Shoot: A Crime Thriller (CJ Sheridan Thrillers Book 1) Page 8

  “Dad!” CJ couldn’t believe it. Wasn’t this all supposed to be a big secret?

  “Look, CJ, sometimes you have to tell someone. If Mark had, he’d have avoided some of his problems.”

  Blanche stepped onto the foot pedal of the trash can and tossed all the paper wrappings, used gloves, and tape into the receptacle. “This is getting too weird.” She jabbed her hand under the hand sanitizer dispenser and rubbed the gel into her skin. “I’m just going to go get your antibiotic ready and have another nurse come in and administer it. I’m pretty sure the doctor will understand.”

  CJ glared at his father after she had left. “Now she thinks I’m even crazier. Thanks a lot.”

  “Hey, I was trying to help.” His dad shrugged and sipped his coffee. “I was getting the impression that you liked this girl.”

  “Liked her? I barely know her.” CJ sat on the edge of the cart. He had never even received an aspirin and his brain throbbed. Rubbing his temples, he said, “Whatever gave you that impression anyway? Was it our witty banter?”

  His dad chuckled. “Yes…not so much. However, she is attractive and you did save her life.”

  “Since when did you become a matchmaker?”

  His father’s voice grew serious. “Listen, CJ, I’m being serious about telling her about the camera. For starters, it’ll keep that detective away, plus you do need someone on your side. With my job, I can’t always be around and Mark has enough on his plate. This nurse, she looks at you as if…well, it just reminds me of how Jessie is with Mark. And she’s smart, and it couldn’t hurt to have someone with some medical knowledge in your corner.”

  “So you want me to just blurt out, “Hey, Blanche, I have a magic camera that shows me the future?”

  His dad looked over CJ’s shoulder and smiled. “I think you just did.”

  Blanche stood in the doorway, a syringe in one hand, her brow furrowed in confusion. “Is he delirious?”

  * * *

  Blanche searched for one of the other nurses to administer the antibiotic injection and then do the discharge paperwork, but everyone was busy, so she donned her most professional demeanor and headed towards CJ’s room. This should be a piece of cake. After all, she’d been dealing with ER patients for almost two years now, and in that time, she’d seen many who were a lot more difficult to deal with than this guy. He was polite and cooperative-except about putting on the hospital gown, but she didn’t blame him for that, plus he had apologized.

  If only there were no suspicious texts. Why had he been discussing the attack before it even happened? And worse, why was she feeling an attraction to him when he might have arranged the whole attack? For all she knew, he might have done it just so he could come in and be the hero.

  Unbidden, the attack replayed in her mind and along with the memory came the same fear and terror she’d experienced the night before. She swayed and gripped the handrail on the wall.

  An X-ray tech rushing down the hallway, paused and asked if she was okay. She nodded. “Just need to get something to eat.”

  As she turned into the room, she heard her own name and stopped in the doorway. She couldn’t see CJ’s face as his back was to her, but his tone sounded angry or upset as he said something about telling her about a magic camera.

  It took a moment for what he’d said to sink in then she immediately wondered if she should get another temperature on him. He’d been running a moderate fever-and now it seemed to have climbed higher. “Is he delirious?”

  CJ spun towards her, and nearly fell over when his foot hit the ground. His dad caught his elbow. “Sit back down, son.”

  “You heard what I just said?” CJ ignored his father’s advice and reached out to catch his balance with a hand on the counter.

  “I heard something about magic and a camera, but calm down. I know it’s the fever talking. I have your antibiotic and before you leave, I’ll get you a something for that fever.”

  “I don’t need anything for the fever. Just give me the damn shot and let me get out of here before I say something really stupid.”

  “Tell her, CJ.”

  “I can’t right here. It isn’t the time or the place.”

  “Tell me…what?” Despite her suspicions, she was curious, especially since CJ’s father was so insistent. She’d tried to pretend not to be impressed when he’d flashed his FBI badge, but in truth, she’d never met a real FBI agent before. It had made an impression, especially when CJ had explained to the doctor how he’d acquired his injury, and his father hadn’t acted surprised. He must have known about what happened last night, and if he did, then CJ must have told him. But did the dad know about the texts? Had CJ just told him the end version, not what he had done before with the texts?

  CJ took a deep breath. “I wonder if I could meet you somewhere?”

  Blanche glanced at the father, who nodded at her. “It’s important.”

  “Uh…well, maybe somewhere public. During the daytime.” Damn her curiosity. “How about you meet me here in the cafeteria about two pm. tomorrow? I start my shift at three.” She couldn’t think of anywhere safer than the busy cafeteria where she worked.

  “Yeah, okay. I’ll be there. Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome. Now turn around and ease your jeans down. I still have a shot to give you.”

  CJ groaned as his dad chuckled.

  Chapter Six

  CJ paused to stretch as he entered the kitchen. The sun was high and he saw a note his dad had left propped on the table telling him to call if his leg wasn’t any better. Holding his foot in front of him, he thought it looked better, and it certainly felt a lot better. He tossed the note in the trash. He was starving and remembered he’d barely eaten the day before. Finding a box of cereal, he wolfed down a bowl and was about to get another when his phone rang.

  CJ scanned the kitchen, spotting the phone on the opposite counter. He grabbed his bowl and set it in the sink as he snatched the phone up. Mark. Cool. “Hey, Mark.”

  “Hi CJ. I’m calling to see what your plans are for the day?”

  “Uh, not much. I'm supposed to meet someone around two, but other than that, nothing. I didn’t use the camera yesterday. My leg was bothering me. Had to go to the ER last night and get it patched up. Why, what’s up?” CJ eased back onto his chair.

  “Oh, well never mind then. It’s not a big deal.”

  “Wait, hold on. I feel ten times better today than I did last night. What did you need?”

  Mark sighed into the phone. “It’s just that I have a bit of a complicated situation and thought having someone along as backup might be a good thing.”

  CJ straightened, a grin stretching across his face. Mark needed his help. Awesome. “Yeah, hey, whatever I can do, I will.”

  “You’re sure you’re up to it today?”

  “Um, well, I feel a lot better. I might not be able to run down a bad guy, but other than that…Ah, hold on a sec.” Phone pressed to his ear, CJ hobbled into the bathroom off the entrance hall, and gathered up the supplies he’d need for changing the dressing. Before he promised anything, he supposed he should look at his wound and make sure it was actually getting better. “I’m just going to take a look at my leg. I want to help you out, but the last thing I want to do is slow you down, or be a burden. You might be better off alone than with a gimpy backup.”

  Mark chuckled. “Hey, even just another set of eyes would be welcome.”

  CJ made his back to the kitchen and sat, propping his leg on another chair. He peeled back the dressing. Last night, the wound had been swollen, the skin around it hard and hot to the touch, but today, only the wound itself was red and it looked like it was healing well. “I’m good to go.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Yep.” He let his leg fall off the chair, wincing when his foot hit the floor. CJ stood and paced a few steps in the kitchen, getting used to feel. He didn’t want to draw attention to the injury. He could do it. “So, what do you need?”

 
; * * *

  “I am so stoked. Thanks for asking me to help. I need all the experience I can get.” CJ knew he sounded like a babbling idiot. Excitement did that to him, but he couldn’t help it.

  Mark pulled the car over to the curb. “Well, don’t get too worked up yet. The detective who gets murdered is canvassing the area, investigating a crime, and he gets attacked right around here.” He craned his head to look past CJ, and pointed out the window. “That’s the alley where they’ll find him.”

  After rolling the window down, CJ stuck his head out and looked behind the car. This area was familiar. He hadn’t paid too much attention to where Mark was driving. They had been talking about his leg, and then Mark had given him the lowdown on Chicago baseball rivalry. “I think this is around where Blanche was attacked.”

  Mark gave him a half-shrug. “Could be. This area has had a string of attacks.”

  CJ’s mouth dried and his heart took off at a sprint. Was the detective investigating Blanche’s attack? Was he going to be killed because CJ hadn’t been able to hold the attacker the other night?

  “Unfortunately, I don’t know what he’s doing here-that info wasn’t in my vision. This is one of those times where having an image I could show you would be helpful. I know what happens-can see it clearly-but it’s harder to explain. The detective is looking at his notes when a couple of guys come up from behind.”

  “What happens then?” CJ pressed his palms against his thighs, drying his hands and hoping Mark wouldn’t notice.

  “The men pull him into that alley and they beat the hell out of him. It’s not clear to me why they do that-it could be a random robbery gone wrong, or maybe they know he’s a cop-but in the scuffle, they get his weapon and use it on him.”

  CJ tried to picture it. “Okay, but what’s your plan?”

  “I have some ideas, but having heard what happens, what would be your suggestion?”

  “You want my suggestion?” CJ looked at Mark in confusion. Why would Mark need his help? The guy had been doing this for years. Mark just nodded. “Okay, well, I would suggest we go and hangout by the spot where the detective stops to check notes. We can warn him about the guys coming up behind him.”

  Mark seemed to contemplate the idea. “Sure, we could do that. And when the guys walk on past, then what? Do we follow the detective until he’s done working here to make sure those guys don’t come back?”

  “Uh…” CJ hadn’t thought about that. If the attack was personal, just warning the detective wouldn’t save him if they left, but then again, the detective would think it odd that they were trailing him. Could he arrest them for that? CJ wasn’t sure, but he was certain that the detective wouldn’t be happy about having someone follow him, even if they were acting as secret bodyguards.

  However, if the attack was already underway, they could legitimately go in and do what they could to help the detective without arousing any suspicion. “I think we need to wait, and then when the detective needs our help, go in and even up the odds.” It was a bit like his plan with Blanche when he had saved her.

  Mark grinned. “Yes. Exactly. I knew you were going to do fine at this. You’ve already grasped that warning people ahead of time rarely works because they don’t believe us.”

  “Did you really need my help, or was this some kind of test? Did my dad put you up to it?”

  Mark gave him a long look, then a short nod. “Yeah, kind of. He just wanted me to see if you were doing okay.”

  “Just because I got hurt the other night? It could have happened to anyone. It could have happened to you.” The second the words were cast from his mouth, he wanted to reel them back in. “Sorry, Mark. I didn’t mean it like that. I know I’m green at this, but damn, it would be nice to know that my dad had a least a little bit of confidence in me.”

  “Listen, your dad is proud as can be-I can tell. He’s just afraid to admit it, probably because he doesn’t want to jinx you or something. Actually, I think he only wants me to confirm what he already knows-that you’re going to be fantastic at this gig.” Mark rubbed his shoulder and chuckled. “I’m afraid I’ve set a bad example. He knows about all the crap I’ve gone through and I think he’s terrified you’ll go through something similar, but you won’t. You have instincts for this, and a hell of a lot more training than I ever had.”

  “But he acts like I screwed up the other night because I got hurt.”

  “Hey, he might be about to bust his buttons, he’s so proud, but he’s also your dad. He’s worried about you. Expect it. At least you don’t have to justify what you’re doing and fight to get him to believe you.”

  “Fine. I got it. I’m lucky my dad’s been through all of this with you already.” Damn. Did that sound as petulant to Mark as it sounded to his own ears? Was he jealous of Mark? He could admit to a twinge when he thought of his time in college when his dad lived out here, and was so distant, emotionally and physically. Mark was too old to be like a son to his dad, but they had developed a sort of brotherly friendship and CJ couldn’t help envying that.

  CJ stared out the front window. A couple of guys had come around the corner, but didn’t move towards them. They just stood on the corner. They didn’t say anything as some pedestrians passed them, but their presence seemed menacing. Shaking off his mood, CJ pointed. “Are those the guys you saw in your vision?”

  Mark leaned forward, then shook his head. “No, but good observation. I didn’t see those guys in my vision at all. They look like gang-bangers. They stake out corners in their territory. See the colors they’re wearing?”

  CJ nodded. “Yeah, sure. I grew up around D.C. and even in the suburbs, gangs were a problem.”

  “Right. Well, the guys in my vision were wearing red and black. Not the purple and black those guys are wearing. I don’t know if they’ll be a factor. Damn it.” Mark draped an arm over the steering wheel, the other arm propped on the center console, supporting his head as he contemplated the situation. CJ watched for a few seconds. He guessed that Mark was replaying his vision in his head and didn’t want to disturb him, but what if something happened right now?

  “Should we get out, or drive around and see if we can spot the guys in red and black?” He hated just sitting here. It seemed as if they should be proactive. “How soon before all of this goes down?”

  Mark glanced at his dashboard clock. “About ten minutes.”

  “And the guys we’re going against aren’t armed? At least, not until they get the detective’s gun?”

  “I didn’t see any other weapons, but that doesn’t mean they didn’t have them. They didn’t need them since they had the element of surprise.”

  “What about us? Do you have anything?” CJ still wanted to get a gun. He didn’t even have his knife and wished he had some kind of way to defend himself.

  “No, I didn’t bring anything.”

  “So…how are we going to save the detective?”

  The guys in purple shouted something and sprinted out of sight down the block. Mark blew out a breath. “Whew. Looks like they don’t factor into anything.”

  “Great.”

  “So, here’s our plan. We’re just going to sit here until the guys strong arm the detective into that alley. They we’re going to act like we’re just walking by and shout at them. If needed, we’ll have to go in swinging. Are you prepared to do that? If not, I can go alone and you can call 9-1-1.”

  “I’ll call 9-1-1, but as we’re rushing in. I’m not going to miss out on all the fun.” CJ grinned.

  “It’s not a high tech plan, but I’ve found that simple usually works the best. Just disrupt the flow of events. If you can do that, many times, you don’t need to do anything else.”

  In the side-view mirror, CJ saw a man round a corner and head towards them. He leaned closer to the mirror. “Hey, I think that’s the detective.” The man was still too far away to see clearly, but his jacket over a white oxford and dark slacks stood out as much as any uniform would have. At least, in this
neighborhood they did.

  Mark turned in his seat. “Yeah, that’s him.” He opened his car door an inch. “Be ready.”

  Energy charged through CJ as if Mark had fired a starter’s pistol. As CJ watched in the mirror, two guys came around the corner behind the detective. They exchanged looks, then their pace picked up just as the detective paused, a small notebook in his hand. The pages fluttered up, and the detective smoothed them down again.

  The guys separated, with each grabbing one of the detective’s arms and dragging the him into the alley. The man yelled in protest, but if anyone heard, there was no response that CJ noticed. Mark shouted it was time, but CJ was already out of the car and racing towards the alley, ignoring the twinge in his leg.

  Mark pounded close behind him as CJ careened around the corner into the alley, gravel skidding as his feet scrabbled for traction. He reached for his phone to make the call to emergency services, but the walls rising high on each side seemed to block his cell service. He shot a look at Mark, and mouthed, “No signal.”

  Mark nodded and motioned him forward, whispering, “By the time they get here, we’ll either be winners or losers anyway. Come on.”

  That didn’t sound encouraging, but CJ followed Mark, then caught up and as if they’d done this a hundred times before, widened the gap between them, right to left. CJ knew enough not to stand right beside Mark, but to draw the attackers focus wide so they couldn’t zero in on both of them at once.

  The thugs had the detective cornered between a loading dock and the wall of a building. One shoved him hard against the bricks and shouted, “Who you lookin’ for?”

  The detective held his hands up in an effort to ward off any blows. “Don’t worry, it’s not you.”

  The second thug sucker-punched the detective, doubling him over.

  CJ meant to stop. To stay back and let the attackers realize that they were outnumbered now, including the detective. That had been his intention, but at the punch, he hurled himself at the aggressor. He felt like he crossed the distance in a single leap. The situation triggered instincts honed by years of practice on the mat and he went into his stance as he shouted, “Let him be!”