was fortunate for him because Jim had expected him at the PD fifteen minutes ago.

Dammit.  He'd never hear the end of it.  Falling asleep at a colleague's home after a late night of research might be considered a fairly plausible excuse; but Jim knew that 'colleague' also happened to be a pretty, young and unattached female....  Blair would definitely never hear the end of it.

The highway at this point was only two lanes, which would split just a few miles further up the road.  Blair would have to position himself to take the left junction before the split, so he switched lanes as soon as he found an opportunity.

 

Almost immediately after settling into the left lane, Blair caught sight of a peculiar bit of debris on the other side of the freeway.  A pile, or bundle of some sort was lying on the left shoulder bordering the northbound lanes.  As Blair drew closer, his interest and concern was peaked.  Something just was not right about that bundle.  But the morning sun was obscured behind a thick screen of clouds; it was a very gray dawn.  The guardrail dividing southbound and northbound traffic further served to obscure his view.  Still....

 

He kept his eye on the bundle as well as he could while continuing to monitor the traffic in front of him.  Was it a garbage bag?  Two garbage bags?  Wait, did that look like cloth?

 

Finally, he passed it.  And in that quick second during which he was right beside it -- separated only by a guardrail and roughly 20 feet of gravel -- he could swear the near-most part of that bundle looked like legs -- two legs curled up in the fetal position, clad in jeans.  He swore he even saw boots on the figure's 'feet.'

 

No way.  He could not have seen what he just saw, could he?  There was no car, no vehicle of any kind anywhere near the bundle.  And if the bundle really was a body ... northbound traffic would not keep driving past it, would it?  That many people couldn't possibly be so callous, so cold as to ignore a person so obviously in need of help ... could they?  And police ... this was the end of rush hour, but it was still rush hour.  There had to be police cars driving past that same bundle ... or body.  If it really was a body, someone heading north and driving directly past it would stop or call 911 or ... something; wouldn't they?

 

Should Blair call 911?  Yeah, there's a thought.  Blair Sandburg, police observer with Major Crimes, can't even distinguish the difference between garbage bags and dead bodies.  And he was worried about living down his unplanned, overnight stay with ancient history professor Susan Duhrman.

 

Keeping his gaze on northbound traffic, looking for brake lights or any other signal that people driving by the bundle were alarmed in any way, Blair found himself envying Jim's sentinel vision.  If Blair had sentinel sight then he would be able to know for sure whether or not he had indeed spotted a body where thousands of other drivers saw nothing anymore unusual than garbage bags -- or simply chose to ignore the truth of what they were seeing.

 

Then again, maybe all -- or at least some of those other drivers were going through the same mental analysis as Blair.

 

Blair had to find out.  He didn't have time.  He didn't even have a good way of turning around.  The next exit wasn't until well after the split, and would take him entirely in the wrong direction; it also would not provide direct access to the northbound lanes.  Still, he had to find out.

 

He spotted a turn-around just up ahead, a break in the guardrail provided for use by "authorized vehicles only."  Blair's Volvo was definitely not an authorized vehicle; and if the bundle proved not to be a body at all, and really was just a couple of oddly placed garbage bags, Blair would be breaking the law by using the turnaround.  On the other hand, if the bundle really was a body.... 

 

Blair took the turnaround.

 

He saw flashing lights in his rearview mirror just a few seconds later.

 

Great.  Just great.  Switching on his own hazard lights, Blair waved at the police car behind him to show he was aware, and was not attempting to flee.  He also slowed to the minimum limit.  But he did not stop.  He figured if he had to stop in a few minutes anyway to check on the bundle ... or body ... he might as well lead the cop directly to it.

 

The cop, of course, could not know his intentions and seemed to be growing agitated by Blair's apparent refusal to stop.  The cop car jerked forward several times, coming just short of 'nudging' Blair's car, and flashed his spotlight.

 

Blair raised his arm to wave again, and tried pointing forward.

 

Maybe that did it.  The cop car eased back, and Blair took a sigh of relief.  But then he saw that the move was preemptive.  The cop suddenly maneuvered his car beside Blair's. 

 

Blair gazed through the passenger window to see a very pissed-off officer pointing at him, demanding that he pull over.

 

"Give me a break," Blair said under his breath through a plastered on smile.  He pointed forward once more.  The bundle was just up ahead.

 

Close enough. 

 

Blair decided he'd better pull over.  The cop was on him in an instant.  Blair had to fight the urge to get out of the car and run toward the bundle.  He knew the drill.  Stay in the car.  Keep your hands in sight.  He gripped the steering wheel, sticking with the traditional 10 and 2 position.  And he waited. 

 

"Get out of the car," the cop demanded a moment later.

 

Okay.  This was different.  Blair stepped out of the car and was surprised to find himself searched and handcuffed.

 

"I can explain," he insisted.  "I'm an observer working with the Cascade PD, Major Crimes."

 

The cop did not appear to be impressed.

 

"Look, I saw that debris up there," Blair motioned with his head, "from the other side of the freeway.  I didn't like the fact that it looked like a body."

 

"A body?"  The cop asked, clearly disbelieving. 

 

"I hope I'm wrong, but you can see why I figured I had to check it out.  Please, do me a favor and just go look, okay?"

 

The cop seemed to be getting more pissed by the minute.  Maybe he was growing worried that Major Crimes would back Blair's story, or that Blair really did have a valid excuse for breaking the law by taking that turnaround and then, apparently, running from the law ala OJ and the infamous white Bronco.  In the passing lane, no less.

 

There was definite reluctance and skepticism in the cop's body language when he ordered Blair into the back of the squad car.  Nonetheless, the cop did then jog ahead to check on the bundle.

 

So, was it a body, or was it not a body?  Blair anxiously watched as the cop stared at and then cautiously poked around at the bundle.  The cop gazed back at Blair, and then he said something into his radio.  Blair wondered if he could hear whatever it was the cop was saying over the radio in the squad car, but he couldn't quite make out whatever garbled words were coming through.

 

Several long moments later, the cop made the seemingly endless trek back to the squad car. 

 

Blair found himself angsting over what he was hoping the cop would tell him.  If it wasn't a body, then Blair would have a whole lot more trouble ahead than if he simply had to explain to Jim about the overnight stay with Professor Duhrman.  Yet if it was a body ...

 

Damn.  If it was a body and no one but Blair had bothered to check....  He really did not like to think about what that might say about the state of humanity in this present day urbanized society.

 

The cop paused at the Volvo, and once again used his radio.

 

"Come on, already," Blair said aloud, more than a little anxious to have his answer.

 

Finally, the cop approached the squad car.  He opened the rear door.

 

"Well?"  Blair asked.

 

"Step out," the cop replied, seeming more resigned than angry.

 

"What is it?"  Blair prodded as the cop released him from the handcuffs.

 

The cop sighed.  "Come with me."

 

His heart pumping too hard, Blair followed the cop to the bundle.  Moments later, he found himself approaching a black, plastic garbage bag.  "So it wasn't--"

 

His words died the moment he could see just beyond the small hump of the partially full bag.  He saw a pair of legs, clad in jeans, and a pair of tan work boots.

 

"Oh god."  Blair swallowed hard, nauseous by thoughts of what the bag must contain.

 

Then the cop squatted down beside the jeans.  He reached for the waistband and crooked a finger into one of the belt loops, lifting up just enough to show Blair the straw that had been used as stuffing.

 

"You're kidding me!"  Blair said.  "I don't believe this.  Who would do something like this?"

 

Still trying to process the answer when he sensed a vehicle pulling onto the shoulder behind him, Blair did not bother to see who it was that had arrived.

 

"Good catch, Chief."

 

Jim?  Blair spun around.  "Jim?" He repeated aloud.  "What are you...."  Then he realized what Jim had said.  "What do you mean, 'good catch'?"

 

Jim moved past him and looked down at the 'bundle.' "You saw what very well could have been a body, maybe even someone in need of immediate medical attention.  And you didn't ignore it."

 

"Yeah; good catch," Blair said sarcastically.  "I missed your meeting and nearly got myself arrested for the sake of saving a straw man."

 

"A straw man that looks like it was placed here specifically to give the impression it was a body."

 

"But who would do that?  And why?"

 

Jim started scanning the area.  "A bad, practical joke," he offered almost absently, his focus seeming to be directed further out.  "Or some sort of a test coordinated by a clueless, misguided college student for some research project."

 

"No way." Blair thought it over, and then glanced at the dummy.  "You don't think...."  Another idea struck him.  "Either way, there would be no value unless whoever did it had some way to watch or record...."

 

"Exactly." 

 

Jim was staring at something.  Blair followed his gaze to an old, dilapidated motel east of the freeway.

 

"No way," he repeated softly.

 

*   *   *

 

Since it didn't really classify as a "major crime," Jim left the quick investigation in other capable hands and told Blair to meet him back at the station.

 

"This isn't exactly on your regular route," Jim said casually as he walked Blair back toward the Volvo.

 

Oh, crap.  He'd actually managed to forget all about having to explain his overnighter with Susan Duhrman.  "I was uh, doing research," he offered.

 

"Research.  All night?"

 

"Well, it got late.  I was tired."

 

"Uh-huh.  So this research, was it blonde, brunette or redhead?"

 

"Brunette, actually.  But it's not what you think."

 

"Riight."

 

"Really, Jim.  It was just research."

 

"Uh-huh.  Look, Chief.  I just have one bit of advice for you."

 

"What's that?"

 

"You have the right to remain silent."

 

"Got it."

 

Blair stepped into his Volvo, started it up and pulled carefully back onto the freeway, heading north.  Now he just had to find the best way to turn around....

 

<end>