He hoped his dad was awake already. At least they would have plenty of time to stop this one since it wouldn't take place for almost twenty-four hours. It was crazy that he was going to have information on a terrorist attack, while his father, head of the counter-terrorism division of the FBI in Chicago, had no clue. Well, maybe he did know, CJ conceded as he tugged a T-shirt over his head. His dad didn’t make a habit of divulging information like that to him.
CJ found him in the living room sprawled on the sofa draining a beer.
"What's the matter? Couldn't sleep?"
Puzzled at the question, CJ stopped. This didn't make sense. Was he still dreaming? His dad didn't sprawl on the couch in the morning-he got ready for work, and he didn't drink beer for breakfast. Then CJ looked around and out the windows. It was still night. "What time is it?"
"Just about midnight."
CJ sank onto the chair flanking the sofa, set the notebook on the coffee table, and cradled his head.
"Is your head hurting?" His father scooted closer to the end of the couch nearest CJ's chair.
"Yeah, it's pounding, but that's not the problem." He lifted his head. "Am I awake?"
His dad sat forward, his eyes wide in concern. "Are you okay, CJ You seem a little out of it."
"How long have I been sleeping?"
"Maybe three hours? Mark just left about an hour ago."
It was then CJ noticed a couple of empty beer bottles on the table beside the chair on the other end of the living room.
Okay, so it was still the same day. It had to be the longest day of his life. It didn't make sense. Was the dream a future dream? It had certainly seemed like it but it could be just a very vivid dream brought on by the events of the day coupled with the head injury. Still, he had to ask. "Dad, was there a big shooting at the hospital tonight? Or yesterday? Like a terrorist attack?"
Then he remembered it couldn't have been yesterday because Blanche was in the dream and yet, she had been at the hospital today. He glanced at the clock. It was a few minutes after twelve. Hell, she was still working if it was the same shift. She said she worked until three a.m.
"No..." His dad reached over and felt CJ's forehead with the palm of his hand.
Swiping it away, CJ pulled back. "I don't have a fever. I just had a crazy dream, I guess." He rubbed circles on his temple. "You know those photos you found?"
His dad nodded.
"Well, I looked at them before I went to bed, and there were images of an attack at a hospital. I couldn't tell which one and I figured it must have happened yesterday and I'd missed it with all the other shit going on, but then I dreamed about it just now." He reached for the notebook and handed it to his dad. "I wrote it all down, but it can't be right because I took those pictures three days ago, I think."
"You think?"
"It was the day I was pulled in for questioning." A look of pure confusion crossed his dad's face.
Crap. CJ realized he'd never mentioned that. Just like he'd never mentioned the gun.
"That was days ago that you were questioned."
"No, that time I went to them for my phone. This time they came to me and dragged me in. That's why the photo packet was stuffed in the sofa cushions. I thought it was Blanche at the door at first and I didn't want her to see them. She'd accused me of playing her...lying to her."
"Wait...what are you talking about? What the hell did they question you about?" His dad's eyes narrowed. "And why haven't I heard about this until now?"
"They questioned me because another nurse was attacked and this time, she was murdered, too." He took a deep breath and blew it out slowly. Talking was making his head ache something fierce. "And I didn't tell you because I had nothing to do with the attacks, was pissed that the camera didn't show it to me, and that's the night I went out and bought the gun."
His dad drew in a large breath and scrubbed a hand down his face as he blew out the breath. "Yeah, I haven't had a chance to explain that to the CPD yet. I'm hoping that your actions of saving the church will cancel out the illegal purchase and carrying."
"Sorry, Dad. I just kept thinking that if I'd have had a gun the night of Blanche's attack, that I'd have been able to stop the guy from ever hurting anyone else again. Instead, he went out and killed another nurse."
"How do you know it's the same guy?"
"Same area, same m.o."
His dad raised an eyebrow at CJ's terminology.
"Besides, I have a gut feeling and Mark said to listen to my gut. I did today and I guess it helped me stop the bomber."
His dad nodded then waved a hand. "We can discuss that later. What about this dream tonight?" He held CJ’s gaze while he opened the notebook. “Where are the photos?” His tone was serious and business like, at once calming CJ even as it let him know his dad took this seriously. It put to rest his worries that his father would blow off the warning dream.
“I’ll get them.” He returned to his room and retrieved the envelope with the prints and handed them over. After shuffling through the photos, pausing at each, his father set them aside and pulled the notebook back in front of him.
Too keyed up to relax, CJ gripped the back of a chair, drumming his fingers on the leather as his dad read CJ’s notes.
“Get me a pen.”
Startled at the stern command, CJ straightened and wondered what he had done wrong. Were his notes not clear enough? His father glanced up and did a double take as he met CJ’s eyes. In a normal tone, he added, “Please.”
CJ nodded and turned to retrieve the one he’d left on the end table a few days ago, and handed it over.
His dad ripped a new page from the notebook and after making stars beside some of CJ’s notes, copied the words he’d noted onto the clean page. It became a list, and CJ tilted his head to read it. His father had pulled the pertinent details about the gunman, the time and the hospital, from CJ’s notes and had created a concise list of where and when, with a brief description of the who.
“Now what?”
His dad took a deep breath and let it out. “I’m going to take these to the office." His dad stood, slowly, with a soft groan as he rubbed his back.
He had to be exhausted.
"I’m also going to call Mark and see if he had anything similar come up with his…his visions.”
CJ hadn’t thought about that. What if they both had the same thing? “Tonight?”
"No, I'll let him sleep. Call him in the morning. I'm sure if he had one, he'd give me a call." His dad studied CJ. "Go back to sleep. You don't look so great. Maybe I should wait to go work on this until morning. I don't think I should leave you alone.”
His side had become more than uncomfortable. It really hurt now, but this was important. The doctor told him the rib would be sore. "I'm fine, Dad. Don't stay here on my account, but I wouldn't blame you for waiting until morning. You must be beat, and what can you find out tonight that you couldn't find out in the morning?" A chill swept CJ and he tried to control the shudder.
"Are you okay?"
CJ stood. "Just gotta take a leak." The urge had been sudden and he stumbled to the bathroom. He didn't know if he wanted to pee or puke or maybe both. The first was more urgent and he screwed his eyes shut at the pain the act caused. "Son of a bitch!"
There was a light rap on the bathroom door.
"CJ?"
Panting, he couldn't answer at first. He opened his eye to reach for the handle to flush, and stared in shock at the blood in the bowl. "Dad?"
His dad opened the door. "Everything okay?"
"Um..."
His stepped in, glanced down and did a double take. "That came from you?"
CJ nodded. Then leaned forward and vomited.
* * *
CJ lay on a cart in the now familiar ER. He'd peed in a cup, and it was still bright red, had blood taken and more X-rays. The doctor, a guy this time, had mentioned something about an ultrasound. The doc wasn't the same one he'd seen earlier, but he'd seemed familiar. Had he been
in the photos? Or the dream? He'd told CJ that the ultrasound might have to wait until closer to morning due to only one tech available. Sighing, he folded an arm behind his neck and closed his eyes. It looked like it was going to be a long night and now he was wishing he'd just stayed home. If his dad hadn't seen the evidence, CJ would have just flushed and hoped everything was better by morning. Already, he was feeling better. One time he had worked out really hard and had something similar happen. It hadn't hurt then, and the doctor told him sometimes it just happens but to make sure he stayed hydrated while working out.
The emergency department wasn't as chaotic as it had been yesterday afternoon, but it was far from empty. His father had gone in search of a cup of coffee and Blanche wasn't his nurse this time, but she had nodded to him when she passed his treatment room one time. How could he tell her that he had saved her from her attacker last week, only for her to die tomorrow in a terrorist attack? She had to believe him this time. He had photos to prove it, although she didn’t appear in any of them, she'd have to recognize some of her coworkers. It was only in the dream where he had seen her death. Would she believe him without proof? He chewed the ragged edge of a fingernail as he wondered how to convince her and how to save the other victims.
As if she had stepped out of his thoughts, Blanche passed the doorway of his room followed by a mother with a toddler on one hip while a little girl clutched her other hand. CJ blinked. The little girl. He'd seen her in his dream. He bolted up to get a better look, but only made it halfway to sitting before grabbing his side. Stupid move. It was the same little girl, and the toddler. He was sure of it. He took a deep breath and clenched his teeth as he swung his legs over the side of the gurney. He had insisted on keeping his sweatpants on again and was glad that at least he didn't have to investigate his suspicions with his ass hanging out. He walked to the doorway, peering in the direction they had gone. They weren't in the hallway, so he figured they must be in another room. A child cried nearby and he continued down the hallway. A sense of deja vu hit him. It was so similar to his dream. The lighting, the sounds, and, he glanced in a room beside his and recoiled as the man coughed and spit into a plastic bin. Yep. The same people, too. He shook his head and swallowed hard. Nasty.
CJ halted as cold fear washed over him. He shivered. He'd seen all of this in his dream, but none of this was supposed to happen until tomorrow about this time. He turned in a slow circle, looking for anything that stood out as different from his dream. Nothing.
But how different could it look anyway from one night to the next? The halls were almost empty, with most people in treatment rooms or at the the nurse's desk. It probably looked this way pretty much every night unless it was especially busy. That had to be it. It was just a coincidence. The doctor seemed familiar only because he probably worked tomorrow night, too. And the patients? Well, it wasn't unheard of for someone to return to the ER the next day. He was a prime example of that.
Blanche left a room a few doors down from his and spotted him. "What are you doing?" She rubbed her hands together and he smelled hand sanitizer.
"Just looking for the bathroom." He wasn't prepared to tell her his suspicions. Not yet. Not until he was sure.
Her expression smoothed, becoming calm and professional. "It's third door on the right."
"Thanks." CJ headed in that direction to play out his lie. As he passed her, she touched his arm and he paused.
"CJ...I want to talk to you about what you told me earlier-what you and your friend Mark said. I'm so confused."
He nodded, hope sparking. Maybe she didn't think he was completely crazy after all and he grasped at the opening. "Can we meet for lunch tomorrow? If that's not too early for you. Or I can come here and meet you on your dinner break."
She tilted her head, the little furrow appearing between her brows. "I don't work tomorrow, so if you're not busy, we could-"
"You don't work tomorrow? Are you sure?" Then the implication hit him, buckling his knees. If she didn't work tomorrow...He put a hand out, catching himself as he staggered back against the wall.
"Whoa. Easy there. Why don't you go back to your room. I can bring you a urinal."
His face burned, but he ignored his embarrassment. "I could have sworn you said you worked another long shift like this one."
"No, it's my day off. I think I'd know my schedule better than you." Her eyes narrowed in suspicion "Why? Is that a problem?"
He could almost see the thoughts churning in her head. Was he a stalker? Or she'd be doubting him again; wondering if he really was connected somehow to her attacker. "No...I...uh. I'll go back to my room." He turned back to face her when he was a few steps away. "What time is it?"
Blanche glanced at her watch. "A few minutes to two. I wish it was a few minutes to three. This has been the longest shift ever."
"Oh, thank God." There was still time.
"What?"
"Nothing...I just...um... my dad. Have you seen him?"
"He went out to the waiting room. He was looking for a vending machine."
"Which way to the waiting room?" The large department looked identical on every side and he was confused which was was which.
"You shouldn't go out there now since you're a patient. We prefer when the patients don't wander around the hospital, especially on night shift."
He acknowledged her with a nod, but still looked for the exit to the waiting room. What were they going to do? Arrest him? He'd chance it. CJ scanned the hallway for an exit sign. If she wouldn't tell him, he'd just find it himself. "It's important. I need to talk to him."
"It's not life or death. Go back to your room and if I see him, I'll send him your way."
"But it is life and death."
"Dramatic much?"
CJ gave her a hard look. He was tired of trying to plead his case and besides, he didn't have time to spare to give it another go. "Whatever. You can believe me or not. I don't give a shit either way anymore. It won't change what I have to do."
Blanche lifted her chin. "I'll let your nurse know that you're looking for him. Maybe she'll go round him up for you." She sidestepped him and walked past.
His father turned the corner and stopped in surprise at seeing him in the hallway. "Everything okay?"
"No. We gotta talk." He motioned towards his treatment room.
Once inside, CJ closed the door and eased onto the gurney again. The walking and argument had his head feeling ready to burst, and his side felt like someone was skewering it. He breathed a sigh of relief when he leaned back against the raised head of the bed. He rubbed the heels of his hands against his eyes, then dropped his hands to his lap and met his dad's gaze. "It happens tonight, not tomorrow."
His dad lowered his cup of coffee. Dark circles under his eyes stood out in the harsh lighting and he looked as exhausted as CJ felt. Could they stop this one? It seemed like it was too much. Their reserves were gone and they were both running on fumes.
"Dammit. I was wondering the same thing but hoping I was wrong. I was thinking about it, and you technically dreamed yesterday since we're past midnight now. Mark always had them the night before."
"But why did I get the photos so early?"
"No clue. There's no rational explanation for any of this, but my guess would be it somehow knew you wouldn't be able to take photos today like you normally would."
It made sense and CJ nodded even as he wondered about assigning cognitive abilities to a mechanical device. He'd have to think of the camera as just a tool. That somehow, it was controlled and guided by something or someone who did have the ability to think and plan. Delving deeper into the who or what could be guiding it was too much for his weary, aching head to deal with now.
His dad pulled out his cellphone. "I'm calling Mark. I'll see if I can get him and Jessie down here."
Chapter Thirteen
CJ tried to relax, but it was impossible. He'd made a lap of the department in a futile effort to locate some of the impending victims, but doors
were closed and curtains pulled. He almost wished he could pop back into his dream from earlier in the evening so he could find out where everyone was located. Not that there was much he could do to prevent deaths. Their only hope was to confront the gunman when he arrived and try to take him out before he started firing. They didn't even have enough information for his dad to get the ball rolling with the FBI. Even he couldn't pull agents in for something like this. If they had an ID on the gunman, they'd have had a lead that could be investigated, but they had nothing but photos of victims and CJ's dream.
His dad had raced home to get his gun and the photos so they could look for any kind of clues on how to stop this. Mark and Jessie were supposed to arrive any minute. That meant at least two of them would have weapons. He hoped it didn't come to that. The last thing he wanted was a shootout in an Emergency Room. While waiting he dressed. No way was he facing what was coming in a backless hospital gown even if he was wearing his sweatpants. Besides, the gown was long and got in his way. Maybe it was just the adrenaline rush, but all traces of fatigue had vanished and even his head didn't ache quite so much.
He heard the radio at the nurses station give an alert and he walked to the doorway of his room to listen to it the best he could. All he could hear was something about a gunshot wound. Was that relevant? There had been a man with a gunshot wound in the next room in his dream.
CJ flagged down his nurse when he saw her rush past. "Excuse me, I was wondering if I can go soon?"
He knew he couldn't actually leave; not if he wanted to be prevent the shooting, but he had to make sure nobody was going to be whisking him off to some test at the same time he needed to be here.
"Sorry. Not yet. We're waiting for your blood work to come back and for the ultrasound tech. Just hang tight, okay?"
CJ nodded and glanced at the large clock on the wall. It was just about two-thirty. What was taking his dad so long? And Mark? The last half-hour had seemed to drag out to hours, but traffic at this time of night should be light. How long could it take to get from here to his dad's and back? Twenty minutes? He wished they'd had time to call the police and try to convince them that his photos showed proof that a murder spree was imminent. As it was, sitting here alone, with no back-up, and no way to prevent the shooter from barging into the ER, made him antsy as hell. What if the shooter arrived before his dad, Mark and Jessie? What would he do? Turning, he looked into his room for a possible weapon. There was the metal I.V. pole. He rolled it close to the door of his room and hoped the nurse wouldn't notice, then stared at it, almost laughing. Yeah. Going to a gunfight with an I.V. pole. He pushed it back to the corner near the bed and then returned to the doorway of his room.
Shoot: A Crime Thriller (CJ Sheridan Thrillers Book 1) Page 17
