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

by M. P. McDonald

  Hamilton must have thought the same thing, because he hadn't certainly hadn't covered this contingency. Tom dialed Hamilton's number again. So far, he'd only reached voicemail, but Tom tried again. Hamilton would want a heads up if Sheridan was planning on accusing him of anything right there in front of other officers. Tom drained the cup, deciding the caffeine jolt was worth the nasty taste. He tossed the empty cup on the floor of the passenger side, adding to the pile. Hamilton had thought the agreement he had with the senior Sheridan would keep him safe, but apparently CJ didn't think he had to honor it. He must not know how these things worked.

  What was he up to though? There's no way he could know what Hamilton was involved in. Even Tom barely knew what all Hamilton was in to. He just did as he was told, which usually involved delivering warnings to anyone who even thought about crossing Hamilton. He didn't want to know more. All he cared was getting paid, and Hamilton paid him more for a few hours or days work than he made in a month on the force. All tax free, of course.

  Tom straightened as Sheridan exited the building. He wasn't alone though and the cop who strolled with him down the street was the same one who had been present when the Sheridan thing had ended.

  The two went into a diner, and seeing them sit at a booth, Tom decided it was safe for him to head to a local fast food place, take a leak and grab a hot cup of coffee. Back fifteen minutes later, he was glad to see the two were still in the restaurant. What were they up to? Had they been friends before? Tom didn't think so. Not based on what he'd seen so far.

  * * *

  Wayan slid into a booth and grabbed the menu tucked against the wall behind the sugar, salt, and pepper holder. He bit his lip as he studied it. He had to re-read it several times because his mind was too busy wondering what CJ wanted. He could see the distrust in the other guy's eyes and it bugged him that CJ might think he was part of whatever the hell Hamilton had been doing. He had been contemplating going to internal affairs with what he knew, but the problem was, he didn't really know much of anything. He was just s patrol officer, and only three years on the force.

  After seeing what had happened to CJ, he had gone back to his district, and apologized to Mendez for keeping him waiting so long to book him. After getting through the paperwork, Wayan had asked the man some questions. If he hadn't just seen what CJ had endured, he probably would have shrugged off the man's account as just a case of trying to bring bogus police brutality charges. After all, he'd witnessed the guy committing a felony right in front of him, so what credibility did he have? But, shaken after seeing what had happened, he listened to Mendez. He's even asked him if he wanted to make a report, but Mendez had declined, his voice shaking with fear.

  CJ ordered the breakfast special and Wayan decided to get the same. He was starving. His last meal break had been around one a.m. but he hadn't been able to eat much, not being used to eating in the middle of the night. He rubbed the heels of his hands against his eyes, and tried to stifle a yawn.

  “Are you too tired to talk now?” CJ appeared tense, his posture straight and like he was ready to jump from the booth at the first sign of threat.

  Wayan shook his head, and kept his voice even and calm. “No. I'm fine. I'm off the next few days, so I can catch up on sleep later.”

  CJ nodded. “Okay, then I'll just get right to it. I need the full name, and if you have it, the address of the guy who said he was held like I was.”

  Surprised, Wayan thought it over. It wasn't like it was classified information. Police reports were a matter of public record, but that didn't mean he had to serve it up on a silver platter. He thought about it, but then shrugged. With his father's connections, CJ would probably have no problem finding it out anyway. “It's Alex Mendez. I don't know his address off the top of my head, but I can get it for you. I would like to know why you want it though. The guy looked scared to death. Besides, talking isn't going to help his case any. He'll probably end up in prison for what I witnessed the other day.”

  “Shit. What did he do? Kill someone?” CJ grabbed a couple of sugar packets and Wayan expected him to dump them in his coffee when the waitress set the steaming cup in front of him, but, CJ just slid them around on the tabletop. Wayan was tempted to snatch the packets and put them back where they belonged.

  “No. He was robbing a convenience store. It was bad news for him that I just happened to be there at the same time. I had a duty to do. I felt kind of bad later—not because I stopped him from making the situation worse, but just because I know he was desperate. He's even more desperate now, but somehow, his family came up with bail.”

  “So that means, I should be able to talk to him. Good.”

  “Why? What are you gonna say to him?”

  “Well, for starters, I need to know why and how he was arrested and questioned. Maybe it was a legitimate arrest. I mean, the guy is obviously a criminal if you caught him robbing a store.”

  “He doesn't have a record. At least, he didn't, but he will after all this is over.” Wayan sipped the orange juice the waitress had delivered. He looked longingly at the coffee in CJ's cup, but he'd practically drowned in the stuff in order to stay awake all night. Even one more sip, and he wouldn't be able to get to sleep when he got home.

  “Wait…he doesn't have a record? What about when Hamilton had him? Didn't that go on his record?” CJ set his cup down, his eyebrows raised.

  “Apparently not. I couldn't find anything in the system except for his complaint about the brutality.”

  “What I want to do is find some kind of connection between him and me. Why did Hamilton question him?”

  Their food arrived and Wayan waited until their server had left the table. “Hamilton thought he was some kind of drug dealer. It wasn't all that clear, especially to Mendez, who claims he never dealt drugs in his life. Said he smoked a little weed now and then, but that was it.” Wayan grabbed the salt and pepper, giving the whole plate a liberal sprinkling of each, then he dug in. Maybe it was just his hunger and fatigue, flavoring the food, but as he dipped the edge of his toast in the yolk, he decided it was the best breakfast he'd eaten in a long time. He looked up to see CJ poking his fork into his hash browns and pushing them around, but not eating.

  “What? You aren't hungry?” Wayan eyed the scrambled eggs CJ had opted for.

  “Huh?” CJ's head shot up, his trance broken. “Oh. Yeah.” He took a bite, then wiped his mouth. “When I was being held, that guy, Tom, hinted at something going on with Hamilton. I got the impression that Hamilton has some kind of hold over him. If I can get to Tom, I could figure the whole thing out.”

  “Tom?” Wayan shoveled in a forkful of potatoes and shook his head, chewing for a few seconds before he could answer. “No way. That dude scares the shit outta me. He ain't afraid of Hamilton.” He pointed his fork towards CJ. “He's borderline crazy, that's what he is. He's a badass on the team that busts into houses looking for drug dealers, weapons.

  “I hear you on that. I found out first-hand that he's bat-shit crazy, but that doesn't also mean he can't be afraid of Hamilton. Why else would he take the kind of risk he does? Unless Mendez and I are the only two people who have ever been held like that, and I don't believe that. They have some kind of agenda—at least one in regards to Mendez. I might even be able to chalk up my own capture to just being a witness to the kidnapping or Cruz, but what did Mendez do?”

  “According to Mendez, he was just standing on a corner. Without any kind of record from Hamilton, there's no way to know for sure.” Wayan downed the last of his juice.

  “You know what Hamilton told me? That he and Tom were never there. That's how they would play it if I ever reported the interrogation, but then later, I was pretty sure they were going to kill me.”

  Wayan wiped his mouth with the paper napkin and balled it on his plate. “Why'd you think that?”

  “Because Hamilton alluded to it. They would say I was resisting arrest.”

  Dipping his head in acknowledgement, Wayan co
nsidered CJ's statement. It was one thing for a bad cop to have some kind of side deal, shaking down criminals. That was bad enough, even as bad as Wayan suspected Hamilton was, he couldn't pin him for a cold-blooded murderer. “I don't know, man. The dude is definitely on a power trip. Always has been since I started there, but he's a pretty good detective. Breaks a lot of cases.”

  “Yeah?” CJ grabbed the check as soon as the waitress set it down and waved off the money Wayan tried to give him. “I got it.” He handed the check back to the waitress along with some bills, telling her to keep the change, then he turned back to Wayan. “I wonder…” He fell silent, his expression thoughtful.

  “You wonder…what?” Wayan glanced at his watch and stifled a yawn.

  CJ focused on him. “Sorry. I was just thinking that Hamilton has something going on, and I'd bet he uses his position with the police department to his advantage.”

  “You mean like shaking down bad guys?” Wayan shook his head. “I don't know. There's always the rumor of crooked cops, but I haven't ever seen anything like that going on. I'm pretty damn proud of the job we're doing out there.” Exhaustion was stealing his patience. He just wanted to go home and sleep, not listen to someone call his profession's integrity into question.

  “Why else would he be doing something like this? I would bet everything I own that he or someone he knows, killed Cruz.”

  Wayan grimaced. He'd heard all about Cruz's death. The rumors were flying through the department that he was on the take and was killed when a deal he set up went sour. “That's not what I heard about Cruz. I hate to say it, especially since I was just defending my profession, but I'll admit that there are probably a few bad apples.”

  CJ shook his head and sighed. “That's not what happened. I was there. Cruz was simply walking from the district to the train, presumably to go home for the night. He was surprised and forced into an alley, where he collapsed when a stun gun was used on him. At least one cop was there, because they took my weapon—a handgun—and Tom told me that that gun would later match up with the gun used to kill Cruz.”

  “Why were you there?”

  “It doesn't matter. I just was.”

  Wayan glanced around to see if anyone was paying any attention to them. He'd been aware that when he'd initially entered the restaurant that eyes had scanned him, some hostile. It was the uniform. Some people hated it and what it represented.

  At the moment, they weren't attracting any undue attention and he wanted to keep it that way, so he kept his voice low and tried not to inject too much anger into it when he said, “'I just was,' doesn't cut it with me, Sheridan. I'm a cop, remember? I take my job very seriously, and right now you're telling me that you witnessed what you believe was a murder, and you can't tell me why you were there? Can you understand why blowing off my question won’t work?”

  Chapter Twenty

  CJ stared across the table at Wayan. His jaw clenched, his back teeth grating over each other as his muscles twitched. When was it appropriate to tell someone about the camera? He'd already told Blanche, but he had trusted her from day one. There was something about her. Okay, he supposed it could have just been attraction, but he didn't think so. They had a connection from the beginning. It had felt right to confide in her. He didn't know Wayan, and what's more, he didn't trust him. How did Mark know when it was okay to reveal the secret?

  “You can tell me now, or I can bring you in and question you officially.” All friendliness had faded from Wayan's eyes.

  “On what grounds?”

  “You already told me you witnessed a crime, and yet you don't tell me in what context you were there. You could have been the lookout or the attacker for all I know.”

  “Really? And I'd just come out and implicate myself like that?”

  “I've seen people do a lot of stupid things, so don't let that be your excuse. I don't want to have to put you in cuffs right here in front of everyone if I don't have to. I'm willing to listen to your excuse before I haul you in—and the only reason I'm doing that is because I'm dead tired. I don't want to do another shitload of paperwork if I don't have to.”

  Anger boiled inside of CJ and his body tensed at the implied threat. Then he remembered Mark telling him one day how he had first met Jessie and how she was so suspicious of him, and how he had later wished he'd have confided in her much sooner, even before they were involved romantically. Having someone inside the Chicago P.D. whom he could trust could be a good thing, but how could he trust him? The guy seemed close to Hamilton. What if he was like Tom?

  He studied the other guy. They were close in age, but he guessed Wayan was a year or two older. His years as a cop seemed to have already added a suspicious edge to his scrutiny and CJ felt as though Cooper was considering whether he was a crime suspect. CJ thought about the camera and what he knew of Mark's past history with it. While it wasn't a frequent topic of conversation, Mark had opened up a few times about his philosophy of the camera and how he thought some of what happened was engineered by what or whoever had instilled the camera with its unique properties. Like it was destiny and if he hadn't fought it so much, maybe things would have gone more smoothly for him. Was this one of those times for CJ? Was he supposed to confide in Wayan and show him the camera? What was the worst that could happen? Cooper wasn't in a position of power, and CJ was certain that between his father, Mark, and Jessie, that he had a strong and powerful group to help him keep any ramifications to a minimum. People in much higher places knew about the camera but Mark had managed to retain possession of it until he'd given it to CJ.

  His mind made up, he rubbed his hands across his thighs and drew in a deep breath. “You're right. I do have an excuse and if you're serious about listening, I'll tell you. But not here.”

  Cooper's brow knit in puzzlement and he opened his arms. “What's wrong with here?”

  “Too many people and besides, I have something to show you, and I don't have it with me.”

  The other guy waved his hands in front of his body while shaking his head from side to side. “Uh-uh. No way. The only place I'm going it either back to the district—which I really don't want to do, but I will if you don't lay down your cards—or home. My bed is calling me.”

  “Yeah. I know you're beat, but…” CJ bent his head, resting his forehead on the heels of his hands. He dropped his arms, folding them on the tabletop. “I didn't want to have an audience when you react with disbelief, and you will—at first. Everyone does.” Granted, he'd only told Blanche, but he remembered hearing about the camera and his own disbelief, and knew his father hadn't believed Mark at first either. “I swear to God, it sounds crazy, but,” and CJ remembered his reaction once he got over the initial shock and grinned. “It's pretty fucking cool.”

  The coolness factor won out, just as CJ hoped. Immediately, Cooper's demeanor changed and some of his hostility faded. “Cool? I don't get it.”

  “You will. Come back to my house, and I'll show you. It's safe. I promise. My dad is FBI for God's sake. It's not like I'm taking you to a den of thieves.”

  “Yeah, I know who your dad is, but you could still be a murderer.”

  “You're right. I could be, but I'm not.”

  * * *

  Wayan couldn't believe he was going along with CJ's request, but they walked back to the district and CJ gave him his father's address, but Wayan put it in his pocket without looking. He remembered how to get there from when he'd picked CJ up a few weeks ago. It wasn't a neighborhood Wayan was personally familiar with except for that one time but he knew it was considered a safe area—at least compared to neighborhoods Wayan routinely patrolled. It wasn't ritzy, but was definitely upper middle-class. It shouldn't have put him at ease because he knew that murderers came from all walks of life, but combined with his gut feeling about CJ, he figured he'd be safe enough. His fatigue temporarily lifted as his curiosity took the upper hand. He followed CJ home and parked in front of a row of condos. He got out and scanned the neighborhood. A few pe
ople were out walking dogs, or jogging. Seeing no threat, he stretched and rubbed a kink from his neck as he waited for CJ to unlock the front door.

  “You want some coffee?”

  “No. Remember. I need sleep and soon.”

  “Right.” CJ gestured to the sofa. “Have a seat. I'll be right back. I just have to get something.” He disappeared down a hallway that probably led to bedrooms.

  Wayan sat on the edge of the couch, smothering a yawn and rubbing his eyes. The doorbell rang and startled him. He started to rise, but CJ trotted through the living room and back to the front door. He couldn't see who it was from where he was sitting and tensed until he heard a feminine voice that he thought he recognized as CJ's girlfriend.

  “Hey, thanks for coming by so quickly.”

  “No problem. Is it something with the camera?”

  “Yeah. Kind of.” CJ entered the room with his girlfriend only a step behind. “Wayan, I don't know if you've been formally introduced, but this is Blanche Harlow. And Blanche, you remember Officer Wayan Cooper.” CJ made the introduction, but he fiddled with an old camera, then darted off down the hallway again.

  Blanche's gaze followed CJ for a second before returning to him. “Of course. Nice to see you again, Officer.”

  He was too tired to make small talk but put in an effort because he remembered how calm she'd been the other day despite the crazy circumstances. “Just Wayan is fine. I'm off duty. You're a nurse or something, right?”

  “Yes, I am. An ER nurse.”

  That explained why she'd been cool and collected. He felt another yawn coming on and couldn't manage to stifle it. “I'm sorry. Just got off a double-shift.” He stole a glance at a clock on the bookcase on the far wall. He was going to be lucky to sleep before noon.