“Look, man. I'll make sure nothing bad happens to you at the district. I swear it, okay? I'll handle your booking. I'll make sure you get your phone call, okay?”
Alex nodded, his head bowed.
“Look at me.”
Alex lifted his head.
“I can't make the charges go away, but I can do what I can to see them reduced, okay? Just go along and cooperate with me, okay?”
Nodding, Alex drew in a deep breath and walked with Wayan back to the convenience store.
* * *
Hamilton stood outside the room where Sheridan and Tom were being held. He had hoped by now Sheridan would give up, or that they could get in without alerting him, but so far, the kid had been tough. And smart. He only slept with his back to the door, so getting into the room was impossible without waking him. He had snaked a camera lens beneath the door a few times and had a good idea of where Sheridan was most of the time. So far, his camera had escaped detection, not that it mattered. If Sheridan didn't cave soon, both he and Tom were going to be in bad shape. That meant things could get messy fast. If Sheridan died, they'd have to dispose of his body too, and that would mean they couldn't pin Cruz's murder on him. With the body already found, and evidence planted, that was worrisome. Hamilton would have to come up with a crazy scenario whereby Sheridan murdered Cruz and then was killed by someone else. Presumably friends of Cruz, but that would push the envelope of credibility. Not to mention getting Sheridan's father involved. The younger Sheridan wasn't a gang-banger or drug addict with a history of violence. It was already going to be quite a feat to pin Cruz's murder on him.
Hamilton paced outside the room. That young cop, Cooper, better keep his trap shut. He'd said he would, but Hamilton wasn't so sure. He could kick himself for overreacting when Cooper opened the door. He should have just played it cool and made it seem routine. Now, there was no way Cooper would forget the incident. At least, not for a while. Maybe he should call him in and offer some kind of explanation. He made a mental note to check the cop's record and see if there was a chance he could be bought. The way things were going, he might need some new muscle soon.
Thinking of muscle brought him back to the problem he now faced. Tom. While the guy was tough, even he had to be feeling the effects of over twenty-four hours with no food or drink. It wasn't critical yet, and he knew Tom would handle it the best that he could, but it wasn't just a matter of health. It was a matter of keeping Tom under his control. The cop was getting impatient. He wanted to cash in and get out. Said he was getting too old and didn't want to risk his pension.
“Pension.” Hamilton almost spat the word. It was chump change compared to what Tom could get when Hamilton's operation was in full swing. And cash in? As though this was some kind of stock he could cash in at will. It didn't work that way. He needed the cash flow to buy goods to sell. It wasn't as if he could just write a check to Tom and tell him they were square and have a nice retirement.
It was frustrating because they were so close. Cruz had been the only thing standing in their way and so Phillip had no choice in getting rid of Cruz. If the detective hadn’t made the mistake of investigating some tip by a suspect of his and started digging for evidence, he’d still be alive. It was a fatal error on Cruz’s part. What had he expected? That Hamilton would give up the whole operation? Well, at least his kids would get the life insurance now. Phillip figured he had done his family a favor, in a way. Now his kids would have a free ride to college. They'd get the pension, insurance, and all kinds of other goodies.
He put thoughts of Cruz and his kids out of his mind. One problem at a time, and right now, that problem was Sheridan. There had been silence in the room for quite a while. He cursed the lack of video feed, but had ruled it out in the beginning because he didn't want a record of anything that went on in that room. He might have to rethink that decision. Meanwhile, he'd have to make do with the small camera on the end of a fiber optic cable. It was small enough to go unnoticed. He slid it beneath the door and twisted it until he had a good view of the room. Tom was passed out on the bench, his mouth slack. His hand, still in the cuff, was looking red and his wrist raw. That would need some explanation when he got out.
Sheridan squatted, his back pressed against the wall opposite Tom. He looked like he was zoning out, his eyes fixed at a spot on the floor. The stun gun hung loose in his hand that draped over his knees. Now might be a good time to burst in. Sheridan would probably be slow to react.
Drawing the camera back out of the room, he set it aside. Hamilton pulled out his weapon, wishing like hell that Tom had taken his service revolver in with him. They had never needed one before since the prisoner had always been cuffed. Tom had said he didn't want to bring it in for fear of getting pissed and using it. That would be hard to explain away and no need to leave evidence behind in the form of ballistics. The stun gun was all they'd ever needed before. Well, there was no getting around using the gun now.
He unlocked the door as quietly as possible. He had to leave it unlocked because he didn't want it to lock behind him as there was no way to get out if the door shut. If nothing else, dealing with Sheridan would force them to re-think their current strategies. It was a learning experience.
Chapter Thirteen
“So now what?”
CJ glanced at Tom. He didn't know. He couldn't think. Maybe he should just give in. Could he trust the system? Was there a chance he'd be found innocent? He remembered Hamilton's words from the day before. This site didn't exist. Or something like that. Officially, none of this happened, so if that was the case, then they couldn't hold what CJ had done, so far as holding Tom as his prisoner, against him. After all, they had never seen him. None of it happened.
He pushed to his feet. “I just want to go home. I didn't kill anyone, Tom.”
Tom looked almost as bad as CJ felt. Gone was the bluster and cockiness. He shook his head. “I wasn't lying. It don't matter to Hamilton if you're guilty or not. If he wants you in prison, he'll get you there. Somehow. If he wants you dead, he knows how to arrange that, too.”
“Is that why you do what he tells you? Because he'll kill you if you don't?”
The other man shrugged, his gaze sliding away. “I got bills to pay. Bills like you can't imagine. Hamilton took care of them for me when I was in deep shit. I owe him for that.”
“You'd screw over an innocent person just to pay your bills?” CJ shook his head in disgust. “You're a piece of work, you know that?”
Tom's anger sprang to life. “It's easy for you to say that. You grew up living a squeaky clean life. Educated on your dad's dime. I can tell. I've seen your kind my whole life. Entitled little pieces of shit. You sail through life without any real problems, riding along on your dad's coattails.”
His whole life, CJ had learned to ignore comments about his father and his job. Kids asked questions like where was his dad, and why he wasn't home for Christmas, or why had he missed a karate tournament. CJ didn't like lying, but he couldn't tell the truth, that his dad was in the CIA and working undercover somewhere. So, instead, he'd just smile and pretend it was all okay. Never once had he blurted the truth, no matter how tempting. He'd be damned if he was going to start now. The closest he ever comes was telling people that his dad was a diplomat. That was what his parents had said he could say if he had to tell someone what his dad did. It explained all the moving around, but it wasn't the truth. And he hated not being able to tell people. He'd always been proud of what his father did, even if he pretended to loathe it when he was a teen. Even at his angriest, when his parents divorced, he'd never broken the promise to keep his dad's job secret. Of course, by then, he was beyond being impressed by the CIA secret. It was just something that kept his dad away. In fact, CJ had been glad that he was finally able to stay at a school for longer than one year. It wasn't until the last few years that his attitude had changed. Now that he'd experienced a taste of what it was like to work with the CIA, he was in awe of what his father had done
.
And now, he had his own secret. He gave Tom a dirty look, but didn't give into the urge to defend himself from the accusations of having led an easy, privileged life.
“You don't know anything about me. My perfect life was spent moving all over the world.” Tom rolled his eyes. “Sure, it sounds awesome, but have you ever tried to make friends when you know you're just going to move in a few months? It sucks.” He snorted. What was he thinking trying to explain to this idiot? It wasn't like anyone who hadn't experienced it could understand, least of all, this guy.
CJ crossed the room, standing just out of Tom's reach. “And as far as my dad's coattails?” He made a harsh sound that was supposed to be laughter. “Those coattails were non-existent. But even if I had been born with a silver spoon, what right would that give you to frame me for murder? For ruining my life? Will it make your life better? Does it make you feel like a big man to punish those more fortunate than you?” CJ waved the stun gun. “I bet that's why you do this, isn't it? You have your own daddy issues. What did he do? Beat the shit out of you when he was drunk?”
CJ had just been making it up on the fly, looking for any way to hurt the other guy, but when Tom blanched before his face turned beet red, he knew he'd hit a sore spot. A pang of guilt pricked him. But he shook it off. Too damn bad. “I was going to let you go, but screw it. They can find both of our corpses in here as far as I'm concerned.”
* * *
Wayan entered the district, guiding Mendez into a holding cell. “I'll be with you shortly.” He unlocked the cuffs, as promised, but informed Mendez they would go back on when it was time to book him.
Mendez nodded. “I know.”
After leaving Mendez, Wayan took care of initial arrest paperwork and wrote up his report. He wondered about Mendez's story. He'd normally discount it out of hand, but the scene he'd witnessed this morning at the building near the garage had him wondering if there was something to the guy's story. Looking up the man in the system, he found that Mendez had spoken the truth about having a job. It was noted in a brief arrest report, but the man had been released without charges. He saw another notation in the man's file, but this time, it wasn't about an arrest. It was a note by Detective Dan Harris. Wayan knew him. He worked out of another district. It was a brief note about Mendez making a police brutality charge. There wasn't much in the report, and that in itself, piqued Wayan's curiosity, but when he saw the notation that the man had withdrawn his complaint, he thought maybe that was the reason for the brief note, but he wanted more information.
He approached his shift commander. “Excuse me, sir.” He knocked on the door jamb of Washburn's door.
Washburn looked up from his computer screen, and flashed a smile. “Hey, Cooper. I heard about your collar today. Nice work!”
“Yes, sir. Thank you. In fact, about that. There are a few loose ends I'd like to tie up and with your permission, I'd like to head over to twenty-seven. There's a detective there, Harris, who might be able to give me some information.”
“Is it necessary? I mean, you caught the guy red-handed. Shouldn't take too much effort to get a conviction or plea-bargain with you as the eyewitness.”
“Yes, sir. I know. It's not exactly about that, but something in this guy's history. I just have some questions I'd like to ask Harris.”
Washburn waved a hand. “Fine. Go ahead.”
“Thank you. Oh, and I have Mendez, the perp from the convenience store, in the holding cell. I'll be back to finish processing him as soon as I can.”
“Okay. I'll pass it along so they don't spring him on accident.”
Wayan smiled. “Thanks.”
He walked into the other district, and inquired at the desk about Harris.
“His office is down the hall, on the left, but he has some agents in there now.”
“Agents?”
The sergeant grinned. “Yep. FBI. The head of the Chicago branch, no less. You'll have to wait until they leave.”
Wayan nodded, and found a seat in the lobby. He figured he'd recognize the agents when they left. They'd be better dressed than anyone else in the building. He sat on a bench, watching the activity in the busy station. After a few minutes, he wondered if he should leave. Mendez had withdrawn his complaint so he'd probably been lying.
Wayan rose to leave when the sergeant caught his eye and motioned to a trio coming down the hall. “Detective Harris is the big guy on the right.”
He hesitated still. The man and woman flanking Harris were definitely feds. The man had that aura. It was the way he carried himself. The woman did too, but she seemed more relaxed and even gave Harris a quick hug and smile as they stood in the lobby saying their goodbyes.
He would have waited until they were done, but the sergeant bellowed out, “Harris, you got another visitor.” He pointed to Wayan.
All three turned to look at him and Harris, his voice just as loud as the sergeant's, touched the back of his knuckles against the fed's arm, grinning, “See, Sheridan? I told you I'm a popular guy.”
The man gave Harris a tight smile. “Yes. I see.”
Wayan blinked. Sheridan? Could it be?
Harris waved Wayan over even as he stuck his hand out to Sheridan and said, “I'll call you the minute I hear anything about your son. If I hear anything.”
Okay, now it couldn't be coincidence. Wayan approached, now focused more on Sheridan than Harris. “Excuse me. Mr. Sheridan?”
The fed looked at him, his expression neutral, but Wayan noted how he glanced at his watch. “Yes?”
“Um, do you have a son named CJ?” Nerves made him blurt the question, and he wasn't prepared for their reaction. All three closed in on him.
Sheridan's expression changed in an instant. Gone was the indifferent impatience. He stepped up to Wayan. “You know my son?”
He nodded. “I met him a few days ago, and saw him again this morning—”
The woman gasped and shot Sheridan a look. His eyes went wide, his mouth opening in surprise.
Harris put an arm out, glancing around the lobby. “Why don't we all go back to my office?”
Wayan nodded. “Okay. I came over to ask you about a collar I just had this morning—”
“We'll get to that, but first, come on back. I'm sure the Special Agent in Charge has some questions he'd like to ask you.” Harris gave Wayan a hard look.
“Of course.” He followed them, wondering what he'd gotten himself into.
* * *
As soon as Dan closed the door to his office, Jim turned to the cop, stepping close. “Where did you see my son?”
The cop took a step back, his eyes darting from Jim to the other two. “At a building by a maintenance site for police vehicles. I had to take my squad in to get some repairs and picked up another squad. He was in the building adjacent to the garage.”
“What was he doing there?” Jessica asked before Jim could get the question out. He was still trying to understand how CJ came to be at some garage used by cops. If he'd been taken into custody for some reason, there should have been a record of it, even if he hadn't formally been charged. And why would his car have been towed but the department had no record of him being at one of their facilities?
Before the cop could reply to Jessica, Dan cut in. “Hold on a second.” He turned to the officer. “What's your name?”
“Cooper. Wayan Cooper. I'm out of the twenty-sixth district.” He cast a wary look at Jim.
Jim tried to relax and appear non-threatening. He wanted the young officer to be as cooperative as possible.
“Okay, Wayan. You're not in any trouble. You just might have some information these two are eager to hear. Just tell us everything, okay?”
Cooper nodded. “Uh. Yeah. Sure.” He cleared his throat, and straightened. “Like I said, I was getting a new squad, saw the building and assumed it was part of the garage. I had to take a leak—” He darted a look at Jessica, “Excuse me ma'am.” Jessica nodded, and motioned for him to continue. “I mean,
use the bathroom, so I went inside. After doing my business, I came out and stopped for a minute because I was surprised that there was nobody around. It was weird. I figured there'd be people all over the place. Like here.”
Jim nodded, his jaw clenching and his arms crossed. So much for trying to appear calm. It took all of his willpower not to reach into Cooper's throat and pull the information from his gullet. If he could literally do that, he wouldn't hesitate to do so, but instead he had to settle for waiting for Cooper to get to the important stuff.
“So, I took a few steps to look down a hallway. Called out a few hellos, and was about to leave when someone began pounding on a door. It sounded like they were calling for help, so I opened it. At first, I didn't see Sheridan…” He nodded towards Jim. “…your son, I mean. I saw another guy with his arm cuffed to a ring on the wall. Then, I saw your son. He was along the wall, holding what looked like a stun gun. I said his name, and he said something about his dad, I guess that's you, but before I could figure out what was going on, Detective Hamilton came out of nowhere and pushed the door shut. Then he chewed me a new one for opening it in the first place. He wouldn't let me go back in, and I guess it only opened from the outside or your son would have been able to get out already.” He directed the last bit a Jim, and as he spoke, Cooper's apprehension seemed to recede, and he looked thoughtful but confused. “I thought it was unusual circumstances, but Detective Hamilton said he had it all under control, or something like that.”
“Was he okay?”
Cooper nodded at first, then paused. “It was sort of dark in the room, and I only had a quick glimpse of him, but while I didn't see any major injuries, he looked…tired. Or sick. At least compared to how he looked last time I saw him.”
Jim forgot his intent to appear benign as he planted his fists against his sides, elbows akimbo, as he leaned into Cooper's space. “When you last met him…?”
Capture: A Crime Thriller (CJ Sheridan Thrillers Book 2) Page 13
