"Mark?"
He groaned and opened his eyes, squinting up at the bright overhead light. Mark knew that voice. Jessie. The very last person he wanted to see at this moment. Sitting up slowly, he swung his legs over the side of the hospital gurney and reached for his shirt. The hospital gown he'd worn earlier had been removed after the doc had sutured Mark's head. Between the blood and the saline, it had been soaked. Unable to grasp the shirt with his still-numb fingers, it fell to the floor just as the curtain around his cubicle fluttered. A hand appeared from the other side and grabbed the material, yanking it back. The metal balls in the overhead track screeched in protest.
"I knew I shouldn't have told you anything!" She stood at the foot of the gurney with her hands on her hips and looking much fiercer than her slender frame had a right to appear.
Her eyes narrowed as she glowered at him.
"You know what I do, Jess. Don't think just because you're not part of it that I've stopped using the camera." Mark bent to retrieve his shirt, but a wave of dizziness swept through him and he almost fell off the gurney. Embarrassed, he eased back and tried to blink the room into focus again. The doctor advised Mark that he had a concussion, and he should take it easy for a week or so. It had been hard for him not to laugh out loud at that recommendation.
With a cluck of her tongue, Jessie bent and snatched the shirt, thrusting it at him. "Here."
"Thanks." Mark fumbled with it, finding it difficult to handle the piece of clothing with his left hand bandaged and numb. Giving up, he clutched it against his belly. "What are you doing here?"
"I received a phone call from the patrol officer who took your statement. You see, Mark, what you reported is out of the ordinary realm of usual criminal activity. So, being one of the detectives whose job is to investigate cult activity in Chicago, naturally, it was assumed that I would want to be informed of this event." Arms crossed, she glared at him. "Why do you have to keep using that camera?"
Ignoring the pounding in his head, Mark straightened. "Listen, I'm sorry they called you, but if I hadn't used 'that camera', a girl was going to end up dead. I didn't cause that scenario, Jess. I just did what I had to do."
Her stare wavered and her eyes flicked down before her gaze darted around the room. Maybe his eyes were playing tricks on him, and he wouldn't doubt it with the concussion, but he could swear that she was blushing! "Is something wrong?" He glanced down, wondering if perhaps his fly was undone. Nope, all was in order.
Jessie ignored his question and shot one of her own at him. "Do you realize you could have been a second victim?"
Mark looked away, remaining silent.
She sighed, the sound loud in the cubicle. "Fine. I'll just go talk to the girl." Jessie began to exit, but turned back, jabbing a finger in his direction. "Don't leave until I return."
Mark grunted in response and swung his legs back up onto the cart and lay down. Closing his eyes, he tried to blot out the memory of the scene he had witnessed at the warehouse. Something about it affected him in his very core. It was as if pure evil had enveloped him; swallowed him into its darkness and clung to him like a shroud. He wanted nothing more than to go home and shower. Unfortunately, he'd been instructed to keep his stitches dry.
He must have dozed off, because the next thing he knew, Jessie stood beside the cart, shaking his shoulder and he awakened with a start. "Huh? What?"
"Rise and shine, Mark. It's almost time to go. The nurse was here a second ago and said she'd be back in a minute to release you." Her face loomed over him, her expression almost pleasant. "I got your jacket back from the girl. They're going to keep her overnight."
Mark rubbed his hand down his face. "Thanks. How is she?" He pulled his shirt on, having less difficulty now that the local anesthetic had worn off on his hand. It throbbed in rhythm with his heart and head.
"She's pretty shaken up, but other than some bruises, she's okay. They're keeping her because she's dehydrated," Jessie said, shaking her head in disgust. "They had her there for a couple of days preparing for their 'ceremony'."
Mark shuddered, trying to imagine being stuck in that place for a day with those crazy people. Just the thought of it gave him the willies. It suddenly occurred to him that he didn't even know her name. "Uh, did you happen to get her name?"
"Of course. I am a cop, after all. It's Judy." She pulled out a small notepad. "Judy Medea. She's a college student that somehow got mixed up with this group."
The nurse entered before Mark could ask any more questions. He wondered if Judy's family had been called and how she would get home. Tomorrow, he'd call and find out how she was doing and see if she needed anything. He sat up, dangling his legs off the side of the gurney and tried to listen as the nurse droned on about signs of infection, complications and to follow up in a week with his personal physician. After taking one last set of vitals, she gave him a sheet of instructions and released him.
Jessie followed him out to the waiting room, and he remembered her admonishment not to leave before she came back. He figured now was the time she intended to interrogate him. Before she could corner him, he sought a means of escape. Off to the left of the waiting room was a pay phone, and Mark veered towards it as quickly as his battered body allowed. He dug into his pocket and swore when he came up with a ten-dollar bill and no change. Maybe the desk clerk would let him use their phone to call for a cab. He didn't really feel like taking the 'L' home. Before Jessie could catch up to him, he approached the registration desk. "Excuse me? Ma'am?"
The woman looked up from her computer. "Yes?"
Mark held up his arm, showing the ID bracelet still encircling his wrist. "I was just released and wondered if I could use the phone to call a cab. I don't have any change on me."
"Sure, as long as it's local. Just dial nine first." The clerk turned the phone so he could see the numbers. She pointed to a faded piece of paper taped to the wall on Mark's right. "There's some numbers up there, if you need them."
"Thanks so much." Mark picked up the phone and squinted at the list. The numbers wavered, and he rubbed his eyes in an attempt to clear his vision. Jessie, after detouring around a mom and three children, stopped beside him.
"Who are you calling?" Jessie craned her neck to see what Mark was looking at, her eyebrows knit in confusion.
Mark glanced at Jessie and pointed at the phone numbers. "I'm calling a cab."
"What for?"
"What for? So I can go home." He began punching the buttons, realized he'd made a mistake and hung up to try again.
Jessie reached over and took the phone out of his hands and set it in the cradle. "I can give you a lift home. I figured you knew that."
"That's okay. I can just take a cab." The prospect of being peppered with questions on the ride home didn't appeal to him in the least.
"Listen, you just got released from the hospital with a concussion. You can barely see straight. I can't let you take a cab home." She gently took his arm and as though she could read his mind, she added, "Come on. I promise not to grill you."
Too tired to argue, Mark let her lead him out to her vehicle.
True to her word, Jessie remained fairly quiet on the ride home, just asking him about his injuries. "So, what's the tally?"
Mark fingered the lump topped with stitches behind his right ear. "Six in my head and four in my hand. The hand…that was just 'cause I caught it on a nail." He smoothed down a piece of tape over the bandage circling his palm. The cut wasn't that long, just wide and deep.
"Sure. It could happen to anyone." Jessie's dry tone as she pulled in front of the studio didn't pass unnoticed by Mark.
"What should I have done, Jessie? Just left her there?" He couldn't help the anger stamped onto his voice. He was so tired of the questioning and not just tonight's drilling, but every time something happened. He ground the heel of his hand against his forehead. Why was it that when he did something good, it practically required an act of God for anyone to trust in him?
"You could have called the cops!" She threw the car into park turned sideways in her seat and in the dim light, he could see the burn of anger in her eyes, but then her expression softened. "Do you have a death wish or something?"
Mark stared out the windshield, trying to recall exactly what had happened. Everything had transpired so fast, some of it was fuzzy in his mind. "No, I don't have a…a…I…I was going to call the cops. I swear it. You know, there were at least a dozen of them, and I knew I couldn't do anything on my own. I turned around to leave and that guy…the leader was there."
The recollection of the man's cold, almost inhuman eyes, elicited an involuntary shudder. Mark turned to find Jessie watching him, a thoughtful look on her face. "What?"
"You okay?"
"Yeah. It's just that guy…he…gave me the creeps."
She nodded. "The officer's initial report has your description of what the leader looked like. Is there anything else you can tell me about him?"
"Um, nothing specific. The look in his eyes was…I don't know…cold and…and lifeless." Mark shook his head in frustration, knowing that the description wasn't very helpful. "And his voice was deep…like-never mind."
Jessie cocked her head. "Deep like…like what? You were going to say something."
"It's stupid; forget it."
"If it helps us catch the guy, it's not stupid."
Mark rolled his eyes, feeling ridiculous, but he finished his thought, "He…he sounded like Darth Vader." He grimaced and ducked his head at the snort of laughter from Jessie. "See, I told you it was stupid."
"I'm sorry, it's not stupid. I'm just picturing putting out an APB on Darth Vader." She grinned, and Mark couldn't help wondering when the smiles had stopped. Why hadn't he noticed? He'd give anything to make her grin like that more often. Especially if she directed it at him.
"Yeah, I guess that is kind of funny." Before he could suppress it, Mark let out a huge yawn. "Sorry." He rubbed the back of his neck and tilted his head to work out a kink.
She took the cue and turned to face the front of the car. "Go on. Get some rest and try not to think about it too much. The girl's okay and you're okay…for the most part, so everything came out all right." Jessie cleared her throat. "Well, take it easy, Mark. I'll probably have some more questions for you in the next few days."
"Sure. And, thanks for the ride, Jessie." His body aching, he pulled himself out of the car and trudged up to his loft.
"Adrian Kern."
Dan looked up from the report he was perusing. "What?"
"I have a possible name on that guy in the Medea case." Jessie circled the desk and showed Dan the file she had found buried in a drawer devoted to unsolved crimes. "A few years ago, a woman reported escaping from a group who had posed as a prayer group initially. After attending several sessions, she was pressured to sign over her bank account to the group. She was told it was something they all did and that pooling their resources was good for everyone. Besides, they said she wouldn't need it any more because all of her bills would be taken care of. Apparently a group of them rented a big old house in Oak Park."
Dan sat back and raised an eyebrow. "And she believed them?"
Jessie shrugged. "I guess so. Anyway, after a few months, she balked and closed the account and left the group's home. One day as she was walking home, she was approached by members who were in a car and they lured her into coming with them. They told the woman that the group was dissolving and that she was owed a share from the group's savings."
"And she jumped at the chance to get her money back."
Jessie nodded. "You bet. But, of course, that didn't happen. Instead, she was taken to a warehouse and beaten while the group chanted around her." Arching one eyebrow, Jessie looked at Dan. "Sound familiar?"
"Yeah, but what happened?"
"A passing squad is what happened. The officer on patrol noticed something out of the ordinary and interrupted the 'ceremony'. Unfortunately, there must have been a lookout, because the leader of the group and several of his followers escaped before back-up could arrive. The ones left were just low-level members who didn't really have much info. Just knew the leader as Adrian Kern."
"Okay, well let's go question this woman." Dan stood, stretching as he did so.
"Sure, let me just check for a current address first." Jessie sat and pulled her chair close to her desk and tapped the woman's name into the computer. Squinting at the small print, Jessie felt her heart sink. "Oh, damn."
Dan came around to stand behind Jessie. "What's wrong?"
Jessie pointed to the screen. "She was killed in a hit and run accident a month after this report was filed. Nobody was ever caught."
"What about Kern?"
Jessie typed the name into the database. While waiting for the computer to search, she drummed her fingers on the desk impatiently. In a few seconds she was staring into Adrian Kern's eyes. She shuddered as she remembered reading Mark's statement describing the leader's eyes as cold. And looking at the eyes in the photo, she knew instantly that this was the same guy that Mark had encountered. Averting her gaze from the man's picture, she read his history.
"Huh. It looks like Mark sure picked a winner to get messed up with," Dan commented dryly.
"Possession of drugs with intent to deliver, battery, extortion…" Jessie sighed. "You aren't kidding."
"But look, in every case, witnesses failed to show, resulting in a mis-trial, or the jury is dead-locked. In all the instances, the DA then reduced the charges to avoid another trial." Dan pointed to the outcomes of the charges. "What's his last known address?"
Jessie entered the request and then blew out a sigh of frustration. "Unknown. Figures."
"What about-" Dan began but was interrupted by the arrival of one of their fellow detectives. "Hey, Schmidt, what are you looking all excited about?"
The tall blond detective grinned as he waved a newspaper. "You guys aren't going to believe this! Look what the Chicago Tribune investigator wrote in her column today." He slapped the paper down in front of Jessie.
"Can't you see we're kind of busy here?" Jessie started to shove the newspaper back at the young man when a small picture of Mark Taylor on the upper corner of the front page caught her eye. Beneath the picture was a caption, "Fake, Flake or For Real?"
Puzzled, Jessie glanced at Dan, who looked as confused as she did. She turned back to Schmidt. "What's this about?"
"Well, the condensed version is this: The reporter, Denise Jeffries, claims your guy, Taylor, has some kind of divine powers." Schmidt rocked back on his heels, a grin on his face. "How funny is that?"
"Divine powers? What does that mean?" Jessie began flipping through the pages to find the article. Dan leaned over her shoulder to read it too. She began reading; dread building in her as Mark's past dealings with the police were summarized. It emphasized that each time, he had been cleared in each case. It detailed the year spent as an enemy combatant and how Mark's prediction of 9/11 had never been explained, but that Mark had been released just as suddenly as he'd been arrested. The reporter wondered if the government knew something about Mark Taylor that they were covering up.
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.