Mark Taylor: Genesis (Prequel in the Mark Taylor Series) (14 page)

 “Interesting. Well, let’s see what the story is.”

Jessica nodded. It was better not to jump to conclusions. The likely story was that Taylor somehow instigated the shooting to gain credibility. It wouldn’t be the first time someone tried to organize a stunt to get attention and then had it totally backfire. She crouched beside the man assisting Taylor. “Did you witness what happened?”

“Witness? Hell, no. I didn’t see a damn thing. This guy planted me face down on the pavement.”

“Was he the shooter?” A part of her prayed the answer would be no. Taylor hadn’t stuck her as that desperate for attention and if he had done this, then her cop instincts were about as accurate as a report from a drunk witness.

“No. The shots were fired from a blue Thunderbird. Probably a mid-‘90s model.”

Jessica took a long look at the man. His phrasing was more like a cop than a gangbanger. “Are you a police officer?”

He turned and swept his gaze over the crowd, before nodding. “Yeah, but keep your voice down.” He gave a warning nod to the gathering onlookers.

His eyes widened in surprise before they narrowed and his mouth set in a hard line while he swept a glance around. Quietly, he replied, “I was, but it’s blown now. Wade Phillips out of 12.”

Dan pulled gloves from his pocket and snapped them on. “I’ll hold pressure.”

Phillips nodded. “I think the bullet hit an artery or something. He’s bleeding like a son of a bitch.” They made the switch, and Taylor groaned when Dan took over. Jessica saw his eyelids flutter and his right arm moved as if to push at Dan’s hand, but it flopped back down before reaching its goal. She swallowed hard and focused on Phillips. She had to find out what happened now, while his memory was still fresh.

Still kneeling, Phillips let out a sigh as he sank back, his forearms resting on his thighs, his bloody hands held awkwardly as though to keep them from staining his clothing. She hated to break it to him, but his baggy shorts had already soaked up a good portion of Taylor’s blood. Sirens sounded and she turned, relieved to see the ambulance finally make an appearance.

“Come on, Phillips. I have some wipes in the car. I need to ask you a few questions, too.” She welcomed the chance to do something useful.

He followed her to the car and she waited while he used the wipes, almost cleaning out their supply as he scrubbed his hands. A plastic grocery bag, tangled in a weed on the parkway, flapped in the breeze. Jessica ripped if from the weed and held it open for Phillips to toss in the used wipes.

Knotting the bag, Jessica tossed it onto the front seat of the car and pulled out her notebook. She wondered if she appeared as shaken as she felt. “So, what happened here?”

Phillips shrugged. “I have no idea. I’ve been working on this case for two months, and now it’s blown. Two months’ work is gone. I might as well have wiped my ass with it and tossed it down the toilet.” His lip curled as disgust and anger warred for the dominant expression. “I’ve been living like a goddamn gangbanger so I can catch this scum, and now my cover is blown because I had to call in this shooting or let this guy die.”

Jessica could sympathize. She had done a few undercover assignments before and knew how hard it was to play a role for weeks on end. For it all to then get wiped out was one of the most frustrating feelings in the world. “I’m sorry about that, but you did the right thing.”

“Who the hell is he and what was he doing on my corner?”

“I know him and he’s not a bad guy…just a bit different. He said that he heard something might go down here this afternoon, except he had no evidence to back up his claim. ”

“He tipped you off and nobody took action?”

Jessica stiffened. “Look, I hate to admit it, but I had dated him before and it didn’t go well. It was after he had tipped me off to a different incident and I thought he was trying the same ploy to get another date. Besides, he had no evidence and his story sounded more like something a five year-old would cook up to get some attention. I had nothing to go on. What was I supposed to do? Set up a stakeout right here on your corner? Somehow I don’t think that would have worked wonders for your undercover operation either.”

Phillips glared at her for another ten seconds before he let out a deep sigh. “No. It’s cool. I get it.” He threw a look over his shoulder at the onlookers and then leaned towards her, his voice lowered. “All I know is that all my work was finally going to pay off. I was about to make a buy on a large amount of cocaine. Not one of the regular street dealers, but someone higher up in the organization.” With a shake of his head, he crossed his arms and turned to lean against the car. “Anyway, that’s when this guy Taylor came out of nowhere and yelled something I couldn’t understand. He tackled me like he was an all-pro linebacker.” Phillips rubbed his side and grimaced. “I think his camera hit me in the side, might have broken my rib.” He waved a hand towards a camera lying a few feet into the grass near Mark.

“Go get yourself checked out too.”

He pushed off the car. “No, I’m okay. So, that was pretty much it. Shots were fired and I got a glimpse of the car, but it took off down the street. I didn’t get a plate, but I have a pretty good idea who it was. No proof though.”

“Okay. If you think of anything more, you know the drill.”

“Right. I gotta go fill out a report. It’s going to be pretty sparse on details unless you can find out what this guy’s story is.” His gaze darted over Jessica’s shoulder and grumbled, “And I’d appreciate if you let me know how he is later.”

“No problem.” Jessica made a move to retrieve the camera and see how Mark was doing, but something nagged at her. She pivoted back to Phillips, zeroing in on his arm and her breath caught. It was all she could do not to snatch his arm for a closer inspection to see if the shiny scar angled across his forearm was real. “Have you ever met Mark Taylor before?”

“No. Not that I can remember. Why?”

She wasn’t sure if she should bring it up. By Phillips own admission, he had been working this area for a few months. Taylor could have been observing. He could have seen the scar and added that detail to try to give his story the ring of credibility. “Nothing. Just wondered.”

For now, she would keep Taylor’s tip to herself until she had a chance to question him further. Dan had stepped aside when the paramedics arrived and was now asking anyone in the crowd if they had witnessed the shooting. Jessica watched as Taylor was loaded into the ambulance and then joined her partner.

Mark hobbled from the bathroom to the chair in the corner of the hospital room. He leaned the cane the physical therapist had given him against the arm of the chair and sat back with a sigh. Lunch would be coming soon, and if he was lucky, he would only have two more hospital meals to contend with before he was discharged tomorrow. He had never been a patient before and vowed he never would be again. The food sucked, and they didn’t let you sleep for more than an hour at a time without coming in to poke you with various objects like a needle or thermometer. He picked at the piece of gauze taped to the inside of his elbow. When he had finally been alert enough to hear the doctor’s verdict on his injury, he had been told that he had lost about forty percent of the blood in his body as the bullet had nicked the femoral artery. They had pumped him full of fluids and transfused multiple units of blood, so he couldn’t understand why were they so eager to extract more every day.

At a light knock on his door, he looked up from his arm, half-expecting that his thoughts had conjured up a lab tech with a syringe at the ready. Instead, Jessica Bishop stood in the doorway.

“May I come in?”

Surprised, Mark nodded. “Uh, yeah, sure. Come on in, Jes—uh, Detective.” He took a peek down to his lap to make sure everything was covered. The hospital gown was a little short and the nurse said she hadn’t been able to find any pajama bottoms for him. A drain dangled from the bulky bandage around his thigh and the bulb was partially full of a thin bloody discharge. He tugged the gown down to cover it.

Her cheeks were flushed beneath a golden tan and he realized she was as uncomfortable with his state of undress as he was.

“Sorry. I would have called first, but I didn’t want to disturb you.” She gave a vague wave over her shoulder to the hallway. “When I got here I checked at the nurse’s station and they said you were awake.”

“No, it’s fine.” He tried not to look at the blanket draped across his bed. If only he could reach it and spread it across his lap.

Her olive blouse, made out of some kind of silky looking stuff, was long-sleeved, but she rubbed her hands up and down her arms and gave a shiver. “It’s kind of chilly in here. Can I get you a blanket?”

Mark almost laughed out loud even as he felt his cheeks burn. “That would be great. There’s one right there, if you don’t mind.”

She handed it to him and then examined a couple of flower arrangements on his windowsill while he covered himself. Feeling more secure, but also like an eighty-year old invalid, Mark cleared his throat. “So, um, I take it you’re not here just to visit me.”

Her fingers lingered on the petals of a daisy as she turned to him. “I’m afraid not.”

A stab of disappointment caught him by surprise. Of course. She was here officially.

“Do you feel up to answering some questions regarding the shooting?”

Now he felt even more like an invalid. “Up to it? Sure. I’m fine,” he lied. His pain meds had just about worn off and he had been up and moving all morning, including his longest session of physical therapy yet, but he straightened, and rolled his shoulders to ease the tension.

“Good. I have to ask how you really knew about the shooting. Had you been spying on the undercover cop?”

So much for his attempt to relax. His muscles tightened. “No. I told you. I was just there taking photos of the projects. You know I’m a photographer and with Cabrini being torn down a bit at a time, I just wanted to get it on film while I still had the chance.”

“The cop who was working that operation isn’t buying that story and he’s angry at your interference.” She paused, her gaze sliding away for a split second before landing on him again. A shadow of guilt or regret lingered in them as she said, “He wants charges brought against you. He’s convinced that you blew his cover on purpose.”

“Blew his cover?” Mark shook his head, incredulous at the accusation. “I wasn’t trying to blow his cover. I was trying…I
succeeded
in saving his life.”

“So you say. For all he knows, you stopped him from making the deal or identifying the shooter in the car. He doesn’t know if he was set-up by the drug dealer he’s trying to bring down, or if it was a rival gang trying to get rid of the competition.”

Mark rubbed a hand down his face, suddenly weary. “Look, I’m sorry if I screwed up whatever it was he was doing. I went there with the plan of just trying to warn him, but everything happened so fast, I just…just reacted. I still don’t understand how I blew his cover, but if I did, that wasn’t my intention.”

Jessica crossed her arms and leaned against the sill. “Was it one of your premonitions?”

Warily, he nodded. “You could say that.”

She blew out a breath, sending a strand of hair that had escaped her ponytail flying up, and he watched mesmerized as it settled back against her cheek before she said, “I believe you. I have no idea why, but I do.”

“Really?” His weariness lifted a degree.

She raised her hand, palm facing him in a stop motion. “Don’t sound so surprised or relieved. I believe that you just reacted and didn’t intend to blow his cover. I questioned some witnesses and a boy remembers you taking pictures the day before, so that part of your story checks out, but I’m just a little suspicious as to your motives for being there in the first place. Without any other proof, I guess I’m just going to have to write up my report with the information you gave me.”

Swallowing hard, Mark tried to smile. “Thanks. I appreciate that.” He didn’t want to push his luck, but he had one problem that had just occurred to him that morning. “Can I ask a favor?”

“Sure. You can ask, but I can’t promise I can fulfill it.” Her smile softened the statement.

“Well, nobody seems to know where my car is. I had parked my Jeep a few blocks away, and now it’s gone.”

“Ah…it’s probably been towed somewhere.” She reached into the pocket of her jacket and withdrew a pen and small notepad. “Here, write the make and license plate number if you know it. I’ll check at the impound lots and let you know. I can’t promise that they’ll drop any charges though.”

Mark jotted them down, and held the pad out to her. “Here. And thanks.”

She nodded and then pointed with her chin towards his leg. “So, what’s the prognosis?”

“Full recovery.” He grinned. When he had been in the ER, he had been pretty out of it from shock and whatever meds they had given him, but he remembered the surgeon mentioning a possibility that he could lose the leg. After surgery, he had awakened terrified his leg was gone. He hadn’t been able to feel past the bandages and didn’t trust the sensation of his toes wiggling. He’d heard of phantom pains in amputated limbs. His leg had been elevated and he hadn’t even been able to touch it with his other foot. It wasn’t until the next morning when his leg had been uncovered and he was able to sit up a little and see his toes that he had believed the doctor that his leg was still attached.