Capture: A Crime Thriller (CJ Sheridan Thrillers Book 2)

by M. P. McDonald

  “What did you say his name was?” The cop sighed, and looked from Blanche to Mark, his fingers poised over the keyboard of his computer.

  “CJ Sheridan.”

  The officer entered the name, then shook his head. “Cee Jay? Is that short for something?”

  Blanche bit her lip. She'd only known him as CJ. She glanced at Mark for help.

  Mark nodded. “Yeah. Sorry. We should have clarified. It's Christopher Sheridan. I'm not sure what the 'J' is for, but I'd guess it's for James.”

  After typing in the variation, the officer looked perplexed. “And you're sure he said he was arrested? I'm not showing anything in the system.”

  “Um, well, someone saw him arrested.” It was the best Blanche could offer.

  The cop shrugged. “Well, maybe they were playing a prank. I'm not showing anyone by that name in our system.” He tapped some keys, shaking his head. “Even going back a few days, there's nothing. Sorry, folks. But look on the bright side. He must be a free man.” The cop smiled, then waved to the next person in line to move forward.

  Blanche stepped aside and walked to the door, waiting for Mark to catch up. “I don't get it.” She didn't want to doubt Mark, but she hoped that maybe he was mistaken. What if he didn't really have a vision of CJ? She didn't think he would make it up, but the whole vision thing seemed so imprecise.

  “I know what I saw, Blanche. He's somewhere.” Mark pushed through the doors, his pace making her practically run to keep up as he headed back to the alley. His car was on the street on the other side of the passageway.

  “Wait.” She jogged past him a few steps before turning around. “Hold on. I'm not calling you a liar. I'm just confused. I'm pretty new to all this, remember?”

  Mark halted, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand while he looked past her and down the street. He drew in a deep breath then focused on her. “I'm not angry. Not at you, anyway.”

  Relieved but puzzled, she tilted her head. “You think the cop was lying?”

  “No. I think he was telling the truth. I just think that whoever arrested CJ kept him off the books, so to speak.”

  “Can they do that?”

  “I don't know, but it wouldn't surprise me. Jim would know if something like that was possible. Or better yet, Jessie. She knows more about CPD than Jim would.” Mark gestured towards the alley. “Let's take one more look around, then call the others and see if they got anything.”

  Blanche agreed and they spent another ten minutes checking out everything in the alley but found nothing.

  * * *

  Jim followed Jessica into the district she used to work out of before becoming an FBI agent. A few of the officers seemed to recognize him, their eyes opening wide in surprise. He had done a few news conferences in the past couple of years, and had met with Chicago police officials often about various matters so he was sure they had seen him at some point around the city. But, while his office worked closely with CPD on certain cases, he didn't know many of the rank and file officers.

  Jessica was given a warm greeting by the desk sergeant and given a casual wave back to the bowels of the building. Jim nodded at the sergeant as he passed, receiving a curt nod in return. He almost smiled at the response. He hadn't expected to win any popularity contests here, but he wasn't worried about being liked. He just wanted to know where CJ was. He hadn't officially made an inquiry as to CJ's whereabouts yet, knowing to do so would probably trigger a media response. The last thing he wanted to do was face a circus of reporters asking about his son.

  They made a few turns, and Jim remembered the other time he was here. It had been several years ago while Mark was still incarcerated. Jessica hadn't given him the warmest greeting then. Not that he blamed her. Here he was frantic about CJ being gone for just over twenty-four hours without communication. He couldn't imagine what it was like to have someone you cared about gone for months with just the barest hints about where he might be and what could be happening to him.

  “Hey, Jessie!” Dan stood up, and wrapped Jessica in a bear hug. “I can do that now that you're not on the force.” He grinned and Jessica scowled, but her eyes danced.

  “Let me go. You're crushing me.” He released her, and she stepped back, grinning. “And no, you really aren't supposed to be hugging another law enforcement officer.”

  “You gonna report me?”

  Jessica laughed. “Not this time.” She gestured towards Jim. “You remember Jim Sheridan?”

  Dan thrust out a hand. His smile wasn't quite as big as when he greeted Jessica, but it was friendly enough. “Sure. Good to see you, Jim. How's Lily?” Jim had forgotten that the other man had flirted a bit with Lily. He shook the man's hand, then shrugged. “I suppose she's fine. She moved to New York several months ago.”

  “Oh. Sorry, man. I thought you guys were a thing.”

  Jim cleared his throat. “No problem. Things didn't work out, but we wished each other well.” Uncomfortable with the personal nature of the discussion, he shoved his hands in his pockets and glanced at the other detective who was present. It was a young man who must have replaced Jessica. He sat at her old desk and watched them, his curiosity apparent.

  With a pointed glance at the young detective, Jim turned his attention to Dan. “Is there somewhere we can talk?”

  Dan glanced at the detective. “Hey, Steve. Get lost for a few.”

  “Dan!” Jessica glared at her former partner, then turned to Steve. “I'm sure you're not surprised by Dan's crude request, but if you could give a few minutes, we'd really appreciate it.”

  “No problem. I have to use the can anyway.”

  Jessica rolled her eyes, and shot Jim an apologetic look before turning back to Dan. “I can see they gave you someone who is more your style. I bet you two are like peas in a pod.”

  Dan grinned. “He's okay. Has a few tricks to learn, but anyway, have a seat.” He grabbed a chair in front of Steve's desk and moved it beside the one in front of his. Moving around to his side of the desk, he sat and typed something on his computer keyboard. “I've been digging a bit into your problem.”

  Jim sat back, one ankle resting on top of the other knee. He waited for Dan to elaborate. Jessica leaned forward, her elbow propped on the desk as she craned her neck to try to read what was on the computer screen. Dan turned the monitor so they could see it better.

  “I don't have anything concrete, unfortunately. But I did come up with some odd findings. There was another guy a few months ago who disappeared into the system. I only know about it because the girlfriend barged in here demanding to know where her lover was.” Dan chuckled. “She was a looker, but rough around the edges, if you know what I mean.”

  “And..?” Jim motioned with his hand. Jessica shot him a look, but he ignored it. Time was wasting.

  “I'm getting to it. I didn't find the guy in the system, same as what I'm getting with your son. There's no record of CJ being arrested.”

  “So? What's the connection?”

  Dan scowled at Jim but turned back to his monitor. “As I was saying, there was no record of this guy. Now, I didn't think much of it at the time. I figured the guy took off on her, claiming he was arrested. Wouldn't be the first time someone used us to get away from a nagging chick. But a week or so later, the guy came in and tried to file a report that he'd been held by cops and beaten black and blue. Even sought medical attention at an ER. See, I questioned that. We thought he was just looking to get his bills paid, claim police brutality, and shit like that. But the guy was shakin' in his shoes the whole time he was here, and it was his girlfriend that dragged him in. He was reluctant to give any information at all on what had happened. The guy excused himself to go to the bathroom, and that's when the girlfriend claimed the guy had been having nightmares. Talking in his sleep, that kind of thing.”

  Jim still didn't know where this was leading, but he held his tongue.

  “So what happened?” Jessica asked, and Jim sent a mental thank you to her.
<
br />   “I can't file anything if the victim isn't willing, and this guy was scared to death. I mean, seriously, jumping any time a beat cop walked past the office. The girlfriend tried to convince him, and even mentioned a name. Someone named Tom.”

  “Who's that?”

  “No idea. I checked records of current officers, and found dozens by that name, but without a last name, I was stuck. And I can't very well go questioning other cops about this, especially when the victim refuses to cooperate. I don't know what happened to him, but according to the girlfriend, he confided in her that he was held in handcuffs for what seemed like days. She verified that he was missing just a little over two days. He told her he wasn't fed, barely any water, and there was a ring on the wall where they attached one end of the cuff. He was left for hours sitting on a bench.”

  Jim's hair rose on the back of his neck. “What was your take on the guy? Do you think any of that could have actually happened?”

  Dan grimaced and shrugged. “He had scabs around his wrist. I saw that myself.”

  “What happened with the guy?”

  Turning back to his computer, Dan tapped some keys, then shook his head. “I don't know. That was the end of it.” He grabbed a stack of Post-it Notes and jotted something down. “Here's his last known address.”

  Jessica took the note. “Thanks. Anything else?”

  “I wish I had more. Sorry.” Dan met Jim's eyes and Jim felt a pang of guilt for being short with the man.

  Standing, Jim held out his hand. “I appreciate this. If you ever need anything, let me know.”

  “Will do.” Dan cleared his throat. “I probably shouldn't even mention this because it was only a rumor, and one hushed up almost as soon as I heard it, but there's been talk about some kind of black site.”

  “Black site?”

  Dan darted a look at the doorway of the office. “Yeah, you know…a place prisoners are taken to be interrogated.”

  “I know what a black site is, but never heard of one in relation to a city police department before.” Jim knew all about black sites. Had even visited a few before. They had always left a bad taste in his mouth. Even Mark's experience at the naval brig had been easy time compared to what he'd seen at black sites.

  Jessica looked puzzled. “I never heard that rumor while I was here.”

  “Yeah, well it's only been floating around for the last year or so.” Dan moved towards the door, looking back at them, his finger crossing his mouth in a 'quiet' sign. He stuck his head into the hall and looked around, before turning back to them. “It's just a rumor. Remember that. And you didn't hear it from me.”

  “Got it. Thanks again.” Jim caught Jessica's eye and angled his head towards the door. “Let's go.”

  Chapter Twelve

  After an uneventful morning, with the most exciting call a false alarm to a check cashing store, Wayan called in to dispatch to take his break. His stomach rumbled and he contemplated his choices. Fast-food, again? He wasn't really in the mood, so instead popped into a convenience store to see what they had in the way of something fresher. Sometimes they had a little deli and he could get a decent sandwich. This one didn't have a deli, but did have fresh sandwiches made elsewhere and sold on site. He bought a couple, one ham, the other roast beef. He couldn't make up his mind, so bought both and skipped the chips he'd normally go for. He wandered to the back of the store and perused the drink offerings, and was just opening the cooler door to grab a bottle of water when a commotion in the front of the store caught his attention.

  Wayan glanced into the security mirrors in the rear corner and spotted a man, a dark hood drawn tight, his hand in his pocket with something jabbing the material tight. Could be his finger, but could be a gun. The idiot must not have seen the squad parked on the side of the building. Wayan set his sandwiches down as quietly as possible, drew his service weapon and crept to the front of the store. He wanted to call it in, but worried the radio would squawk and give him away.

  As he approached, he was on the robber's right. He would have preferred to be on the left, but at least he was able to see a portion of what the guy was holding in his pocket. It looked to be dark metal. Wayan scanned the area, looking for bystanders. A couple of kids were on the robber's left, standing in front of the candy bar offerings. Why weren't they in school? Not that it mattered. They were there and he'd have to do his best not to put them in the line of fire. The clerk fumbled with the cash register, begging the guy not to shoot him.

  He came within a few steps of the robber before he was noticed. The robber turned, tugging his hand from his pocket.

  “Freeze! Police!”

  The robber swore, and what little Wayan could see of his face showed an olive complexion. Homemade tattoos stained his forearm.

  “Drop the gun!” Wayan ordered. He wished he could see the man's eyes better. Then he would know if the guy would comply or do something else. He hoped he didn't try to shoot. He'd never get the gun leveled before Wayan would drop him. He really didn't want to shoot someone today.

  After a moment of hesitation, the robber lifted his hands as though surrendering, but then he tossed the gun. As Wayan's eyes tracked the gun, the man spun and bolted for the door.

  Wayan shouted at the cashier to call the police, and warned the kids not to touch the gun, and raced after the robber.

  As he sprinted after the would-be robber, he keyed his mic, giving a brief description of what was going on, and the direction he was heading. The update cost him distance and the robber opened ground, but Wayan put on a burst. He'd run track in high school and had even qualified for state finals. No way was this perp going to beat him in a race. He closed the distance getting within a few feet when the perp bent, reaching for something by his ankle. Fearing a hidden weapon, Wayan stretched his hand out and caught the guy by the back of the hood and gripping it, skidded to a halt, pulling the robber backwards. They both fell, but the perp slammed onto his back and lay stunned, the wind knocked out of him. Wayan scrambled to his knees, and grabbing the guy's right hand, yanked it so the man was on his side. Another tug, and the perp was on his stomach, Wayan's knee in his back. He snapped the cuff over one wrist. “Hold still!” He fumbled, finally catching the man's other wrist, and pulled it back, locking that one in place as well.

  He did a quick pat down, finding a knife strapped to the outside of the man's calf. Wayan shook his head, holding the knife in the man's line of sight. “Were you planning on using that on me?”

  “No, man! I was just gonna protect myself.”

  “Yeah, right.” With the perp secure and the pat down complete, Wayan took a moment to notify dispatch and then stood and bent, his hands on his knees as he caught his breath. He straightened as sirens approached, and swiped an arm across his forehead.

  “I swear, I was just protecting myself.”

  “Yeah, you were gonna protect yourself with a knife to my gut, right?” Wayan tugged the guy to his feet, steadying him when he stumbled.

  “No, I wasn't. Just wasn't gonna let you take me back to that room.”

  “Yeah. Whatever. Come on. We got a nice walk back to my squad.”

  The robber balked. “I'm not going there again. I want to call my girlfriend.”

  “You can do all that back at the station. Call the pope for all I care.”

  “You'll let me make a phone call?”

  There was something about the man's tone that caught Wayan's attention. He heard fear and hope. “Yeah. That's the usual deal. We book you and you get to call someone. Can be your girlfriend, although if I was you, I'd skip the girlfriend unless she happens to have a law degree.”

  Wayan held the man's biceps and untied the man's hood, pushing it back to get a better look at him. “What's your name?”

  “Alex Mendez.”

  “Okay, Alex. Here's what's going to happen. I take you to the district, book you on attempted armed robbery and fleeing arrest. I won't even mention what you were going to do with that knife. Does that
sound fair?” Wayan didn't care if it did or not. He was letting the guy off easy. He propelled the man down the alley. The sirens were close now. Probably at the convenience store.

  “And you won't chain me to the wall?”

  Wayan tugged on Alex's arm and stepped in front of him when the man stopped. “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “I'm not supposed say nothin'.” Expressions of defiance and fear fought for dominance. Defiance won for the moment.

  “Who says you can't say anything?”

  “I don't know his name. Old dude. And if I say something, he's gonna send Tom to kill me.” At the mention of a name, Alex blanched. “Oh shit. Forget I said that? Please, man. I wasn't going to stick you with the knife. I swear to God. I just didn't want to get zapped again.”

  “What kind of drugs have you been taking?” The guy sounded completely paranoid.

  “I ain't on no drugs!”

  “Why'd you try to rob that store?”

  “I didn't want to. I wasn't gonna hurt nobody. We ain't got no money.”

  “You ever think of getting a job?” Wayan tugged Alex's arm again.

  “I had a job, but I lost it when they locked me to the wall. I missed two shifts, and that was it. Got fired.”

  “Okay, wait a second, why were you locked up to begin with?”

  “I don't even know! I was waiting on a bus and they said I was selling dope on the corner. But I didn't have no dope! They wanted to know who my supplier was. I told them they had the wrong guy but they didn't listen. Just beat the crap outta me and left me chained like a dog.” Alex halted. “I know you don't believe me. Nobody would. I told my girlfriend the same thing. That cops either wouldn't believe me, or they were part of it.”

  Wayan rolled his eyes and gripped Alex's arm tighter, tugging him forward. The man balked at first, but finally, his feet dragged over the pavement. A rebuke to pick up his feet balanced on the tip of Wayan's tongue, but he happened to glance at Alex's face. The hopeless terror in the man's eyes made Wayan pause.