The man spun, his fist coming up. CJ didn’t wait, he spun into a wheelhouse kick, landing it against the side of the thug’s head. As if poleaxed, the guy went down.
CJ backed up, shocked at the outcome. He’d done thousands of repetitions of the move over the years and muscle memory had kicked in, but he’d never used it on a real person before. Even in competitions, when he’d used it, he’d pulled up at the last second to avoid injuring a competitor.
“CJ! Shit!” Mark stared at the fallen man, then up to CJ.
“I didn’t…he swung at me…is he…did I kill him?” CJ looked from the downed attacker, to Mark.
The other attacker, swore, started to help his friend, but decided he was better off saving his own skin, and took off down the alley.
The detective straightened and pushed away from the wall. He put a hand to the thug’s neck and looked up at CJ and did a double-take. “Mr. Sheridan. We meet again.”
CJ froze. In the shade of the alley, he hadn’t had a good look at the detective, but now that the man was staring straight at him, he swallowed hard. It was Hamilton, the same detective who had questioned him after Blanche’s attack. “Uh, yeah.” He jammed his hands into his pockets, fighting the urge to flee. “Is…is he…?” CJ nodded towards the attacker, who still hadn’t stirred. Could he be charged with murder if the guy died?
Mark knelt and put a hand to the thug’s neck, and shook his head. “He’s fine. You just rung his bell is all.”
“Too bad.” Detective Hamilton pulled out a pair of handcuffs, snapping them on the unconscious man.
The detective fished a cellphone from his pocket and called for back-up. Finished, he jabbed a finger at Mark. “Who are you, and,” he wagged his finger to include CJ in his question, “where did you guys come from?”
CJ looked to Mark, unsure what the story would be.
Mark held out his hand. “I’m Mark Taylor. We pulled over to look at a map of the city, and saw these guys drag you into an alley. It didn’t look like a fair fight, so we thought we’d see if we could even the odds.”
“Right.” The detective shook his head and glared at CJ. “I don’t know what the hell is going on here, but don’t give me this half-assed bullshit story that you were looking at a map. Remember, I know you were in this area just the other night.”
The unconscious man moaned, and Hamilton nudged him with his toe. “Shut-up, asshole.”
Sirens echoed in the alley as a police cruiser entered from the opposite end.
Mark motioned to CJ. “Come on. We’ll go wait over here.”
Hamilton said, “Don’t go too far, I got more questions for you!”
“Don’t worry, sir,” Mark said. “We're not going anywhere, but on the other hand, I don’t want to get in the way of Chicago’s finest as they do their job.”
CJ shot a look at Mark. Was he trying to provoke the cops with his sarcasm? “Maybe we should stay where we are.”
“Yeah, that’s a good idea, Sheridan.”
“No, it’s not. Listen, Detective. CJ here just saved your ass. He didn’t break any laws. We’ll give a statement, and that’s it. End of the story.”
The detective glared at them, and his mouth opened to say something, but stopped at the shout of, “Freeze!”
CJ instinctively held his hands out to the sides as two uniformed officers approached, guns drawn. Twice in one week? Really? This was growing old already. “Hey, we’re the good guys.” He moved one hand slightly, to indicate Mark and himself.
“Shut up and put your hands on your head!”
CJ darted a look to the detective. “Tell him!”
Hamilton’s eyes narrowed, but he finally sighed. “It’s true. These guys saved my ass-as I was just informed.” He shifted his glare to Mark, who returned the look. “You can lower your weapons.”
The tension eased after that and the uniformed cops took their statements and said they’d be in touch if they needed anything more.
* * *
CJ sat in a booth and watched the healthcare workers flit in and out of the cafeteria. There was a steady flow of traffic, but it wasn’t too crowded and he guessed the lunch rush had ended and hadn’t yet hit the dinner rush. While he understood why she had chosen a very busy public place for a meeting, he hadn’t been thrilled with showing up here with the camera.
CJ tapped the edge of the photo envelope against the edge of the table. The envelope showed the photos he'd taken when he'd developed the images of Blanche's attack. Since he'd altered the outcome, the photos had changed somewhat. She was no longer lying dead by a dumpster which was a good thing, but it made proving the powers of the camera a little more difficult. The photographs now just showed Blanche speaking to Hamilton. In the background, CJ was visible being helped into the back of a squad car. He sighed. It wasn't very convincing but he hoped just having pictures of the event would be evidence.
The clock on the wall showed it was about ten minutes past two. He took a deep breath. He still wasn’t convinced this was a good idea. He didn’t know Blanche, and wasn’t ready to trust another person with this secret. He had only known about it a few months himself-his father hadn’t told him about the camera in three or so years he’d been aware of it, and he was his own son, for crying out loud. Why was it suddenly okay to let a complete stranger in on the secret?
“CJ?”
He twisted to greet her as she approached from behind. Standing, he swept a hand towards the bench opposite his. “Hi. Have a seat?”
“Hi. Sure.”
They looked at each other for a few seconds before she sat. CJ didn’t know how to start the conversation and she appeared just as confused and hesitant.
“Um, want something to drink?” He’d purchased a soda when he’d arrived, and stood to get one for her, when she waved him off, lifting a large paper cup he hadn’t noticed in her hand.
“No thanks. I have some ice water.”
“Oh, okay.” He cleared his throat. “Well, this is awkward.”
Blanche snorted, but her eyes crinkled with humor. “Yeah. Kind of.” She sipped her water, then said, “How’s your leg?”
“Oh, much better. The antibiotic helped a lot. I felt fine this morning and just a little soreness in my leg.”
“And somewhere else, I imagine.”
Now it was CJ’s turn to laugh even as his cheeks warmed. His dignity was shot, literally, now that she’d seen his ass-had pinched it to give the antibiotic injection. There was no comeback for that so he shrugged in agreement. “Yep. And I’m sorry I swore when you did that.” An F-bomb had slipped when she’d jabbed him.
She laughed outright, throwing her head back. “It’s okay. I’m used to it. Nobody likes to get a shot. Anyway, what’s the big thing you have to tell me?”
He licked his lips, then took a sip of the soda again before he answered, “This is going to sound completely nuts, but just hear me out.”
“Well, just spit it out. I have to get to work in about fifteen minutes for report.” She reached back and tightened her ponytail, drawing the scrub top tight across her chest as she did so. He couldn’t help a glance, but hoped she didn’t notice.
“Report?”
“A report on the patients I’ll be taking over from the day shift nurse.” She glanced at her watch.
“Oh.” How could he explain something this complicated in just fifteen minutes? CJ opened the envelope and let the photos slide out. “What I have here are photos I took the day before you were attacked. I used a friend’s camera. He doesn’t need it anymore, so he lets me borrow it.” He shuffled through the photos. He’d brought all the photos from the roll so she’d see how out of place the images post-attack were compared to the ordinary shots that had developed in accordance to what he'd actually seen through his lens.
“Okay. Friend’s camera. Got it.”
“It’s a special camera. See, here are pictures I took that morning.” He laid out several prints. He smiled at a great shot with the skyli
ne in the background. He knew it was a typical touristy photo, but he wasn’t a real photographer-not like Mark, and he was pretty happy when everything was in focus. He might even frame this one.
“Nice pictures.” She sounded polite, and he didn’t miss how she stole another look at her watch after glancing at the photos.
“Thank you. All of them were taken in the same location, the only difference is the direction I was facing. Some were taken facing east, as you can see here.” He tapped one that had just clear blue sky beyond it other than a little bit of grass and pavement. “And here.” He indicated the one with the skyline. “But when I developed the film, I also found these images.” He fanned the photos with her on the table.
A cute furrow separated her brows as she leaned in to look at them. When she saw the last one, she gasped and covered her mouth “Oh my God!” Her eyes narrowed. "Did you have someone hiding nearby to take these? Maybe your friend?"
"No! I swear. These photos used to show you lying dead by the dumpster towards the back of the alley. When I change a future photo, the future image changes to something else. I don't have a lot of experience with it, but sometimes it reverts back to the actual subject being photographed, and other times, to the altered outcome. I think it depends on how successful the outcome was. In this case," he motioned towards the photos, tapping on the image of himself, "I didn't prevent the attack entirely because I didn't find the attacker soon enough, but I changed the outcome, so this photo shows the result."
She shook her head. "That's about the craziest thing I've ever heard. Anyway, I don't have time for this." With that, she started to slide out of the booth. CJ caught her hand.
"I swear to god I'm not making this up. Why don't you give me a chance to show you personally?"
"Why?"
CJ stood, ignoring the curious looks they were now receiving from other people in the cafeteria. "Because I saved you from something horrible the other night. Because if I hadn't been there, you wouldn't be here now." He hated having to lay down that card. She didn't owe him anything, but it was the only card he had, and it was an ace. When he saw the hesitancy in her eyes, and a protest forming on her lips, he knew what she was going to say and tried to cut her off at the pass. "And no, it wasn't a set-up. Even the cops don't believe that." She tilted her head in annoyance, and CJ softened his tone. "Please? Just let me show you? I could pick you up tomorrow and we could go out and use the camera. Anywhere you want to go. All in public."
She sighed, glanced at her watch, then nodded. "Okay. Fine. I'll meet you here tomorrow at about eleven?"
Relief washed over him. Then he wondered why he was so relieved and why he'd tried so hard. It wasn't even his idea to reveal the secret. Then he thought about how hard it would be to go through all of his life with nobody to trust. Nobody besides his father, Mark and Jessie, and the last two had their own lives.
* * *
“It was fantastic, Jim. You should have seen it!” Mark lifted his glass of beer and took a sip. Swiping the foam from his upper lip, he shook his head. “Your kid has some skills, as they say.”
Jim smiled and glanced across the pub at CJ, who was heading to the washroom. He still limped, but he noted that despite the limp, he walked with a new air of confidence. “He should be a regular Bruce Lee with what I paid for karate lessons over the years.”
“Oh come on, Jim. Admit it. You’re proud of CJ. You’re not fooling me.” Mark grinned and reached into the bowl of pretzels.
Jim sipped his beer, hiding his smile against the rim of the glass. He was proud. Damn proud, but letting his pride show felt wrong. “You guys had the element of surprise.”
“Nope. No way. The only surprise was CJ’s Chuck Norris imitation.”
“Okay, I admit it. He’s good. I just didn’t know he had kept up his skills.” Jim smiled. Finally.
“There? Did that hurt?” Mark laughed.
“Did what hurt?” CJ pulled out his chair and sat down, looking from Jim to Mark. He reached for a pretzel, his eyebrow raised as he awaited a reply.
Jim cleared his throat and shot Mark a look before turning to CJ. “Nothing. Your leg. Did it hurt when you kicked the guy?”
Mark appeared to nearly choke on his pretzel, then grabbed his beer and guzzled it. Lowering it, he burst out laughing.
Jim tried to muster up one of his death glares, but Mark just gave him a shit-eating grin. CJ smiled too, but it was tentative.
"Did you guys down some shots while I was in the bathroom, because I'd swear, Mark was hammered the way he's laughing over here." CJ jabbed a thumb at Mark, but directed the question to Jim.
Mark, still grinning, shook his head. "Nope. No shots, but your dad had something he wanted to say to you." And his grin took on a little edge as he nodded towards Jim. "Right?"
“Okay, fine. I'll admit it. I’m proud of you, CJ.”
CJ’s eyes widened and he stared at Jim. “What are y'all talking about? You’re proud of me? For what?”
“Jeez, are you going to make me say it again?”
"Speaking of shots, that sounds like a great idea. How about I go get us some while you two do a little bonding?" Mark pushed away from the table and sauntered over to the bar.
"It's okay, Dad. Thanks." CJ sipped his beer, and focused on the glass, before reaching for the pretzels.
They sat in awkward silence, both staring at the television screen in the corner showing highlights from some golf tournament. Neither of them even liked golf. So much for bonding. Jim reached for his shot as soon as Mark set it in front of them. He lifted the glass, his mind trying to form an eloquent toast that showed his pride in his son, but all that came out was, "To CJ!"
CJ nodded, clinked glasses with them, and downed his in one gulp, but Mark paused and gave just the smallest shake of his head before throwing the drink back.
Jim swallowed his, wishing the words hadn't tangled in his brain.
Chapter Seven
Blanche waited in the same booth from the day before for CJ to arrive. She'd already told several people that she wasn't working today, but was just meeting someone. Of course that triggered more questions and she was kicking herself for agreeing to meet at her workplace. She sipped her coffee, and debated leaving before CJ showed up. He was nice enough, and he had saved her, but his weird story about a magic camera was crazy enough to give anyone pause. As the thought entered her mind, she decided that she must be as crazy as he was to agree to meet him. Standing, she hiked her purse up on to her shoulder, and grabbed her coffee, turning to make her exit. Right into CJ's chest.
Her coffee rammed into his stomach, the hot liquid splashing back on her hand, but most of it went onto CJ's shirt. "Ah! Shit!" He jumped back, tugging his shirt away from his skin.
Blanche shook the coffee from her hand. The coffee had cooled a bit while she'd waited, but it was still hot enough to leave faint red mark on her skin. "I'm sorry. Are you okay?"
CJ nodded, his teeth clenched. "Yeah, I'm fine."
"Here!" Someone handed Blanche a glass of ice water and she poured some over the back of her hand, sighing at the instant relief.
"Thank you." She examined her hand, found it was already feeling better, and handed the cup of ice water to CJ. "Pour some of this on your shirt."
He took it and poured some on his shirt, but a lot of it dampened his jeans as well. "Just great. Now I look like I wet my pants."
She should probably make sure he didn't have a serious burn, but instead, she burst out laughing at the look he gave her.
He slanted an amused glance at her. “So you think this is funny?" He moved to the condiment counter and pulled some paper napkins from the dispenser, blotting his jeans and shirt.
"Yeah, sort of." So much for making a quick exit before he arrived. Now she'd just have to tell him she'd changed her mind.
CJ tossed the napkins into the trash and faced her. "At least it's warm outside so my clothes should dry quickly. I thought we could go to Lincoln Park and take
some photos there." He stepped out of the way of a couple of nurses. One of them turned to mouth the word, 'Hot' at Blanche and gave her a thumbs up. Lovely. They thought CJ was her date.
"Um, well, I was actually about to leave." She was going to tack on a lie that she had been called into work and had to go home and get her scrubs, but at his look of disappointment and resignation, she came clean. "I'm sorry, CJ, but the whole story about the camera...it's a big turnoff. You might want to come up with a different approach. You're a good looking guy-you don't have to resort to wild stories to get dates." She pasted on a smile to try to ease the sting of her words.
He stepped back, eyes wide. "I get not believing about the camera because I only learned about it a few months ago, and when I did, I thought it was a big joke." His lips clamped and he gave a small but hard shake of his head. "But don't mock me. I’d be crazy to use it as a pick-up line and I may be a lot of things, but I'm not insane." His voice rose on the last bit, but then he scanned the cafeteria. In a much quieter tone, he stepped towards her and said, "I thought it was crazy too, but then I saw it save the life of a good friend." He leaned even closer, their heads almost touching as he whispered, "And then it saved you."
He was so close, she could smell his aftershave. It was subtle and clean, with a hint of spice. His eyes locked on hers. He wasn't lying. He believed what he said. That didn't make it true though. She retreated a step, tearing her eyes from his compelling gaze. CJ had aided her in the attack, she'd give him credit for that, but she wouldn't go so far as to acknowledge his pitiful attempt to make her believe it was due to a camera that shows the future. She dragged her hand through her hair, pulling it up away from her face as she sighed. He seemed like such a nice guy and she really didn't want to hurt his feelings, but that wasn't what made her agree. She was curious now. What if there was a grain of truth to what he said? What if? "Fine. Let's go."
Shoot: A Crime Thriller (CJ Sheridan Thrillers Book 1) Page 9
