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

by M. P. McDonald

Keeping his gun leveled at the bomber, he pointed towards the approaching bus. “The bus! You have to stop-” he broke off suddenly. He'd intended for them to race ahead and prevent the bus from advancing, but that would take them past the woman. If she detonated the bomb then, it would take out the car for sure.

  “Dad! Get back!” His father didn't listen to him, and started ahead.

  Panic surged through him. “No!” Only one choice. Don't hit the explosives.

  The bomber fumbled at her shirt. CJ took aim at her thigh.

  And fired.

  Three times.

  Sirens screamed up behind him and one patrol car roared past the bus, causing the bus to swerve to the right to avoid it.

  She looked at CJ, her expression uncomprehending. Confused. Then she stumbled to the ground and CJ cringed, waiting for the explosion.

  The cop car skidded sideways, blocking his father's car and coming between CJ and the woman.

  Was she dead?

  The cop jumped from his car, braced his hands on top of his vehicle, his handgun aimed at CJ.

  “Drop you weapon!”

  “Don't shoot!” Shocked, CJ spread his arms and lifted his fingers so the cop could see that he wasn't a threat as he eased down to set the gun on the ground.

  Footsteps rushed him from behind and he turned, instinctively.

  “Freeze!”

  Two police officers tackled him from behind, grabbing his arms as they slammed him to the pavement. He saw a flash of white and tiny points of light before his vision went dark.

  * * *

  Jim barely registered the commotion around him as he ran towards CJ and the officers lying in a tangled pile.

  “Jim, wait!”

  Mark caught him by the arm, pulled him back and stood in front of him, his other hand pushing against Jim's shoulder. “Stop! You can't help him right now, and we still have a bomb to worry about.”

  Jessica ran past them towards the first cop, flashing her badge at him. “FBI! Stand back!”

  Jim tore his arm from Mark's grip. “Get the hell away from me!” He fought to reach his son, but Mark grabbed him by the front of his shirt, and gave him a violent shake.

  “Listen to me! If we don't get everyone back, we could all be dead in seconds-including CJ. I need your help.”

  Jim tore his gaze from CJ's motionless form as the cops cuffed him. Jessica stood beside the first cop and she was saying something, but he couldn't hear what they said. She swept an arm out and pointed towards the bomber. At least, he assumed that's who she was pointing at, but the cop's car blocked her from Jim's sight.

  Taking a deep breath, Jim stepped back from Mark. “You're right.” He pulled out his badge. He had to act professional. It took every ounce of his willpower to ignore his parental instinct and turn his back on CJ.

  Circling the cop's car, he paused when he saw the woman lying in the street. She writhed, smearing the puddle of blood surrounded her left leg. So CJ had shot her. That complicated things.

  Jim showed his identification to the cop. “We need to secure this area. Move everyone back; we have a bomb squad en route.” He turned to Jessica. “Could you please check on their ETA?”

  “Yes, sir.” She headed towards CJ, speaking to the officers who stood beside him. The damn cops weren't even checking on him. Jim felt a catch in his chest.

  “Are you sure she has a bomb? All I saw was that guy shoot her for no reason. She wasn't threatening anyone that I could see.”

  Jim dragged his eyes away from CJ to find the police officer looking doubtfully at the woman. He started to move towards her. “I don't see any bomb.”

  Jim took a step in front of the man, his anger barely in check. His voice dropped. “Please return to your car. This is our case. I'm the one who placed the call to get you on site in the event we didn't make it in time. Thank you for the assistance, but we'll take it from here.”

  The cop's eyes narrowed. “I don't think so. I need to clear it with my lieutenant first.”

  Jim dropped his voice even lower. “Get your ass back in your vehicle and establish a perimeter of at least two hundred feet. Then you can call your lieutenant if you want. Hell, you can call the damn Commissioner for all I care. Call the National Guard, whatever, but first, you're going to get back and take your buddies with you.” Jim surveyed the area, noting the gathering crowd of gawkers. “If you want to be useful, you'll work with me here and secure the scene, get bystanders out of harm's way.”

  “Who the hell is he?” The cop jabbed a thumb at Mark, who stood beside Jim.

  Jim hadn't realized Mark had followed him but he wasn't going to send him away now. Not in front of this cop. “He's with me. He's been working undercover.” An idea hit him. He stepped closer to the cop, getting up in his face. “Along with my other agent-the one your fellow officers body slammed into the ground. You better pray he's not badly injured.” Rationally, he knew the cops had just been doing their job, but anger and worry sharpened his tone until it cut through the cop's territorial attitude.

  The cop blinked and shuffled his feet. “There better really be a bomb.”

  Jim fixed the man with a hard stare and leaned in until his nose almost touched the other man's. “Or what?”

  * * *

  Mark almost felt sorry for the cop as the guy retreated to his squad car. He'd been on the receiving end of Jim's wrath and he knew how intimidating Jim could be. The cop moved his vehicle far from the woman and broadcast an order for all bystanders to move away from the area.

  “You better be right about the damned bomb, Taylor.”

  Jim hadn't called Mark by just his last name in a long time. Probably at least a year. He must really be pissed and worried. “There is, but I don't know if it was just a timer or if the woman had detonated it, or someone remotely detonated it.”

  “That's a possibility. There could be someone here right now who's got his finger on the button.” Jim turned, as though looking for that someone.

  Mark swept a gaze around the area, looking for anyone who looked suspicious. “That's exactly why we need to clear the area. Including us.” He studied the woman for a moment. He hated to leave her here. They still didn't know anything about her or if she was a victim or willing participant.

  She lay still, her eyes closed and he wondered if she was dead. “How long before the bomb squad gets here?”

  “They should be here any minute. We have to get back. I hate to leave her like that, but we have no choice.”

  Mark nodded.

  Jim turned and looked to CJ. “What the hell?” He bolted for his son.

  Mark ran after him. The cops had retreated to the safe zone, but had left CJ lying on the sidewalk, his hands still cuffed.

  Jim shook CJ's shoulder. “Chris?”

  Mark had forgotten that was CJ's real name. “Jim, do you have a key for the cuffs?”

  “No.”

  Mark watched closely, and saw CJ's back rise as he took a breath. That was a relief, but he wasn't waking up anytime soon. “I'll get his other arm. You take this one. We have to move him, Jim.”

  Gone was the intimidating FBI SAC. Jim just nodded and the expression on his face tore at Mark's heart. “Yeah.”

  “He'll be okay, Jim. He's breathing.”

  They each grabbed CJ by the upper arm, lifting his torso from the ground and dragged him, trying not to pull on his shoulders. Mark tried to get a look at CJ's face to look for the injury, but CJ's head hung down, bobbing as they pulled him. Mark didn't breathe a sigh of relief until they were almost a block away and had reached relative safety behind a police cruiser.

  Jim pointed at the nearest cop. “Un-cuff him.” He gestured to CJ. When the cop hesitated, Jim ground out, “Now! He's one of my guys.” He showed his badge to the young cop.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Mark, help me turn him over.”

  “Do you think we should move him?”

  “We just dragged him the length of a football field and now you'
re worried about moving him?”

  “Good point.” Mark pushed CJ's right arm beneath his body as Jim eased CJ's left shoulder towards the ground until they had him on his back. Mark winced at the purple goose egg on CJ's forehead just above his left eyebrow. Blood trickled from his nose and an abrasion marred his left cheekbone. “I'll go see if there are any paramedics around.”

  He spotted Jessie speaking to a group of what he hoped were bomb squad personnel. They looked the part with their equipment.

  A rescue squad pulled up. Mark jogged over to them. “Come on. We have an injured man over here.”

  “We got a report of female gunshot victim.”

  “Yeah, that's true, but you can't treat her yet and I got an unconscious guy over here.” Mark pointed in the general direction of CJ.

  “Sorry, but that's not our call. We're here for the gunshot victim.”

  “Are you kidding me?” Mark stared at the paramedic. He formed an angry retort in his mind, but instead of spewing it, he shrugged. “Fine, but get in line behind the bomb squad. Unless you want to go first? Do you want me to go ask them if you can cut in front of them?”

  The paramedic's eyes bugged and he dipped his head to speak to his partner still waiting in the squad. “Call and tell dispatch that we aren't able to get to the gunshot victim and have them send another squad while we treat the other victim.”

  Mark showed them to CJ, then stood back to let them work. One of them rubbed a knuckle hard against CJ's chest, and Mark was relieved when CJ winced and moaned. That had to be a good sign.

  Mark approached Jim. “I think Jessie has the keys to your car now. I left them in it and the car's not there, so she must have moved it.”

  Jim gave him a confused look. “The keys? Why are you telling me this now?”

  “Because I figured you'd want to follow CJ into the hospital.”

  “I will, but not yet. Not until this is resolved.”

  Mark pointed. “But the bomb squad is here.”

  “So? It's still my case. I wasn't bull-shitting the cop. I have to follow through with this.”

  “Okay, well, is there anything you need me to do now?”

  Jim looked around and tugged Mark's arm. “Come over here. We need to talk.”

  “Okay.” Mark followed him.

  “Are you sure there was a bomb because we've been here quite a long time and nothing's blown up yet. Because if there's no bomb, I don't know what I can do to protect CJ from being charged with...well, murder, if the woman dies.”

  Mark blew out a breath and scrubbed a hand down his face. “I'm sure that something exploded in my vision, and we both saw the images CJ got from the camera. What more evidence do you want?”

  “Then why hasn't it gone off?” Jim darted a look in the direction of the fallen bomber.

  “How should I know? You're the expert here. The last time I looked up information about bombs on my computer, I had half the Chicago PD shooting at me a few days later.”

  Jim nodded. “I know. Sorry for snapping at you.”

  “It's okay. So, what does the bomb squad do now?”

  “Dad!”

  Mark and Jim spun towards the voice.

  CJ walked towards them. His gait faltered a few times, but he never stopped. Jim jogged to meet his son, Mark a step behind.

  “What are you doing? Shouldn't you be on your way to the hospital?”

  “I don't need to go. I'm fine.” CJ's gaze moved past Mark and Jim, towards where the woman lay. A bomb-squad person approached her, slowly. “What are they going to do, Dad?”

  “They told you that you didn't need to go to the hospital?” Jim stepped close to CJ, reaching out and grasping his son below the jaw, and attempted to get a better look at the lump on his forehead, but CJ swatted his dad's hand away.

  “Stop it. I can't go until this is over.”

  “Son, get your ass-”

  “Jim, knock it off. Not here.” Mark nodded his head to the cops surrounding them and said in a low voice, “You claimed he was working undercover, remember? Stick with the story for now.”

  Jim glared at Mark, then at CJ, before waving a hand and turning away. He rounded a parked squad car, and stood with his arms crossed. Mark left him alone to stew. It was the safest course of action at the moment.

  CJ started around the squad as well, but Mark called out to him.

  “Don't.”

  CJ looked at him, and then his father, then finally nodded, a look of pain crossing his features as he did so. He rubbed his temple before focusing on Mark. “I'm working undercover?”

  Mark took a quick look around. Everyone was concentrating on what was going on a block away on the street even though there wasn't much to see but a bomb squad guy kneeling beside the bomber. “Shh...just keep your mouth shut right now. It's the only story that got the cuffs off you.”

  CJ rubbed his right wrist. “Yeah. Okay.”

  Mark opened his mouth to say something, but a huge explosion rocked the street. Mark was partially protected by the vehicle but the ground seemed to shift under his feet and he backpedaled before catching his balance.

  CJ stumbled back, falling on his side. Jim was...Mark searched. Where the hell was he? He spotted him slowly getting to his feet on the other side of the squad. He dusted his pants off, and appeared unharmed. Mark breathed a sigh of relief.

  He pointed to CJ. “Stay down this time.”

  “What happened?”

  “The bomb must have detonated.”

  CJ closed his eyes and groaned, letting his head rest on the street. “Shit. The bomb squad guy...and the woman?” CJ's eyes seemed to plead with Mark to tell him that everyone was okay. He wished he could, but what were the chances?

  Mark shrugged then shook his head. “I'm sorry, CJ, but I don't know how either could have survived.”

  “Yeah.” CJ shut his eyes again.

  Jim approached and knelt beside CJ, shaking his shoulder. “Are you okay?”

  He didn't open his eyes, but he replied, “Yeah. I guess.”

  Jim looked at Mark. “What about you?”

  “I'm fine.”

  “This time, you're going to the hospital, CJ.”

  CJ merely nodded.

  Chapter Eleven

  CJ tuned out the chaos around him. The paramedics returned to his side, their attitude letting him know that they hadn't appreciated CJ’s prior refusal to go to the hospital. He didn't care. In his mind, he kept seeing the woman. The bomber. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw her face in the instant their eyes had met. Had she been trying to tell him something? There had been fear, defiance and something else. Sorrow? Regret? If only he could have helped her somehow. He'd expected a crazed martyr, but she had seemed anything but insane. He closed his eyes, blocking out the mental image of her face. Chances were, he was projecting all of his own feelings on to the expression she'd had. He had certainly been afraid but also determined. That had to be it and it wasn't like he could ask her. Because she was dead and so was at least one other person. That person was the only innocent one. That's where his guilt had to focus because if he hadn't had the image and dream, that particular man would still be alive. Dozens more would be dead, but he wouldn't have played a part in the bombing at all.

  It only took the paramedics a few minutes to check him out again before loading him into the ambulance. He didn't object this time, eager to leave the scene now. The sulfur stench of explosives burned his nostrils.

  His head throbbed and every pothole the ambulance hit felt like an icepick to his brain. When they reached the hospital, he handed someone his identification, wondering if they would just go through his wallet on their own if he hadn't been able to retrieve the information himself.

  After an initial rush when he was hooked up to some monitors and the paramedic told someone outside CJ's field of vision, the basics of what had happened, he was given a brief exam by the doctor, then told he'd be going for a CT scan of his head.

  While waiting,
CJ managed to doze. He awoke when someone removed the blood pressure cuff from his bicep. Squinting painfully into the light, he glanced at the nurse, then did a double-take. “Blanche?”

  She turned from rolling the cuff up and sticking it in a metal holder on the wall. “Yes?”

  “I...I guess you probably don't remember me. We met a few weeks ago. CJ Sheridan?”

  She leaned over the edge of the cart and peered into his face. “CJ! Of course I remember you. I didn't recognize you with the dirt all over your face.”

  He reached up to wipe his face, self-conscious at her mention of the dirt.

  Smiling, she grasped his hand. “It's fine. We'll get you cleaned up when you come back. I just got here, and haven't even had report yet, but I'll be back in when you return from your test, okay?”

  “Yeah. Okay.” CJ's cart began to roll and it was then that he noticed a guy at the head of it. The man's head was right above his own and he flinched at the nearness.

  “Hey there. I'm Jay. I'm taking you over to get your CT. It won't take too long. Just relax and enjoy the ride.”

  “Yeah. Sure.” CJ closed his eyes again when the passing of the ceiling tiles above his head made him nauseated. Jay was correct that the test only took a few minutes, and he was returned to his room. He wondered if his dad had been around yet.

  “Welcome back, CJ.” Blanche entered the room and proceeded to re-apply all the monitors that had been taken off or switched to some portable unit. “How are you feeling? Are you having any pain?”

  CJ rubbed his temple, debating on telling her the truth-that it felt as if a herd of elephants was doing a conga dance on top of his brain-or lying and saying he was fine. The last thing he wanted was to look like wuss in front of her, but he needed to get rid of the headache, and at the moment, she was key to achieving that goal. He compromised. “A little.”

  “On a scale of one to ten, with one low and ten the worst you've ever felt, what would you rate it?”

  Ten? Twenty? “Uh...four?” That should be high enough to rate a couple of aspirin without making him look like a wimp. He tried to smile when she crossed her arms and gave him a look of doubt. She looked great in her navy scrubs. Not many could carry that look off, but she made it look easy.