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

by M. P. McDonald

  “Are you sure?”

  “Five?”

  “Okay. I'll ask the doctor for something for you. She's waiting for the CT results, but they shouldn't be long.”

  Blanche pushed some button on the monitor and the cuff on his arm began to tighten. “Hey, Blanche-I hope you're not mad I didn't call you back. I...it's complicated.”

  “Magic cameras always are.”

  CJ cringed at her breezy tone. Clearly, she thought he was completely nuts.

  Why had the camera shown nothing out of the ordinary that day? Why couldn't it have cooperated and given him a future photo? Could the camera have done that as a way to warn him away from her? He watched her looking up something on the computer in the corner. No, she was a good person. There's no way the camera would look at her and find her unworthy. He snorted at the thought. After all, the camera showed him future images-and he was certainly no saint.

  “I know you don't believe anything about the camera, but it's true. It showed me a suicide bomber yesterday.” He rubbed his forehead, going easy on the lump above his eyebrow. Did it look as bad as it felt?

  “A suicide bomber? Here in Chicago?” She gave him a skeptical look. “I didn't hear anything about that.”

  “It just happened. I was there and that's how I hit my head.”

  “You were injured by a bomb?”

  “No. Some cops tackled me thinking I was the bad guy.”

  “Why would they think that?”

  “Because...because I...” CJ's throat tightened. He closed his eyes.

  “Are you okay? Is your headache worse?”

  He shook his head. “There was a woman...she had a bomb. I shot her.” The last came out barely above a whisper.

  He cleared his throat. He had to own his actions. “I shot her. The bomber. I shot before she could detonate it. But then it went off anyway. I changed the photo, but...not enough.”

  Blanche's expression softened. “Listen, CJ, I'm not mad you didn't call me. I get it. You were embarrassed after you told me that story.” She gave him a smile. “Hey, it's the most creative way any guy has ever tried to get a date, so I give you props for creativity. You don't have to keep up the act.”

  “Props?” He slanted her a look then faced forward, crossing his arms. “Whatever.” He didn't have anything to prove to her.

  Now he understood why Mark had initially kept the camera a secret. Even though he had encouraged CJ to tell Blanche and to not make the same mistake he had, CJ was beginning to think that Mark had made the right choice from the start. Keep it a secret.

  Blanche moved into his range of vision but he ignored her and in a few moments, she sighed and said, “I'll go see if your test results are back.”

  * * *

  Blanche shook her head as she headed out to the nurse's station. She'd certainly dodged a bullet with that guy. She chuckled. A magic camera? A suicide bomber? It was almost too pathetic to mock. Besides, if he was crazy, he needed help, not ridicule. Maybe she should suggest a psych evaluation while he was here.

  She checked the status of CJ's test results and saw they were still pending. Another one of her patients had blood tests pending, and another was getting a breathing treatment. Time to catch up on charting.

  Glancing at the white board on the wall, she was happy to see that there were actually a couple of empty treatment rooms. Did she dare get her hopes up that she'd get a dinner break this shift? She should check to see if anyone else needed help.

  Donna turned from taking a paramedic call over the radio. “Blanche, we have a GSW en route. You want to take it?”

  So much for dinner. “Sure. What's the ETA?”

  “Five minutes out.” Donna waved towards the trauma room beside CJ's. “Come on. I'll help you set-up.”

  Blanche glanced in as she passed, relieved to see that CJ had his eyes closed. She knew she'd embarrassed him with her flippant remark but she didn't know how else to react to him. “What info do you have?”

  “It's a wild one. She was shot almost an hour ago, so we're on borrowed time here. Paramedics report major blood loss.”

  “Why the delay? She should have been here at least thirty minutes ago.”

  “That's the crazy part. They couldn't touch her until after the bomb squad had deactivated the bomb she had strapped to her chest.”

  Blanche halted. “What?” The hairs on her arm rose as a chill swept her.

  “I told you it was crazy. Apparently the bomb exploded and everything.”

  “It exploded?”

  “That's what the paramedic said, but we're not getting any of the victims.” Donna motioned towards the phone in the trauma room. “Don't you think you better call the blood bank?”

  “Oh, yes.” Blanche made the call, hoping she'd asked for the right supplies. Her mind was whirling.

  “They're going somewhere else. They didn't want them coming to the same hospital as the bomber-besides, apparently nobody is critical. Bumps and bruises, it sounds like.”

  “Wait...who is going somewhere else?” She'd lost track of the conversation between her shock and calling the blood bank.

  “Those injured from the explosion. They said it could have been a lot worse. The bomber was intending to set it off at a wedding a block away.”

  “So this woman has a gunshot wound, not injuries from a bomb? I don't understand.”

  “I don't either. Guess we'll find out more when the squad brings her in.”

  * * *

  Forty-five minutes later, Blanche sat to tackle more charting. The patient had been stabilized and would be on her way to surgery any minute, so chances were good she'd recover. It had been a close call though, and the paramedics had a story to tell about how some bystander had shot the woman. Only it turned out the bystander was somehow with the FBI. The paramedic wasn't clear on that, but Blanche remembered CJ's father was some head honcho with the Chicago branch of the FBI. Had CJ really been the one to shoot the woman? In the rush of saving the patient, she hadn't had a chance to check in on CJ. Abandoning her charting for now, she headed towards his treatment room.

  It was empty. What? She checked the whiteboard again and saw he'd been taken to X-ray. Blanche found the physician on CJ's case. “Hey, Doc, my guy in room two was taken to X-ray while I was busy with that trauma. Did you order something new?”

  The doctor turned from dictating notes. “Yes, I ordered a chest X-ray as he had some bruising and tenderness. I guess they came and got him. His CT was negative for anything, so depending on the chest film, I'll probably discharge him soon.”

  “Oh, okay. Thanks.” She puzzled over the mystery. CJ shot her? And there was a bomb strapped to her? And how did it explode without killing her?

  She sensed a presence looming over the counter and glanced up to find a good-looking man leaning on the high counter circling the station. He scanned the area before turning back to her. “Excuse me.”

  Blanche nodded. “Can I help you?”

  “Yeah, I'm looking for CJ Sheridan. He was brought in almost two hours ago.”

  “I'm sorry, but who are you? His father?”

  The man blinked, his eyes wide with surprise, but then he chuckled. “No, I'm a friend.” He cocked his head. “Just how old do I look?”

  She felt blood rush to her cheeks, but then she pursed her lips and tilted her head. “Well...technically, you're probably old enough...”

  The guy shook his head, but he was grinning, so she knew she hadn't offended. “My name's Mark Taylor. CJ's a friend of mine. I’m assuming his father, Jim Sheridan, isn’t here yet?”

  Then she slapped her forehead. “Of course you're not his father. I actually met him.”

  Looking puzzled, he asked, “So Jim is...here?”

  “Sorry. No. I don't believe so. I've been busy with a critical patient, but I didn't see anyone else. I meant the last time I treated your friend. His father accompanied him and I met him then.”

  “Ah. Okay. So, could you tell me which room is CJ's?
”

  “It's right over there. You can wait inside if you'd like. He should be back shortly.”

  Mark glanced at the room, and nodded, but then turned back. “How is he?”

  Considering CJ had been here for almost two hours, she thought that as worried as he seemed, he sure took his sweet time getting here. “I can't discuss his condition with you, but the doctor will be in shortly, once CJ returns.”

  At his worried frown, she relented a little, and peeked over her shoulder before replying, her voice low, “He should be okay.”

  Mark smiled and nodded. “Great. Thanks.”

  Blanche returned the smile. “No problem.”

  After he walked into CJ's room, she remembered the text she'd seen on CJ's phone after he'd saved her. It was from someone named Mark. Was this the same 'Mark'?

  It still creeped her out when she thought of that series of messages, but the guy certainly didn't appear creepy. Just the opposite. Hadn't CJ mentioned Mark in relation to his so-called magic camera? She bit her lip and stared at the open patient chart in front of her. She had a ton of charting and should really focus, but this guy could clear up the deal with CJ's claims about a camera and she might not get another chance to speak to him. CJ could be on his way back to his room right now.

  Blanche headed to the room to find Mark sitting in a chair, one leg bouncing to some beat only he could hear. He looked at her when she entered, and then beyond her, as if expecting to see CJ following behind. She shook her head. “He's not back yet. We've been busy and they're a little backed up. No doubt, he's parked in the hallway outside of X-ray, but I'm sure he'll be back soon. I came in to ask you a question about CJ.”

  She crossed her arms as she wondered how to broach the subject. “I don't know if you're aware that your friend, CJ, intervened when I was being attacked a week or so ago.”

  Mark gave a slight nod. “I didn't know it was you specifically, but I knew it was a nurse at this hospital.”

  It was her turn to nod, and she added, “Yeah, that was me. After the attack, I realized I still had his phone because he'd told me to call police. I forgot to give it back in all the commotion.”

  “Right.” His leg stilled.

  “I didn't know his name at the time as there was no chance to speak to him at the scene. So, I searched the phone to find a number to call, and stumbled upon some texts that seemed...” she paused, not wanting to offend him, but there was only one way to really word her suspicions without coming right out and naming her fears. “They seemed suspicious. It was something about how did things go with the nurse and the attack.”

  “Yeah, I remember sending a few texts like that, but it's not what you think.”

  “That's what CJ said, too.”

  “What else did he say?”

  She shoved her hands into the front pockets of her scrub top and shrugged. “He said that he has a magic camera that shows him the future, and that he'd seen an attack on me and was just preventing it. Then he said you had the camera before him.”

  Mark's expression went from resigned to...amused? Then he looked down, shaking his head, but he wore a smile. Her heart sank and she felt stupid for being so gullible. Had she been the butt of CJ's cruel joke? Had he laughed it up with Mark later?

  Her face must have given away her thoughts because Mark waved his hands in a crossing motion. “Hold up. CJ wasn't lying. I guess it's my fault he told you. I told him to tell someone because I'd kept it a secret when I had it and that strategy backfired on me big time.”

  She lifted a hand, palm out. “Stop a second...you're telling me that old camera really shows the future? We spent a few hours taking photos with it, but the result was just a bunch of regular pictures. No murders, no rapes and definitely no bombers.”

  Mark's eyebrows rose at her last word, then he blinked and looked away for a moment. “Well, luckily, some days are like that. I always considered them a gift. A day off. But he's telling the truth.”

  Blanche studied him for signs of deception but he turned back to her and held her gaze. “Okay, say I believe you. He told me that he...” she looked over her shoulder to make sure nobody was within earshot at the desk, “shot a woman who had a bomb. He thinks he killed her.”

  “Thinks?”

  “Yeah, only she's on her way to surgery any minute. I can't say any more than that.” She put a finger over her lips in a shushing gesture. “Don't you dare tell anyone I just said that or I'll...I'll tell everyone about that camera.”

  His eyes narrowed. “You better think twice about that threat. If I told someone about that woman living, they'd just get the information a few hours earlier than the police would release it anyway, but if you told about the camera, it could unleash all kinds of nastiness around you.”

  Shocked at his tone and the hard look he gave her, she stepped back. “Is that a threat?”

  Mark sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose before his hand dropped to his lap. “Listen, that's not how I meant it. Certainly it's not a threat from me or CJ. The threat would come from others who want the camera. It's not quite the secret we'd like it to be, and whoever has possession of it has to constantly be aware that someone out there could go to great lengths to obtain it.”

  “Are you serious?”

  “Completely.”

  The squeak of a gurney rolling in their direction made her rush her next question. “So is CJ a cop or spy or something?”

  Mark let out a snort that might have been laughter. “No. Believe me, the worst thing that would happen is if he used the camera in an official capacity.”

  The gurney rolled into the room and CJ hiked up higher on it when he saw her speaking to Mark. He gave her a wary look then turned to Mark. “Where's my dad?”

  “I was hoping he'd be here by now, but he has a whole shitload of explaining to do.” Mark's eyes shot to her. “Excuse the language.”

  She waved a hand. “The least of my concerns.” Then she pointed at CJ. “I have a ton of questions for you--” She broke off when the doctor entered the room.

  She gave Blanche an odd look and Blanche realized her tone had been anything but nurse-like. Her cheeks burned.

  “Okay, Chris, your tests came back and you've got a cracked rib on the left, but there's not much we can do for it. It just has to heal and in the meantime, it's going to be painful. Over the counter pain relievers can take the edge off it. Take it easy for a few weeks to give it a chance to mend. As far as your head goes, there's no fracture and no bleed--all concerns we had--so that's good news.”

  She then went on to give CJ an overview of what to expect in the next few weeks with the usual advice to come back if he had any troubles.

  “...and Blanche will come back in with your discharge papers shortly.”

  CJ nodded. “Thank-you.”

  Blanche moved to the side of the gurney, lowered the side rail, and handed him the bag with his shirt in it. “You can get dressed and I'll be back in a few minutes.”

  * * *

  As soon as Blanche left the room, CJ sat up, then clutched his side. Dammit. He took a couple of short breaths and when the pain eased, swung his legs over the side of the cart and pulled his shirt on. The simple act made his head pound and his side ache. “What were y'all talking about just now? And is my dad going to be in trouble? Am I? Was anyone else killed in the explosion?”

  Mark lifted a hand. “Whoa. Hold on a second. We were talking about the camera, I don't know if your dad is in trouble--you can discuss that with him later--same with whether you're in trouble. I suspect that if he convinces the right people you were there on his say so, it'll be okay. And, no, nobody at all was killed in the explosion. The bomb squad had just contained it when it went off. Still shook us up, as you know, but nobody was seriously hurt. Just some bumps, cuts and bruises. The only serious injuries were to the bomber and you.”

  “The bomber? She's alive?”

  “I'm not supposed to say anything, but I don't think Blanche included you in
the ban of information.”

  “Huh?”

  “Never mind. Just know that the bomber was alive as of a few minutes ago. Hopefully, she'll stay that way so the FBI can question her and get some information.”

  His head was spinning and it had nothing to do with his injury. “So...does this mean I did the right thing? Or should I have held my fire?”

  Mark stood and moved in front of him. “You listened to your gut, right?”

  CJ tried to remember what he'd been feeling in that moment other than terror and adrenaline. He'd known that letting her get a hand to her chest to press the button would be a bad thing. He didn't recall thinking specifically what would happen. Death and destruction, certainly, but what if he'd been wrong and she hadn't intended to trigger the bomb? At the time, he'd been so certain he had to pull the trigger. Could that fleeting moment of clarity he'd felt been his gut talking to him? “I guess.”

  “You did. And it was the right call. Sometimes you have to do that and as smart as your dad is, he's not like us...he doesn't get that...that gnawing in your stomach. It eats at you until you make the only decision you can to make the gnawing stop.”

  That had been what it had felt like. Unrelenting. Burning. The ache hadn't eased until he'd pulled the trigger. He'd tried to hide from that fact, fearing it made him a monster, but hearing Mark acknowledge and share that he'd experienced the same feeling gave him hope that he hadn't been wrong to follow his instinct. His eyes stung and he looked at his hands as they shook. He pressed his palms against the top of his thighs.

  “You okay?”

  His throat tightening, he could only nod.

  “And as for the nurse...she had questions about the camera and if it was real. I just confirmed what you'd already told her.” Mark gave his shoulder a light squeeze. “Don't worry. I have a feeling it'll all work out.”

  Blanche returned with CJ's paperwork and he signed the release papers, glad to get out of there. As he handed the pen back, he met Blanche's eyes. Her expression was different from how she had always looked at him before. In the past, she'd looked at him like a patient, or with bemused disbelief. This was different. He couldn't quite figure it out. "Do you think I could talk to you later?"