Thirty minutes later, under the stage

"This is the bolt," Jim pointed.

Serena hid her smile. If she had any doubts before, this certainly cleared them. No average person could see anything in the gloom under the stage. But then, she never really believed Sandburg would commit fraud, either. No wonder Ellison always seemed to find tiny bits of evidence her team had missed. She carefully swung her flashlight to where Jim was pointing, giving the man a chance to adjust to its light. She didn't want to hurt the Cascade PD's secret weapon.

Focusing on the area, she picked up a bolt from the ground. Her gloved hand turned it around under the flashlight as she studied it. "Yes, this definitely looks like it was cut part way. That stressed it enough that it would eventually give way."

Jim grimly nodded as Serena confirmed his suspicions. "So it could have been done earlier in the day." He glanced around, thinking of the crowds and performers that had surrounded the stage since the start of the festival. It would have been hard for someone to slip underneath unnoticed.

"It probably was done very early. I can't believe three slim girls could cause this much stress."

"No, but there was a polka demonstration on right before them," Jim replied thoughtfully. He caught the eye of the forensic technician. "Let me know if you find anything else."

Serena nodded, then touched his arm, "Jim? The components for those arson devices were purchased locally. Sam is trying to hunt down who bought them right now."

"Thanks." Jim tipped his head to her, then climbed back into the sunshine. Spotting his partner interviewing one of the festival organizers, he turned towards that direction when he was stopped by a small hand placed on his arm. He glanced down to see the teen he had rescued.

"I wanted to thank you for saving me," she said softly, her warm brown eyes sincere.

Jim gave her one of his rare, warm smiles. "It was my pleasure, Miss...?"

"Asha Lemke."

"Miss Lemke. I hope the rest of your performances go much smoother."

"Me, too," Asha giggled.

"Asha!" Jim glanced over the teen's shoulder to see an older woman who looked to be of full Indian blood.

"There's my mom. Thanks again!"

"You're welcome," Jim replied, returning her wave as she ran to her mother. Taking a deep breath, the detective could feel anger stirring in his chest. If he hadn't reached her in time, that sweet girl would be on her way to the hospital with broken bones instead of going home. Jim turned to join his partner, more determined than ever to stop this would-be terrorist.

Blair had finished his conversation with the festival worker as Jim approached. "After the Bharatanatyam dance performance, this stage had a Scottish Highland bagpipe group scheduled. Earlier, there was a Salsa band, the polka group from Wisconsin, and an Irish dance troupe from overseas."

"Outsiders," Jim groaned, rubbing his forehead. "Did Brown and Rafe check the North side stage?"

Blair frowned at the evidence of Jim's continuing headache, but continued. "Yeah, but no evidence of sabotage. However, Henri said that stage had acts like folk dancing, jazz, and country swing. Basically, your traditional American venues and all local acts."

Jim lifted his head to squint at his partner. "So all the so-called 'outside' groups were concentrated on the sabotaged stage, while the others were on the safe one?"

Blair nodded, his eyes growing wider as he caught Jim's implication. "So which came first? Was that stage sabotaged because of the concentration of foreign acts?"

"Or did someone schedule it that way?" Jim finished the thought. He and his partner traded looks, each having the same thought: Was this an inside job?

A sudden ring from his cell phone broke the silent exchange. Jim yanked out the phone and answered, "Ellison." Blair watched intently as Jim listened. "Okay, We'll be there in a couple of minutes."

"What's up?" Blair asked worriedly as Jim clicked the phone shut.

"The committee just received another letter from our saboteur."

Simon's tall frame was easy to spot over the crowds around the festival headquarters. Jim zoomed in and soon he and Blair were standing next to him. Simon indicated the trailer with a tilt of his head, and soon was leading his men inside.

Once they had entered the bedroom they had used earlier, Simon turned to his men. "Any luck with the stage incident?"

Sentinel ears picked up movement behind the thin RV wall. Not wanting to reveal what they suspected to someone who might be involved, Jim replied, "A few theories."

Simon glanced at his best detective. When Jim didn't continue, his eyes narrowed.

"Will tell you later," Jim explained with a tug on his ear. Blair's eyes grew wide at the implication.

Scowling, Simon picked up a piece of paper from the table. "Here's the latest."

After pulling on a pair of gloves, Jim took the note. Blair glanced at him. "Anything?"

"As clean as the other two," Jim replied. "Looks like the same paper and printer." He then read the message, Sandburg reading over his arm.

"What is with this guy?" Blair asked. "How can he stop the festival? Most of what he's done so far has been minor."

"Thanks to you two," Simon pointed out. "Had anyone been injured today, the press would have eaten the committee alive on this evening's broadcast." He noticed Jim rubbing his eyes. "Jim, are you all right?"

"Long day," Jim replied.

"Long day filled with loud noises and obnoxious odors," Blair added.

Simon's frown deepened, easily reading between the lines. "There must be a better way of dealing with this."

"That's what I said," Blair confirmed.

"So," Simon continued, ignoring Sandburg's interruption, "What we need to do is catch this terrorist wannabe before he does anything else."

"The stage was probably sabotaged early this morning," Jim pointed out. "We should start looking at who was here before the area was opened to the public."

"You mean, like security, festival workers, artists, performers..." Blair began listing off, suddenly realizing the size of the task. Then he traded glances with his partner, silently thinking they would be starting with the festival organizers.

Still mindful of possible prying ears, Jim added, "Hopefully, whatever information Sam finds should help us narrow it down." Jim rolled his shoulders, trying to ease some of his tension. "What time is it?"

Simon glanced at his watch. "Five twelve. The festival should be closing down for the night."

"Then lets get the information and start working. We need to find this jerk before tomorrow morning."

On the other side of the wall, Mrs. McAllister's assistant, Dennis Faye, turned away, his face a mixture of anxiety and anger.

Two hours later, Major Crimes conference room

Banks paused in the doorway, studying his men. Brown was at one end of the table, searching through piles of folders and trying not to sneeze from the dust. On his right was Rafe. The young detective's bandaged left hand was elevated on a stack of books while his right hand tapped on his laptop's keyboard. Further down the table was Ellison, comparing two lists while rubbing his temple. Simon scowled as he noted Jim's pale face. As much as he wanted to order Ellison and Rafe home, time was too precious if they were to stop the saboteur before the next morning. Then he realized he was one detective short. "Where's Sandburg?"

"He ran down to forensics for the reports," Ellison replied absently.

Rafe gave his Captain a wan smile. "He is, after all, the most junior detective here." The rest couldn't help but chuckle, remembering how many times they'd used that same line on Rafe the past couple of years.

"Any luck so far?" Simon asked.

The three men shook their heads almost in unison. "We've ruled out a few people, including the leader of the People Defenders," Brown reported.

"I would have liked it to be him," Jim admitted, "But as Sandburg pointed out, he's new to the area and wouldn't have known the history mentioned in the letters."

"Plus, the People D's only found one of the fires," Rafe added. "If it was to give them publicity, they would have been at all of them."

"ALL RIGHT!"

Startled, Simon leaned back out the door to spot Sandburg rushing towards him. "Sandburg! Can you at least try to conduct yourself like a detective?"

"But I found our break!" Blair enthused, not the least bit phased by his superior's reprimand. He slipped past Simon, waving papers at his fellow detectives as he sat down at the conference table.

"What?" Jim asked patiently, trying not to wince at his partner's raised voice.

"Remember Dennis, Mrs. McAllister's assistant?" Blair could barely keep from bouncing as all eyes at the table focused on him. "He's on the list of people who bought timers with the same lot number as the ones found in the trash cans."

Jim's eyes widened. "Of course! He'd have been the one to assign acts to the stage and be one of the first people to arrive."

"He'd have also made the booth assignments," Brown added. "He'd know who was where, and plant the arson devices accordingly."

"Plus he could run around the festival without anyone questioning him." Blair waved his hands in the air.

"Let's not jump to conclusions, people," Simon interrupted. "We need a motive."

Rafe had been swiftly running searches on the laptop, barely wincing as he used his injured hand. "He has listed on his application form six years in the Navy with experience in electronics."

"With experience in electronics, how'd he get a clerical job with McAllister?" Jim asked.

"One of his references is his grandmother, Deborah Ralston." Rafe glanced up at Blair. "Why is that name familiar?"

"Because she's a big name in the Cascade Arts community," Blair groaned. "That's how he got the job. It's all in who you know."

"No," Brown mumbled, shaking his head as he searched his memory. "That's not it. Wait, wasn't there a Ralston committing suicide in the news recently?"

"A Debbie Ralston," Simon nodded. He turned to Rafe. "See if you can pull up the file."

"I can't believe I missed that one," Blair muttered as he walked around to stare over Rafe's shoulder.

"It would have been while you were at the academy," Simon explained as he followed the younger man. "You were probably too busy to pay attention to the news."

Once the report was on the screen, Rafe became aware of four pairs of eyes behind him. As he glanced back nervously, Blair suddenly groaned. "Oh man."

Jim shook his head. "Debbie's festival application for her sculptures had been turned down, which was felt to have contributed to her depression. And Dennis Faye is listed as a half brother." He caught his Captain's eye. "I'd say there's your motive."

Simon sighed. "Brown, get a warrant and pick up Mr. Faye."

"Simon," Jim began, ready to point out that it was his and Blair's case.

"No." Simon glared at the his friend. "Blair is driving you home so you can get some sleep and hopefully get rid of that headache." Then Simon turned his gaze to his other injured detective. "And Rafe is going home so he can take the pain meds for his hand and get some sleep." Now glaring at all his men, he growled, "Those are your orders, people. Now move it."

Dawn, next morning

~bring~

Jim groaned as the annoying sound penetrated his sleep.

~bring~

Propping himself up on an elbow, Jim ran a hand over his face.

~bring~

With another groan, Jim pushed himself up. Hearing his roommate answer the phone below, Jim sat down on the edge of the mattress. While his headache was gone, he still felt like he'd been run over by a steamroller.

"DAMN!"

Jim immediately focused in on the conversation, recognizing Simon's voice. "...APB out on him now, but who knows where he could be."

"I suppose it'd be asking too much to hope he's left town," Blair moaned.

"I'm not willing to risk thousands of people on it."

"True," Blair agreed with a sigh. He looked up as Jim joined him, the sentinel's gaze directed at him instead of the sash he was tying. "You want us at the festival now?"

"A.S.A.P."

"Okay, we're on our way." Blair hung up and met his roommate's eyes. "You heard?"

"Enough to figure out they don't have Faye."

"Nope, though Brown found the parts for the arson devices in his basement." Taking a deep breath, Blair added, "And they found the instructions and the makings for a bomb."

"WHAT!" Jim exclaimed. He instantly turned back to the stairs, "Let's get moving, Chief."

On the rooftop

One hand wrapped around a steaming cup, the watcher held his binoculars in the other. He focused at the various black-clad men searching the festival area, several with dogs by their side. "Now why would the bomb squad be out this early?" the watcher wondered. "Today could be quite interesting."

Twenty minutes later, North side Riley Dam District

They found Simon talking with an officer handling one of the bomb-sniffing dogs near the bridge. As man and dog walked away, Blair called out, "Hey, Captain! Any luck?"

Simon scowled. "No. No Faye and no bomb."

"So, maybe we interrupted his plan?" Blair suggested hopefully.

Jim slowly shook his head, watching a few artists give the bomb squad a funny look. "We may have disrupted him, but in an hour there'll be thousands of people on these streets. Faye may attempt to slip in, plant his bomb, and leave unnoticed."

"Great," Blair muttered under his breath.

Jim raised his eyes to meet Simon's. "Any ideas?"

"Only to make sure everyone's eyes are peeled for this jerk. Unless," Simon glanced around and lowered his voice. "You two have some kind of special sentinel way of tracking him?"

Blair and Jim could only shake their heads. "I'm sorry, Simon, but between the crowds and the size of the area, my senses aren't that good in these conditions. There's just too many places to hide and we don't have a clue where to start."

Sighing deeply, Blair glanced around. He noticed Marcus Watson and Elijah Colburn approaching them. "Hey, what if we enlist a few more pairs of eyes?"

Jim quickly spotted what had grabbed his partner's attention. "Sandburg..."

"We just said we need everyone watching, and the People Defenders will be here anyway," Blair pointed out.

"Good idea, Sandburg," Simon agreed.

Jim simply rolled his eyes, but didn't say anything as Marcus and Colburn joined them. "Hey Ellison, was that a bomb dog I just saw?" Marcus asked.

"Yes," Jim replied curtly.

"Anything we should know about?" Colburn asked.

The three cops exchanged looks. "Would you and your group be willing to keep an eye out for someone, then let us know if you see them?" Simon asked.

"It's a matter of public safety," Blair added.

"Sure," Colburn replied. "What's up?"

Rooftop, three hours later

Even his stiff, painful muscles couldn't keep the watcher from enjoying the show. Watching the cops searching the immense crowds for someone without success was inspiring. Especially when for once they weren't looking for him. Yet his eyes continued to search out Ellison and his little partner. He had a feeling the sentinel would be in on the chase soon. Perhaps he could learn about his adversary and his special talents.

South side, Riley Dam District

The festival was in full swing. The Saturday crowd was much larger than the one from the day before as people enjoyed the unseasonably nice weather and the time off work. Yet the noise and odors were nearly overwhelming to the sentinel. Jim was tempted to dial all his senses down, yet to do so might allow their bomber to slip by unnoticed. So Jim gulped down more aspirin, stayed close to his partner, and prayed for a break.

Then a welcome voice came over his and Blair's headsets. "One of the People D's just saw Faye by the North side stage" Simon called, "Brown and Rafe, go check it out."

Jim and Blair exchanged looks. "Should we back them up?" Blair asked.

Jim shook his head. "We don't know for certain that's who it is yet. But we can head in that direction just in case."

Suddenly, Brown's voice roared over the radio. "Suspect is on the run, heading west along the river."

"Now we back them up," Jim determined. He and Blair began to jog towards the bridge, their only route to the chase.

A few minutes later, Rafe's gasps sounded in their ears. "Suspect's... crossing the... bridge."

"Damn," Jim muttered as he picked up the pace, Blair in his wake. They had just emerged into the cross street in front of the bridge as a gasping Faye stepped off. Spotting the two detectives, he grabbed the nearest person. Jim and Blair skidded to a stop as Faye pulled out a knife and held it to Franchot Pascalle's throat.

"Back off," the redhead growled, swinging his frightened hostage around so that he could see both Ellison and Sandburg as well as Brown and Rafe coming off the bridge. People swiftly scattered, swirling around the four detectives focused on their suspect.

"What's going on?" squeaked Pascalle.

"Shut up!" ordered Faye, his eyes darting between the detectives.

"Come on, Faye," Jim commanded gently, slowly walking towards the bomber with his gun aimed at his head. The detective was faintly aware of Blair clicking off the safety on his gun, of Brown trying to ease around to the left of the suspect. "You have no place to run."

"I'll kill him!" screamed Faye, his eyes wild.

"So," Jim shrugged as he continued to ease forward. "What's one less abstract painter? Now, if he was into Western art, that'd be another story."

Faye stared at Jim in surprise, never expecting that response. Jim's words also added to Pascalle's fear and shock. Overwhelmed, the artist fainted, slipping out from under Faye's arm. It provided the opening Jim was hoping for. The big detective lunged, grabbing Faye's knife hand. Within seconds, Ellison had disarmed the suspect and pinned his arm behind his back.

The other detectives converged, Rafe handing Jim his handcuffs while Blair knelt by the artist. "Sir," Blair called, softly patted the man's cheek. "Mr. Pascalle?"

"Am I dead?" the artist moaned theatrically.

"No," Blair chuckled. "You're not even scratched."

"No thanks to that uncouth detective with bad taste." Pascalle glared at Jim who pointedly ignored him.

"Well, that detective saved your life," Blair pointed out as he helped the artist to his feet. He quickly handed Pascalle over to the festival medics, then raced to catch up with Jim and their suspect.

Police van near festival headquarters

"Where's the bomb, Faye?" Simon growled at the chubby man sitting at the table. The man simply smiled.

"Tell us where is it, Faye!" Jim barked. The man jumped, his smile disappearing as he glared at Ellison.

Blair studied their suspect. Realizing that directness wasn't getting them anywhere, he decided on a more round about approach. "We're just going to bring in the bomb sniffing dogs again," Blair calmly pointed out. "We'll find it with or without your help. But the DA might be more lenient if you cooperate."

Faye began to laugh. "You won't find it until it blows up. Then your precious festival will be history."

"You," Jim roared, about to storm the suspect.

Blair jumped between the suspect and his partner. "Come on, Jim. Cool down."

"Sandburg, take your partner for a walk and send in Brown and Rafe," Simon ordered.

Jim gave the suspect one last glare before leaving the room.

Once outside, Jim paced under a shade tree, muttering obscenities to himself. Blair leaned against the trailer, deep in thought. Finally, the younger man asked, "Jim, if you wanted to do the most damage with a bomb, where would you put it?"

Jim stopped pacing and faced his partner. "What do you mean?"

"Faye is pretty certain of himself in there. The bomb has to be here, and it has to be set to go off. So where would he put it?"

Forcing back his anger so he could think again, Jim replied slowly, "His targets are the 'outsiders'."

Blair frowned a moment, then his eyes brightened. "Wait a minute." He yanked out the festival map he had kept in his back pocket. Dropping to the ground as he grabbed a pencil out of his pocket, Blair began to scribble on the map.

"Sandburg, what are you doing?"

"Coloring in all the potential targets," his partner absently explained. After a few minutes, Blair sat back up on his heels. "This is strange."

Jim knelt beside him. "What?"

"All the artists from out of town are near the river." Suddenly, everything clicked. Jim and Blair stared at each other in horror. "Oh God, the bomb's on the dam!" Blair breathlessly exclaimed.

Jim jumped to his feet as he reached for his headset still hanging around his neck. Flipping it on, he barked, "Simon, the bomb's on the dam!" Then he chased after his partner.

Riley Dam

Blair was reaching for the door that led into the concrete structure when Jim grabbed his arm. Shouting so that he could be heard over the roaring water, he explained, "No, Chief. It might be booby-trapped." The younger man immediately jerked his hand away. Jim carefully slipped past him, focusing his sight on the door. After a minute, he nodded. "It's clear." Carefully, he eased the door open.

"Can you see anything?" Blair shouted back. Brown had called over the headset that it would take the bomb squad at least ten minutes to get to the dam. That was ten minutes they didn't know if they had. Simon and the rest of the security force were trying to organize an orderly evacuation of the area, but that would take even more time.

Jim frowned. With his hearing turned down due to the falls, he could barely hear his partner. "No. Any idea where to look?" As he spoke, Jim carefully eased himself inside.

"If you want to take out an entire dam, you'd place it on a stress point," Blair replied as he slid in after his partner. It was less noisy within the structure, though Blair could almost feel the force of the water in the air. "Though I doubt Faye is enough of an engineer to know where they are."

"Agree." Jim's eyes swiftly adjusted to the gloom inside. "Did Henri say what kind of bomb he built?"

"C4, I think. Rafe said it might have been from a Navy source. Do you think you can smell it?"

Jim began to turn up the dial, only to wrinkle his nose in disgust. "It really stinks in here."

Blair rolled his eyes. "Even I could have told you that." He paused as Jim coughed. "Try to filter out the mold first. Then see if you can smell C4."

Closing his eyes, Jim mentally pictured the dials as Blair had taught him. Carefully adjusting the images, he finally caught a whiff of what he was looking for. "This way." Blair jogged after him to a point about midway into the dam. Then Jim pointed in the gloom. "There."

"Hey man, I can barely see my hand in front of my face here. Where are you pointing?"

"It's where the old turbine used to be," Jim absently explained as he dropped down to the floor. Leaning over the shaft, he spotted the bomb. There were less than 2 minutes on the timer. Jim took a deep breath. There was no way he could allow the device to go off. "Can you hand me your pocket knife, Chief?"

Blair knelt down and carefully laid his Swiss army knife into his partner's palm by feel alone. "How much time do we have?"

"You don't want to know," Jim replied as he took the knife and pulled out the blade with the wire cutter. He leaned further into the shaft. As Blair heard him slide, he firmly grabbed the larger man's legs.

Taking another deep breath and holding it, Jim carefully clipped the wire on the thankfully simple device. The timer stopped. Then Jim yanked out the detonator. "That's done."

Blair carefully helped him up. His eyes were more accustomed to the dark so he could see his sentinel's relieved face. The two men exchanged grins. Again, they had managed to protect their tribe.