for the agents under his authority. He’d already discovered that FBI and CIA had different ways of looking at things, and he’d made a point of emphasizing that as a strength in his first staff meeting.
The weekend loomed and he had absolutely nothing to do. Maybe he’d go out and have a big juicy burger at that pub he’d seen a few blocks from his apartment. The game was on and he’d be able to catch a few innings.
The pub wasn’t busy and he took a seat at the bar. Sitting alone at a bar watching a game and eating a burger felt acceptable. Sitting at a table alone in a restaurant just made him look lonely. While he waited for his burger, he sipped a beer and ate peanuts from the bowl in front of him. Pool balls clacked from the back of the room. A game would be fun. Too bad he didn’t have anyone to play against. He set his beer down and mopped up the condensation that had dripped onto the wood near his elbow. If the table became free, he could shoot a bit.
His dinner arrived and he bit into the burger. It was just as juicy as he’d hoped. A couple of guys near the end of the bar laughed about something. A group pushed through the front door and worked their way across the room. Law enforcement. Jim could peg them from a mile away from the way they carried themselves.
He observed them for a few seconds, then the sound of the crowd on the television caught his eye. The Cubs had a rally going and he forgot about the others in the room, so when he felt a tap on his shoulder, it took him a second to respond, and when he did, he jumped, rattling the silverware on his plate.
“Jim?” Jessica Bishop stood on his left, her arms crossed and eyebrow raised. “What are you doing here… again?”
“Detective Bishop.” He wiped his mouth and hands with the napkin, then put his hand out, noting her hesitation.
After a second, she shook his hand, but had to move in closer to allow the rest of her group to squeeze past them.
She stepped back and called over her shoulder to the retreating group. “I’ll be there in a sec, order me a beer, okay?” She turned back to Jim. “You didn’t answer me.”
He sighed. “I don’t think it’s any of your business, but as it happens, I work in Chicago now.”
She glanced around, then leaned forward and said in a quiet voice, “There’s not a CIA office in Chicago.”
Jim shook his head and took a swig of his beer. “I’m heading a task force in cooperation with the FBI here.” He gestured to the empty stool beside him. “Would you care to sit and allow me to buy you a beer?”
Her lips thinned. “Why the hell would I want to do that?”
Wincing, Jim jerked his head down in a nod of acknowledgment. “I understand. My apologies.” He pulled his wallet out and removed some bills, setting them on the bar near his empty plate. He’d intended to stay and watch the whole game, but the atmosphere no longer felt welcoming. “I’m sorry for keeping you from your friends.”
Behind her, the group settled at a table. “They’re co-workers, I wouldn’t exactly call them friends.” She looked like she was going to say something, but bit her lip instead and looked at the floor.
He waited for her to step back so he could go past her, but it was if she’d put down roots. “Excuse me, ma’am. I’d better be going.”
“I thought you were going to help him.”
Jim leaned against the bar, puzzled. “What do mean?”
“Helping Mark. When you were here last summer, you promised to see what you could do.”
“I did.” Jim shifted his weight. Taylor’s written prediction had shaken him at the time, but the more he thought about it, the more he wondered how much had been a guess. Or a set-up. He didn’t think Bill would do anything like that, but what of the others in the room? The photos could have been prearranged also. It made a hell of a lot more sense than the crap about a magical camera.
Her shoulders sagged. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have expected that he would be released based on the images you saw. Not sure what else it would take.” She gave him a hard look and turned to leave.
“He is free. What more do you want?”
“I don’t understand.” Her fingers tightened on her purse strap, the knuckles whitening.
He shrugged. “It’s not a trick question. He got out a few months ago.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Taylor. I’ll be sure to let you know if I find out anything.” Jessie set the phone back on the cradle and tapped the end of her pen against the ink blotter on her desk. Why did she even bother looking for the guy? Obviously, he didn’t want to see her. If he had, he knew where she’d be.
Dan entered the office, a stack of files in his hands. She sighed and held out her hand for her share. So much for lunch hour. “Thanks.”
He grinned. “Next time, say it with feeling.”
Reluctantly, Jessie smiled. “Oh, shut-up.”
With a wink in her direction, he sat and began sorting through the files. “So, what did you find out?”
She opened a folder, perused the contents and set it on the left side of the desk. “Mark came home, spent one night in Chicago, then took a bus to his parents’ house near Madison.” Another folder joined the one on the left. “Apparently, he’d had no idea about his apartment, so when he got back, he had nowhere to go.”
“Ouch. That’s rough.” Dan grimaced, his finger holding his place on a paper as he jotted a note down.
“Yeah. I’m sure it was. He spent about a week with his parents, but left after some kind of disagreement with his father. She’s only had one phone call since. He said he had a job at a camera store and was doing fine.”
“That’s it?”
“Yep.” Pausing in taking a note about one of her files, she added, “His mom didn’t think he had much money; everything was frozen by the government, and there was no telling how long that red tape would take to clear. He refused to take any cash from her.”
They fell silent as they each concentrated on cross-checking files for a case, but Jessie found it difficult. Where was Mark? Why hadn’t he called her? She thought they’d begun something special. Was he okay?
“What are you going to do?”
Jessie glanced at Dan. “Pardon?”
“About Taylor. Are you going to find him?” For once, the man didn’t have a teasing glint in his eye.
Trying to act unconcerned, she shrugged. “I shouldn’t, but I promised his mother I’d find out what I could.” She waited for him to get in a smart remark, but he didn’t; he only nodded.
Thirty minutes later, Dan spoke again. “You know, he might not want to see you.”
Jessie stacked her completed files, stood and crossed to the file cabinet, tossing over her shoulder, “Why wouldn’t he?” Setting the stack on top of the cabinet, she turned towards Dan.
Dan wore a somber expression. “I had an older brother who was a prisoner of war in Vietnam.” He held up his hand when Jessie began to tell him she was sorry about that. “Let me finish. When he came back, he didn’t want to see any of his old friends, especially the female ones.”
Jessie crossed her arms and shook her head. “That doesn’t make sense. I’d think he’d want to re- connect.”
He sighed and stacked his files. “You’d think, but he said once that he couldn’t stand the pity in their eyes. I think there was more to it, but he never said much.” Dan held out the stack and she stepped forward and took them, adding them to her own on top of the cabinet. “Eventually, he did marry and have a family, but it was rough at first.”
She leaned against the cabinet, digesting his words. “Yeah, but Mark wasn’t a prisoner of the North Vietnamese. I mean, he was held by his own country. It couldn’t have been that bad…right?”
Dan turned his head and shrugged, his expression grim. “You saw the pictures.”
Jessie debated for a week what to do, but finally decided to find Mark to give his mother some peace of mind. There were a couple of dozen camera shops in Chicago, but she only had to call four before she found him. Or rather, she spoke to the manager who confirmed that Mark worked there, but he was on his break. She thanked him
