“Recognize these?”
Taylor’s head moved a fraction as Jim flipped through the photos, allowing Taylor to see all of them. “Yes, sir.”
So that’s how it was going to be. Every response would have to be pulled out of the guy. “Care to enlighten us?” Jim was well aware of what the photos were, but wanted to hear Taylor confirm it.
Taylor replied in a monotone, “They’re photos I developed from my camera on September 10th, 2001.”
Jim paced across Taylor’s line of vision, but if the man noticed, he gave no indication. His gaze still appeared to be fixed at a spot on the floor.
“Do you know where we found these?” Not letting him reply, knowing it would be either a yes or a no, Jim moved to the point. “These were in a box in your home.” Jim circled around the table to retrieve a stack of photos out of a file. Returning to the front of the table, he thumbed through the stack. “They were mixed in with these other pictures.”
He leaned against the table and crossed his ankles. With a shake of his head, he studied the photos. “You know, Taylor, for a guy who’s supposed to be a professional photographer, these photos are crap.”
He held one up, biting back his annoyance when Taylor only flicked a glance at them. “Look at this. Why did you take a picture of a car parked on the side of the street? Or one of man eating a hamburger?” Jim sorted through the pictures. “Or how about this one. It’s my favorite. It’s the front door of an apartment.”
He remained silent, so Jim stepped closer and kicked the leg of the guy’s chair.
Taylor started, his eyes widening briefly. Jim bent, bringing his face within inches of the other man’s. “Look at me when I’m speaking to you.”
After the initial surprise, Taylor sighed and lifted his gaze. It rested in the vicinity of Jim’s face, but didn’t quite meet his eyes. “Yes, sir.”
There was no spark. Just weariness and resignation.
“Well, now that you’re awake, shall we get on with this?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Explain why you kept all these photos. They weren’t in your studio, they were in a box under your bed.” Jim found the one of a baby wrapped in a towel. “Except for this one. This one was found on your person at the time of your arrest. Care to explain it? Is this a relative?”
“No, sir. Not a relative. Just a baby.”
“Why does a single guy keep pictures of an unrelated baby in his pocket?”
The insinuation hadn’t been lost on Taylor and for one brief second, his eyes flashed anger. “That’s the last picture I changed.” He drew in a deep breath, as though the effort to speak taxed him. “That’s the end result.” His brow furrowed in confusion and he seemed to lose his train of thought. After a pause, he clarified, “She drowned in the first picture.”
The statement caught Jim by surprise. Taylor sounded matter of fact.
“So, after you…saved her, you took her picture as a memento?” It was hard to maintain the insinuation in his voice.
“No. I puked. Then I was…arrested.” His head lolled back for a moment, as if he didn’t have the energy to hold it up. After a pause, he straightened, but it seemed to require incredible effort. “The photos change. If I succeed.”
“Okay. I think I get it. You go on your little missions and keep the happy pictures as mementos. So, why did you keep the pictures of the attacks?”
He focused on Jim, his eyes dull and filled with defeat. “As a reminder that I can’t fix everything.” Taylor swallowed, his throat bobbing as his gaze slid away.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Jim watched as the guards led Taylor away. The man shuffled out in the same manner he’d arrived, his shoulders hunched and head bowed.
Bill remained at the table with him while the rest of the team left. “ That was a bust.”
“Yes, I guess so…or if we look at it another way, it could be seen as the subject simply has no information.” Jim gathered up the photos and returned them to the files.
“It could be seen that way.” Bill folded his hands on the table and turned his head, his expression serious. “Is that how you’re seeing the situation?”
Jim lifted the folders and tapped them against the tabletop to align the contents. “I think I do.” The moment he said it aloud, a weight seemed to lift from his shoulders.
“So, at the next meeting with the council, you’ll state that you think Taylor is innocent?”
“I’ll state the truth, that after close to a year of intense questioning, no team has gathered any actionable intelligence. In light of that, and my opinion that Taylor is no threat to this country, that I recommend his release as soon as it can be arranged.”
Bill sighed. “I can’t argue with that. I guess I’ll go along with you.” He ran a hand over his head and rubbed the back of his neck. “You realize that the next meeting isn’t scheduled until after the holidays, don’t you?”
“Yes. I’ll send some memos urging an emergency meeting.” It felt wrong that Taylor would remain in custody due to something as simple as the schedule of a meeting. “I’m not sure it’ll make a difference though. They might not even take our recommendations.” He stood and pushed in his chair.
“Then why did they have us do the questioning? It wouldn’t look good to ignore us. You think the other agencies will go along with it? What about law enforcement?” Bill rose and walked alongside Jim as they exited the room.
“I believe they will. If they have info that they’re withholding, they’ll have to show it, or give a damn good reason to keep Taylor in custody.” Jim strode down the hall, hoping like hell he wouldn’t ever have to return to that room.
They reached Bill’s office first, and Jim leaned against the door frame after Bill entered. “We have to make this happen ASAP, Bill.” Jim tapped the files against his thigh. “I don’t know how long Taylor will hang on. He’s spiraling down.”
Bill plopped onto his chair. “Yeah, I noticed.” He leaned back. “In the meantime, we can try and lighten things up a little.”
“Will the protocol allow that? We’re supposed to follow the same guidelines as the other place.”
“Screw the protocol.” Bill grimaced.
Jim smiled. “See what you can do in that regard. I’ll get on the horn and start making calls, see if I can expedite the matter.”
In the weeks since he and Bill had made their suggestion for an emergency meeting, nothing had happened. Someone always had a reason they couldn’t attend. The fact that a man languished behind bars didn’t seem to add any urgency in the other council members’ minds.
Bill’s attempts to lighten things had only gone as far as halting further interrogations. The security at the prison had enforced their own measures after Taylor’s outburst of throwing food around his cell. Now, he was confined to his cell at all times, except for showers.
Jim opened Taylor’s file to add another email to the list he’d begun after the decision to make their recommendation to free Taylor. He hadn’t realized what a tricky and protracted task it would be to convince the people with authority that Taylor was not a security threat to the United States. If nothing else, Taylor should get an official hearing. The fact that one hadn’t taken place yet rankled Jim. It wasn’t the American way.
Two hours later, he printed out his advisement that in light of no new information, and the questionable sources for the Afghanistan claim, it was his opinion there was no merit for keeping Taylor in detention. Bill had completed his own recommendations that he held doubt about the man’s guilt.
He stretched, grimacing at a twinge of stiffness in his back. He’d been sitting so long, his back creaked when he stood and crossed to the window. Would the powers that be follow their recommendations? If they did, how long would it take? The wheels of government spun at a snail’s pace, but maybe since there had never been formal charges, it wouldn’t take much longer to straighten the mess out and free Taylor.