by Dobi Cross
The elevator pinged as it reached the ground floor and the doors slid open. Calvin stepped out of the elevator without looking backwards and held himself stiffly as he walked across the lobby. He gave a nod to the security guard who was on duty and stepped out into the open air.
He took a deep breath and smiled. The air was breezy, its fragrance sweet-smelling with victory and success. Now he could relax.
Calvin saw the black town car idling in front of the building entrance. It was the only one there, so he assumed it must be his car. He opened the back seat door and slipped in, placing his black briefcase beside him on the backseat. He noticed the driver was clad as usual in a black suit but was also wearing a set of black sunglasses. It was someone he hadn’t seen before, but that didn’t matter. Even though Calvin knew all the regular drivers by now, the car service could have hired more employees.
The driver greeted him with a gravelly voice, and Calvin nodded. He wasn’t interested in making small talk. He just needed the driver to get him home safely.
Calvin leaned back on the plush black leather seats and closed his eyes as the car moved forward. He didn’t know when he drifted off to sleep.
He woke up when he felt the car roll to a stop. As he struggled to come fully awake, he felt a stab in his thigh and looked up to see a man in a black mask staring back at him from the driver’s seat.
Calvin yelped, and fear gripped his heart. He didn’t know who the man was, but he wasn’t going to wait around to find out. He grabbed the door handle and tried to push it open, but the door on his side was locked. He banged against the door and when that didn’t work, he picked up his briefcase to smash the car window. But he barely made a dent.
His limbs had grown weak, and the briefcase made only a small thump against the window.
He took a deep breath, lifted his briefcase with difficulty, and put all his power behind it to try again. The glass cracked on the second attempt.
He stuck his hand through the glass and opened the door from the outside. He felt a sharp pinch and saw blood dripping from his forearm where the broken glass had nicked him. But Calvin didn’t care. His life was more important.
The door swung open, and Calvin fell outside. Grass prickled his skin. The man in the mask made no attempt to stop him.
Calvin could barely move his body, and the blades of grass cut his skin with each movement. His eyes darted around in fright and he saw that he was in the middle of a field of wide flowers interspersed with long blades of grass. There were no buildings around, and the field seemed void of any other human presence.
By now, Calvin found it very difficult to breathe. His vision became hazy. Somehow, Calvin knew. This was it; he would not live to see tomorrow. The H Club would forever remain a pipe dream.
The last thing he saw was the man in the mask appearing in front of him before his world collapsed.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Zora adjusted her book bag on her shoulder as she stepped out of the lecture hall into the hallway. The air buzzed with chatter as students clad mostly in jeans and T-shirts strode in all directions to various sections of the building. She had just finished her second lecture of the day, and it had ended fifteen minutes early. Classes had resumed despite the incident at the school, but Zora had not been able to concentrate on what the professors were teaching. Her mind had been preoccupied with the Collmark group.
She hadn’t been able to learn much about the company. There had been very little information on their website, and a search through the online news articles had yielded nothing. Even the previous articles she had read some time ago could no longer be found on the Internet. The Collmark group must have had them pulled. She could hit the public library in town to see if they had old news articles on record, but her morning was packed. And she had a Practice of Medicine—POM— session all afternoon. The library would be closed by the time she was done for the day.
Her phone buzzed. Zora retrieved her phone from her pants and checked the screen. She had received an email from the student financial services office. She unlocked her screen and opened the email. It was a notification that she had not been awarded the school scholarship she had applied for.
Zora stiffened. What had happened? She had gotten unofficial confirmation from the staff that the scholarship was hers. What had gone wrong?
She looked at the time on her phone. She had thirteen minutes before her lab started. If she hurried, she could get to the financial office and return with time to spare. She had to find out what happened.
Zora raced down the hallway, sped through the walkway connecting the buildings, and entered the next building. She took the elevator down to the first floor. She made a turn to the left wing and stopped at the double doors at the end. She swung the doors open and stepped in.
Zora looked at the cubicles arranged in a semi circle in the student financial services office. Most where occupied by an assistant either typing furiously into a computer or answering the phone. Zora headed to the nearest assistant that was available.
“Hi, Stephanie, I’d like to speak with Ms. Wadsworth.”
“The assistant looked up and gave Zora a weak smile. “Hi, Zora, Ms. Wadsworth is not in. Is there anyway I can help you?” Her eyes flickered past Zora.
Zora turned to see what she was looking at and noticed that some of the other assistants had raised their heads and were staring at her.
She turned back to Stephanie. “I just got the email that I didn’t get the Stanton scholarship. I thought I was already selected for it.”
“Zora, unfortunately, the scholarship committee chose a different candidate. Thomas Strickland.”
“But—”
Stephanie got up. “Walk me out,” she said quietly. “Come on.” She grabbed a file from her cubicle and led the way out of the office. Zora followed her.
Once they were out through the doors, Stephanie turned to her. “Zora, you didn’t hear this from me, but the committee had an urgent meeting this morning and dropped you.”
Zora’s eyes searched her face. “Why?”
Stephanie inventoried her surroundings and then looked back at Zora. “The rumors. They heard that you are a suspect in the Martha Adams case. Someone dropped an anonymous note to them. And you know how reputation is everything here. So they met this morning and made a decision.”
Zora staggered back. She had been sentenced without a trial. Who is it that is so intent on harming me? Why?
“Are you okay?” Stephanie peered at her with concern.
“I’m good.” Zora gave her a thin smile. “Thanks for telling me.”
“Just so you know, I don’t believe it one bit. But I have no say in the decisions.”
“Thank you.” Zora looked at her phone. “I have to get back to class. I’ll talk to you later.”
“Take care, Zora. Everything will turn out alright.”
Zora nodded and walked off. She felt Stephanie’s eyes following her.
She straightened her shoulders, tipped her chin up, and held her book bag closer to her body.
She would not cower. She had done nothing to be ashamed of. How had the rumor spread through the school so fast? And how had the person known, given that the police had even withheld the information from the press?
Zora could fight the decision. She probably would have done that in the past. But there was a strong chance the scholarship committee wouldn’t change their mind; they would cite another reason for the rejection, and she would have no way to disprove it. It might even strengthen the spread of the rumors and put her in a bad light. And it wasn’t like she really needed the money, even though the scholarship would have helped open doors in the medical world to her. She needed to pick her battles, and this one wasn’t one of them.
Zora looked at her phone. She had seven minutes to get to the lab. She hurried to the elevators, took it to the third floor, and then hurried back through the walkway. She checked her phone. Four minutes.
Her shoulder brush
ed against someone. “Sorry,” Zora said.
“You need to watch where you are going. Before you cause another disaster.”
Zora turned to see Thomas Strickland. “What do you mean by that?”
“Don’t be offended, Zora. I don’t want to get on your bad side. In case you decide to murder me,” he said in a mocking tone.
Zora stepped up to him. “What did you say?”
“We’ve all heard the rumor. How you might have killed that poor woman and maybe even the professor. Did you hate him that much?”
Zora stared thoughtfully at Thomas. “It was you, wasn’t it?”
Thomas swallowed. “I don’t know what you are talking about.”
Zora took another step towards him.
Thomas stepped back, shaking his head. “I didn’t do anything!”
“I would be careful if I were you, especially if I did kill her. What would stop me from coming after you?”
Thomas’ eyes widened. “You don’t mean that.”
Zora scoffed. “Would you like to bet on that?”
His face turned red, and sweat broke out on his forehead. He turned and scurried away from her.
Zora glared at him. She was sure he’d had a hand in the rumors. But there was no way to prove it.
She looked at her phone. Shoot. She was going to be late.
Zora sat on the kitchen bar stool in her apartment, eating an early dinner of ham and pickle sandwich. She had picked up the sandwich at the deli right outside campus on her way back from school.
After the encounter with Thomas Strickland, Zora had gone to the lab for her next class. But the atmosphere had been different. She had noticed all the seats around her had emptied as soon as she sat down. It was like she had caught a plague and nobody wanted to be infected. Even those she considered to be her friends had averted their eyes and pretended not to know her. It had hurt. No one had bothered to ask her if the rumors were true. It had been the same way in the POM session.
Zora lifted her chin and pushed back her shoulders. Those people were not her true friends. Her real allies were on her side fighting with her. And she was going to find out the truth about these cases no matter what.
She took another bite of the sandwich. It now tasted like saw dust in her mouth.
Zora picked up the remaining sandwich and dumped it in the garbage can. As she rinsed off the plate in the sink, her phone rang. She turned off the tap, dropped the plate in the disk rack, wiped her hands with the kitchen towel, and picked up the phone. It was Silas. Zora tapped the green button.
“Hello, Silas,” she said.
“How are you doing?” Silas asked. Zora could hear the sound of traffic in the background.
“I’m okay. I’m glad you are back. So what do you have for me?” Zora asked as she leaned against the kitchen counter.
“The detectives found out about Danny Thompson and paid him a visit earlier today. Marcus told me about him.”
“What did the guy say?”
“I heard from my source that he denied any knowledge of the murders. He had a strong alibi for where he was on the days the victims were murdered. There was CCTV footage that confirmed it. Hold on.”
Zora heard some talking in the background and waited. She tapped the heel of her foot against the base of the kitchen counter.
Silas got back on the phone. “Zora, the police have just found a third victim, a lawyer—”
“Let me guess. He worked at Collmark group, right?”
“Yes, for about a year. How did you know?” Sam asked in a surprised tone.
Zora told him about what Marcus had found out about the two victims. “He’s already handed the information over to the police,” she finished.
“Really? That means there has to be something about the Collmark group that links them together. Two victims and Danny Thompson working there is no coincidence, though it’s not clear how the professor fits in.”
“I’m still working on that angle. There must be a link there that we just can’t see right now.” Zora turned and leaned her elbows on the countertop. “Hmmm. The plot thickens.”
“I’m glad to see you make a joke. I’ve been so worried about how you are holding up. I’ll follow up with the cops to see what else they’ve found.”
“Do you know anything about the Collmark group?”
“I believe it’s owned by John Pierce, a financier who made a killing during the Internet boom. Since then, he has grown his company from a firm of five people to over two thousand employees. He’s a businessman through and through and is always looking for the next company to take apart and sell in pieces. You don’t want him getting his tentacles into your company. But the real nasty one is his son.”
“His son?”
“Drake Pierce. He’s very popular with the ladies. I’ve heard he likes to skirt around the law. If he sees a company he wants, he’s like a mad dog. He’ll do anything—I mean anything—to get it. But he’s never been caught red-handed. And he has a team of lawyers to make sure that nothing ever happens. There’ve even been some rumors that he is connected to the underworld. He’s definitely someone you want to avoid.”
“Gotcha.”
“That’s all I have for now. The cops plan to keep digging around Danny Thompson to see if there is anything. They think it is too coincidental that Danny Thompson and the lawyer worked at the Collmark group. The cops might just end up rattling the killer’s cage with all their digging, so you need to be careful and stay safe.”
“I will.”
“Don’t worry, Zora, we’ll break this case. I’ll call you if I hear anything else.”
“Thanks for everything.” Zora ended the call and dropped her phone on the kitchen countertop.
She walked to the sink and grabbed a small spray bottle of water she kept close by. She made her way to the far corner of the living room, where she kept some indoor plants. Zora believed in infusing extra oxygen into the air if she could, and the plants were perfect for the job. She hadn’t had a chance to water them for the last few days with all that had been going on, and the signs of neglect were beginning to show.
She thought about what she knew so far as she sprayed the plants. The first and the third victims were connected to the Collmark group. Having both the lawyer and HR person dead could mean it was related to an internal employee case, since HR staff dealt exclusively with employees. But how did the professor and now Danny Thompson fit in? Unless they were all connected in some other unknown way, but Zora didn’t think that was the case. Her instincts were telling her that she needed to dig deeper into the Collmark connection.
Zora finished spraying the plants and dropped the spray bottle on the kitchen counter. She picked her phone and dialed Marcus’ number. He picked on the second ring.
“Hey, Marcus. I heard from Sam about Danny Thompson and his alibi.”
“Yeah. Sorry I didn’t tell you as soon as I passed the information to the cops as we discussed. I just heard about their visit to him. Since we’ve been very helpful, I think it has slowed down their enthusiasm in charging you without evidence. But we are not out of the woods yet. Morris still seems super motivated. So what’s up?”
Zora’s anger flashed at the mention of his name. Detective Morris. It seemed he had a very myopic view. Did he have something against women? She would shelf that thought for now since there was a reason why she had called Marcus.
“Sam just told me there’s a third victim,” she said. “He was an in-house counsel for Collmark, so I’m wondering if this has anything to do with an employee case. I was just thinking about it, and it seems Martha Adams was promoted a year ago and the lawyer got the job at Collmark a year ago as well. So what if this was about an employee case that happened at Collmark at that time? Do you think you could dig into that? I know we might be chasing our tail here, but I have a feeling we are onto something.”
“I’ll see what I can do though I can’t promise anything. HR data is typically hard to access. But I
have a few ideas that might shake the tree loose.”
“Thanks, Marcus. Anything you find could be helpful.”
“Always my pleasure. Are you doing okay?”
“Yes, I am.”
Zora heard a sigh on the other end of the line. “You sound tired,” she said.
“I am, and it’s only afternoon. I still have a lot of work to take care of.”
“Okay, I’ll let you go. Talk to you soon.” She ended the call.
Zora’s heart leaped with excitement. She had a feeling she was on the right track.
Maybe, just maybe, they’d be able to crack the case wide open before time ran out.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
The man finished his work for the day. It was a routine he was used to, and it hardly changed from day to day. He could perform the job with his eyes closed. He’d thought about leaving the job many years earlier, but had found that the positives of staying outweighed the negatives. And before he knew it, twenty years on the job had come and gone.
He would have to leave the job soon, once everything was over. Not that he would miss it. It wasn’t what he had wanted to do with his life, but duty had called. And the man definitely believed in duty and justice. It was the latter he was seeking now.
As he shrugged off his uniform, standing in front of his assigned employee locker, his phone rang. It was still in the front pocket of his green work uniform. He opened the pocket, took out his phone, and looked at the number on the screen.
A frown creased his forehead. He glanced around the room; no one had entered since he came in, but he still had to be careful. He pressed the answer button.
“Why are you calling me on my cell?” he rasped out.
“I need to talk to you!” the voice on the other line said.
“I’ll call you back in ten minutes.” He cut off the call and stared silently at his locker for a moment. He then finished changing into his everyday clothes, and hung his uniform in the locker. He shut the locker and secured it.