Mary McDonald - No good deed

“Okay, well, if I walk in and don’t see her, I’ll just turn around.”

“Listen, I know you hate my guts, and I feel the same about you, but what I have to say has nothing to do with either of us. That’s all I can tell you now.”

He could picture the other man’s face flushing with anger. Against his better judgment, he gave in. “Okay. One hour.”

Jessie sounded stressed. “I’ll be there. I’ve been going crazy knowing what’s going to happen. I’ve tried to get more security at the game, but without something concrete, the brass won’t go for it.”

“I know the feeling.” Mark circled the heel of his hand against his forehead, grimacing at the dull ache behind his eyes. He sat in his boss’s office and glanced out to the store when the bell above the door jingled. “Look, I gotta go, a customer just came in. See ya in a little bit.” For the next thirty minutes, he tried to remain patient as he showed the customer several of the digital cameras. Gary had said he’d be back from lunch by one o’clock, but it was already twenty after. O’Leary’s wasn’t far, but he’d have to leave soon to make it on time. He rang up the camera, amazed that the guy bought it in spite of Mark’s distracted sales pitch.

The bell sounded again and Mark heaved a sigh of relief when Gary entered.

“Sorry, Mark. I started talking to this hot waitress. I got her number and everything.” He grinned and didn’t look the least bit sorry about being late.

Resisting the urge to roll his eyes, Mark shrugged. “That’s great, but listen, I’m going to have to run, I have an errand I wanted to do on my lunch hour. I just sold a Nikon. I didn’t get a chance to file the paperwork.”

Gary bounced behind the counter. “No problem. I got it.”

Before leaving, he retrieved the brown paper bag containing his camera and the prints of the horrific attack from the back room. This time, he had proof.

Mark jogged the four blocks to the pub and stopped at the entrance to catch his breath. His shirt clung to him and he cursed Gary for being late and forcing him to run. He already felt his stomach knotting at the prospect of seeing Jim. Last thing he wanted to do was look as nervous as he felt, and having sweat dripping didn’t make for a calm appearance.

The interior was dim after the bright sunshine, and he paused to scan the room. Tugging his shirt away from his chest, he was grateful for the blast of air conditioning from the vent above the entrance. Sheridan and Jessie at a table in the corner. Damn. He’d hoped to get here first and get the upper hand, have some control. Jim sat with his back to the corner and had a view of the whole room. Their eyes met and Mark had to fight the impulse to flee. The door opened behind him as a group of women entered. The flash of sunlight reminded him that he wasn’t trapped anymore. He could leave whenever he wanted. That thought propelled him forward.

Jim gave a short nod, but Mark ignored it as he wound his way past other tables and customers. He couldn’t help noticing that Jessie didn’t look at all uncomfortable with the guy. She even smiled at something he said. A trace of a smile lurked around Jim’s mouth. Were they talking about him? Jessie turned and the smile slipped from her face when she saw him. Her brows knit as she glanced at the bag in his hand.

He was about to tell her what it contained when Jim jumped to his feet and shot around the table. “Hold on. What’s in the bag, Taylor?”

Mark halted. As much as he wanted to push past Jim without answering, he couldn’t. A year of conditioning to obey the man’s orders had left their mark. He dropped his gaze. “It’s just a camera.” It took everything in him, but he raised his head and said, “The one I told you about. Over and over.”

Jim’s eyes narrowed and he held out his hand. Mark gripped the rolled top of the bag tighter for a second, the muscles in his arm rigid. The tension grew with Jim’s eyes never leaving Mark’s, his hand still waiting expectantly. Finally, Mark shoved the bag at Jim, but couldn’t keep from balling his hands into fists as rage boiled inside of him.

Jessie stood and took Mark’s elbow with one hand, the other going to his back. The reassurance she offered with her touch and smile helped. “Come on and have a seat. We ordered a pizza already.”

Mark acquiesced, but looked at her blankly, his mind still on the camera in the bag. Pizza? Did she think that they were actually going to sit and eat like they were old friends? He pulled his arm from her grasp and ground out, “I’m not hungry.”

It had been his plan to simply divulge the pictures, relate the details that he recalled from his dream, and get the hell out of there. Socializing hadn’t played a part in it. The crinkle of the bag drew his attention back to Jim. The man had returned to his seat and without asking, opened the bag and withdrew the contents.

Jim gave the camera a cursory look, but when he shuffled through the photos, his mouth set in a hard line, the only sign that the pictures registered. He went through them twice before he glared at Mark and slapped the prints down on the table. “What did you do this time?”

The accusation in the words hit Mark like a punch and his jaw clenched so hard he thought he’d crack a molar. The bastard!

Jessie pushed a glass of water towards him. “Here. You look hot from your walk here.” Her eyes flashed a warning to him. While he gulped the cool liquid, she slid the pictures in front of her and flipped through them. “Mark didn’t do anything. He got these pictures the same place I got those ones last year. You were there, Jim. Don’t act surprised.” She raised an eyebrow at him.

Jim shot a look at Jessie. “Come on. That was a set-up and you know it. I still haven’t figured out how you pulled it off, or who the leak was, but I’m not going to fall for it a second time.”

Mark set the glass down, sloshing water over the side and swiped the back of his hand over his mouth. Well, that was that. He reached out, grabbed the bag on the table and swept the camera into it then snatched up the prints. “Don’t say I didn’t try to warn you.” He pushed his chair back and stood.

Jessie grabbed his hand and gave a tug. “Mark-”

“You’re not leaving until I find out where the hell you got these photos.” Jim rose, cutting off Jessie’s plea. Eyes hard, he held Mark immobile with his look.

Mark refused to back down as he and Jim glared at each other like two alpha dogs. He was determined to win this time. Jessie had come to stand beside him and said something, but he heard only his own blood pounding in his ears. Without warning, images from last night’s dream shot through his mind, overwhelming him with their intensity. Like a flashback, he was there again, just as vividly as he’d been in his dream. He locked his knees to keep them from buckling, and grit his teeth as he tried to maintain his rage. It was no use. Screams of the children ricocheted through his head. A shudder swept over his body.

His anger died when he realized the truth. This meeting wasn’t about him. It was about saving people-regular folks just out enjoying a game. About saving them from crazed gunmen who thought killing innocents earned them a place of honor in the afterlife. What he had been through in prison paled in comparison to the fate that awaited hundreds of people leaving the ballgame tonight.

Mark had to convince Jim that the pictures were real. Or would be real. It was the only chance anyone in the photos had. If he couldn’t control his anger, he’d fail. Again. It might not have been his fault on September 11th, but it would be today.

To stop this, he needed help and Jim had the resources to get the bad guys. He took a deep breath and forced his shoulders to relax. “Can we start over?”