Mark Taylor Omnibus (The Mark Taylor Series)

by M. P. McDonald

  Lily's face was still wet with tears, but there was a desperate note of hope in her voice as she said, "He's going to be okay, right?"

  Jim sighed. "I wish I knew."

  One of the paramedics stood arms outstretched and bellowed, "Stop! Everybody just stop for a second!"

  All activity ceased and they turned to the paramedic for direction. Mark quieted as well, his head turning weakly from side to side.

  "Listen up. We all want to help him, but we have to do this right, okay?" The paramedic scanned all the members of his team, "We need to be very careful because we don't want to cause more damage. Do not pull the nails out. They need to do that at the hospital. What we have to do, is somehow get the nails separated from the wood while keeping his hands and feet as still as possible."

  Another paramedic nodded and spoke up. "I think the eight inch bolt cutters will fit in between the victim and the wood. They shouldn't have any trouble cutting through these nails."

  The first one nodded. "Good idea, John. Let's try it."

  Jessie watched the one called Luke turn to a toolbox and pull out the tool. He moved to Mark's left arm. "Mark? Can you hear me?"

  Mark's eyebrows raised as his head turned towards the voice. "That's it, buddy. I'm going to insert a bolt cutter beneath your hand here, and snip that nail. It might hurt a bit, but I need you to try and hold still and not pull away. Do you understand?"

  Mark opened his eyes and turned his head, looking up at the ceiling. For several seconds his eyes roved the upper reaches of the building before drifting closed. His lips began moving but only a whisper of sound came out. Luke leaned closer and turned his head to hear, holding his hand up for quiet from the rest of the crew. His eyes squinted in concentration then an expression of disbelief washed over his face as he sat back slowly.

  "What did he say?" Jim stepped forward and Jessie realized that Mark might have told the paramedic something important that would help them catch the bastards who had done this to him.

  Luke looked at Jim. "I...I think he said, 'Our Father, who art in heaven.'...and then he started saying something else. It might have been a prayer too, but it's all mixed up and jumbled."

  "Oh." Jim sounded non-plussed and crossed his arms. Out of the corner of her eye, Jessie saw one medic make the sign of the cross.

  The paramedic motioned for his crew mates to hang on tight to Mark's arm and then he leaned in, cutters in hand. "I need some more light!"

  Someone aimed a bright flashlight on the trapped hand and Luke spoke once more to Mark "Okay, here we go, Mark."

  He wiggled the tool into the slight gap and took time to assess his placement, peering into the tiny space he'd squeezed out between wood and flesh. "Looks good. Hold him tight!" His forearm muscles flexed as he exerted pressure on the handles. The nail snapped with a soft pop accompanied by a low moan by Mark.

  Luke backed away and allowed another paramedic to ease Mark's arm down and Jessie shuddered at the agonized cry that the movement elicited from Mark. She turned away and in her haste, bumped into Lily. "Excuse me," she choked out as she side-stepped the other woman. Jessie didn't know where she intended to go, but she knew she couldn't watch any more of this. Lily's hand on her arm stopped her.

  "Don't go. He needs us here." Her voice was calm despite the tears running down her face.

  Jessie turned back, seeing that the paramedics were about to free the other hand. She quickly glanced away. "He doesn't even know we're here, Lily."

  Lily's chin quivered in an instant of uncertainty before her resolve returned and she squared her shoulders. Her grip tightened on Jessie's arm. "I'm going closer."

  Before Jessie could reply, Mark cried out again and this time, he began flailing his right arm at the paramedics, catching one on the jaw and leaving a bloody trail. Lily stopped in her tracks.

  "Mark! It's okay, we're trying to help you!" Luke grabbed the flailing arm and tried to wrestle it back down, but was having a hard time of it. Despite Mark's injuries and weakened condition, his fear and desperation lent him extraordinary strength.

  The other paramedics tried to help, but they literally had their own hands full. One man had been trying to start an IV on Mark's free hand, and was now leaning back, bloody IV needle held out of the way of the other paramedics; a thin stream of blood flowed from the attempted IV site. Two other firemen maintained their grip on Mark's legs, trying in vain to hold them completely immobile and the man who had been hit by Mark was swiping his jaw on his shoulder.

  "Hold still, buddy!" Luke sounded frustrated and Jessie stepped forward, pulling Lily along with her. She nudged the man holding the needle out of the way.

  "Let me through. I have his friend here. She might be able to calm him." She ached to be the one to calm Mark, but worried she might do more harm than good. They hadn't parted under the best circumstances.

  The paramedic nodded and scooted back. "Go for it."

  Lily sank to her knees and touched Mark's shoulder then moved her hand up to rest on his brow. "Mark? It's me. You're safe now." She stroked his hair back and he stilled. "Shh...that's it. Relax."

  His head turned, and Jim saw him struggling to open his eyes. "Lily?" The hope in his voice tore at Jessie's heart.

  "Yes, it's me. And Jessie and Jim too. Whoever did this is gone, okay?" Lily continued the rhythmic motion of feathering his hair back and Jessie could see the tension in Mark's body begin to ease. "There's a whole lot of people here trying to help you. Let them help you, Mark."

  He blinked and his eyes roamed, seeking but unfocused, his brows knit in confusion. "Jessie's here?"

  Jessie knelt beside Lily and put her hand lightly on his shoulder, surprised at how cold and clammy his skin felt. "Yeah, Mark, I'm right here. Hold still now and they'll have you...free... in just another minute. Got it?"

  He nodded obediently. " 'kay". Mark sighed and his body went limp as he gave in to his exhaustion.

  Jessie nudged Lily and motioned for them to step back to allow the medics more room to work. In a matter of minutes, his feet had been freed, but the medics taped them together, opting to allow the doctors to remove the long nail. They moved him to a gurney, hung bags of fluid and placed an oxygen mask over Mark's face.

  He never stirred throughout the rest of the treatment and Jessie didn't know if that was a good sign or bad. She heard a blood pressure number tossed out by one paramedic and saw another quickly adjust an IV bag until what had been a slow, steady drip of fluid into the the line became a fast stream.

  Luke swore and tossed a blanket over Mark, tucking it around him; the paramedic's hands a blur as he secured Mark to the gurney. "Let's wrap and run, guys!"

  Chapter 11

  The ambulance sped away leaving a spray of slush in its wake. The scene inside the warehouse had been so surreal…so bizarre that Jessie felt like she needed to re-orient herself. She leaned against the wall of the building, aware of Lily's impatient pacing. She was sympathetic to the other woman's desire to rush to the hospital, but she needed just a a minute to process everything that had happened. Jim was still inside talking on his cell phone to someone so they had to wait anyway.

  She let her head fall back, closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She let it out slowly. After repeating the exercise five times, she opened her eyes. Above her, the sun glinted off icicles forming on the downspouts and eaves of the building. Last night’s snow was already beginning to melt as the early spring warmth battled with the retreating winter over which season would hold Chicago in its grip for the day.

  Excited chatter and the idling of engines caught her attention. A half-dozen reporters and photographers milled at one end of the alley along with a network news van.

  Jessie pushed away from the wall and glared at the offending van. She saw the disgust that she felt mirrored on Lily's face.

  "Can you believe those vultures?" Lily moved a step ahead of Jessie and stepped towards the crowd, but Jessie took her arm.

  "Listen to me Lily. The la
st thing you should do is talk to them."

  "I don't care. I need to rip them a—"

  "I get it. I do. But they'll start grilling you about what happened to Mark, and in the emotional state you're in now, you are easy pickings."

  Lily's chin came up. "I don't think so, but you're right. It would piss them off if I don't talk to them at all."

  "There you go." Jessie steered her towards Jim's car. "Why don't you wait in the car, and I'll go see what's keeping Jim. Then we can head to the hospital."

  Lily nodded, her eyes still reflecting her anger, but she agreed. "Try to hurry."

  As Jessie returned to the warehouse, a television reporter called out to her and tried to flag her down.

  “Detective! Will you come and talk to us for just a minute?”

  Jessie wondered how they knew her, but in her experience, reporters seemed to have even more sources than cops. She ignored the reporter and practically ran back into the warehouse.

  She spotted Jim in a group with a couple of uniformed officers. As she approached, she noted the remains of the fire still glowing faintly and had a vision of what the scene must have looked like to Mark. It stopped her in her tracks. Medea’s description of her similar ordeal filled in some of the details in her mind and Jessie’s imagination completed the picture.

  The cult circling and swaying in time to their Satanic chants would have been eerie and frightening. In the scene she created in her head, the red glowing fire crackled and popped, the sounds echoing in the far reaches of the warehouse. Mark must have been terrified. Her stomach rebelled at the images and she bent; her hand to her mouth, afraid she was going to vomit.

  “Jessie? Are you okay?"

  She turned to find Dan approaching her.

  Not sure if she was or not, she didn’t answer him at first and had to swallow several times before she felt it was safe to speak. She straightened. “Yeah. I think so. I thought I was going to be sick there for a minute.”

  Dan nodded. “Well, you wouldn’t be the first.”

  Jessie glanced sharply at him. “You too?”

  It was hard to see in the dimness, but Jessie was pretty sure the man’s face had a tint of red staining his cheeks. He cleared his throat and looked down, his hands buried in his pockets. “Just don’t go over to the far corner. I’ve already investigated that spot.”

  Jessie glanced in that direction and wrinkled her nose. “Right.” Looking back at Dan, she said, “I didn't know you were here."

  "You were pretty preoccupied, but I arrived about the time they put Taylor on the gurney."

  She shivered. "It was horrible, Dan."

  "I know. As soon as I heard it come over the radio, I headed over."

  Jessie sighed. "I came back in to find Jim. Have you seen him?"

  "He was over there a minute ago." Dan pointed to a door behind the spot where the cross had stood. "There's evidence the cult left through that door, probably only minutes before you guys got here. We think they had someone monitoring a police scanner."

  "Great." She shook her head, wishing she hadn't called in the silent alarm. "Once I find Jim, we'll be taking Lily to the hospital or to get her car at the studio, which ever one she wants, and then I’ll be back to help with the investigation.”

  Dan shook his head. “No, you won’t.”

  “Excuse me?” She wasn’t sure she’d heard him right. It was her case. She’d been the one to track down the plates and the van, had called in to find the address of possible textile warehouses. Plus, she had been handling the Medea case, which bore striking similarities and was sure to be related.

  “You’re too close to this one, Jess. I think you should take yourself off it.”

  “How am I too close?” She glared at him, practically daring him to mention anything about her relationship with Mark.

  “Come on. You know I’m right. Are you going to make me say it?”

  She narrowed her eyes. “Say what?” Her hands rested on her hips.

  Dan took a deep breath and looked away for a brief moment before meeting Jessie’s eyes. “You still have feelings for Taylor.” He put up his hands in a stop motion. “Look, I don’t care, but it might hamper the investigation or, even worse, when we catch the guys who did this, it could come up at the trial. You wouldn’t want to jeopardize the outcome, would you?”

  Crossing her arms, Jessie remained silent for almost a minute. Did she still have feelings for Mark? She felt her face heat up. If she were honest with herself, she’d admit it was possible.

  On the other hand, a defense lawyer could twist all kinds of innocent things into something sinister. Like how she and Mark had lived together for six months.

  Or worse, what if they brought up Jessie's role in Mark's imprisonment? How she had ultimately been the one who had listened to Mark and dug deeper, proving his innocence? It had been the right thing to do, but would she have put her career on the line for just anyone? A smart lawyer would draw connections and let the jury think there was more going on between her and Taylor than a past relationship.

  Was she willing to take that risk? Jessie thought of all Taylor had gone through and decided that she wasn’t. She sighed. “Fine. You’ll keep me updated?”

  Dan nodded. “Of course.”

  Jessie nodded and turned away.

  “Oh, and Jessie?”

  She stopped and looked over her shoulder. “Yes?”

  “You’ll let me know how he’s doing?”

  She couldn’t help smiling. Dan might tease her about Taylor and all the scrapes he got into, but Jessie had always suspected that deep down, he liked the guy. “I'll call you on your cell as soon as I hear anything.”

  * * *

  Mark felt himself lifted, the movement wrenching a hoarse groan from him. He shivered. For a few minutes, he’d felt a little warmer, but now all the blankets were gone. Maybe he’d kicked them onto the floor. Conversation swirled around him and he tried to follow it. He struggled to open his eyes, but even as the thought occurred to him, he felt himself drifting, his mind jumping to something else. Was he still in the warehouse?

  “What the hell happened to him?” The voice was deep and Mark had the impression of someone big. Kern? The voice didn’t sound menacing enough.

  “It’s crazy, Doc. Some bastards crucified him. Be careful, the nails are still in his hands and feet.”

  “You’ve got to be kidding.”

  “Look for yourself. See his hands?”

  Mark felt his hand raised and unwrapped.

  “Ouch.” It was the deep voice again, this time, sounding sympathetic.

  The manipulation of his hand hurt and he attempted to withdraw it, moaning softly. As soon as he did, whoever held him released his wrist and loosely re-wrapped his palm. “It’s okay, Mark.” An annoying beep sounded at regular intervals.

  “Hey, Doc, did you see his blood pressure? It’s only eighty-two over forty-six.”

  “Is the IV wide open?”

  “Yes. Both of them. We started another in the squad on the way in.”

  He remembered hearing that voice before. It had told him to hold still and then his hands had been freed. It was a voice he could trust. It just occurred to him that the voices were talking about him. About what had happened. He flashed on the memory of the nail being held to his palm and he instinctively tried to move his hand. A wave of pain washed through him as his stomach roiled and he tasted bile. Intense agony radiated from his left shoulder, and his belly burned. His head and his feet added their own melody to the symphony of pain.

  “Has he been conscious at all?” Hands skimmed over Mark’s head, pausing on a tender spot on the back. “We’ll need some x-rays of the head and a c-spine. Maybe a CT too.”

  “He sort of woke up at the scene, spoke to a friend and the detective who was with her. Other than that, he’s been out of it.”

  The hands continued their exploration, and Mark tensed as they rested on his left shoulder.

  “Well, that’s o
bviously dislocated.”

  Mark wanted to talk to one of the voices, ask what was going on, but his throat didn’t cooperate. Once, as a kid, he’d had strep throat and that misery paled in comparison to the raw, bruised feeling he was experiencing now. He had the sensation of trying to suck air in, but never getting quite enough. Exhaling was even harder, and in his mind, he pictured a blown up balloon with the neck pinched off. A little air could get out, but not all of it. He had the urge to sit up.

  “Whoa! Lay back, Mark!”

  “Can’t-“ Pressure on his chest prevented him from sitting. He gasped, “Please…” The voices began fading and he struggled to listen to them.

  “Sats are dropping.”

  “Yeah, I know. You have him on a hundred percent?”

  “Yep. But he has audible stridor. He’s not moving much air.”

  “Yeah, he’s working pretty hard."

  Mark lost track of what they said next, his sole focus getting the air in and out.

  Next, he heard a metallic click as his head was tipped with his chin pointing toward the ceiling. The position made him feel like he was strangling, but he had no energy left to fight them.

  “Let me take a look here…I need some suction.”

  Mark felt cold hard metal against his tongue. He gagged, tasting blood and renewed his efforts to sit. The guy with the deep voice had to be another one of Kern's followers. It was the only thing that made sense. Kern must have thought up another form of torture.

  Someone grabbed Mark’s right hand, and another set of hands held his head still. Yet another invaded his belly, pushing and prodding. Someone or something was squeezing his throat. Was the noose still there? He panicked.

  With a strangled cry, he bucked his hips and shoulders in an attempt to escape the hands. A heavy weight across his legs kept him from leaping off whatever he was lying on. Ignoring the pain and the shouts to calm down, he twisted and turned; using his head to try to bash anyone who was within reach.