Capture: A Crime Thriller (CJ Sheridan Thrillers Book 2)

by M. P. McDonald

  “Yeah, I guess he wouldn't.” He sighed, unsure what to do next. Jessie was upstairs in the loft doing paper work on a difficult case, and he didn't want to bother her unless there was something she could do. “I left a message for Jim to call me, but I think I’m going to try calling him again.”

  “You sound concerned.” She hesitated before adding, “Do you think something's wrong?”

  He knew CJ had told Blanche about the camera, but he wasn't sure if she knew anything about his own visions. He didn't know Blanche very well, but remembered the talk he'd had with her in the ER just before the terrorist had attacked. She seemed like she had a level-head and could be trusted. “Did CJ ever tell you about me?”

  “About the camera?”

  “Well, that, but there's more. Like why I don't use the camera anymore?”

  She didn't answer for a long moment and that gave Mark his answer. She was probably debating whether she should tell him that CJ had spilled the beans to her.

  “It's okay if CJ told you. I just don't want to repeat the whole story if you already know.”

  “Yes, he told me.”

  “Okay, so then you'll understand the implications when I tell you that I had a vision of CJ locked up in a room. There wasn't much to go on. I don't know where, or even who locked him up, but I know something is wrong.”

  “Oh my God. What did you see?”

  Mark started to answer, but decided that time was wasting and he wanted to speak to Jim, but maybe Blanche knew something without being aware. Anything might help. “Hey, I'm going to head over to Jim's place. I know it's late, but I can pick you up on the way over, if you want. Between the three of us, we might be able to figure out what's going on.”

  “Okay. I'm ready now.”

  She started to give him her address, but Mark's cellphone rang. He reached in his pocket and pulled it out. “Hold on, Blanche. Jim's calling on my cell. I'll call you back. It may be a few minutes. I haven't told him about my vision yet.” He hung up on Blanche and answered Jim's call.

  “No.” There was an edge of irritation to his voice. “I was hoping maybe you had.”

  “I'd have called you if I had spoken to him.” Mark didn't know if he was angry at him, or his son, but it didn't really matter. “Listen, I was just hoping you'd heard from him because I had a vision.”

  Dead silence.

  “Jim?”

  “Yes. I'm here. What did you see?”

  “It was brief, not much detail, but it wasn't good. He's in trouble.”

  “Are you sure? Did you try Blanche? He's been spending a lot of time with her, and maybe they went out to eat—”

  “Jim, he's not out with Blanche. I spoke with her just a minute ago. She hasn't seen nor heard from him since last night when he texted her. He didn't hint at anything out of the ordinary. I thought we'd come over to your place. Maybe the three of us can come up with something.”

  All traces of irritation were gone. His voice was quiet—almost as though he was talking to himself. “I should have checked to see where he was. I just assumed he was out using the camera like he does some mornings before he goes to work. We don't even know how long he's been missing.” Jim paused a beat, and then muttered, “Damn. I hate this.”

  Mark bent his head, pinching the bridge of his nose as guilt washed over him. “I know. Sorry.” Why had he ever suggested that CJ use the camera? If anything happened to him…

  “It's not your fault, and before you say it, I know it's not CJ's either. It just sucks.”

  “It does. But we're going to find him.” Mark stood. “I'm going to pick up Blanche and head over. She thought maybe there was a photo or something in CJ's room that he might have acted on. It's worth a try, and if there isn't, we can still brainstorm.” It felt odd taking the lead but Jim seemed to accept it. He was definitely in dad-mode, not FBI-mode, and definitely not CIA-officer mode. When Jim got over the shock, and had time to compartmentalize his fears, someone was going to have hell to pay if they hurt his son.

  Chapter Nine

  Blanche waited for Mark in front of her building. She hadn’t been home from work for very long when Mark called. At first, she had thought it was CJ, since the phone number was the same. Obviously, Mark had called from the studio. She was surprised he'd thought to call her since she and CJ had only been dating a short while but she felt a secret thrill that CJ had apparently spoken enough about her that both Mark and CJ’s dad had assumed CJ was with her. A knot formed in her throat, lodging when she tried to swallow. If only he had been with her.

  The depth of her feelings for CJ surprised her. She knew she had liked him—a lot— but her disappointment when it wasn't him on the other end of the phone caught her off guard. And now, as she waited, the fear she felt about what might be happening to him had her pacing the sidewalk. She stopped. Was this what a relationship with CJ was going to be like? Always wondering if he was in danger? She rubbed her temples. Could she handle this kind of relationship. She heard sirens in the distance and realized it wasn't much different from dating a police officer, or a soldier. If you loved someone, it didn't matter. There was nothing to do but suck it up and deal with it. The alternative was not loving the person at all, and as she thought of CJ, she was almost certain that she was falling in love with the guy. Was she ready to suck it up?

  Mark pulled alongside the curb and she got in. “You found my building okay?” It was a stupid question. He must have or he wouldn't have arrived so quickly, but she was still reeling from her discovery that what she felt for CJ was deeper than she had realized. It unnerved her.

  “Yeah. No problem. Jim's waiting for us at his place and we can look for photos.”

  She nodded. “Good.” Casting a glance at Mark, she wondered about him. She knew about Jessie and had met the woman during the attack in the ER at her hospital. How did she deal with it? But then again, Jessie was an FBI agent herself. Mark probably had some of his own worrying to do over her.

  Mark drummed his fingers on the steering wheel as they waited at a red light. She was curious about his visions, especially since CJ had been closed-mouthed about them. Any other day, she would never have dreamed of prying into something personal like that, but this wasn't an ordinary day. “CJ didn't say much about your…um…your—”

  “Visions?” Mark glanced at her, before facing forward as the light changed. His expression was serious, but not guarded.

  “Yeah. Sorry. I don't mean to pry, but with CJ…” She trailed off, unable to say aloud that CJ was missing.

  “No, it's okay. I was like CJ, or I guess I still am, meaning I can use the camera like he does. One of my, “ he made a one-handed air quote, “'adventures' with the camera involved an all-expenses paid stay at a CIA research facility—as a lab rat.” He became quiet as he approached another red light.

  Blanche watched the play of emotions over his face, pain, fear and anger, even as his voice remained matter-of-fact. She wanted to ask questions, but already felt she'd over-stepped.

  He dragged in a deep breath. “Sorry. That one is still pretty fresh.” With a firm shake of his head as though to get his train of thought back on track, he continued, “I was injected with some kind of biological agent that was developed to enhance psychic tendencies.” His jaw clenched, and when the light turned green, he gunned the engine, accelerating so fast, she was pressed back against the seat.

  “Wow…that's just crazy.”

  “Yeah, it is. The craziest thing is, the substance actually worked on me.” He slanted her a tight smile, then shrugged. “The side-effects were a real bitch, though.”

  She wondered what he'd experienced, but didn't press. “So, do you get visions often? And how do you know that's what they are?” Blanche didn't even know exactly what questions to ask. It was so out of her realm of experience.

  “The visions are random and I don't have any control over them. They come and go at will. At least with the camera, I could choose not to use it some days, but now, I'm ba
sically at the beck and call of the visions.”

  “Do you always try to fix things? Like CJ does with his photos?”

  “So far, yes. I've acted on all the ones that I could. Sometimes, I don't get enough information. It's just a flash, and then it's gone.”

  Mark pulled in front of a condo. “Here we are.”

  She hadn't yet been to CJ's home. He picked her up, or they met somewhere. “Did you get much information with what you saw of CJ?”

  His eyes filled with regret and something else. Concern? “No.”

  Blanche thought he'd continue and tell her more about it, but he stared out the front window, unblinking, as though lost in his thoughts. She opened her mouth to prod him, forgetting about her reluctance to push for details, but before she could say anything, the front door opened, and CJ's dad stood in the doorway waiting for them.

  * * *

  Jim saw Mark pull up and unlocked his front door, ushering Mark and Blanche into the living room. “Have a seat.”

  Mark remained standing, arms crossed, his stance wide but Blanche perched on the very edge of an armchair, her gaze fixed on Jim as though he had the answer to the meaning of life. Jim looked away from her, unable to handle her expectations just yet. “Mark, have you had any other visions?” He practically held his breath. On one hand, he was desperate for information, but on the other, he was terrified of what he might learn.

  Mark frowned and shook his head. “Not since the one I told you about.”

  “But what about the photos? What if CJ left them? Would he do that?” Blanche looked from Jim to Mark and back again.

  “Right. He might have. Hold on. I'll go look.”

  He entered CJ's room. His bed was unmade, and a pile of dirty clothes had taken up residence in one corner, but otherwise, it was fairly neat. Jim strode to the desk. He knew CJ had started a file system for his images. Two sets of files, actually. One with photos that hadn't resulted in future images, but CJ thought he might want to keep because they were decent photos. The other one held images that he had changed. Of course, now they were also mundane shots and nobody looking at them would know what they once showed. Jim only knew which file was which because of the detailed notes CJ had written up on the computer and printed out, stapling the notes to the images. He'd talked about getting a scanner and scanning them into the computer, but hadn't done it yet.

  Mark wandered in behind Jim. “I hope you don't mind. I wanted to see if there was something I saw in my vision that might be in a photo. Something that doesn't look like much to anyone else.”

  Jim gestured to the files. “No, go right ahead. These are the images he changed, but I don't know if he's filed those pictures yet. It's possible he has them with him.”

  After thumbing through a few with the notes stapled to them, Mark sighed. “Yeah. He probably does.” He removed the most recent completed save, and read the notes before he gave a soft whistle. “Damn, Jim. He's way more thorough than I was. Did you teach him this?”

  “No. He came up with that system on his own.” Jim allowed a little pride to surface. “He was always organized when it came to schoolwork. I guess he carried over the practice with the camera.”

  “It can't hurt, that's for sure. Who knows, maybe if I'd had been this organized…” Mark's voice trailed off.

  Jim cleared his throat. “Yes, well, we can't change the past, but we can change the future.”

  Mark shot Jim a look, but his eyes showed amusement, not anger. “Now you're starting to sound like me and CJ.”

  “Um, excuse me. I thought maybe you needed some help.”

  Jim looked over his shoulder to the doorway. “Come on in, Blanche. We were just looking through CJ's files.” Jim turned to the folder with the non-future photos on the off-chance that CJ had stuck the newest images there, but those were last dated several days before. “Blanche, did CJ mention anything about what he does with the photos before he changes them?”

  She looked surprised. “Not really. He just said he looks at them just before he goes to sleep. I think he mentioned keeping a notebook on his nightstand to write in as soon as he wakes up.”

  Jim glanced at the nightstand but other than some coins and a pen, there was nothing on it but the lamp.

  Mark got down on his hands and knees and looked under the bed. “Nothing except a few dust bunnies.”

  Moving to the bed, Blanche lifted the pillows, searching beneath them and frowned. Then she grabbed the edge of the blankets and gave them a firm shake. A couple of photos flew into the air and settled back on to the far edge of the bed. “I think I found them.”

  “Good job.” Mark leaned over the bed and snatched them, then turned around and sat on the edge of the bed to study the pictures.

  Blanche sat beside him and looked from one photo to the other, squinting. “They're dark. Is there something wrong with how they were developed?”

  Jim stood by Mark's other side, looking down at the images. They were dark, but not completely. He could make out what appeared to be a silhouette of a man. “Did he develop these at the studio?”

  Mark shook his head. “No, these are from a one-hour place, but that's not the problem. The problem is that the scenes they show take place when it's dark.” He pointed to two bright spots in the darkness. “Car headlights.”

  “So, does that mean this takes place tonight? So where's CJ?” Blanche looked at Jim.

  “You know, if CJ changed the outcome of this, we could be looking at the reverted image.” Mark brought one up close. “Except, I don't think he did, because there's a person down in front of that car. He's so close to the car, he barely shows up, but I can see a hand right there.” He tapped the photo.

  “That means he can still change this. It must take place tonight.” Jim felt a wave of relief.

  “But how come CJ's not answering his cellphone? And he didn't show up for work?” Blanche stood and crossed her arms. She didn't look convinced and Jim's feeling of relief began to ebb. She was right. It wasn't like his son to blow off work and ignore his phone.

  “What if…” Mark's gaze moved from one photo to the other and he didn’t speak for a moment..

  “What if…what?”

  Mark stood and gathered the images. “It’s too damn dark in here.” He carried them out to the living room, spreading them on the coffee table. Jim and Blanche followed him. He sat on the edge of the sofa and jabbed a finger at several different shadows. “Those are men, one of them a cop. And this one down here is also a cop.” He pointed to the hand.

  Jim squinted. “I left my reading glasses in the kitchen. What are you seeing?”

  “The guy on the ground has a badge clipped to his belt. See that bright spot? That's it. I can tell from the shape.”

  “Yeah. I see it!” Blanche held one side of the picture as she leaned over it.

  “But you didn't answer the 'what if' question, Mark.”

  Mark lifted his gaze from the photos and sighed. “What if this already happened? I think these images are from early this morning, not tonight.”

  Jim thought about it. It made sense. CJ was gone when Jim returned from his run. It had been dark when Jim had gone out for his run, so if CJ left not long after, it would still have been dark then. “So, you're saying that he didn't change the outcome?”

  “No. Not exactly. He probably changed it, but maybe not quite as he had intended.”

  As the implications of what Mark said sunk in, Jim's chest tightened and he could barely squeeze out a question. “Do you think what you saw in your vision has already happened?”

  Mark met Jim’s gaze, his eyes revealing his fears.

  Blanche's lips pursed, her expression thoughtful. “I'm so new at all of this, so forgive me if this is silly, but do you ever see past events?”

  “No. Not that I can recall.”

  “Oh.” Blanche sighed, her shoulders slumping. “So, we have no idea when this happens to him?”

  “Usually, I get the visions a day or so be
fore. With the camera, it was always one day prior. Now? I just have to go by the clues in the visions. Often there is a clear indicator of date and time. Events that are scheduled for a certain day, a television show in the background, newspapers or other media indicating the date, and of course, just standard clocks on walls and such.”

  “So, you had the vision how long ago?” Blanche asked.

  Mark glanced at his watch. “I'd say about an hour and a half ago.”

  “So, in theory, what you saw could have happened already.”

  “Yeah. In theory.” Mark scrubbed his hands up through his hair and stood, circling the coffee table to pace in front of the bookshelves.. “I sometime wished I had the camera. At least then, I could take a picture and then know that I could go to sleep, and get the corresponding dream. Now? I just have to hope and pray I'll get something more, and get it in time.”

  That gave Jim and idea. “Okay, so you don't use the camera anymore, but why not just sleep on it anyway? Don't you still often get dreams as visions?”

  “Sometimes. Mostly just before I wake up in the morning.”

  “So, go home and sleep. Maybe by then, we'll know more. I'm going to call around to hospitals and check for if they had any John Does come in.” The sentence almost gagged him. He didn't want to think that CJ could be in a morgue somewhere as a John Doe. He shook off the morbid thought. He was just letting his fears conjure up the worst case scenario. In all likelihood, CJ would stroll through the door before morning, having no idea that everyone was so worried.

  “That's it? Just sleep on it?”

  “I don't have any other ideas, Mark. What do you suggest?” Jim stood, his fist planted against his hips as if daring Mark to come up with something better. Jim prayed that he would.

  Mark rose, hands spread palm down in a placating gesture. “Whoa. I get it. You're frustrated. I'll go home and sleep on it.”

  Blanche stood as well, shooting Jim a wary look as she edged past him. Damn. Why had he blown up like that? “Listen, Mark. Blanche. I'm sorry. I'm just stressed. I'm sure CJ is fine. Maybe he met someone he knew from college or something.” It could happen. Except CJ had gone to school near D.C. The likelihood of meeting anyone he knew was low. But not impossible.