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

by M. P. McDonald

  “We found some of your images. Mark had a few visions so we knew you were being held somewhere. We just didn't know where. Mark's visions weren't detailed enough and then we ran into that young cop, Cooper. He showed us where to find you.”

  “Did he have something to do with it?”

  “I don't think so. He stumbled upon you when he went into the building to use the bathroom.”

  “Good. I didn't want to think he was part of it. I met him before and he seemed like a cool dude. I hated to think he was in on the setup because, Dad, I'm going to take Hamilton down.”

  There was an intensity in CJ's look that Jim had never seen before. And it was more. There was a new maturity. Maybe he'd been too quick to point to CJ's youth as a handicap. With all that he'd gone through in the last few months, he was quickly becoming battle tested. Before he could reply, Blanche and the doctor came into the room, and Jim just held CJ's gaze for a long moment, before giving a firm nod. He'd do whatever he could to help his son achieve his goal.

  * * *

  CJ couldn't wait to get home. He wondered about Mark. His dad had gone to check on him a few minutes ago and hadn't returned yet. He signed his name on the papers presented by the nurse, and took the sheet of instructions given to him. Just like he'd insisted, he was fine. Just battered and bruised. He'd been a bit dehydrated at first, but the I.V. had taken care of that. Now he was just hungry and tired, but before he ate or slept, he was going to shower. He knew he smelled funky and marveled at everyone's ability to pretend not to notice. He stood and thought about wrapping Blanche into a big bear hug, as a test to see how much she really liked him, but he decided he liked her too much to do that to her. Whew.

  “Come on. Let's go find my dad and Mark.”

  “Mark's room is on the other side of the emergency department, but I think he's being discharged.” Blanche took CJ's hand, giving it a squeeze and smiled up at him resting her head on his shoulder for a brief moment. “I am so glad you're okay. I was freaking out for awhile.”

  The simple squeeze was even better than a hug. And she'd worried about him. While he hated that he'd caused her worry, he was secretly glad that she cared enough to worry. He hadn't ever liked anyone as much as he did Blanche. Even with all of this going on, she was sticking with him. He had to give her credit. A lot of girls would run in the other direction.

  On the way out, they ran into Mark. “They're letting you go home?” CJ noted the bandage on Mark's neck. A little blood stained the center. From the way Mark turned his head, he knew he must be feeling the effects of the impact at such close range.

  “Yeah. I knew they would. This was a waste of time.”

  Jessie stood beside him and rolled her eyes, but didn't say anything.

  CJ grinned at her, but had to defend Mark. “Hey, not everyone is as tough as you. A mere mortal would probably have died from getting zapped in the neck.”

  Mark gave him a dry look, his eyebrow raised. “A mere mortal?”

  Jessie chimed in, “Speaking of which, he looks like he was bitten by a vampire. That'll be a fun scar to explain, Mark.”

  Mark touched the bandage. “No. Everyone will just assume you did this to me. “

  CJ and Blanche laughed when Jessie pretended anger and Mark ducked away from her raised hand.

  “How are you feeling, CJ?” Jessie asked, all traces of laughter gone.

  The sudden shift caught him by surprise and he wasn't prepared for the emotion that hit when he replied, “Just ready to get home.” Did anyone notice the catch in his voice? He hoped not and cleared his throat to cover it. When had he started thinking of his dad's condo as home?

  “I'll bet. I'm glad everything turned out okay. If you need to talk or anything, don't hesitate. I'm here for you.” Mark caught CJ's gaze, as he put a hand on his shoulder. “I mean it. I don't know what happened to you over the last few days, but I know it was intense.”

  “I'm fine.”

  Mark didn't contradict him, and instead just nodded. “The offer stands.”

  His dad came from down the hall and held some papers in his hand. “Your bill is taken care of, Mark.”

  Mark's mouth dropped open. “I was only kidding, Jim!”

  “I promised.”

  Mark shook his head, but smiled. “You bastard.”

  * * *

  CJ toweled off after the longest, hottest shower he'd ever taken. His mouth felt clean and fresh after brushing his teeth, which he'd have to do again after eating, but there was no way he could stand another minute of the stale taste. He peered into the mirror, satisfied he looked more like himself after shaving off three days’ worth of stubble. He'd considered keeping it because it made him look older, but decided if he chose to grow a beard, it would be because he wanted to, not because he was being held prisoner and didn't have access to a razor, He'd had to go lightly over a few spots on his jaw and he touched the spots. Slightly rough, but it was as close as he could get. The bruises were tender, but didn't feel as bad as they looked.

  Over the smell of soap, shampoo and shaving cream, came a tantalizing aroma coming from the kitchen. Was his dad cooking? CJ had thought maybe his dad would order a pizza or something. He pulled on a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt, and padded out to the kitchen. Was that steak he smelled? And baked potatoes? He'd been given some green gelatin at the hospital, but it had barely scratched the surface of his hunger. His dad had found a granola bar in his car and offered it to CJ, but his jaw had been too sore to chew it.

  His dad had a cast iron pan smoking on the burner, a large, thick steak sizzled in the center. Another pan held mushrooms sautéing in butter and garlic. CJ's mouth watered. “Wow. It smells fantastic in here.”

  “It's really tender, so you shouldn't have any trouble chewing it. I just hope it's not too heavy. I know you haven't eaten in a few days not counting the green stuff they gave you. I have some chicken soup in the pantry if you'd rather.”

  “Are you kidding me? I could eat a whole steer and his brother.” CJ looked in the oven for the potatoes, but found it cold and empty. “Potatoes?”

  “Oh, yeah. Sorry, I had to nuke them because there wasn't time for them to bake.”

  “That's okay. They'll still taste good. Anything I can do?”

  “Just sit. Relax.”

  CJ fixed himself a glass of ice water before sitting. He drank half of it down in one long gulp. He didn't think he'd ever take water for granted again. His dad looked over his shoulder at him. “Not too fast. Remember what they told you at the hospital.”

  About to finish off the glass, CJ lowered the water without taking the sip. “Yeah. I'm just so thirsty still.”

  “Yes. I know.” His dad set the steak on a platter to rest, then moved to the fridge and pulled out two salads he must have made earlier, and set one before CJ. “You can get started on that if you want.”

  He polished off the greens, relishing the cool, crisp texture. The salad only whet his appetite and as soon as his dad set a plate in front of him, CJ dug in, barely able to restrain himself from picking it up in his hands and tearing off chunks with his teeth. Slicing off a bite, CJ chewed, closing his eyes at the salty, tangy, peppery flavor. He'd never eaten anything so delicious in his entire life. That first bite set his hunger into overdrive, and he couldn't seem to eat fast enough.

  “Whoa, slow down there, or it'll all come right back up.” His dad sat down on the other side of the table, his fork and knife poised to cut into his own steak.

  Swallowing, CJ nodded. “It tastes great.”

  “I'd love to take credit, being the chef and all, but I have a feeling you'd think it was delicious even if it tasted like the sole of my shoe.”

  “I think you're right.”

  They finished their meal, and CJ sat back, finally sated. “Thanks, Dad.” He started to rise to take his plate to the sink, but his dad waved him off.

  “I’ve got it.”

  It was on the tip of his tongue to make a joke about how he cou
ld get used to being waited on, but after his dad set the plates in the sink, he turned back to CJ, his expression one CJ had never seen before. He looked…older. Worn. Tired.

  “Dad? What's wrong?” Had someone died and nobody told him? He rose, stepping around the table to go to his dad, but halfway there, his dad moved forward and enveloped him in a hard hug. Returning it, CJ patted his dad on the back. “What happened? You're scaring me.”

  His dad sniffed and pulled away, turning his back on CJ. “Want some coffee?”

  “Uh. Yeah. Sure.”

  In a few minutes, his dad set a steaming cup before him, but CJ just wrapped his hands around the warm mug as he waited for his dad to tell him the bad news. When his dad sat and began sipping his own coffee, CJ couldn't take it anymore. “Dad, what's wrong? Are you gonna talk to me or what?”

  His dad gave a small shake of his head, but a smile played around his lips. “Nothing's wrong. Not anymore. Sorry about the…” he made an air hug with his arms, “I just lost it for a moment. You scared the hell out of me disappearing like that. It made me think a lot. I'm just glad it's all over.”

  “Oh…okay.” He sipped his coffee. “But it's not.”

  His dad set his mug down, his eyes wide and questioning. “What?”

  “Over. It's not over yet. Hamilton had something to do with the death of a detective named Cruz and I intend to find out who killed him and why.”

  “No you're not. I'm going to assign the case to some of my agents. What happened to you and the report from Mendez gives me cause to open an investigation. It's none of your business from here on out.”

  “What the hell, Dad?” CJ jumped up from the table. “What do you mean it's not my business? I was the one being held while they tried to beat a confession out of me, not you. I have every right.”

  “The right? I'm not so sure about that, but motivation—now that's a different story and I understand your motivation. You want revenge, but what you don't have is resources. I do, and what's more, it's my job to do this.” His dad pushed up from the table, and gone was the worn, tired look. In its place was the tough FBI no nonsense expression CJ recognized. It made most people back down. “Got it? It's my job, not yours.”

  CJ wasn't most people. “Dad, I respect you, but I have skin in this game. Literally. And I'm going to do whatever I need to do to uncover what Hamilton is up to.” He stalked to the door, but paused. “Thanks for dinner.”

  * * *

  CJ woke up the next morning, blinking at the beam of sunlight filtering through the blinds. He glanced at the clock. Ten-thirty? He hadn't slept this late in months. Not since he started using the camera. It was normally a work day for him, and he had set his alarm, but when he looked at the clock, the alarm wasn't activated. Puzzled, he got up and went to the kitchen. His dad sat at the table working on his laptop.

  “Why didn't you wake me? I thought I set my alarm but I guess I forgot because it never went off. I'm way late to work.” CJ pulled a box of cereal down and dumped some in a bowl. He didn't think Mark would fire him or anything, but he'd already missed most of the week. His paycheck was going to suck.

  “I turned your alarm off. I was going to tell you that Mark called last night to tell you to stay home and rest, but you'd already gone to bed. Seemed pretty silly to wake you up just to tell you to sleep in, so I turned your alarm off.”

  CJ had heard the phone ring now that he thought about it, but he'd already stalked out of the kitchen back to his room. He'd called Blanche, vented a bit, then they had made plans to see each other this evening. They hadn't spoken very long though because after a few minutes, CJ had a hard time keeping his eyes open. He'd crashed before ten. “Oh. Okay.”

  “What are you doing home? Don't you have work?” CJ passed him on the way to the fridge, glancing at the screen, freezing when he saw Tom's face on the screen. “What are you doing?”

  “Research.”

  CJ grabbed the orange juice from the fridge and poured a large glass, setting the carton on the table as he sat down, scooting his chair around to see the computer screen. “Find anything interesting?”

  “I found your buddy, Tom, has some money problems. Seems he likes to gamble on anything and everything. His home is mortgaged to the hilt, among other things.”

  “So?” CJ sipped his juice.

  “A cop with money problems can be tempted to go bad. It might start small. Rip up speeding tickets, look the other way when a crime is committed, in exchange for a payoff.”

  “Yeah. Of course. I know about dirty cops, Dad.”

  “I know, but Hamilton has a squeaky clean record. Almost too clean. And he’s been on the force for over thirty years. He could retire by now, but he doesn’t That’s not too suspicious, but his last few vacations were taken to Mexico.”

  “I’ll be the first to accuse Hamilton of being dirty, but how can you tie in a trip to Mexico to proof he’s dirty?”

  “I can’t. And it might not have anything to do with it, but most people go to Mexico in the winter, but both of his trips were in the summer. “

  CJ shrugged. “I don’t know…sounds pretty thin if you ask me. Why can’t we just report him for what he did to me?

  “We might have to, but I want to keep you out of it as much as possible. I saw what happened to Mark when people in authority scrutinized his record. They started asking questions, and the next thing we knew, he was all over the media. Then he was kidnapped.” His father paused, his eyes staring as if he was seeing something other than the carton of orange juice. “We can’t let that happen to you.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Phillip watched the cars leave the lot. Sheridan knew too much. And his father too. He looked at Tom, who stood rubbing his left wrist. A red ring from the shackle circled the joint and Hamilton shook his head. “How the hell did you let that punk get the upper hand? Do you even realize what your incompetence may have cost us? Cost me?”

  “Hey, you never told me the guy was like a fucking ninja. If I'd have known he knew martial arts, I'd have beaten him worse and he'd never had the chance to use his karate shit on me.” Tom glared at him for a moment, before turning away. “And yeah, I'm fine. Thanks for asking.”

  Phillip didn't miss the sarcasm but he didn't care. “It would have served you right to get your ass kicked. You're a cop. You should know how to take care of yourself in a fight.”

  “Screw you, Hamilton. I've had enough of this. I'm going home.”

  Phillip let him go, but couldn't resist one last shot. “Maybe I should hire Sheridan as my muscle instead.”

  Tom answered him with a grunt and flipped him the finger over his shoulder as he left the building. Phillip didn't worry. He knew Tom would be back. He needed the money to cover gambling debts. He couldn't afford to walk away from this and besides, he was in this almost as deep as Phillip was.

  He went to the back office where he'd been hanging out most of the last two days, unplugged his laptop and snapped it closed and slid it into his bag. When he was done tidying the room, making it look like he'd never been there, he went out the back and got into his car. One reason he had picked this building was because of the proximity to the garage. If anyone saw him here, he could always claim he heard something in his engine and was getting it checked out.

  His cellphone rang in his pocket and he answered it. “Detective Hamilton.”

  “Yeah, man. I been trying to get ahold of you for days! Where you been?”

  Phillip rolled his eyes. He had no patience to deal with this guy right now. “None of your damn business. What do you want?”

  “When you payin' me? I did the job over a week ago.”

  “Do you think I've forgotten? Do you think I've also forgotten how you screwed up and left a witness who can I.D. you?”

  “The cops were comin'! What was I supposed to do? Kill everyone standing around gawking at the scene?”

  “If you have to.”

  “You're fucking crazy.”

  “C
razy or not, we now have a pain-in-the ass witness. I tried to find out what he knows and who he's working for, but things got messy. I had to cut my losses and let him go. I want to know how he keeps turning up in places he has no business being. There has to be a leak somewhere and he has to have a connection to it. That's the part I don't understand. He just moved to Chicago a few months ago. How the hell did he establish connections so quickly?”

  “You want me to make him talk?” The man sounded like he would relish the opportunity.

  Phillip rolled his eyes. “No, the guy isn't about to give whoever it is up, and besides, I think I know.” He had an idea. “I just need you to do one of your regular jobs.”

  “I don't work unless I get paid.”

  “You'll work where and when I tell you if you want to get paid.” He'd about had enough of stupid muscle thinking they're calling the shots.

  “Dude, you stiff me and I'll make you my next target.”

  His voice was soft, hardly threatening, but Phillip felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise. Maybe he had pushed too hard. “Hold on. Calm down. I apologize. It's been a long two days. I'll double your pay if you do this for me.”

  “Of course you will because I will have done twice the work. I want three times the pay.”

  Phillip fought the urge to throw the phone out the window, and instead took a deep breath. He needed to work with this guy since Tom had screwed up. “Fine. Three times.”

  “And I want half up front. I'm not waiting again.”

  “Half?”

  “You already owe me part of it. If you had paid up on time like we agreed, I wouldn't have to make these conditions. It's just business.”

  “Okay. But I need a few days to get the money together. It's not like I can just go to the bank and make a withdrawal.”

  “Call me when you're ready.”

  * * *

  CJ pulled into the parking garage of the hospital. He'd offered to pick Blanche up from work and couldn't wait to see her. They hadn't had a moment alone since before the whole mess with Hamilton and Tom. He glanced at the dashboard clock. It was almost eleven p.m. He glanced around the garage. It was lit, but there were still shadows and Blanche wouldn't know where he was parked. He texted her the location, but then sent another text saying he'd meet her in the ER waiting room. He didn't want her walking through here alone. Maybe he was paranoid, but he vividly remembered the first time he'd seen her was an image of her lying dead near a Dumpster after being attacked on her way home from work. The image still flashed into his mind sometimes when he spoke to her.