looking paperweights like those that a child or grandchild might make. Even the mouse pad was generic. Did the guy’s life completely revolve around CIA or FBI? Mark had never wondered about Jim’s life before. For all he cared, the guy could have caught fire and Mark wouldn’t have spared the saliva to spit on him. Now, he was sitting in the guy’s office wondering if the guy had a life. He even felt a little sorry for him.
“All right. We were able to track down two of the guys.” Jim breezed into the office. “And guess what? Their car was loaded with weapons and enough ammo to mow down the whole bleacher section.”
Mark sagged in relief. This was concrete proof. No matter what else happened, lives had been saved and he had helped. Nobody would be able to deny it.
“What’s the matter? I thought you’d be thrilled.” Jim threw a puzzled look in Mark’s direction before rummaging around in his desk
“I am…it’s just that…well, I’m relieved that there’s proof now. It’s not just based on my dream and photos.”
Jim pulled out a bottle of ibuprofen and shook out a couple. He tilted the bottle towards Mark, his eyebrows raised. “I buy these in bulk.”
Mark smiled at the dry humor and took the bottle. His head pounded too. He washed down two of the pain relievers with the last dregs of his now cold coffee and made a face. It had been his third cup and the caffeine overload hadn’t helped ease the stress.
“While the two suspects in custody are questioned, we’re going to head over to the park and start scouting around. You ready to go?”
“Have you heard from Jessie?” Since they’d parted ways at the pub, Mark hadn’t spoken to her, and wondered what was going on.
Jim pulled up in front of the stadium. “Yes, she’s helping one of our teams track down a suspect who’s still at large. CPD knows the city better than we do, so having their cooperation is vital.”
He wasn’t thrilled with the idea that Jessie was out there hunting down a terrorist. She’d be pissed if she knew he was worrying. It was her job and she was good at it.
Jim pulled into the lot just outside the fenced in players’ lot. A security guard tried waving him off, but when the man approached the window, Jim flashed his badge and the guard’s demeanor changed. He directed them to a spot close to the entrance. It was still over two hours until game time, but already, the sidewalks teemed with fans. Vendors mingled, hawking banners, bobble-heads and scorecards. Down the street, sports bars overflowed with fans getting a head-start on the fun. The scent of grilled onions, hot dogs and baking pavement melded together and stirred up memories of past good times.
Mark had been to countless games and had always loved the atmosphere outside the field. He’d usually taken the El. It stopped right behind right field and it was just a short walk up Addison to the front of the park. He remembered the old donut shop that had been where a McDonald’s now stood. Winchell’s Donuts. When had that disappeared? He couldn’t recall the last time he’d seen it.
When he was a kid, his dad had brought him down to a game at least once every summer. They’d leave Madison at dawn and arrive just as the players were arriving. His dad would go buy a bag of donuts while Mark would beg autographs from the players.
“Mark…hello?” Jim waved a hand in front of Mark’s face.
Shaking his head, Mark took a step back, embarrassed to realize he’d stopped walking, and was instead, standing and daydreaming. “Sorry. I was just thinking about when I’d come here as a kid with my dad.”
“All the way from Madison?”
“Yeah. How’d you kn-” Mark broke off, remembering that this guy knew everything about him. He shoved his hands in his pockets and glanced at Jim, surprised to see the other man’s face redden.
“This is awkward.” Jim crossed his arms.
Mark kicked at a stone in the parking lot, then winced when it went further than he’d anticipated, and pinged against the undercarriage of a car. “Yeah.” He shrugged. “Anyway, even though we were in the middle of Wisconsin, we could pick up WGN on our antenna.”
“So, when was the last time you and your dad went to a game?”
Jim began walking and Mark ambled along beside him. “I can’t remember. It’s been a long time. Before college, I guess. When I dropped out, we were too angry at each other to spend much time together.”
“Angry?”
“Yeah. I was supposed to be a doctor, like him. At least, that was his plan.” They skirted a large group of teens. Once on the other side of the group, Mark sighed. “Guess things would have turned out a lot differently if I had become a doctor. I should’ve listened to him.”
“Hmmm…you never know. You’re not doing too bad at your chosen profession.”
Mark stopped walking and stared at Jim. “You’ve gotta be kidding me.”
Jim shrugged, but evaded Mark’s eyes. “Hey, I went through your financial records, you were doing well. Add to that, your other talent…”
“Talent?” Mark gave a harsh laugh. “Curse is more like it.”
“Is that what your dad thinks of it?”
Mark stopped when they came to Waveland Avenue. He crossed his arms and scanned the street. “My dad… he thinks I’m crazy.”
“He doesn’t believe you?” Jim stood at his shoulder.
Unable to speak, Mark simply shook his head.
“Here’s your chance to prove it to him.” Jim held out his cell-phone.
“What’s that for?”
“Call him. Tell him what’s going to happen. Even if we stop this right now, the media will get a hold of something and you’ll have proof.”
“You think I should just call him?” Mark wiped his hands on his thighs. “Just blurt it out?”
“Well, do it quietly. You don’t want to create a panic here.” Jim’s mouth quirked in a wry smile, then he grew serious. “I mean it, Mark. Take it. Call your folks. We don’t know how this is going to turn out.”
He had only spoken to his dad once since he’d left, and it was a brief happy birthday wish. A handful of other times, he’d talked to his mother, but she always managed to make him feel guilty. Not intentionally, but he knew she hated the rift between them.
The images in the photos pushed to the front of his mind. Jim was right. If something happened to him, he didn’t want his parents thinking the worst of him. He wanted a chance at good-bye. He remembered the regret at not having that chance when he’d been arrested. “Yeah. Okay.”
Jim wandered a short distance away, his back turned, and Mark appreciated the privacy. He dialed the number and smiled when his mom answered. “Hey, Mom.” It was a minute before he could get a word in edgewise, then he laughed. “Hold on, a sec. I’m fine. Sorry I haven’t called more often. I mean that. I don’t have a lot of time, but I just wanted to tell you that I love you, and I promise to call more often.”
His mother’s voice took on an edge of panic. “Something’s wrong. What is it?”
“No, nothing’s wrong. In fact, for once, everything is going well. Is Dad around?”
She didn’t sound convinced, but said, “I love you too, hon. Here’s your father.”
“Yes?” His dad spoke in a gruff tone, as though expecting the worst.
“Hi, Dad.” Mark pressed the phone to his ear as a noisy group passed.
“Where the hell are you?”
“I’m right outside Wrigley Field. As a matter of fact, I’m here with the FBI.”
“Why? What did you do now?”
His jaw clenched. “Nothing. I didn’t do anything, Dad. I’m helping them, as a matter of fact.”
“Helping them?”
“Yes. I used my camera, the one I told you about. It’s a long story, but I got the camera back, and the FBI believes me about some pictures and the corresponding dream I had.”
“You’ve got to be kidding.” He sounded less skeptical.
“It’s true. Watch the news tonight or the next few days. Hopefully, it won’t be anything big. Not if we’re
