[Mark Taylor 01.0] No Good Deed Page 11

  He stepped closer and said in a low voice, “I saw Mark Taylor the other day. I’d like to ask you some questions.”

  She lost her grip on the folders, but juggled them quickly and looked like she was going to ask him something, but changed her mind. Hope had sparked in her eyes for an instant before she masked it with a shrug. “Okay. Let me get my purse out of my office.”

  As she entered an office, she glanced over her shoulder. “Are you hungry? We can get some lunch.”

  “That sounds great.” Jim realized that he was starving, his stomach reminding him that the granola bar he’d eaten on the way to the airport this morning was a distant memory. He waited outside the detective’s office. Purse in hand, the woman started for the door, stopped, turned back, and pulled a large white envelope from a desk drawer. Tucking it firmly under an arm, she breezed past him.

  She drove, not saying much beyond asking him what kind of food he wanted. He shrugged and told her to pick the place. His hopes of putting her at ease turned to regret when she pulled up in front of a grungy hot dog stand. Jim hid a grimace. Maybe she was trying to give him food poisoning. He ordered a hot dog with the works along with fries, and Jessica ordered the same. He followed her to one of the picnic tables sitting on the hot pavement. Jim bit into the hot dog, and then grinned. “This is good.”

  Jessica nodded, her mouth full. After taking a sip of her drink, she said, “Yeah, it’s one of my favorite spots.” She glanced around. “It doesn’t look like much, but what it lacks in ambiance, it makes up for in flavor.” A few wisps of her hair had escaped confinement and the gold strands fluttered as she tilted her face to the sun, eyes closed. “Besides, sometimes I just need to get outside for a bit.”

  They ate, occasionally making awkward small talk. It was odd having lunch with a complete stranger, and he knew she felt more than a little uncomfortable. At least the food was good even if it was greasy as hell. He chuckled. That was why it was so good. If he ate like this too often, he’d get soft, and what kind of image would that project? He vowed to run an extra five miles to make up for the greasy meal.

  The last time he had indulged in fast food had been with Taylor. Jim picked up the last bite of his hot dog, scooping up some errant pickle relish and replacing it on the end of the dog before polishing it off. That meal hadn’t ended as well. The guy had puked upon returning to his cell. The hot dog churned in Jim’s stomach at the thought. Taylor had been nearly catatonic for three days.

  Jim took a sip of his soda, then used the straw to loosen the ice. There was always the worry about crossing the fine line between breaking the man’s defenses or just breaking the man. If he pushed too hard, he risked pushing Mark Taylor into insanity. Not hard enough, and they wouldn’t get any information. He glanced at Jessica and held up his cup. “I’m thinking of getting a refill, you want one?”

  She swirled the cup, as though weighing it. “No thanks. I’m good.” Her eyes rose to his face, studying him. “For someone who flew out...from where ever the hell you came from, you sure don’t have much to say.”

  He hoped the heat disguised the flush he felt creeping up his face. It wasn’t that he didn’t have news, but it wasn’t good news. “Sorry.”

  Jim swiped his finger through the ring of condensation his drink had left on the picnic table. Jessica finished her hot dog, but picked at her fries. The silence of the meal was awkward, but small talk would have made it worse.

  He tapped his fingers on the table and tilted his head to work a kink out of his neck. The sun beat down on the pavement creating shimmering waves of heat. His prediction that it wouldn’t be hot in Chicago in September had been a faulty one, but that was par for the course lately. He sighed. It hadn’t occurred to him that Taylor would have no idea it was his birthday. He hadn’t meant to cause pain, but he’d seen it flash across the other man’s face when he’d learned the date.

  Jim ate his last fry and gathered his wrappers, tossing them on the tray. Jessica finished eating, and now sat staring across the parking lot, her drink straw in her mouth as she sipped.

  “You done with that?” Jim indicated her meal and she nodded. He took the tray and tossed all the garbage in the trash can next to the building. When he turned back to the table, he found Jessica watching him, her expression intense. He had been right. She had questions and the grace period was over.

  “So, where is he? Where are you guys torturing him?”

  Jim paused and tried to hide his surprise before resuming his seat at the table. He had to admire her directness. Maybe he’d been too quick to criticize Officer Daly’s interview. “Excuse me? Who said anything about torture?”

  She shook her head. “I’m sure you’ll deny it, but I know who you are. I’ve been around long enough to know a Fed of some sort. If you were FBI, you’d identify yourself as such. That leaves CIA or DOD.”

  The lady was smart, he had to grant her that. Jim shrugged, but didn’t admit to who he worked for. “He’s in a brig in South Carolina.” He narrowed his eyes. “But nobody is torturing anyone.”

  She snorted and shook her head, her face twisted into a smirk. “He’s innocent, you know.” Jessica’s chin went up, challenging him to contradict her.

  Anger burned in her eyes and he let her statement hang there for a long moment before crossing his arms on the table and leaning towards her. “What makes you say that?”

  He’d found that the best way to get answers was just allow the other person to talk. If pointed in the right direction, they often spilled more information than they intended.

  “Because I have evidence that what he said about the pictures is true.”

  That was the last thing Jim expected her to claim, and he cocked his head. “You’re serious?”

  Jessica slid the envelope in front of him. “Look for yourself.”

  Jim glanced at her before pulling two pictures out of the envelope. He tried to control his expression, but shock pulsed through him as Taylor’s image stared back at him. He recalled that interrogation. They had only done that particular position one time. “Where’d you get these?” Damn it. There must be a leak on his team. It had to be a still from the video because there were no other cameras in the room. This was highly classified material. If these stills ever found their way to the press, heads would roll. Whoever had sent them either had top clearance or knew someone who did. Jim clenched his jaw to keep from spewing his anger at Jessica.

  “I got it from one of Mark’s cameras. His belongings were tossed out of his loft when he was evicted.” She emphasize the last word, her tone accusing. “I just happened to be passing by and grabbed what I could. The rest is all gone.” Jessica took the picture of Taylor seated in the rowing position and looked at it for several seconds, her face awash in disgust. “Is this how you get people to confess? If I did something like that, I’d be brought up on charges.” She slapped the picture on the table in front of him.

  “I follow the guidelines set for me.” He shook his head and tried to repress the urge to walk away. The last thing he needed was condemnation. “You know, we get blamed when something happens, for not knowing, yet when we try to do our best to gather important information, we’re labeled barbarians.” Jim stabbed his finger down on the picture. “This isn’t some goddamn game we’re playing, Bishop.” He waved a hand towards the tall buildings a few blocks over. “This city could be next for all we know. And maybe your boyfriend has information that could prevent innocent people from being killed.”

  “So the ends justify the means?” Her voice was incredulous.

  “Damn straight. It’s justified when it decreases the harmful impact on citizens.”

  She flushed and he bit back a smirk. She wasn’t dealing with some Neanderthal government flunky. If she wanted to throw that threadbare expression at him, he could quote Machiavelli right back at her.

  Jessica put both hands flat on the table and leaned towards him. “That’s...bull—” She broke off as a couple of customers passed on
their way to the order window. When she tried again, her voice was quieter, but just as angry. “That’s bullshit and you know it. What kind of information are you going to get from someone who’s in so much pain he’d name his own mother as a terrorist if it meant that the torture would end?”

  Jim had no answer to that and conceded she had a point. He had harbored his own doubts about the authenticity of some of the information gathered, but there had been some proven successes with some prisoners using the same methods used on Taylor. One success might mean that there would be more, and nobody would know who would give up that important bit of information. He leaned his elbows on the table and rubbed his temples, then dropped his hands and let his anger drain away. “I understand your concern. Believe it or not, I do have Taylor’s health in mind and try to make sure that there’s no permanent damage.”

  Jessica recoiled. “Oh my God. You mean you’re the one who actually does these things to him?” She paled.

  This was not going as planned. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t tell you this, but I guess I need to explain what my role is and why I’m here.” He took a deep breath. “I am the head of a team that questions Taylor. We’re not the only ones though. There are a few agencies dealing with him. Frankly, the reason I’m here is because I harbor some doubts about his guilt. I shouldn’t tell you that either, but I hoped to get more information from you or anyone else you can think of.” Jim opened his arms, palms out. “I just want to find out the truth. That’s all.”

  Color crept back into her face and her throat jumped as she swallowed. “First, I’m not sure that anyone would call what Mark and I had a relationship. It was too new. Just so we’re straight on that.”

  Jim believed her but could also see that even though she denied any relationship with Taylor, she still cared about him. Curious, he asked, “How were things going before Taylor was taken into custody?” He allowed a note of humor to inflect his voice, “For what it’s worth, he seems like a nice enough guy.”

  Her cheeks turned pink at that and she actually chuckled. The smile transformed her face. No wonder Taylor had asked her out. “Yeah, he is, but he has some odd quirks.” Jessica’s gaze became distant. “For instance, on our first date, we were having a pleasant dinner...until he had to leave suddenly. Said he didn’t feel good or something. Only, I saw him at a mini-mart on my way home that night. Long story short, the place was about to get robbed and he interfered, and if he hadn’t, I would have shot and probably killed a fourteen year old robbing the store. The kid had a very real looking water pistol. Mark never explained how he knew except that he got a good look at the gun. I know guns, but that one fooled me.”

  She went quiet for a few moments. Jim fought the urge to ask questions and was rewarded when she then shook her head and continued, “Anyway, I felt like he ditched me on our date. He apologized and asked me out for the next weekend— literally begged for another chance. I agreed, but the day before our date, he shows up in the middle of our narcotics bust.”

  Eyes wide in exasperation, she waved a hand to emphasize the story. “So, he tackles the undercover guy about to make a buy, and right then, a rival gang-banger decides to pepper the street corner with an AR-fifteen.” Jessica looked down at her hands and rubbed them together and took a deep breath. “The officer came out without a scratch, the drug pusher took a couple of rounds to the chest, and Mark was wounded in the leg. After he recovered, we tried again. Things were going well, but then...” She bit her lip and shrugged. “Well, you know what happened then.”

  “So, you’re telling me that the marks on his record with the Chicago P.D. came about when he was trying to help?” The official reports barely made mention of Taylor’s role, but now Jim understood. What police officer wanted to admit to being saved by a civilian? Instead of awarding a medal, they arrested him for interfering in a case. They couldn’t make any of the charges stick, but just the fact that he was charged in the first place remained on his record. “I noticed that the charges were dropped.”

  She shrugged. “It was an embarrassment to the department. I can’t claim to be innocent. I felt the same way when he began showing up.”

  “But you don’t anymore?”

  “I didn’t understand it then, but I think I do now.” She swept the loose strands of hair out of her face. “I used his camera to take pictures of my little niece’s dance recital. When I picked the film up, most of the pictures came out great. Little Maggie did a wonderful job.” Jessica’s face softened and a smile curved her lips. “The last two pictures I took were of Maggie with her dance class. The girls were so wound up, I had a hard time getting them to sit still long enough to snap the picture, so when I finally got them to cooperate, I took two pictures, just to be sure.” She separated the photos of Taylor, looking from one to the other, then up to Jim. “Only instead of laughing little girls, I got these. I had the negatives checked, along with the camera. I thought maybe the pictures had been staged before he left or something, but according to the negatives, that would have been impossible. These were the last two on the roll.” Jessica slid the pictures together and put them back in the envelope. “Now, I believe his story.”

  While interesting, Jim wasn’t sure that it was related in any way to Taylor’s innocence or guilt. There was still the time in Afghanistan. “You are aware that Taylor spent several weeks in Afghanistan back a few years ago?”

  “Yes, he mentioned it to me. I didn’t know him at the time he went, but he showed me some pictures he brought back. I was touched at how he captured the fear and strength in the women’s faces. He wanted to help tell their story. It’s too bad that book wasn’t published. Mark’s photos were stunning.”

  “I’m sure he’s an accomplished photographer, but our source claims Taylor agreed to take photos of possible Chicago targets. The Sears Tower, the Hancock building and others.”

  Jessica crossed her arms and shook her head. “I don’t believe it. No way.”

  “Your belief in Taylor is admirable, however, you don’t have the same information nor responsibility that I have.”

  She stared at him, eyes narrowed, then without a word, swung her legs to the outside of the bench and stood. “I have to return to work.” She strode towards the car.

  Jim slid to the end of the bench and hurried after her. He caught up and put his hand over hers, stopping her from opening the car door. “I’m sorry. I know this must be hard on you. Nobody ever wants to believe that someone they care about could do horrible things.”

  “Take your hand off me.” She didn’t raise her voice. With the look she gave him, she didn’t have to.

  “Sorry.” Jim snatched his hand away and took a step back.

  Her shoulders sagged a fraction. “You have no idea what I do or do not feel for Mark. I’m not even sure, but I do know one thing—that man is not capable of the things you claim. I’m saying that as someone who has been a police officer for ten years and a detective for three.” She opened the door and nodded towards the passenger door. “Get in.”

  It took a moment for Jim to register that she didn’t intend to leave him here, and then he jogged to the other side and got in before she changed her mind. “Thanks. I thought I’d have to find a cab.”

  Jessica shrugged and started the car. “Well, it’s not like I’m doing it out of the goodness of my heart. I would like nothing more than to leave you here to bake on the pavement, but I want to show you something.”

  Jessica gripped the wheel and forced her hands to relax before her fingernails dug into her palms. The thought of the things this man had done to Mark and God knew how many others, made her skin crawl. She glanced at him. There he sat, looking like an accountant, all neat and crisp. Like he never got his hands dirty. “Can I ask you something?” She faced forward and eased the car into traffic.

  “Sure. That doesn’t mean I’ll answer.” He sounded weary, but not in the least intimidated. “I hope you don’t mind if I roll the window down. It’s a gorgeous day.” />
  “Doesn’t it bother you to do these things to other human beings?” She knew it was a bold question and that he would probably deny that what he did was wrong.

  Sheridan remained silent for so long, she thought he was going to ignore the question, but then she saw his jaw tighten, and knew that she hit a nerve. Good.

  “Believe it or not, I don’t like that part of my job at all. It’s like asking a surgeon if he enjoys amputating a patient’s diseased leg. It’s not pleasant, but sometimes you have to cut away the diseased portion to get healthy again.” He rested his elbow on the windowsill, his hand disappearing above the car. She could hear him drumming his fingers on the roof.

  There was another long pause then he said, “There’s nothing I want more than a healthy country. One that isn’t afraid to carry on with business as usual. If I do my job right, the rest of you will be able to live, work and travel without having to worry that the next terrorist plot will tear your world apart.”

  She shot back, “I have the same goal for the city of Chicago, and maybe it’s small-scale, but I don’t torture my crime suspects until they confess and point fingers”

  Her building was just around the corner and she turned right.

  “That’s very admirable, but then I doubt your suspects were trained to withhold or to give false information.”

  “Withhold information? Are you serious? One look at Mark’s face would tell you if he’s telling the truth or not. The guy can’t tell a lie if his life depended upon it.” She rolled to a stop in front of her building. “I’ll be right back.”

  She wasn’t sure why she needed to show him the camera. For all she knew, the two images of Mark had been a one-time thing. Since buying the new roll of film, she had been too afraid to take more pictures. Who knew what might show up? She even wondered why Mark had ever continued using the camera. The fear of what might develop made her mouth go dry every time she thought about trying it again. Some things were better left unknown. Had Mark known he would be shot that time?