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

by M. P. McDonald

  “Dammit, listen to me! I know this is your responsibility, but if it hadn't been for me, you would have never met Mark, never used the camera, and never ended up needing saving. You'd be pursuing a real career, not working for Mark in his studio and risking your life for this camera.”

  “So that gives you the right to tell me what to do?” He tugged the photos from beneath his dad's hand. “I don't think so.”

  His dad glared at him, his jaw tight, the muscles working. He looked as if he was about to say something, but the phone rang. He stalked to it, answering and turning to keep CJ pinned in his gaze. “Yes?” In seconds, his expression changed to an odd combination of resignation and triumph. He said something about meeting whoever was on the phone at the studio, so CJ guessed it was Mark on the other end of the line. His father gave a curt good-bye and hung up.

  “That was Mark, and guess what? It's his vision, too.”

  * * *

  Jim hung-up the phone, his triumph short-lived. Yes, Mark had a vision too, so Jim now felt justified that he could call on him to help and there was nothing CJ could say, but the reality was, Mark had a vision of CJ dying. That realization hit him like a bus, leaving him weak in the knees. CJ must have come to the same conclusion as his face drained of color and he sank down onto the chair again as if someone had cut his strings. He stared down at the image of himself and Blanche. He didn't speak, and Jim had a feeling he wasn't really seeing it anymore, but was inside his head, re-playing the dream.

  He moved beside the chair and reached out, resting his hand on CJ's shoulder. Had it been only months ago that he had felt this fear for the first time? Logic said it should have been easier. It wasn't. Not one little bit. Practice did not always make perfect. If they won the game today, he hoped he never had to practice again. He squatted, leaving his hand in place, unwilling to break contact.

  CJ stared at the image, his expression stoic. “I'm not really afraid for me. I mean, I am and I don't intend to go quietly, Dad, but Blanche? She doesn't deserve this. And neither does Wayan.”

  “Look at me.” Jim gave CJ's shoulder a light shake. CJ didn't lift his eyes from the image. “CJ! Look at me!”

  CJ complied. “It's okay, Dad. I know we'll stop this. I was just studying the photo for clues. Do you see anything about me in the photo?”

  Jim didn't want to look at it again, but if it meant finding a clue on how to stop this, he'd stare at it as long as it took. He skimmed over the image. “I don't know. What am I looking for?”

  “The handcuffs. Why am I handcuffed?”

  He could hardly think right now, his mind mired in the worry of CJ dying. He tried to shove the worry about and answer the question, but his rational, FBI self, was trapped beneath the 'Father' version. He shook his head and licked his lips. “Uh…I wish I knew. Sorry.” He stood, gaze flitting from the photos on the coffee table to the framed photos of CJ on the bookshelf across the room. Angry at his emotional reaction, he snapped, “Maybe Mark has an idea. We have to meet him at the studio.”

  CJ nodded. “Maybe I should change my clothes.” He laughed a little at his suggestion, but there was no mirth in the sound.

  Jim's chest squeezed. “I don't know if that will change anything. It'll probably morph into whatever you put on.”

  “Oh yeah. You're probably right.” CJ walked to the kitchen and returned with a sheet of paper. “Here are all the details from my dream. I can't seem to find out who does this. If I can't see the murderer, how can I stop it?”

  Jim had no answer for him. He just grabbed his car keys from the counter along with his cellphone. “Let's go.”

  * * *

  CJ pushed open the door to the studio. “Mark!”

  Mark, the phone to his ear, held a hand up, silencing CJ.

  “Oh, sorry.” It sounded like Mark was canceling appointments today. The act didn't offer reassurance because he knew Mark only did that for the worst visions. Usually he was able to work around simple visions.

  Jessie entered from the door that led from the steps and approached him. “Have you tried reaching Blanche?”

  CJ shook his head. “I thought about it, but I don't want her anywhere around me today. If I tell her, she'll want to help fix it, and I won't take that chance.” He paused to get a handle on his voice, then continued, “This is her third time, Jess.” He hadn't quite gained the control he'd wanted, his voice breaking just a bit on one word, but he didn't care.

  “I know.” She frowned and took a step closer, rubbing his back. “It's okay. You fixed the other times, right? Why should this be any different?”

  “I keep telling myself the same thing, but still, I've failed before. I didn't stop that guy, Thompson, from dying. The camera isn't infallible and neither am I.”

  “CJ, you aren't alone on this one. You have all of us.” His dad swept a hand out to include Mark and Jessie. “We know how this all works. It's bad, but we've seen worse.”

  “Look, I know you're just trying to give me hope, but let's face it, Dad, there are three deaths we're trying to prevent. And Mark,” CJ turned, “how many times have you seen Jessie die in a photo and were able to change it?”

  Mark blinked, guilt shadowing his eyes as he shook his head. “It hasn't happened. I hope like hell it never does, but I saw my own death before, and I know how scary that is. And your dad's death, but at the time, I sort of had to be convinced to save him.” He glanced at Jessie, the two exchanging a look.

  That was news to CJ. He had heard Mark had saved his dad before, but didn't know it had been something he'd been reluctant to do. He could guess why Mark had to be convinced and any other day, he'd have plied Mark with questions, but there wasn't time. “Okay, so before everyone tells me not to worry, maybe we should consider why this is happening to Blanche for the third time. And me, twice?” He couldn't help thinking that there had to be a reason.

  “If you're implying that Blanche has overstayed her welcome here on Earth, or that you have, for that matter, you're wrong. It doesn't work that way.” Mark crossed the studio. “If I learned anything from all of this craziness over the years, it's that any master plan is on a cosmic scale. God isn't a micro-manager. He gave us free will, after all. That means he's just fine with us using our wits to get out of trouble.”

  CJ nodded. He hadn't really been thinking of God, but more about the odds. What were the odds they could change Blanche's impending death for the third time? But Mark's comment made sense too.

  “Okay, so here's what happened in my dream…” CJ launched into his account, and how he'd ended up at the room but the dream hadn't given him a clue on why he'd gone there in the first place. He'd had the vague feeling that he'd been compelled to go there. Tom had been present, and Blanche, and at some point, Wayan had arrived and when he had, he'd been as surprised to see CJ as CJ had been surprised to see him. Blanche had been battered and bruised and CJ remembered launching himself at some big guy who was holding her. He didn't remember anything more, but in the images, he was in cuffs.

  Mark nodded. “That makes sense. I didn't see why you were there either. Sorry, but I saw you go after the guy holding Blanche.”

  “Is that when I die?” He had a surreal sensation when those words left his lips.

  “No. That other guy, Tom, I think his name is? He was the one who got me with the stun gun, he had a different stun gun this time, and it must have been strong as hell, because you dropped instantly. Bam!” Mark slapped his hands together for emphasis. “I think the whole thing was set up to make it look as if you and Cooper had a run in. At that point, Cooper was overwhelmed. The two guys, Tom and the other one, forced him at gunpoint, to cuff you. Tom took Wayan's weapon, and fired it point blank at his throat. There was no way he was going to survive that.”

  CJ sat on the edge of his desk, his hands braced on his thighs. The only reason Wayan was involved was probably because he had been seen with CJ. That had to be it. Hamilton hadn't been around at the time. CJ had kept an eye peeled for h
im while waiting for CJ that morning, but the guy probably had eyes all over the place. “I think I'm gonna be sick.”

  He stood, and paced the office, the nausea relenting after a few seconds. He didn't have time to be sick.

  “Hold on, CJ. The good news is, you don't die. At least, you don't in my vision.”

  The news might have made him feel better, but he could feel the 'but' coming. Mark and Jessie exchanged another look and Mark rubbed the back of his neck as he met CJ's eyes. There was too much sorrow in them for CJ to feel good about surviving. Not that he could feel good anyway. Not with Wayan dying because of him. “What aren't you telling me?”

  “It's about Blanche…”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Blanche tried to scream, but the hand over her mouth prevented it. He lifted her up, her feet flailing in the air as her assailant pulled her into the alley. She bit down finding flesh, but it slipped away before she could dig in with her teeth. She flung an elbow back, connecting with a rib cage, and when the man pulled away from her, she felt his head brush the back of her hair, so she threw her head back like a toddler having a temper tantrum. The thud when she connected hurt, but gave her hope when he cursed in response, his grip loosening a fraction. She hoped she'd broken his nose. She tore away from his hands but he caught her after only a few steps when she had to skid to stop or be flattened by a box truck backing into the alley. What the hell was it doing?

  Her attacker caught her, landing a brutal blow on her ear that stunned her. The next thing she knew, she was tossed into the back of the truck, the door slid down, and she was trapped in a pitch black truck.

  Blanche tried to get to her hands and knees, but fell to the side when the truck took a quick turn. With nothing to hold on to, she was at the mercy of the driver as she slipped over the floor of the truck. Near one side, she caught some sort of strap that was dangling, and hung on for dear life. She had been on her way to work, exhausted from working the PM shift and cursing herself for offering to pick up a shift for a coworker who had somewhere to be this morning. Working the dayshift after a PM shift sucked and she rarely did it. Today was a fluke. She should have been home in bed.

  Where was CJ? Hadn't he seen this? She laid her head against her arm, pillowing it from the bumpy ride. She blinked back tears as terror gripped her. Where were they taking her? And why? She tried to sort out what had happened, but it had occurred too fast. Although still dark, it was morning and the city was waking up. Traffic had been normal and she was sure there had been other pedestrians heading to the EL station. Why had nobody helped her?

  * * *

  “We still have no clue where we're all taken.” CJ showed the photos to Mark. “Does anything here spark a vision?”

  “I wish it worked that way.” Mark took the pictures and went through them one by one, his eyes roving over each one. “I wish I could say. There's not much shown of the room. It could be anywhere.”

  CJ paced to the front of the studio, where the large window let in natural light. He braced against the window frame. The idle thought that he should probably wash the windows on his next day of work. The fleeting thought made him shake his head. Focus. He could understand if the photos took place here. This was where he worked. Why not here? Or at home, or even Blanche's apartment. He spoke, not sure if the others were within hearing, but he was still working through the thought. “But it can't be just anywhere.”

  “Why not?” His dad must have followed him. He stood at the front door, eyeing the bolt, and running a hand along the wire of the intercom system.

  “Because if someone, presumably Hamilton, is setting me up to kill Cooper, they still need a reason I'm there. They can't take us all to some place we have no reason to be. It wouldn't make sense to investigators.”

  His dad's hand stilled on the doorknob. He turned to CJ. “You're right.” He motioned for CJ to follow him. “Come on. Let's make a list of all the places you have been to here in Chicago. Excluding public places. This is something that Hamilton would want to keep away from witnesses. That leaves Blanche's apartment, here, our place, the loft upstairs, and where else?”

  CJ's initial flare of hope that they had something to work with, faded. “That's pretty much it. Everywhere else is public or outside. Restaurants, stores, parks…there's nowhere else.”

  Jessie grabbed a pad of paper from Mark's desk and wrote down everything his dad had said. “No other friends? What about Blanche? Could she be at one of her friends’ houses? Or with her family?”

  “I'm sure she does have other friends, and I haven’t met her family yet. I've never been anywhere else with her. We've been to her place, the movies, the drugstore—”

  His dad cut in, “The same one all the time?”

  CJ thought about it. “I guess. It's where I get the photos developed when I don't have time to do it here.”

  Mark looked at CJ, his gaze intense, but almost as if he was looking at something else. Was he seeing something? CJ wanted to ask, but didn't want to break into a vision if that was the case, but Mark blinked, and nodded. “It could be something like a backroom of a store. The floor is concrete.”

  Replaying the dream in his head, he tried to make sense of that setting. He couldn't confirm or discount it. He strained to see past the edges of his dream, as though if he tried hard enough, he could expand to show the outside walls. “Lots of places can have concrete floors. Warehouses, garages—”

  “That's it!” Mark pointed at CJ.

  “A garage?” CJ sat on the edge of the desk again.

  “Yes! I can see grease stains on the floor, drops from an oil leak.”

  Jim wrote it down. “What garage though?”

  “I need to talk to Blanche and Wayan. We could be here all day and even if I'm safe by sitting here, they won't be. They end up at this garage, or wherever, before I get there. Maybe it's a garage of Blanche's friends, or maybe it's at Wayan's house.” CJ pushed the heels of his hands down his thighs, feeling completely helpless. He wanted to do something to fix this, not sit here and speculate.

  “Try calling Blanche, but don't give too much away, although presumably, she's taken there so it's likely it's somewhere she went on purpose. She could be there already, for all we know.” His dad looked from CJ to Mark and Jessie. “Jessie, can you call your friend, Dan, and see if he knows of any garages where Wayan may go in the course of his patrol? Someplace near his normal area of patrol.”

  “Sure.” She pulled out her cellphone and went to the front of the studio.

  “I'm going to go to the office and find out what I can about Hamilton. I have a couple of agents poking around already, unofficially. I told them it was just a gut feeling I had and to gather as much intelligence as they could on Hamilton, but it's only been a few days. I haven't heard anything from them yet.” He stood, looked at CJ as if he was going to give him a hug or something.

  CJ looked away, unable to handle the emotion on his dad's face. “We'll keep you updated.”

  His dad nodded and left.

  CJ dug in his pocket, getting his phone, his breath catching when he saw he had a new text. It was from Blanche and sent last night. He opened it. She said she was switching shifts with someone and wondered if they could do something tonight. He didn't know if this affected things or not. Would the change in her schedule change what he'd seen in his dream? The photos hadn't changed since he'd seen them last night. He dialed her cell and it rang several times before going to voice-mail. He'd expected that if she was working as she didn't carry her phone, only checking it on her breaks. He left a brief message, asking her to return his call as soon as she heard the message. He put away. “She switched shifts and is working now instead of the evening shift.” He stood. “I want to go to the hospital and make sure she's okay.”

  “I don't like the idea of you leaving.”

  “Mark, I need to do this. I can't sit here just waiting.”

  “I know. I get it. I wish I knew what to tell you. It could be sittin
g here and waiting is the wrong move, too.”

  Jessie returned. “Dan was on a call, but I left a message. I have an idea though. What about the same place where CJ was last time, but the not the exact building. There was a garage that serviced some of the vehicles for the police. Wayan said that's why he was there originally, right?”

  Mark nodded. “What if he has to go again today?”

  Finally, something that made sense. “Why don't we go by Blanche's apartment, then go check out the garage?”

  “You want to go there?” Jessie stared at CJ. “I'd think if you know that's where it takes place, you'd want to avoid it at all costs.”

  “If it was just me, I could, Jessie, but we have to make sure Blanche isn't already there. What if that's why she isn't answering?”

  Mark agreed with him. “Hamilton took you. He could take Blanche, too. What confuses me is he wasn't in my vision. Was he in your dream?”

  CJ shook his head. “I didn't see him. This could be something else entirely. What if we're assuming it's him, but it's really something unrelated?”

  “But we both saw Tom, right? And the only other time we saw him was with Hamilton.” Mark made his case and CJ agreed it made sense.

  “Let's get going and hope Jim finds out something about Hamilton.”

  * * *

  In the car, CJ tried reaching Blanche at the hospital, but the person who answered the phone, the clerk at the ER desk, wouldn't give CJ any information regarding Blanche, not even whether she was there or not. He could understand that, but he still swore after he hung up. Mark drove while Jessie spoke to Dan, who had returned her call. He confirmed the garage near where CJ had been held was one of the main garages used, but there were a couple of other, smaller places, privately owned, but under contract.

  “Thanks for the info, Dan. We really appreciate it. Good luck on your own case.”