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

by M. P. McDonald

  Cooper held his ground, his eyes boring into Jim's. “Yes, sir. several days ago. Detective Hamilton asked me to pick him up and bring him in for questioning. Your son came along willingly, and I guess it turned out okay, but I dropped him off back home an hour or so later. Didn't seem to be that big of a deal.”

  “Questioning for what?” Jim demanded.

  Shrugging, Cooper said, “You'd have to ask Hamilton that. I'm just a patrol officer.”

  He was holding back something, Jim could feel it. He got in Cooper’s face, knowing the tactic was intimidating, but not caring. “What aren't you telling us?”

  Cooper put his hands up, stopping just short of pushing Jim. “Look, man. I don't want no trouble with Hamilton. I shouldn't have even opened my mouth about your son, but he seemed like a cool guy when I took him to the station that day.”

  Jim tilted his head, his jaw so tight he had to force the words through clenched teeth. “Trouble with Hamilton? Officer, you don't know what trouble is—”

  Jessica shouldered between the two men, turning her back to Jim as she spoke to Cooper. “We appreciate the information, Officer Cooper. Do you think you could give us the address to the facility?”

  “Sure, but it's kind of hard to find. It's tucked back behind some warehouses on the west side. I had a hell of a time finding it myself.”

  “Take us there.”

  Cooper glared over Jessica's shoulder to Jim, then glanced at Dan, who nodded. Apparently taking that for support from within the police department, Cooper finally nodded. “Yeah. I can do that, but I got a guy waiting to be booked. And I still have my business with Detective Harris. It's the whole reason I came over here to begin with.”

  “Do you want us to leave?” Jessica asked.

  Cooper started to nod, then he shook his head, turning his gaze on Jim. “No. Actually, it's connected to your son. I think. Maybe.”

  “And?”

  “See, I arrested a guy on armed robbery charges an hour or so ago. He seemed terrified of being chained to a wall. His exact words. I'd have ignored him except the part about chaining to a wall, because of what I had seen this morning. The other guy in the room with your son, was chained to the wall.”

  “And you think it's connected…how?”

  Cooper stopped just short of rolling his eyes. Jim had made the connection, but he wanted to hear Cooper say it. It might draw something else out. “I know I'm pretty new at all of this, but so far, I've never seen a prisoner chained to the wall. It was too odd to be a coincidence. Of course, I didn't know about your son then. I was just looking up my guy's record and saw that he spoke to Detective Harris.” Cooper turned to Dan. “Do you remember a guy named Alex Mendez? Said he filed a charge of police brutality and you handled it.”

  “Yeah. I was just discussing that. They had reason to believe that there was a connection between what happened to Mendez and what they suspect happened with CJ.”

  “What reason?”

  Jim ignored the question. “Sorry. That's not up for discussion.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  The sound of the door opening startled CJ awake and he tried to scramble to his feet but he stumbled, only catching himself from falling when he pushed off the wall. He brought the stun gun up when Hamilton stepped into the room.

  Easing the door open, his gun at the ready, he craned his head to find Sheridan. As he suspected, the kid was zoning out. His eyes glassy and vacant. But only for a moment, then he sprang to his feet. His quick actions caught Hamilton by surprise and he found himself facing the stun gun even as he held his own gun on Sheridan. However, his gun fired real bullets. Hamilton grinned.

  “Really? Your stun gun versus my real gun? It's like a new twist on the saying about bringing a knife to a gunfight.”

  CJ didn't respond, but he eyed Hamilton's gun.

  “Drop the stun gun, Sheridan. I don't want to have to shoot you, but I will if I have to.”

  “You won't get away with it. You know that, right?”

  “Oh, I think I will. I have connections.”

  CJ's mouth twisted into a smile. “Connections?” He shook his head, unable to hold back a chuckle. If only Hamilton knew.

  He smirked at Hamilton’s confusion. Apparently CJ’s reaction wasn’t what he’d expected.

  “You think that's funny?” Hamilton’s voice held an extra edge.

  “Well, yeah. Kind of. You see, my dad…well, let's just say he has connections you could only dream about. He can make people disappear if he wants to.” CJ hardly recognized the cold assurance in his own voice. “If something happens to me, I'm pretty sure he'll want to.”

  Hamilton sneered. “Oh, really? Is that how he managed to become Chief at the Chicago office? He can start an investigation, but I've covered all the bases. He'll never have a case against me.”

  “A case? You think that's what my dad would aim for? A criminal case?” Maybe he was going a little insane, but CJ couldn’t stop the whoop of laughter that burst from him. It had an tinge of hysteria to it. “I think you haven't done your homework. Sure, my dad is FBI. Now.”

  “Now?” Hamilton took the bait.

  “And I don't think he'll use sanctioned FBI methods if something happens to me. Let's just say, you don't want to make him angry.”

  “Now you sound like a little boy who brags that his dad can beat up your dad.” Hamilton chuckled, his features relaxing. “What is he? The Incredible Hulk or something? I've seen your dad. He doesn't scare me.”

  “I'm probably not supposed to divulge this, but what the hell, you're going to kill me anyway and if that happens, your days will be numbered. You won’t be able to tell too many people about it. My dad is only acting as FBI head. He worked for another government agency before that. I don't even know who he really works for anymore. But I know that he can make people disappear. He has connections around the world. Connections to very scary people who make you look like a sweet puppy dog.”

  “Agency? As in CIA?”

  “You think I’m bluffing.” CJ shrugged. “Whatever.”

  Tom cleared his throat. “Uh, boss? I don't know about you, but I really don't want to drag the CIA into this. They don't play fair.”

  Hamilton glared at Tom and keeping his gun leveled at CJ, scooted back out of the door.

  CJ sagged against the wall again. He’d blown his opportunity. He should have taken a chance on shooting Hamilton. Suddenly, the door knob rattled again and CJ straightened.

  Hamilton had returned, carrying a pitcher of water and two glasses stacked one inside the other. He eyed CJ’s stun gun. “You can shoot me with that, but then I'd fall and spill all of the water, and you'd still be stuck in here.”

  “Why? You locked yourself in?” His voice came out as a harsh rasp, and when he tried to clear his throat, he winced at the sharp, slicing pain it caused.

  “No. I have a guy out there ready to let me out when I'm ready. If I don't come out in twenty minutes, he's coming in, and he's been instructed to shoot to kill. You can't get us all with that stun gun before he kills you.”

  CJ lowered the stun gun a fraction. He could barely focus on Hamilton's words. The water sloshed in the pitcher, a little spilled over the side and ran down to form a dark puddle on the floor. He licked his lips, but his mouth was so dry, the act was futile. “Okay. What do you want?”

  “I just want to talk. This has gone on long enough, don't you think?” He moved slowly towards the bench. Tom stood, his expression probably mirrored CJ's as he stared at the pitcher of water. Hamilton set the tray on the bench, then filled the two glasses with water. He handed one to Tom, who gulped it. “Easy, buddy. You'll get sick if you drink it too fast.”

  Tom nodded and lowered the glass, swiping his arm across his mouth and uttering a loud sigh. “Damn. That's good.”

  Hamilton lifted the second glass. “As you can see, the water is fine. Tom drank it without a problem.” He offered the tumbler to CJ.

  Motioning to the floor, C
J said, “Set it down, then get back.”

  Hamilton shrugged. “Sure.” He did as CJ asked, then moved back to the bench. “I have some questions for you. Maybe we can clear this whole thing up.”

  CJ eased forward, never taking his eyes off Hamilton, he bent and retrieved the cup. Drinking it would leave him vulnerable though. “Turn around and put your hands behind your head.”

  Hamilton chuckled and shook his head, but did as CJ requested. As soon as he did, CJ tilted the glass. The water filled his mouth like the sweetest nectar. Cold and fresh, it washed away the foul taste that had built over the last twenty-four hours. It traced a cold path down to his stomach. He forced himself to stop after two mouthfuls. He wanted to empty the glass, but did as Hamilton had advised Tom, and took it slow. He retreated to the wall he'd designated as his and leaned against it. “You can turn around now.” With the extra distance between them, even if it was merely feet, he decided he'd have enough time to react. He was sure Hamilton still had his gun on him somewhere, but it was out of sight. CJ sipped his water.

  Before he knew it, his glass was empty. Tom's had been refilled and now the man sat on the edge of the bench, chatting with Hamilton as though they were guests at a cocktail party.

  “Put the pitcher on the floor, in the middle.”

  Hamilton glanced at him, as though forgetting CJ had been in the room, but he set the pitcher where CJ directed him to, and then went back, picking up his conversation as if CJ was of no consequence to him. CJ set his glass beside the wall, and moved forward, taking the pitcher and backing towards his wall again. They paid no attention to him. He filled his glass, and kept the pitcher. There was enough for one more serving. He didn't know how much longer he would be in here, and wanted to conserve some of the water for later. Already he felt better than he had.

  “Okay, CJ. Why don't we just have a conversation? I want this to end as much as you do. I have to get back to my office. Tom here, has a family he needs to get back to. His wife has been calling every hour, and I've been putting her off, but she's a wife who's wondering where her husband is.” Hamilton gave a soft laugh and slanted a smile at Tom. “Your wife can be a real pain in the ass.”

  Tom grinned. “Yep. That's Darla all right. I promised I'd take her out to dinner…” His expression turned to shock. “I think I'm supposed to take her out tonight, in fact. Shit. She's going to kill me if I don't keep my promise.”

  Hamilton shrugged, spreading his hands. “Sorry. I'm not the one in charge here.”

  CJ knew what they were doing, but he couldn't help wondering if there really was a Darla and if she was worried about her husband. He hoped Blanche was worrying about him. He finished his second glass of water, and looked longingly at what was left in the pitcher, but he tore his eyes from it, locking on Hamilton. “Look. Nobody wants out of here worse than me, but you want me to sign a confession to something I didn't do. Can't you see how that's not an option?”

  Hamilton nodded. “I understand, but you have to see if from my point of view. From my vantage point, you appear to be working for someone. You've been present at two murders. Two! One as an alleged witness, the other as, well, as a suspect. What would you have me do?”

  “Alleged? I don't like how you phrased that. I was a witness. Period.”

  “Right. Anyway, we have to wonder who you’re working for. Just admit it. You're working for that dick out of city hall.”

  Confused, CJ shook his head. “I'm not working for anyone.”

  “We’re fairly certain that Cruz arranged the hit that you, “Hamilton made air quotes, “witnessed. We just want to know why your boss had Cruz killed as well. Was it because he knew too much? Now is your chance to get it all out in the open and be a hero. You can bring down the dirtiest politician in the city. You can probably bargain a plea deal from the prosecutor if you agree to cooperate.”

  CJ wondered if there had been something in the water after all because Hamilton was making no sense at all. “Working for someone? I don't even know anyone in Chicago except for about five people. I've only been in the city a few months.”

  “From D.C. I heard.”

  “That area, but just outside of the city. I went to school there. That's it. Just graduated and came to live with my dad while I found a job.” It was pretty close to the truth.

  “But you have connections here. I want to know who you're working for. I've seen your history, don't forget. I find it hard to believe that you could come into a strange city and be in the thick of so many things unless you had someone working on the inside.”

  CJ rubbed circles on his temples. He was so tired. It seemed as if Hamilton's words were swimming to him through an ocean of mud. By the time he processed them and formed a response, Hamilton was moving on to the next question or statement. “Inside? Inside of what?”

  “You don't have to play dumb.”

  Hamilton stood, and CJ tensed, bringing the stun gun to bear on the man.

  “Take it easy. I'm not coming near you. I might have a deal for your father. He can stop his investigation and I'll let you out of here. We can say Cruz's death was an accident, that you were defending yourself.”

  “A deal for my father? What does he have to do with this?”

  “Your stupid act is wearing thin, Sheridan.” Hamilton didn't approach, but he leaned forward, jabbing a finger towards CJ. “I'm going to lay it all out for you. We all know you're guilty of murdering Cruz. Now, maybe you only intended to follow him and things turned sour.” He shrugged. “Shit happens. If you were working for your father, investigating on his behalf, we can work something out. In exchange for him dropping the investigation, we can let you go. After all, Cruz wasn't worth tearing down the whole Chicago P.D. He was a bad apple. That's all. We can use that as part of your defense too, although I'd hate to drag a fallen officer's name through the mud.”

  Despite his fatigue and pounding head, CJ knew what Hamilton was up to. The man's efforts to confuse him wouldn't work. “You sure do have a nice scenario all made up, don't you? And why would you go to all that trouble?” CJ jabbed a finger back at Hamilton. “Cruz may have been dirty. Or not. I wouldn't know, but I suspect the dirty cop is you.” CJ opened his arms. “Why else would you bring me here?” He swept a hand out, curling a lip as he eyed the room. “I may be young, but I'm not stupid. This isn't even a real cell.” He pointed to the drain on the floor. “I have a feeling in a prior life, this was, what? A bathroom? Locker room? It would explain the lack of windows and the lock on the door, but that's not even a real cell door. It's a deadbolt that only works from the other side without a key. I bet you or one of your buddies installed the hardware yourself, right? Do your commanders even know about this place?”

  CJ felt a dose of satisfaction when his accusations hit home. Hamilton's eyes narrowed, his lips thinning. “You little shit. You have no idea who you're dealing with.”

  “Speaking of shit, I know that if I die, you are in deep shit. My dad will rain a shitstorm down on you that will make Hurricane Katrina look like a mild summer cloudburst.” He made a fist and bumped it against his chest a couple of times, grinning. “Man. I get a warm fuzzy feeling in here when I think of what you'll go through when this is all over. The only thing that sucks is that I might miss all the fun if you kill me. It would still be worth it though, just knowing you'll get taken down. Your days are numbered.”

  He didn't know if it was light-headedness from lack of food, or if he was truly losing it, but he enjoyed seeing fear flash in Hamilton's eyes. “Oh yeah. Be afraid. Be very afraid.” He laughed at his B movie phrase. So fitting. “I recently learned that my father has ways of getting information that would make your little gig here look laughable.” CJ shook his head as he remembered Mark's story. “I almost felt sick at some of the things I learned, but you know what? I'm starting to understand why he felt it necessary.”

  “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “Oh. You’ll find out.”

  Hamilton st
ood. “Like hell I will. I'm not going to sit here and listen to you threaten to sick your daddy on me. Grow up.”

  CJ was too tired and hungry to be offended anymore. Instead, he found it amusing. “I know. It sucks that my dad really is the boogeyman. Or he can be. I hope to grow up to be just like him.”

  While he said it for effect, he found he believed his own words. He hoped someday, if he ever got out of this, that he had a son who wanted to be just like him. But first, he had to fight his own fights. He hoped he got a chance to do that. “You let me out of here. Now. And we can just go our own ways. Think about it, Hamilton. I don't want my dad involved in this any more than you do, but I'm telling you, if I die, he'll find out what you did. That's a fact. He's smart. He didn't get where he is by kissing people's asses.”

  Hamilton's glare wavered. CJ could feel it. He had him on the ropes.

  * * *

  “I can take you there, but I have a guy waiting to be booked back at my district. He's already pretty nervous.” Wayan felt torn. The man in the holding cell was guilty of attempted robbery and evading arrest. He knew it first hand, but he couldn't help feeling a little bit sorry for the guy. If what he'd said was true, his claim of losing his job and being desperate for money made his crime marginally more forgivable. And after what he'd learned so far today, Wayan considered that the suspect may have a valid claim of abuse after all.

  “What's he being booked for?” Agent Bishop asked.

  Wayan hesitated. It wasn't a big secret or anything, but what difference did it make to her? But she was FBI and he was just a patrol officer. “Armed robbery, evading arrest.”

  She shrugged. “So, it's not like he's going free anytime soon anyway. He'll have to get bail set, and all that first. I mean, it's not like a misdemeanor.”

  “Yeah, I know. Just don't want my lieutenant wondering where I took off to.”

  “If you have a problem with anybody, let me know. I'll talk to them.” Sheridan looked totally serious and Wayan wondered what his lieutenant would say if the SAC of the Chicago office called to verify where he was. His eyes would probably pop right out of his head. Fighting to suppress a smile at the image, he nodded. “Yes, sir.” Then he added, “I can show you now. Do you want to follow me?” He hoped that would be the case. Then he could take off and go back to the station.