Shoot: A Crime Thriller (CJ Sheridan Thrillers Book 1)

by M. P. McDonald

  “Well, here, let’s read the next one. It was sent a bit later. It says, ‘CJ, I’m dying to know how it all went. Did you get to the nurse?’”

  “Like I said, I was concerned about the woman and spoke on the phone to Mark while sitting in the car. I didn’t get a chance to call him back.” CJ shrugged and motioned towards his cellphone. “Hence, the texts.”

  Hamilton set it on the desk and crossed his arms.

  CJ waited for him to reply, but Hamilton remained silent, his gaze locked on CJ. The seconds stretched to a minute. Maybe longer. The lie he’d been forced to tell due to the future photos tugged at CJ’s return stare. He fought to maintain eye contact but his control wavered. He had lied. It didn’t matter that he had no choice but to do so, or that it was for a good reason. His conscience didn’t seem to give a damn and pricked him with disapproval.

  Without conceding anything, CJ reached for his phone. “Am I free to go now?”

  “You’ve been free to go at any point. Why didn’t you just take your phone and leave? Guilt eating at you?”

  CJ jumped to his feet, ignoring the burn of pain in his leg. “I have nothing to feel guilty about.” And the truth of that statement fortified his courage as he turned and stalked out of the room.

  * * *

  Jim watched CJ push his fried rice around the plate, occasionally taking a bite. “You don’t like the rice? I know it doesn’t compare to Ming Toy’s, but it’s still pretty good.”

  CJ sighed. “No, that’s not it. The rice is fine. I’m just not very hungry.”

  “Care to talk about what happened back at the police station?” Jim stood and closed the cartons, popping them into the fridge for later.

  “There were some texts from Mark on my phone that looked bad if you don’t know about the camera. The detective, Hamilton, pushed kind of hard, trying to get me to explain them.” CJ sprawled back in his chair, his hands loosely clasped in his lap.

  “You know you didn’t have to talk to him at all, right?”

  “Oh sure. I know my rights, but it’s a lot harder to assert them when I know that I can’t tell the whole truth.”

  “Yes, Mark also finds that difficult. Anyway, everything turned out okay and this Hamilton guy knows he has nothing-if he had something, he wouldn’t need you to admit to anything. He could just lay it all out for you and give you your options. So, barring that, I’d say he’s just fishing.”

  CJ rubbed his hands down his face and took a deep breath. “I know. Anyway, I think I’m going to hit the sack early tonight. I’m beat.” He stood and took a step, stopping suddenly, clutching the edge of the table, his face twisted in pain.

  Jim moved to his side and eased him back into the chair. “Let me take a look at that leg.” Heat radiated from his son and he took in the flush on his cheeks. “I think you’re running a fever.”

  “Maybe. I have a headache. I thought it was just from dealing with Hamilton.”

  Jim eased up the cuff of CJ’s jeans and peeled off the edge of the dressing. The area around the wound was swollen and red. Jim touched the skin and found it hot to the touch. “That’s it. Time to go to the ER.”

  “No, I’ll be fine. It’s not that deep of a cut.”

  “It’s getting infected, CJ. If you don’t want to end up really sick, it needs treatment right now.”

  His shoulders slumped. “Fine. I better get that case number that cop gave me last night.”

  Jim lightly pressed the dressing back over the wound and tugged CJ’s cuff back down. He straightened. “Where is it? I can get it for you.”

  “On my nightstand, I think.”

  Jim washed his hands and went to CJ’s room. He spotted some papers on the bedside table and grabbed them. The top one was the one with the phone number, but he glanced at the other as he set it back on the table. He blinked. A receipt for a hunting knife? What the hell? He didn't need to be an FBI agent to figure out why CJ had bought a hunting knife. Eyes narrowed, he took that receipt back with him to the kitchen.

  “I found the paper.”

  CJ had his head resting in his hand, his elbow propped on the table, eyes closed. “That’s good.” His eyes remained closed.

  Jim tossed the receipt on the table as well. "You planning on going hunting sometime soon?"

  CJ started, straightening as his eyes snapped open. He looked at the receipt. “Oh. Yeah. I bought that yesterday.”

  “What the hell were you going to do with it?”

  “Defend myself. What did you think? That I was going to go on a stabbing spree?” CJ sounded weary. “Can you please give me a little credit for having some common sense? I can’t carry a handgun, but I sure as hell wasn’t going to waltz into a risky situation without any kind of way to defend myself.”

  Jim planted his fists on his waist. Then he took a deep breath and let it out, shaking his head. “No. Of course not, but if the cops would have found that, you could have been in a lot of trouble.”

  “Actually, they did, and they still let me go." He returned his head to his folded arms, muttering, "They confiscated it though, so it was money wasted, and if it makes you feel any better, I never got around to using it. I had my hands full just holding onto the guy, and then he escaped anyway.”

  His initial anger at finding the receipt faded as he realized this wasn’t the time for discussion. Even in the short time he’d first realized CJ was sick, his son’s face had become more flushed, his eyes dull. Shelving the discussion for another time, Jim positioned himself to allow CJ to lean on him as they made their way out to the car.

  * * *

  “Have a seat and your nurse will be in shortly.” The nurse had taken his initial information in the intake area and showed him to a small exam room in the busy ER. She pointed towards the gurney and a hospital gown neatly folded and waiting. “Put that on and take off your jeans. The doctor will need access to your injury.” She yanked the curtain across the doorway and left.

  CJ held the gown up and eyed it. No way. It looked about a foot too short. He sat on the gurney fully dressed. The gown clutched in his fist. He’d drop his pants when he had to, and not a minute sooner.

  His dad was busy completing paperwork, so CJ sat in the room, listening to the hustle and bustle outside his door. He just needed a couple of aspirin for the headache, that was all.

  A knock sounded on the door and the curtain rattled. “Mr. Sheridan? May I come in?”

  CJ waited for his father to reply, figuring he must be out in the hallway or something.

  “Mr. Sheridan? Uh...Chris?”

  Realizing he was the Mr. Sheridan the woman was addressing, he sputtered, “Oh! Yeah. Sure.”

  “Hi, I’m Blanche. I’ll be your nurse…”

  * * *

  Blanche looked up from the paperwork in her hand to find the guy who had rescued her last night perched on the edge of the cart. Her voice trailed off. She blinked, seeing recognition dawn in his eyes at the same time. At first, his face lit up with the beginnings of a smile, but then his expression became guarded.

  “Well, now that I have a name to put to your face, I should say thank you for what you did last night, Chris.” She’d been right, he did have blue eyes. Incredibly blue eyes.

  “CJ. I go by CJ.” He clutched the gown against his abdomen as if he was trying to staunch a hemorrhage. “And you’re welcome.” He cocked his head, his eyes narrowing. “What do you mean, ‘should’?”

  Blanche bit her lip. She should have one of the other nurses trade with her, but they were swamped and it would complicate things. She shook her head and glanced at the paperwork in her hand. “Never mind. I see you’re in here with a fever and a wound in your right leg…” Her head shot up. “Is this from last night?”

  He nodded.

  “I didn’t know you were hurt. Why didn’t you get it seen last night?” She turned and grabbed a couple of gloves from the box on the counter and snapped them on. “Let me get a look at it.” She raised the head of the cart and p
atted it. “Sit back and bring your leg up on the cart.”

  He followed her instructions, wincing when he lifted the leg. “I didn’t think it was very bad and I just washed it and put a bandage on it at home.”

  “What about a tetanus shot? Did you think about that?” She untied his shoe and pulled it off, along with his sock. She checked his pedal pulse and noted good color in his toes. That was a good sign.”

  “I got a bunch of boosters when I was in college. I figured that would cover me.”

  As she rolled up his pant leg, she shook her head. “You know, this would be a lot easier if you had changed into the gown.”

  He handed it to her. “I think I got the wrong size. There’s no way this thing would fit me.”

  She almost rolled her eyes. Just like a guy to think something was too small for him. “Well, let’s get a good look. Maybe you’ll get to keep your pants on.” She shot him a smile. He was a patient, after all and she had to be professional. The police could get to the bottom of the text messages. The detective had promised to call her with an update tomorrow.

  It was hard to tell because his face was flushed from the fever noted on his chart, but she could swear he was blushing. As she peeled the bandage away from his wound, he yelped once when some hair came off with the tape. “Sorry.”

  “It’s okay.”

  The wound appeared red, swollen and still oozed blood. She took some clean gauze four by fours from a drawer and pressed them over the cut. This time, CJ didn’t yelp, but he bent his other leg, pressing his foot hard against the thin mattress. When she glanced at him, his lips were compressed into a thin line.

  Blanche left the gauze in place and pulled off her gloves, tossing them in the trash, and then washed her hands in the sink. “I’ll let the doctor know what’s going on. She’ll be in as soon as she can.”

  “Hey, Blanche?”

  She turned in the doorway.

  “Are you okay? After last night?”

  She gripped the door handle and nodded. “Yes. Pretty much. Just shaken up, is all.”

  “That detective, Hamilton, called me in to question me about those texts you saw.”

  Now it was her turn to blush. She didn’t feel guilty, but still knowing that he knew she had gone through his texts made her uncomfortable. “And?”

  “I know it looks bad, but it’s not what you’re probably thinking.”

  “And what is it you think I’m thinking?”

  CJ pushed his hands flat against the cart mattress as he scooted higher. “Probably that I planned to attack you or something. I guess it kind of looks that way from the outside.”

  Blanche cocked her head and leaned against the doorjamb. “From the outside?”

  “It’s complicated, but what you read was the exact opposite of what you’re thinking. I wasn’t planning to attack you.” He sat straight on the bed now, and swung his legs off the cart, his eyes meeting hers. “I was planning on saving you from an attack.”

  She searched his eyes for a hint of a lie or deception-something that showed insincerity. Not finding it, she said, “How did you know that guy was going to jump me?” An idea occurred to her and she pushed away from the doorway. “Is that guy a friend of yours?” CJ must know the attacker, that was the only explanation, and if he knew the guy, then why hadn’t he just talked him out of attacking her, or, better yet, turned the jerk into the cops?

  “Friend of mine? Are you serious? No way!”

  “Well? How would you have known?”

  “I’d read about some other attacks in the area, and I…I decided to drive around and see if I could spot anything suspicious.”

  She didn’t buy it. “That sounds so lame. I mean, really? You got an urge to play Batman or something?”

  He shook his head as his shoulders sagged. “No…I can’t really explain it.”

  Just then, EMTs rushed down the hallway with a patient who appeared to be in bad shape. Another nurse, Patty, called out to Blanche, “Code going to room one.” Blanche nodded. It wasn’t her patient but they all pitched in with a code if they could or covered for the nurses busy with the critical patient. “Be right there.”

  CJ caught her gaze again just as she was about to leave the room. “Just please believe me that…that I’d never do anything...well, nothing like that guy would have done. Never.” He brought his legs back up onto the cart and eased back with a grunt. “Do you think I could get a couple of aspirin?”

  “Oh…I’ll ask the doc. It might be a little while.” She rushed to the code, making a mental note to ask about the pain reliever.

  * * *

  CJ shivered and wished he’d asked for a blanket. Nobody had come into his cubicle for at least thirty minutes. He didn’t even know where his dad had gone. It couldn’t take that long to fill out some papers, could it?

  Just as he thought that, his dad walked in, a cup of coffee in hand. “Sorry. I ran into a nurse who is a friend of Lily’s-the woman I used to date.”

  “I remember her name, Dad, even if I never got to meet her.” Immediately, he regretted his tone. If only this lousy headache would go away. Where had Blanche gone? Had she decided to make him wait to punish him for what she thought he’d done?

  “So, what did the doc say?”

  “Nothing.”

  His dad’s eyes narrowed. “Nothing?”

  “She hasn’t been in yet.”

  “Oh.” He glanced at his watch. “It’s been almost forty-five minutes since we got here.”

  CJ waved a hand. “Yeah, but I think something is going on in a room down the hall. I saw some medical folks rushing that way.” He shivered again, so hard, he felt like his teeth would crack.

  His dad started opening cabinets and CJ watched him for a second, puzzled. “What are you doing?” He was pretty sure they weren’t supposed to rummage around in the medical supplies.

  “Getting a blanket. I’ve been in emergency rooms enough to know they keep a stash in all the rooms. Ah, here we go.” His dad pulled a folded blanket off a shelf, shook it out and handed it to CJ.

  A woman in a white coat over blue scrubs entered the room. “Hello, Chris? I’m Dr. Hill.” She glanced down at a clipboard in her hand. “I understand that you have a knife wound on your right calf?”

  CJ explained what had happened and why he hadn’t sought help the night before. The doctor shook her head. “Let’s have a look. It’s on the cusp of being too old to stitch, especially since you’re showing signs of infection.”

  Blanche entered a few seconds later, some medical supplies in her arms. “I have a suture kit if you need one.”

  “Well, I was just about to take a look. Could you move his pant leg out of the way?”

  CJ detected a hint of annoyance directed at Blanche and felt a twinge of guilt. “My bad. I should have taken my jeans off when she gave me the gown.”

  Her expression neutral, Blanche donned gloves and eased his pant leg up again. When she glanced up at him, he mouthed, “Sorry,” while the doctor examined the wound.

  Blanche flashed a smile as she shook her head and mouth back, “It’s okay.”

  Fifteen minutes later, CJ blew out a shaky breath. The doc had determined that with a little trimming, she could stitch it after all, but left part of it open to drain. She gave orders for Blanche to give CJ some kind of shot-an antibiotic, and to dress the wound.

  His father had excused himself during the procedure, wincing as he hurried out of the room. It made CJ wonder how he’d ever done the things he had to Mark when he couldn’t even stomach seeing the simple procedure the doctor had performed.

  The doctor’s exit must have been his dad’s cue to return. “So…are you all done here?”

  Blanche answered for CJ. “I have to dress the wound and give him a shot. Then he can go.” She turned back to CJ as she fastened a dressing over the cut. “Dr. Hill will also write a script for some oral antibiotics. Take ibuprofen for pain, and follow up with your regular doctor.”

 
“I’m here visiting from DC. I don’t have a regular doc-any recommendations?”

  “How long have you been in Chicago?”

  “About four days now.” He expected her to ask him how he liked the city, a typical question to visitors to a city, but instead she pressed the last bit of tape to his leg using more force than she had for all of the others. He yelped in surprise.

  “I thought you said you’d heard about other attacks in the area and that’s why you were there last night? Do you pay that much attention to the Chicago news way out there on the East coast?”

  CJ’s mouth dropped open. “Uh…”

  His dad shot CJ an exasperated look, but turned towards Blanche. “Were you the young lady my son rescued last night?”

  She paused as she gathered up the empty packages of gauze and used tape. “You mean am I the young lady he planned to attack, but at the last minute, changed his mind? Yes, that would be me.” Her hands shook and CJ swung his legs off the bed and stood.

  “Hold on, I told you it wasn’t like that. My dad is with the FBI here in Chicago, and he-”

  “CJ, stop. Sometimes you have to come clean.” His father nodded towards Blanche.

  “What?” Was his dad telling him to tell Blanche about the camera?

  “So you’re lying about your dad being with the FBI too? I gotta go. I need to call Detective Hamilton back.” Blanche backed towards the door, clutching crumpled gauze packages as if she was going to use them as deadly projectiles in the event that CJ attacked her right then and there

  “Wait a second.” His father held his hands up and rolled his eyes. “I understand your confusion, but just hear him out. He’s not been lying to you - not exactly, anyway.” His dad reached into his suit coat pocket and pulled out his badge. He showed it to Blanche. “See? I’m head of a division here, but that’s not the only thing I was talking about. Give him a chance to explain. Really explain.”