He tried to ignore his embarrassment, and encouraged her. “And…?”
“There were boxes of your belongings out on the front lawn. I took what I could, mostly photography equipment. I saved it for you at my apartment.”
Mark straightened in surprise. “You have some of my stuff?” That was the best news he’d had since getting out.
She nodded, and then shrugged. “I wish I could have saved more, but I fit as much as I could in my car, took it home, and when I came back, there wasn’t anything left.”
Mark smiled. “No, that’s fine. Anything is better than nothing, which is what I thought I had.” He started to grab a slice of pizza, then stopped. “But that doesn’t explain the pictures.”
“In one of the boxes was an old camera. I think it must have been overlooked or something. One day, I needed a camera to take pictures of my niece at a dance recital and I couldn’t find mine. Yours was sitting right there, and I was in a hurry.” She blushed. “I didn’t think you’d mind, so I borrowed it.”
He eased back against the seat, holding his breath.
“The pictures were fine, except for the last few. Those ones showed you chained.” Her eyes flicked to his before sliding away.
Beer washed up in the back of his throat, and he stumbled out of the booth. “’scuse me.” He rushed for the bathroom, and made it just in time to for the beer to hit the toilet bowl. When he stopped heaving, he used some toilet paper to wipe his face. Shaking, he staggered to the sink and washed his hands, leaned on the counter until the trembling subsided. He couldn’t go back out there. Did she figure out what had happened? Is that why he’d had the dreams in the brig too? Mark grabbed some paper towels and wet them before running them over the back of his neck.
After a few moments, he tossed the paper towels in the trash and returned to the booth. Jessie had taken a slice of pizza, but hadn’t bitten into it yet.
She angled her head so that he couldn’t avoid looking at her. “Mark? You’re pale. Are you okay?”
He nodded and grabbed some pizza and put it on his plate. “I’m fine. Guess I shouldn’t drink on an empty stomach.” He tried to smile, but it felt fake, and he was sure it didn’t fool her.
“You only had one glass of beer.” She took a bite of the pizza.
“Is it any good?” He ignored the remark and nodded towards the pizza.
She wiped her mouth with a napkin. “Yeah. Great.”
He forced himself to take a bite. It was good, and he took another bite, washing it down with ice water. “So, how are you doing? Anything new going on with you?” Not only did he want to change the subject, he wanted small talk. He craved normal conversation.
As if sensing his need, Jessie began talking about her niece, Chicago politics and sports. They finished off the pizza and he felt better. Braving a second glass of beer, he took a sip. He didn’t want the evening to end despite how hard it had been.
Jessie pushed her plate away and folded her arms on the table. “So, now I’ve seen first hand the powers of your camera, which, by the way, I have right here.” She reached down to the floor and retrieved the camera, setting it on the table.
Mark recoiled. “I don’t want it. Why the hell would you think I’d want it back?”
Her eyes lit with excitement. “Yeah, it’s scary, but it’s also amazing. You, of all people, know how powerful this is. Now I know how you managed to get involved with all those crazy things.” She fiddled with the lens. “I never had any dreams though.”
He cleared his throat and said in a low voice, “That’s because I did.”
“You had the dreams?” Her eyes widened, and she said, “You dreamed what was in the pictures before it happened.”
Speaking of it made the visions pop back into his head and he wasn’t sure what was a memory of the dream and what was the real thing. Not that it mattered. Both had been terrifying. He nodded, looking everywhere but at her.
“Oh, Mark. I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.”
He shrugged. “It’s over now. I just want to forget it.” He glanced over his shoulder.
“You expecting someone?”
“Huh?”
Jessie pointed down the aisle. “You seem to be looking for someone.”
“No. Just thought I heard someone call my name.” Mark tried to ignore the compulsion to check to see if anyone was listening.
“Okay.” Her brow knit and she didn’t look convinced. “After seeing those pictures, I worried even more about you. Did you tell your lawyer what they did to you? That they tortured you?”
His leg twitched. “Listen, I was treated just fine. I wasn’t tortured.” A sheen of sweat coated his palms and he wiped them on his thighs. “Can we just stop talking about it?”
Shock registered on her face. “I saw those pictures, Mark. Even Jim Sheridan didn’t deny it when he saw the photos.”
“Jim Sheridan? How the hell do you know him?” This second shock threatened to send him rushing to the bathroom again.
“He came to Chicago last summer and questioned me. I…I showed him the camera.” She bit her lip.
“Shit.” So, for months, Jim had known and hadn’t revealed that information. No, instead he’d led at least a dozen more interrogations. The bastard.
“I’m sorry. I was trying to help. I figured if I showed him, proved to him that you had been telling the truth all along, that they’d set you free.”
Sincerity was written all over her face and he couldn’t be angry for her attempts on his behalf. “It’s okay.”
“But I still think you should get a lawyer.” Her mouth set in a stubborn line.
“No! I can’t talk about it. Don’t ya understand?” His breathing quickened and he fought the urge to flee the bar. “I don’t want to go back there.”
Jessie cocked her head and reached across the table, taking one of his hands in hers. “Did they threaten you with that?”
Mark kept his mouth closed, feeling muscles in his jaw jump. He didn’t answer but instead looked at their intertwined hands. Hers felt soft and warm and she rubbed one up his forearm. Clear nail polish coated the short neat nails. The contact felt wonderful, but, when he looked up, the pity in her eyes doused the feelings of warmth that had begun to stir.
“Listen, Mark. They won’t lock you up again.”
He pulled his hand free and crossed his arms. “You don’t know that. They did it once, they can do it again.”
She shook her head. “They made a mistake.”
“Maybe, but it was a helluva mistake and took them over a year to fix it.” Leaning forward, both hands braced on the table edge, he went on, in a low, harsh voice, “For all I know, this might all be some kind of trick. One of their sick twisted methods of control. I don’t even know who I can trust anymore.”
Jessie sat forward, mirroring his posture, her tone low but firm, “Now you’re sounding paranoid, Mark.”
He gave a short sarcastic chuckle and looked towards the door of the pub. Shaking his head, he tried to form a reply. In her mind, his fears probably seemed overblown. “Yeah, guess I do sound paranoid. But, I think I have a damn good reason to worry.”
“I guess you do have good reason, but I don’t see the government letting you go just to play a cruel trick.”
Mark shrugged, still unable to look at her, and they fell into an uneasy silence.
“You trust me, don’t you?”
He turned to her ready to say yes, but hesitated. Mohommad had been a friend. Someone he’d trusted. He’d trusted his country too. But this was Jessie.
Before he could answer, she said, “Is that why you didn’t call me when you got out?” She sounded hurt.
This time he took her hand in his. “No…no. I do trust you, Jessie. And I did call you once, but I got your voice mail. I couldn’t see leaving a message. For all I knew, you could have been married by now.”
