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

  * * *

  CJ stole a glance at Blanche as they walked to Lincoln Park. He'd always seen her with her hair pulled away from her face either in a ponytail or a long braid. Today she wore it loose and it rippled down her back, reflecting the sunlight. Her red hair wasn't pure red, but shimmered with gold. Her assumption that he was going to all this trouble to get a date with her had rankled at first, but the more he thought about it from her point of view, the less he could blame her for being so skeptical. He'd blundered this whole relationship, such as it was. If he'd thought it through, he'd have asked her out, gotten to know her a bit first before dropping the camera bomb on her. If she'd have dated him in the first place, that is. For all he knew about her, she could have a boyfriend already.

  He decided he'd take the photos quickly and develop them right away. He could take them to a one hour place and get them back. Mark had a shoot today and wouldn't be around until later, and CJ didn't trust himself to develop the photos yet. He'd only processed a few batches so far and he didn't want to screw it up with Blanche looking on. Plus, he wasn't even sure she would hang out with him long enough to get to Mark's and develop the film. "I'll try to make this as quick as possible. You probably have a lot to do today."

  She acknowledged him with a nod. He picked up his pace, feeling stupid now. Of course she had things to do and he'd practically bullied her into coming with him.

  The first few blocks passed in awkward silence after his declaration that he'd make it quick, but then she asked him about D.C. After that, they made small talk as they strolled, talking about school, jobs and music. By the time they reached the park, CJ was feeling a little better about the situation. When they were close to their destination, Blanche pointed to the Lincoln Park Zoo. "Oh! Let's go! I haven't been in years!"

  CJ shrugged. "Okay." Maybe she wasn't in such a rush after all. The thought gave him a rush of pleasure. Once inside, he lifted the camera, getting a shot of an orangutan.

  Blanche watched him. "So, is there a trick to get a photo of the future?"

  He lowered the camera. Was she being facetious? She sounded sincere, but given her skepticism, he was cautious with his reply. "No secret. It either works or it doesn't. Mark told me to try to take interesting photos because if they don't become future photos, at least I'm not stuck with a bunch of crappy pictures."

  She struck a pose and CJ laughed, and took her picture. At first she mugged for the camera, pulling silly faces that made him laugh. Then her expression turned serious. Pausing, he looked at her over the camera. "What's wrong?"

  "Will your photo now show my future?" She bit her lip.

  "Why? Because I took your picture?"

  She nodded.

  "No, it doesn't work that way. See, even when I take a picture of you, the developed image could be something totally different if it's a future photo. Mark had a theory that he had some kind of connection with everyone in his future images, that he had some kind of tie in with all of the victims. Either he knew them at some point or they were friends of friends. However, there's no way to really verify it since some of the connections could be something like having met the person one time before.

  "I'm not sure I get it, but as long as I don't show up in any more of your photos, I'll be happy." She made a face. "I mean, not a future photo. I've had my fill of them." Then she smiled, and he captured it with the camera. He prayed that one wouldn't turn into a future photo because he had plans to frame it.

  They took more photos and spent a few hours at the zoo. Blanche had turned out to be a lot of fun and she had a quick wit. While waiting for the photos to develop, they sat on the ground outside the drugstore, drinking bottles of water and sharing a package of corn chips, their backs against the warm red brick of the store. Pedestrians passed them with barely a glance. He draped his arms over his bent knees. This afternoon had been the most fun he'd had in Chicago so far and he didn't want it to end. "After these come back, would you like to get some dinner?"

  "You mean corn chips don't count?"

  "Maybe as a vegetable..." He grinned.

  Blanche gave him a look he couldn't quite decipher. There had been a flash of a smile as though she was going to say yes, but then it dimmed and she shook her head. "I wish I could, but I really need to study. Rain-check?"

  CJ nodded, a lump of disappointment lodging in his throat. He drained his water bottle and offered her the last of the chips. "I think it's been an hour."

  A few minutes later, he paid for the processing and they headed outside. He opened the envelope and shuffled through the photographs.

  Blanche leaned against his arm, peeking at the pictures. "Let me see."

  He'd gone through them all, flooded with shame and embarrassment. They were all just regular images. At least the one with her smile turned out great.

  She flipped through them, commenting on the cute monkeys, a comical camel, and a fierce tiger, but he could hear her forced lightness. She pitied him.

  "They're great pictures, CJ, but..."

  "Yeah, but they're not future photos."

  "I guess not. I have to get going, but don't forget about my rain check."

  "Right. Thanks for coming out here with me. Sorry it was a waste of time."

  "It wasn't a total waste. I had fun."

  He nodded, and she gave him an awkward smile, then headed towards the closest L platform to take a train back to her apartment.

  * * *

  CJ stretched and crossed another item off his 'To do' list. He'd just finished booking a flight back home to D.C. He had decided to do it. He was moving to Chicago. For good. His mother thought he was crazy, but didn't fight him too hard on the decision. He'd miss his friends though, and the softball team. His lease was almost up and he needed to get his things here. He didn't have a whole lot, but he'd flown out here originally, so he'd need his car too, and decided he'd just rent a trailer and drive back with a few possessions. Most of his furniture had been thrift shop so leaving it behind wasn't a hardship, but he wanted his bike and his bed. Standing, he rummaged in the fridge and found an apple, crunching into it as he continued to forage. Finding some lunch meat, he took the fixings for a sandwich to the table.

  His father had already agreed that he could stay with him as long as he needed, but he hoped to get his own apartment as soon as possible. In the meantime, he'd store his possessions in his father's storage closet in the basement of the condo building. Working at Mark's studio wasn't his dream job, but for the time being, it paid enough that he could afford an apartment, just not one very close to the studio. He chuckled and spread some mayonnaise on a slice of bread. It wouldn't be a very large apartment. Scratch apartment-more like a closet. He could afford a closet to live in.

  Returning the mayo to the fridge, he snagged the head of lettuce and turning, spotted a tomato on the window sill and snagged it, making a mental note to stop at a store to get some replacement groceries for his dad. He'd noticed that the cabinets were getting a bit bare. He'd have to look for a way to supplement his income but what kind of job could he do where he had control of his hours? Where he could skip work at a moment's notice if things with the camera got hectic? He sighed and wished he had something like Mark's profession he could do. He guessed he'd have to take at least a part-time job elsewhere and just not use the camera the day before he worked. Now he understood why it was necessary for Batman to be independently wealthy. There was no way he could have been the caped crusader if he was working 9-5 day in and day out.

  His cellphone vibrated on the table and CJ looked at it, not recognizing the number but it had a Chicago area code. "Hello?"

  "Where was your psychic camera last night?"

  CJ recognized the voice. Blanche. But he'd never heard her angry before. "What do you mean?"

  "You swore up and down that the camera was real-that it was magical and it would show you things you could change."

  "Yeah, because that's all true."

  "Then why didn't it save Annab
eth? Why didn't you save her?"

  "Who? What happened?" Totally confused, CJ sat on the edge of the kitchen chair, knees wide as he leaned forward, phone pressed to his ear.

  There was a sob in reply.

  "Blanche? Talk to me...who is Annabeth?"

  "She...w... was a nurse in my department." Her voice broke on 'was'.

  CJ closed his eyes, rubbing a hand over them. Shit. "What happened?"

  When there was no reply, he said, "Hello?"

  "Yeah. I'm still here. She was raped and murdered last night on her way home. I just don't get it, CJ. You saved me, so why didn't you save her too?"

  It almost killed him to reply. "I couldn't because I didn't know. You were there when I got the photos back yesterday. There were no photos of a murdered nurse. Of anybody murdered." His stomach twisted and he felt like puking. "If I'd have known, I'd have done my best-like I did with you."

  "You know, for a little bit yesterday, I believed you. Or, I wanted to. We had fun and I'm embarrassed to admit that I actually hoped you were telling the truth because you believed what you claimed was true." There was a soft hiccuping sigh. "And how cool would it be to know the future, right? But you played me. You're just a sick, sick, psycho."

  Her words cut him and he caught his breath. "No, I didn't play you. And, Blanche, I'm really sorry about your coworker."

  He was going to launch into a bunch of denials but what was the point? The camera hadn't produced any future photos yesterday and anything he had to say would just sound desperate. He rolled the tomato under his hand, staring at a soft brown spot on the side of it. "I'm sorry you think that. He swallowed in an effort to ease the ache squeezing his throat.

  "What am I supposed to think? I'm super pissed that you almost had me going there. You were all, 'I can see the future and change it.'" She snorted and he could almost see the eye roll when she added, "As if."

  "Do...do they know who did it?"

  "No. Or at least, they aren't telling us. Just saying we shouldn't leave work alone and stuff, but it was near where I was attacked. I bet it's the same guy."

  Her last words, unintentionally or not, slammed into him. He gripped the tomato and took shallow breaths until the pain in his chest eased. "I...gotta go. Maybe my dad will know about this and If I hear anything... I'll call you." He hung up, and in one motion, threw the tomato as hard as he could into the sink. Breathing hard, he watched the tomato seeds slide down the window. He'd have to clean it up, but he sat back down and folded his arms on the table, resting his head on top.

  Chapter Eight

  Moving into the living room, Mark looked at the empty shelf where the camera had been when it wasn’t in use. He sort of missed the device even though he didn’t need it anymore, but CJ had already made a difference with it, and with two of them, they would accomplish a lot more than he could alone.

  While waiting for CJ, he turned on the television and sat on the sofa. The local news was on, and his finger hovered on the channel changer, ready to switch, when a story caught his attention. He rarely watched the news anymore because as hard as he tried, he could never fix everything, so every report of a murder or fatal accident was a harsh reminder that he was just a bit player-a mere bump on the road of fate. It was just that sometimes all it took was a little bump to alter the future and he had to hang onto that truth with everything he had or it would be too depressing to keep up the daily battle.

  The story that made him pause was about the discovery of a woman’s body in a north side alley. The newscaster said it appeared as though the woman had been sexually assaulted before being strangled. The identity of the woman wasn’t given, but her age was, and his stomach churned. The details made him think of the woman CJ had saved. Was the guy who got away the one who had killed the unidentified woman?

  The doorbell rang and Mark clicked off the television. CJ didn’t need to see this. It wouldn’t help, and Mark knew from personal experience that it would gnaw away at CJ’s confidence.

  “Come on in.”

  “Hey, Mark.” CJ entered. He barely glanced at Mark before he wandered into the kitchen, passed through it to the living room, commented on the weather, which was perfect, then headed around to the hallway and, finally, back into the kitchen.

  “Why don’t you have a seat, CJ?” Mark’s suggestion was as much to center CJ as it was to keep Mark from getting dizzy as the younger man zipped around the loft. “Something’s bugging you, so spit it out.” He had a pretty good idea what it was, but wanted to gauge CJ's state of mind before broaching the subject.

  CJ stood beside the table watching as Mark pulled a chair from beneath the table and sat. Jamming his hands into his front pockets, thumbs hanging out, CJ's gaze darted around the kitchen before sliding back to Mark. He didn’t speak for a long moment, although his mouth opened a few times as if he was about to say something, but each time, he’d take a deep breath and look away. Finally, he blurted out, “I screwed up. And I don’t know what to do about it.”

  Mark sighed and motioned to the opposite chair. “Sit down.”

  This time, CJ complied. Mark rested his forearms on the table and leaned forward. “Tell me what makes you think that.”

  CJ fiddled with the salt shaker, sliding it back and forth between his hands a few times before shrugging. “I’m almost sure that the woman who was strangled last night was killed by the guy who got away from me when I saved Blanche.”

  “Blanche?”

  CJ ducked his head. “Yeah, the nurse who was attacked-the attack I was able to stop.”

  “First of all, it wouldn’t be your fault, and second, what makes you sure it’s the same guy?”

  “It’s the same area, just a block in the other direction, and Blanche told me that one of the nurses from her hospital was murdered. It has to be the same asshole."

  “Okay, so it makes sense that it could be the same guy, but it might not be. Chicago has its share of sickos and it could have been another one.”

  “I can’t explain, but I’m sure it’s the same. A gut-feeling.”

  “Okay, let’s pretend you’re right; what makes you think you screwed up?”

  “Because he got away from me! I should have held onto him until the cops got there. I almost had him.” CJ made a fist, as if he had the guy in his grasp right that second, “But then…he just got away from me.”

  Mark tried to remember the details CJ had told him about the save. “Didn’t the guy do something to make you lose your grip?”

  “Well, yeah. He kicked my injured leg, and I…I let go. I should have held on anyway.”

  “Don’t beat yourself up. You did the best you could, and remember, your first priority was saving Blanche that night, and you did that. You didn’t screw up.”

  “Yeah, but-”

  “No ‘buts’. You accomplished what you set out to do. Did you use the camera a few days ago?”

  CJ nodded. “I did. I wanted to show Blanche that the camera showed future photos, but it didn’t that day.” CJ’s mouth twisted in disgust. “You should have seen the look of pity she gave me after that.”

  “Sorry to hear it, but for whatever reason, the camera didn’t show you the murder of that other young woman, so you weren’t meant to save her.”

  “That is so messed up!” The look of disgust on CJ’s face would have made Mark laugh if the subject wasn’t so serious. “Who does the picking and choosing? Huh? Who is tagged for saving and who is tagged for death?”

  Mark took a deep breath and let it out as he shook his head. “You got me. I haven’t figured it out yet. If I’m shown something, then I stop it if I can. It’s all I can do.”

  They sat in silence for a few minutes, each lost in thought. Mark stood and crossed to the fridge. “Want something to drink? I have a couple of cans of pop, or if it’s not too early, some bottles of beer.” He glanced at the clock. It was almost one o'clock.

  “I’ll take the beer.”

  Mark grabbed one for each of them and a
bag of pretzels from the top of the fridge and tossed it on the table. A clip held the bag closed and CJ pulled it off and took out a couple, his gaze far away as he crunched on the snack.

  “You’re probably right about the photos being destined or something, but I have another question. I couldn’t ask my dad this because, well, I just couldn’t. But anyway, do you ever get scared to attempt a save?” CJ twisted the cap off the beer but never looked directly at Mark.

  “Scared?” Mark took a swig of his own beer as he framed a response. He chuckled. “Terrified half the time. I’m just a photographer. Whoever gave me this,” he made air quotes, ‘gift’, didn’t check out my background too closely. My hero resume sucked.” He took another sip, then added, “Most of the time, I was and am, flying by the seat of my pants trying not to make the situation even worse.”

  “But you seem to do okay. I mean, I don’t know a lot, but my dad and Jessie told me a little bit about you when you were in D.C. being entertained by the CIA goons, that you saved a lot of people.”

  Mark took a few pretzels and stared at them, but instead saw the planes hitting the World Trade Centers. “I didn’t save all of them.”

  “Yeah, I know, but did you ever feel afraid?”

  Mark looked up from the pretzels. He cocked his head. “Are you scared?”

  CJ’s eyes met Mark’s before his gaze skittered away. “Sort of. Not so much of getting hurt.” He gave Mark a brief smile. “I’ve already been initiated into that club. I hear you’re the president.”

  Mark chuckled and nodded.

  “What I’m scared of is doing something wrong and making things worse. Like I did with Blanche. Yeah, I saved her, but the asshole is still out there and I know he killed that other nurse. What if something I did caused that girl to die? Like if I hadn't saved Blanche, this other nurse would be alive?”