The Jump Journal by Corriveau Douglas

Author:Corriveau, Douglas [Corriveau, Douglas]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Published: 2015-01-16T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 25

Parched lips. Throbbing head. Unfocused vision. These first sensations eased me back into consciousness. Harsh beams of light from fluorescent bulbs elevated my headache to migraine status, and I groaned. I went to rub my temples, but my hands were tethered to something and I couldn’t quite reach my face. Narrowing my eyes to slits helped to filter the brightness until I was able to look around in relative comfort.

I was cuffed to a steel table in the center of a claustrophobically small room. The overhead lights dangled from twin chains, swaying ever so slightly. The whitewashed walls caught every unforgiving beam and threw them back, creating a deficit of bearable places to focus. Eventually, I chose my own miserable reflection in the one-way glass window facing me.

I’d seen enough TV in my lifetime to recognize a police interrogation room when I saw one. I just couldn’t fathom why I was even here. I didn’t get much time to speculate before a smartly dressed detective tossed the door open and planted himself in the chair across from me. He smiled widely like a satisfied cat, proud of its catch. It wasn’t intended to be malicious, but it was far from comforting.

He cocked an eyebrow at me, as if expecting something. I replied only with a look of genuine confusion. After he realized that I wasn’t going to break the silence, he rocked back onto the rear legs of his chair and spun the manila folder he’d been holding onto the table.

“Mitchell the elusive tipster, we meet at last,” he said silkily. “Gotta say, it is a genuine pleasure.”

“Are you the one who shot me?” My voice sounded as hoarse and dry as it felt.

“I am.”

“Then the pleasure’s all yours.”

“Ha!” He grinned at the ceiling for a second, then turned his gaze back to me. “I like you. You’ve got brains and a sense of humor. I don’t know too many rats that like a good joke.”

Rats? Maybe this guy was a cat after all.

“Sorry, what’d you call me?” I wasn’t threatening, merely offended.

“A rat. You know, a whistle-blower. A snitch. Or if you prefer spy vernacular, a double agent.”

“OK…?”

He sighed as if I were playing dumb.

“Look Ryan…can I call you Ryan?” They had my ID; the game was up. I shrugged. “Ryan, no one knows as much as you do about crimes that haven’t happened without being on the inside. I just want to help you help us, like you have been all along.”

“Wait,” I said incredulously. “You want me to help you. So you shoot me with a tranq dart and abduct me, all in an effort to get me to cooperate?”

“Abduct?” he repeated innocently, smiling his feline smile. “You haven’t been abducted. You’re here at our invitation!”

My eyebrows shot up in disbelief. I lifted my cuffed hands, the chains clattering noisily on the table. He waved dismissively.

“Just a precaution. After all, we knew very little about you before now.” He tapped the folder. “We couldn’t be sure that you’d come without a fight.

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