Jessie glanced at Dan, and he gave her a warning look and a quick shake of his head then pointed his chin at Schmidt. Dan didn't know the specifics of Mark's secret, but Jessie had shown him photos that she had accidentally received after she'd used Mark's special camera--before she knew it was special. She'd even told her partner about Mark's claim that he dreamed the future after viewing photos from the camera. After Mark's release, she'd never mentioned it again, and had hoped Dan would forget about the camera. Obviously, he hadn't, but at least he wasn't going to spill the news to Schmidt.
Jeffries wrote that she had combed neighborhood police reports and Good Samaritan stories going back five years and Taylor's name kept popping up. Most of the time, it was just a brief mention in a report, as if his involvement was minor, but when the reporter called to verify, she got a much different picture. The people all remembered Mark being the chief peace negotiator, risk-taker or just the one to give a word of warning.
Below the article was a list of more incidents and eyewitness accounts. The last third of the article was devoted to wondering how Mark ended up in the middle of everything. It said repeated calls to Taylor had been unreturned so the reporter admitted that all of her ideas were mere speculation. Her top two ideas were true psychic abilities or prophetic knowledge. The column ended with an invitation to readers to voice their opinion via email to the reporter.
"You've got to be kidding!" Jessie fumed as she jumped up from the desk, causing Dan to step back quickly or have his nose smashed. "What a load of--"
"Hold on now. Jeffries is only voicing what we've all been wondering for a long time."
"Divine intervention, Dan? You really think Mark is some kind of what? Prophet? Real-life angel?" Jessie smirked.
Dan chuckled. "Okay, I see your point, but do you have a better explanation for how he seems to know things before they happen?"
Jessie glared at him and began putting a folder together with Kern's picture and then opened a file behind the desk, quickly rifling through and selecting several other photos of other men, stuffing them all in the folder. She'd never give details about Mark's secret but couldn't bring herself to outright lie. Instead, she simply raised an eyebrow at Dan and grabbed her jacket off the coat rack in the corner of the office. "I'm going to lunch." She shoved her arms into the sleeves and opened the drawer to her desk, removing her purse. "I'll be back in a bit." Fishing in her pockets for her keys, she pulled them out and snatched the folder off the desk.
Dan grabbed his own overcoat, his eyes dancing mischievously. "I have a taste for a big juicy burger. You know, like the kind they have at the place on the way to the studio."
Jessie shook her head and sighed. "That wasn't where I was going."
"Yeah, right."
"Besides, they're known for their hot dogs, not burgers." Jessie grinned over her shoulder at her partner.
"Have you ever tried their burgers?"
* * *
"It'll blow over. Just give it some time."
"What do I do in the meantime, Lily? Just ignore the camera?" Mark ran his fingers through his hair in frustration and winced when he snagged a stitch behind his ear. Standing, he stalked to the office door and opened it a crack. He'd wanted to close up for the day, but Lily was against the idea. Mark understood her reasoning that they should ignore the article, but that didn't make it any easier. "There's a little kid who falls off his balcony in an hour. How am I going to go save him if I'm being followed by a pack of reporters?"
"Can't you call his home and warn them?" Lily clicked the mouse several times as she edited photos on the computer.
Mark shook his head. "No, I thought of that, but they're unlisted. I'm gonna have to go there myself." He scowled at the crowd outside the studio.
The clicking of the computer paused. "You know, you could just go talk to the press. It's possible once they see you're just a regular guy, they'll leave."
"Hmph. Maybe." Mark was about to shut the door when he noticed the reporters all turn towards something. He couldn't see what they were looking at, but something or someone definitely caught their attention. Curious, he heard the reporters address someone as 'detectives'.
Groaning, he leaned his forehead against the edge of the door. Just perfect. He didn't even need to hear the familiar voices to know which detectives had entered. Mark could practically see the reporters salivating at the prospect of having something, anything to add to their story. So far, he had given them nothing.
"What is it, Mark?"
"The dynamic duo is here."
Lily smiled. "Don't sound so gloomy. At least they know you're not the second coming."
"That's for sure, Mark," Jessie remarked with a smirk as she approached him, obviously having overheard Lily's remark. He rolled his eyes and sighed, gesturing for them to enter. Dan sported a big grin but didn't comment and for that, Mark was thankful.
"Look's like you're a popular guy." Dan held out his hand.
So much for being thankful. Mark clasped hands with the detective. "Yeah, I guess so." He glanced at Jessie, but her expression was all business. He masked the sharp stab of disappointment and directed his question to Dan, "Is there something I can do for you two?"
With a quick look outside, he shut the door, but that made the small office feel crowded. Lily looked tense; she still hadn't forgiven Jessie for dumping Mark.
"Hello, Lily." Jessie smiled, but it faltered when Lily gave a brief nod in return.
Mark felt a slight easing of the pain when he noticed the blush creep up Jessie's face. At least it wasn't any easier on her.
Dan didn't seem to notice the tension and stuck out his hand to Mark's partner. "Lily, right? We met at the Christmas party."
Lily's anger apparently didn't extend to the tall detective as the corners of her mouth turned up in a grin. "Good to see you again, Dan."
Mark raised an eyebrow at the spark that passed between the two. At least they were enjoying this.
Lily's smile stayed in place as she edged toward the door. "I have a shoot I have to prepare for, if you'll excuse me." She pushed open the door, but turned at the last second to add, "Oh, and don't forget that errand you have to run, Mark."
"No, I won't. Thank you for reminding me." Mark knew the reminder was for the benefit of the detectives, to give Mark an excuse to cut any inquiry short. Bless her. He circled his desk and motioned for his company to sit in the chairs opposite. He waited.
Jessie glanced first at Dan, who shrugged as if to say, go ahead. She pushed a strand of hair behind her ear and scooted to the edge of her seat. "We think we might have a name to go with the description you and Medea gave us." She opened a manila folder she had brought with her and withdrew several photographs, lining them up on the desk. "Do any of these people look familiar?"
Mark barely glanced at the other five pictures, honing in on the third one. Too bad his own photos had reverted to an innocuous photo of a dark alley. Otherwise, he could have used them to identify the man. Even though the picture Jessie showed him appeared to be several years old, he'd recognize those eyes anywhere. He tapped it hard with his finger. "That's him." Tearing his gaze away, he glanced up to see Jessie and Dan exchange a look. "What?"
Dan turned to him, his eyes steady and serious. "His name is Adrian Kern...at least, that's the name he went by last time anyone heard from him. He's bad news, Mark."
"How's that?" Mark remained stock-still, eyes wide, awaiting the answer. Somehow, he just knew he wouldn't like the detective's reply.
Jessie pursed her lips and then spoke. "It seems that he has a long history, but nothing ever seems to stick to him. He has a whole string of mis-trials and dropped charges attached to his cases."
Mark remained silent, unsure what that implied in regards to him.
Dan stood and jammed his hands into his pockets. "There was a case very similar to what happened to Judy Medea." He stepped around the desk then sat on the corner, one foot on the floor, the other dangling. "The victim
was saved by a passing police officer, but Kern wasn't caught at the time, only brought in for questioning. Before enough evidence could be gathered, the victim died in a hit and run."
"The driver of the car was never caught," Jessie added quietly.
Mark felt a chill run through his body, and he shot a look at Jessie. He wasn't reassured by the worried expression in her eyes. "So, are you gonna set some protection up for Medea?"
Dan shook his head and clasped his hands in his lap. "There's not enough evidence linking that victim to Kern or even to the prior incident. It's all just speculation, which isn't enough to justify the expense of posting a guard for anyone, including you."
"Me? I...I don't need a guard. I mean, the guy doesn't even know who I am."
"Have you forgotten about the Trib article?" Dan asked, his expression grim.
"Damn!" He had to think, but was finding it difficult. His head still ached from the concussion, and he massaged his brow.
Why did that reporter have to write that story now? Why did she have to write it at all? How was he going to take care of things with the camera if he had a media entourage? He swallowed a groan but pushed that problem aside for the moment. Right now, he needed to figure out what he should do about the cult guy, Kern.
Mark tilted back in his chair, letting a sigh escape. "I don't know what to do. Maybe I can just hope he doesn't read the Tribune?"
"Well, then he'd have to avoid TV and radio too. Seriously. You're a huge story right now and the guy would have to be living under a rock to not know who you are." Jessie's voice held a touch of anger, but Mark couldn't tell who it was directed at so he ignored it for now, wondering about something else she had said.
He leaned towards her. "Television and radio?" Mark hadn't tuned in to either yet today, and dread at her reply began to build.
Jessie exchanged a look with Dan, and Mark felt a flicker of irritation. What was with all the secret looks?
She turned to him. "It's true. We had the radio on in the car on the way over, and a least a couple of shock jocks were talking about you. One referenced something he'd seen on TV already."
Mark bent forward over the desk and wrapped his arms around the back of his head, unable to suppress the groan this time. Things just got better and better all the time.
"Speaking of the Tribune...do you have any plans to respond to the accusation--or whatever you want to call it?" Jessie asked.
He wanted nothing more than to keep hidden in the safety and darkness of his arms or better yet, crawl back into bed and pull the covers up. He raised his head and scrubbed his hands down his face. "No."
"No?" Dan's eyebrows shot up in surprise.
Mark shrugged. "What's to be gained by responding? It would just add fuel to the fire. We all know it's just a reporter exaggerating stuff for the sake of a story. If I ignore it, it'll just die away sooner." He looked at his watch and jumped up. "Damn! I have to get going. Hey, I wonder if you guys could do a favor for me?"
"Maybe. What kind of favor?" Dan exchanged yet another look with Jessie. Mark envied their unspoken communication
Snatching his jacket off the back of his chair, Mark shrugged into it. "I just need a diversion so I can get out of here without attracting a whole slew of media. I have that errand to run."
Jessie arched an eyebrow in his direction while gathering up the photos and putting them back in the folder. "What kind of errand is it, Mark? Do you have another damsel in distress to go rescue?"
Mark paused while straightening his collar, and then resumed the act with a casual air. He didn't want to discuss anything in front of Dan. Jessie had mentioned telling her partner about the camera and dreams at one point, but it had been while Mark had still been locked up. He didn't know if Dan knew the full story. "Not exactly. It's more like I have to go pay my ER bill--hate to let those things linger--and maybe run up and see Judy, if she's still a patient." It was the truth even if it wasn't the whole truth.
"No problem, Mark. Come on, Jessie, let's go out there and create a ruckus." Dan wiggled his eyebrows at Jessie. "I know what we can do to divert their attention. I can make a pass at you, and you can slap me!"
"Oh, you'd like that, wouldn't you?" Jessie smirked. "I have a better idea. Let's just go tell them that Mark is resting after an ordeal last night."
Mark waited a few moments until he heard a loud commotion in front of the building. Hoping that was his cue, Mark opened the back door a smidgen and peeked out just in time to see a reporter running from the back door around the side of the studio to the street in front.
He took the opportunity and raced out the door as quickly as he could. After a couple of minutes of brisk walking, he dared to sneak a look over his shoulder and was relieved to see that nobody was following him. Sighing, he pulled out notes he'd made upon waking this morning and re-read the details of the child's impending fall.
CHAPTER FOUR
Adrian Kern read the article for the fifth time then slammed the paper onto the table. "What a bunch of shit!" He sneered at the smiling photo of Mark Taylor. "Damn do-gooder."
First, this Taylor guy disrupts last night's ceremony and now the man was all over the news, taking headlines that should rightfully have belonged to him. How was he going to gain any power and prestige if nobody knew what he was capable of doing? Of course, if he'd been successful last night, only his accomplishment would have been in the news, not his identity, but, that wasn't the point. Now, he looked like a failure to his followers.
Last night was supposed to be a punishment for the girl, but more importantly, it had been meant to show his absolute power over the group--the guild--as he liked to think of them. It had taken months of careful preparation to set the stage. He'd had to find the perfect sacrifice. Someone who appeared pure and innocent. If he could get the guild to sacrifice her, he could get them to do anything and claim it was Satan's command.
How many times had he warned his followers of Satan's disappointment and need for retribution? The groundwork had been laid with the precision of a master architect building a monument.
Judy Medea hadn't been a random recruit, although she didn't know it. Kern had set out months ago to find the right person. She had to be young and at least give the impression of innocence. When he'd spotted Medea working at a coffee shop near the university, he just knew she was the one. After striking up a conversation with her, he realized just how perfect she was. Estranged from her family and struggling to make it through college on her own, she was desperate for money.
It wasn't long before he had her running a few errands for extra money. After that, he'd convinced her to move into the guild's quarters and save money. Soon, she was a devoted member, her college aspirations put on hold.
Just when she was content, he'd planted the seeds of doubt in her mind. Just a comment here and there about how it was too bad she wasn't going to get her degree.
It all fell into place when she told him she wanted to go back to school. All he had to do was bait the other members with examples of everything they had sacrificed for the good of the group. After all they had done for her, how dare Medea think she could just walk out and take what they had so generously given?
Kern smiled at the memory. Oh, he had been in top form and the guild had devoured his speech like a pack of wolves feasting on a downed deer.
The drums and chants had built the cult's frenzy to a fever pitch and just at the moment when justice would have been served, Taylor had spoiled it all. Kern had considered killing the man right then, but the ritual had already been ruined.
Everything had to be just right during a ceremony or the group members would lose faith in him. There was no way he'd let that happen. On the spur of the moment, he'd decided to allow Taylor and Medea to go free, confident that he would exact his revenge in the near future. He always did.
One of his followers had shown him the Tribune article first thing this morning and later a local morning show had discussed Taylor. The story seemed t
o have been picked up fast by other news sources as well. Kern snatched the newspaper off the table and strode to the door leading to the common room, scowling when the door emitted a loud creak as he opened it. This place was a dump. The group's former residence in Oak Park had been much nicer.
He missed the spacious old Victorian set well back from the road. It had afforded them the room and privacy they needed to operate. With five large bedrooms, it had housed twenty members. If only he hadn't been forced to abandon it and lay low for a while.
Kern knew he'd been lucky to get this one cheap because the prior owner had defaulted on the loan, but even so, he cursed the leaky plumbing, warped floors and dingy walls. The home had been listed as a two flat with three bedrooms per flat. Kern had taken over the top flat and allowed his two bishops to occupy one of the rooms, the third room became his office. Six other group members lived in the downstairs flat while the remaining five occupied a rented apartment next door. Lack of room had caused half the members to leave. He didn't have the funds to provide anything bigger just yet, but he had a plan.
The girl had been the first major step on the rung of the ladder. He intended to climb that ladder of notoriaty to the top rung--the head of Chicago crime. For too long, the gang-bangers had occupied the top, controlling all the good business areas. But soon he'd have members flocking to him, and not poor ghetto kids either. No, he'd have angry, disenfranchised and most importantly, well-monied followers who weren't looking to make a quick buck. Kids who would never consider joining a gang, but who wanted to be a part of something. He had only to persuade them to believe in something more powerful than they. Something dark and mysterious. He grinned. He could be very persuasive when he wanted to be.
Soon he'd be living in a place more suitable to a man with his power. His followers worked hard bringing in money. Donations were down but the escort business was proving lucrative. He smiled when he thought of last month's receipts. All of it untraceable to The Guild of the Rose. At least something was going right. Kern stopped in front of the television. Taylor's picture filled the screen for a moment before the newscast switched back to the anchorperson. Jesus, could Taylor look any more innocent? He practically screamed boy next door.
March Into Hell Page 4