Mark tapped his foot on the floor, his arms crossed as Johnson thumbed through a stack of papers in the folder. What could they have in there about him? He started to lean forward, hoping to get a glimpse, but Johnson glared at him.
The agent returned with a bottle of water and set it in front of Mark. Before he could take a drink, Johnson said, “So, why don’t we start over. I’m willing to pretend that this conversation has just begun. What do you say, Mr. Taylor?”
Mark put the bottle down untouched. “I don’t have anything to say that I haven’t already said.” Should he tell them about his other dreams? They could go question some of the people who had been in them. People he had saved. There were dozens of them. Mark didn’t know all of their names, but he remembered some. They would vouch for him. “If you’ve done all this fact-digging on me, then you’ll know about other times I’ve had dreams that came true. The Chicago P.D. knows. Have you talked to them?”
Johnson chuckled. “They know you all right. Let’s see, Detective Cruz says that you spoiled three months worth of work when you tackled him just as he was about to make an undercover buy. They could have arrested a dozen gang members in that one.”
“Cruz was going to be shot. Did he mention that?” It should have been part of the file. The guy Hanson was buying from had been killed when a rival gang sped past spraying bullets as they went.
“That’s just one of a very long list of incidents you’ve been in with the police, so I don’t think you’re high on their list of favorite Chicago citizens.”
Mark’s leg bounced and he swallowed. “You make it sound like I’m a criminal…or a terrorist.” He folded his arms around the back of his head. The headache had reached migraine level and the bright lights stabbed into his brain. He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Look, I need to talk to a lawyer.”
CHAPTER THREE
Mark ground the heel of his hand against his forehead. How many days had he been here already? A court-appointed lawyer had been in to see him, but the legal mumbo-jumbo had gone in one ear and out the other. All he knew was that his calls on the day of the attacks and his trip to Afghanistan two years earlier had caused enough suspicion to get him locked up.
He slumped on the edge of the hard bed and buried his head in his hands. The questions they’d asked made no sense. Mark’s eyes shot to the door as a key scraped in the lock. His lawyer said he wouldn’t be back for several days. As far as Mark knew, nobody else was aware that he was here. A guard entered, a length of chain held loose in his hands. Instead of taking Mark out of the room, he snapped a cuff around Mark’s ankle and attached it to metal ring embedded in the floor. He was no better than a dog.
The guard left only to return a few minutes later with Jessie trailing behind him. Mark tucked his tethered foot behind his other one, but the chain rattled and he didn’t miss the shock in Jessie’s eyes when her gaze followed the sound.
“Jessie.” He tried to smile and pretend he hadn’t noticed her hesitation, but heat flooded his cheeks. How much did she know? After the initial shock, her face had frozen into a neutral expression.
“Mark.” She stopped a few feet away, crossed her arms and ran her hands up to her shoulders a few times, as though warding off a chill. “How are you doing?”
The concern in her voice drove his emotions to the surface, and he blinked hard, looking away with a shrug. He cleared his throat. “Guess I’ve been better.”
“That’s the understatement of the century.”
Startled at the flippant tone, Mark stared at her.
She surveyed the stark cell and then bent her head, giving it a shake. “I’m sorry. That was a cruel comment.” Tears swam in her eyes when she finally looked at him again. “I’m confused. When I get stressed, I say dumb things. Do you realize I had to call in every marker I had just to find out where you were?”
“No, it’s okay. I’m just glad to see you.” Despite his shame at having her see him like this, he felt a thrill that she was here. Why hadn’t he confided in her before? He should have shown her the camera. It wasn’t like there hadn’t been plenty of opportunities. If he’d shown her from day one, when he’d first contacted her in an attempt to change the outcome of a photo, maybe none of this would be happening. Maybe he wouldn’t be stuck in this damn jail cell. He hung his head. Hell, maybe three thousand people would still be alive. It was a huge maybe, but he couldn’t help wondering.
“Mark, I only have a few minutes. It’s only because my partner knows some of the Feds that I was even able to get in here at all.”
Her gaze swept him, and he rubbed his chin self-consciously, the bristles prickling his palms. He looked like crap-like the terrorist they were labeling him. Did she see him that way?
How much credibility and trust had they built up in the two years since they’d met? Maybe if they’d started dating right away, he’d have told her his secret, but their romantic relationship was less than three months along. There hadn’t been much time to tell her about the camera and dreams. It was a poor excuse and he knew it. He wished he’d given her a chance to understand, but he hadn’t. He’d never given anyone a chance.
He’d convinced himself he couldn’t divulge the secret of the camera and dreams to anyone. It was too risky. What if the camera fell into the wrong hands? It was a legitimate worry, but not the whole truth. A part of him had relished the cloak of mystery; the feeling of being a real-life superhero.
Jessie tucked her hair behind her ear and took a deep breath. “Talk to me, Mark. What have they got on you?” Her voice shook.
Mark searched her face. Would she believe him now? He had no proof. “I thought I could help stop the attacks. That’s all I was trying to do.” The words came out in a harsh rasp. His leg bounced with pent-up nerves and the chain clanked, drawing her eye once again. Trapping the chain under his foot, he willed his leg to still. Eyes closed, he leaned forward, hands clasped behind his neck. Most times, he could wake from the nightmares, reason out how to change them-could make things right.
The planes hitting the buildings, the fall of the towers, the terror on the faces of the people fleeing-it had been too catastrophic. There was no way to fix it, even as he had called the authorities to warn them, part of him had realized that. He was only one man.
Jessie paced, her heels clicking on the cement and echoing in the cell. Her black boots crossed in front of his vision as he opened his eyes.
“How could you think you could stop the attacks? Unless…were you part of it?”
Even though he’d worried, hearing her voice her doubt felt like a kick to the chest. “You really think that?” Did she know him at all?
She bit her lip, but her eyes didn’t waver. “What the hell am I supposed to think, Mark? In the two years I’ve known you, you have never leveled with me! Not once! At first I overlooked it because you had good information and were pretty harmless. Then I overlooked it because…”
Jessie turned away and crossed her arms. When she spoke again, her voice cracked, “I overlooked it because I’d come to care for you.” Facing him, she swiped tears off her cheek with a brusque motion, her eyes accusing. “You want my trust? Well, why the hell didn’t you trust me?”
He had blown his chance. Mark sagged back against the cinder-blocks. “I should have. But I was an idiot.”
She paced again, her arms tight across her chest. “You’ve been running around Chicago sticking your nose into situations where it doesn’t belong. Turning up at bank robberies, or at the scene of a drive by shooting, only you just manage to get yourself and bystanders out of the line of fire.” She paused her pacing long enough to level a look at his leg. “Usually, anyway.”
Mark dropped his hand to his left thigh, rubbing the scar. He could feel the ridge of it through the coveralls they had made him wear.