Hour of Reckoning (Donatella Book 2)

by Demetrius Jackson

  “Indeed, it is,” countered Veronica. “In fact, I would say it’s likely. There are a lot of black Honda Civics cruising the streets of Charlotte by men in their early 40s.”

  Sampson could sense the tension building as each woman lobbed a volley back in the others court.

  “Hell of a place to take a business trip. Nepal is one of those countries that has no extradition treaty with the United States. But I digress. Do you know the nature of your husband’s visit there – for business?”

  “No, I don’t. He kept most of his business affairs to himself, as he obviously did with other affairs. Now if you will excuse me, I have a meeting with a woman who is poised to occupy one of our last two board seats.”

  “Absolutely, we don’t want to get in the way of you running the company you have inherited.” Though she didn’t say the words, all three people in the room knew the implication. The company she inherited after the untimely death of the CEO and all other members of the board.

  King stood, followed by Sampson and then Dabria.

  “Thank you for taking time to stop by, and I do hope you are able to solve this case soon. However, I will have to ask that next time you make an appointment. I’m fairly busy these days and I wouldn’t want to miss your visit. Detective Sampson,” she said extending her hand yet again, “You must be the strong silent type.”

  She said this flashing him a smile which he politely smiled back.

  “Agent Dabria, it was a pleasure meeting with you again,” she reached out and shook the FBI agent’s hand.

  “Likewise. Oh, but I do have one more question. Are you and your daughter planning to take a trip soon?”

  Veronica tried to find the trap in this question. She didn’t see one.

  “No, we are not taking any trips anytime soon.”

  “I see. I guess the issuance of her own passport must have been for a potential trip much later in the year.”

  Veronica extracted her hand from Agent Dabria’s, kicking herself for not thinking about a passport.

  “Well, you two have a wonderful rest of the day,” she replied choosing to ignore the comment.

  The women locked eyes for a moment and with a smooth motion, Donatella began to walk toward the door, exiting the office.

  Back in the car, Sampson broke the silence, “Where did you get the information about the mistress and the passport? Why didn’t you share this with me prior to going into the meeting? I don’t necessarily mind a surprise, but wow, those were unexpected.”

  “The where is unimportant at this time. The key is the story they tell.”

  “Which is?”

  “I’m going to drop you back off at your car. I have some additional errands I need to run. Thank you for coming along.”

  “I really didn’t do much. Though it was good to get a front row seat.”

  “You did plenty, you were the strong silent guy.”

  Chapter 15

  February 20th – 9:00 a.m.

  T he on-scene correspondence from Channel 3 and Channel 9 were gathered with their camera crews in the atrium of Atrium Health. No traditional print journalists were here to cover the event; however, there were a number of online journalists. Sal Grandson, representing the latter, received a tip from one of his contacts that the company would be holding a conference. He suspected it had something to do with the murder of Penny Hampton.

  The news of her death sent shockwaves through the community. Sal knew of the phenomenal job she did during her shift at the hospital; however, as news of her community involvement came to light, Sal found himself more intrigued with her story.

  Twice a month on Saturdays she would volunteer at the local food bank in charge of the sorting, loading, and delivery of food that had been donated throughout the week. The other Saturdays of the month she volunteered at the local YMCA chapter that was in her neighborhood.

  Once when she was asked about her work at the Y, she stated, “I basically grew up in their establishment. When I was young, I went there after school on a daily basis along with several of my friends. We managed our homework and extracurricular activities until our parents came to pick us up. For me it was like a home away from home. I see this as a way of me creating a safe environment for those boys and girls who need a place to go when they have nowhere else to turn.”

  By all accounts, Penny had touched so many lives. Lives that will be forever impacted by her generosity and saddened by her death.

  Sal wondered why someone would do something so despicable to such a lovely woman. The world that Sal knew from his childhood was quickly disintegrating in front of his eyes. He made up his mind he would dedicate an article to the days of old before the end of the week, if for nothing else to feel better within himself.

  He was tucked into his seat next to a young man with stud earrings racing up the cartilage of his ear. He had both nostrils pierced with a chain that ran from one side to the other. Sal could tell he was wearing contacts as his eyes were a shade of blue that nature never intended. He wore his hair spiked down the middle and shaved on the sides. He sat with his legs crossed, right over left, writing feverishly on his cellphone with his stylus.

  On his other side sat a woman in grey sweatpants with white canvas Nikes with a black swoosh. She sported a white long sleeve t-shirt that read, “Will Write for Wine”. She was balancing her Apple MacBook on her lap while holding her phone between her shoulder and her ear talking to George.

  Sal found it hard to believe this was the future but at the same time he knew every generation felt the same way about all upcoming generations; however, in his case he knew he was right. This next generation, especially the journalists, had a lot to learn about the way of the world. Idly he thought with certainty that he could still write circles around each and every one of them.

  Sal’s attention was shifted to the podium as a man in his early to mid-60s walked toward the mic. He wore a severely tailored black suit that hugged his 5-foot-9-inch frame. He had a head full of black hair that was held firmly in place with the aid of synthetic chemicals. A white button shirt lay under the sport coat with a navy blue solid tie adorning his neck. From his vantage point he could see the man’s eyes were slightly puffy as if he had been crying. He stepped to the mic and cleared his throat.

  “Good morning and thank you all for being here today. For those that do not know me, my name is Harry Longstill. I’m the Director of Operations here at Atrium Health. As all of you are aware, two weeks ago we lost someone special to the Atrium family. Someone who made our patients feel like partners in their care and colleagues that felt like family in her home. A person who never had a cross word and would give the shirt off of her back if it meant making your day a better day.

  We lost Penny Hampton to a vile and senseless crime that both her work family and home family are still reeling. She will forever be missed, and she will forever be loved.”

  Longstill took a moment to compose himself before continuing.

  “With her passing, there was a hole that the Atrium family needed to fill. We are fortunate to have found the woman I’m going to bring to the stage. She has operated as the Director of Nursing at her previous employer, has impeccable recommendations, and has turned her nursing unit into one that has maintained the highest rating in her state. Please help me welcome to the podium, Ms. Patti Jones.”

  A round of applause made its way through the assembled crowd as she made her way to the mic. Patti stood a shade over 5 feet 5 inches. She wore rectangular red frames that sat toward the edge of her nose. Her auburn hair stopped just above her shoulder and wrapped around the contours of her face. Her outfit was simple and straightforward, a black skirt that extended below the knees with a white blouse tucked in that swayed as she walked. Around her neck she wore a simple set of pearls but no earrings. She adjusted the mic down a few inches and looked over the crowd

  “Thank you for the warm welcome. I know I have some large shoes to fill both within the hospital and within the co
mmunity. From everything I have heard about Penny and from the display of love in the audience today, I know she was an irreplaceable woman. My goal is not to replace her but to carry forward the legacy she has built. My goal is to work with the nursing staff to ensure the service, friendship, and dedication our patients have been used to and will continue to be the staple in everything we do. Director Longstill,” she said looking back at him, “The operational framework you have put in place has set us up for success. I look forward to joining the team and doing everything I can to make this a seamless experience for everyone. Thank you!”

  Longstill and Jones shook hands while a couple of online journalists took pictures with their cellphones. Sal felt like the dinosaur in the room as he used his Cannon Rebel T6 to capture a few shots. Photo ops complete, the pair left the podium area and the crowd began to file out. As they did, Sal noticed Special Agent Dabria standing off to the side. He placed his camera back in his bag and made his way over toward the agent. As he did, he saw she was standing next to a guy whose stance and demeanor yelled, cop.

  “Agent Dabria, fancy meeting you here. Are you working on the case involving Penny Hampton?”

  She gave a faint, yet genuine smile at seeing the reporter. During the conflict at Driftwood Springs, Sal played a vital role in helping to identify the person responsible for the kidnappings. He also found himself in the crosshairs of the mastermind and ended up being saved by the agent.

  “Sal,” she said in her cool southern voice, “It’s good to see you again.” The two shook hands before Donatella motioned toward Sampson. “This is Detective Carl Sampson with the CMPD. We have decided to share resources as we work to solve a couple of cases that seem to be linked.”

  Sal feeling the hairs on the back of his neck stand erect asked, “Are you saying the murder of Penny Hampton is tied into a case the two of you are working on? Wait – are you working the GIS case? The murder of the entire board including the CEO. Well, almost the entire board, everyone except the then COO and now CEO, Veronica King. Are you –”

  “We are not at liberty to discuss the case,” came the deep voice of Sampson.

  Sal regarded the man, respectfully, but turned his full attention back to Agent Dabria. “I’ve been meaning to call you about that case. I have something I acquired from the facilities that I could use your help solving.”

  “Acquired from the facilities,” repeated Sampson. “Are you saying you stole something from their building that you are not supposed to have?”

  “I didn’t steal anything; I just appropriated an item from Veronica’s trashcan during one of my visits.”

  “Great!” Sampson said exasperated. “This just keeps getting better. We now have you for a B&E along with theft. I suggest you stop while you are ahead.”

  “What do you have Sal?” asked Donatella.

  “I’m not sure exactly. Veronica tore the paper before tossing it in the trashcan. I dropped some pieces when I heard the security guards coming, hence the help I need from you. I managed to piece together most of it but there is still a piece I cannot crack. I’m willing to share the information and if it turns out to be useful, you cut me in on the full story of what’s happening.”

  “You dropped some pieces when you heard the security guards coming,” to this Sampson just shook his head pressing his palm against his temple staving off a headache.

  Sal could tell the agent was curious, he needed to seal the deal.

  “I have the paper at my apartment. Why don’t you stop by later and take a look? If it’s nothing, no harm, no foul. If it’s something, you let me in on the story – deal?”

  “We will stop by later, and if what you have is indeed valuable, we will share some additional information with you.”

  Sampson was about to open his mouth to protest, but Dabria stopped him with a raise of the hand.

  “However, everything we give you cannot be printed until the cases are solved.”

  “Come on. How is that fair? I need something for my readers today.”

  “That’s the deal. You can take it or leave it.”

  Sal knew the story would be a good one if it involved Agent Dabria.

  “Ok, deal. I’ll share what I have, and you’ll share the details of the case. I’ll hold off on releasing any information until the cases have been solved.

  “Good. We will see you this evening.”

  Sal bid the agent and the detective a good day and walked away.

  “Are you really going to share the details of the case with this reporter?”

  “Indeed, I’ll hold my end of the agreement. Should Sal have something that helps turn this case, I’m willing to share what we know.”

  “And what if he decides to print the story before the cases are solved?”

  “Sal and I have some history. I trust he will hold the story until he has been given the greenlight to release it to the public.”

  “I hope you’re right, and more than that, I hope he has something we can use!”

  February 20th – 11:30 a.m.

  “Thank you, Dr. Prince, for everything you are doing to make this pregnancy as smooth as possible. I have to admit, there were a couple of times that I wanted to crawl up in the corner. Several times I asked myself, what have I gotten myself into, but I know I wouldn’t trade it for the world.”

  “You’ve been a model patient, Mrs. Thompson. Every first-time mother experience doubt of some sort. You’ll get there, the little one is right around the corner.”

  Dr. Prince gave Jasmyn a wide smile and a big hug. “You’re doing great! I’d like to see you back next month.”

  Jasmyn returned the hug and felt fortunate to have found such a caring OB as Dr. Prince. They made their way to the checkout where the lobby was beginning to fill with patients.

  “Lucie, please schedule Mrs. Thompson for a follow-up in four weeks. Jasmyn, remember to take it easy and everything will be just fine.”

  Jasmyn walked through the exit and around the corner to the receptionist. Lucie gave her the normal smile that played across her face. “Let’s see – Dr. Prince has an opening on March 27th at 9:30. Will that work?”

  “Sure, let me check my calendar.” Jasmyn pulled out her smartphone and looked through her upcoming appointments and work schedule. “Yep, that’ll work just fine. I don’t need an appointment reminder, I’ll go ahead and log the reminder in my phone.”

  “Great – I have you down for Friday, March 27th at 9:30 a.m. with Dr. Prince. Is there anything else I can do for you today?”

  “No – well, yes. I hope you don’t mind me asking. Lucie T. Berkry is an uncommon name. Do you mind if I ask where it came from?”

  The receptionist smiled wanly focusing on Jasmyn. “Berkry is an old family name. My great-grandmother and great-grandfather grew up in Germany. They were not too fond of the direction the country was headed so they decided to escape to America. After their voyage, they settled originally in Maine. They didn’t want to lose all of their heritage after they left everything behind, so my great-grandfather made the bold decision to keep his name. He thought he was going to receive a tremendous amount of scorn; however, the name never raised the ire of anyone he came across. We’ve kept the name in the family ever since.”

  “That’s amazing,” Jasmyn heard herself say without realizing it. “Well Lucie, I am certainly pleased I had a chance to meet you.”

  “No, Mrs. Thompson, the pleasure is all mine,” she said with a smile that caused Jasmyn to pause. She wasn’t sure what it was, but it was something in that tone and that look.

  “Ok, well, I’ll see you in a couple of weeks.” She turned and made her way out of the office preparing for her drive back home where Marcellous was putting the final touches on lunch with the Evans.

  It took Jasmyn longer than normal to arrive home because of an accident on I-77. There always seemed to be an accident somewhere on this highway which she couldn’t understand. When she arrived, she noticed an unfamiliar vehicle parked
on the curb in front of their house. Hurriedly, she pulled her car into the garage and killed the engine. Hearing the details of what happened to her Director of Nursing, Penny, she let the garage down before she exited the car. Though it was unlikely someone would be after her, the news of her death had everyone on edge.

  When she walked into the house, she could smell the aroma of smoked beef brisket, spare ribs and baked beans simmering in the oven.

  “Hey honey,” Marcellous said greeting her with a kiss on the cheek. He was in his grilling element and had the full attire to match. He donned his white chef’s coat and white chef’s hat that he ordered online when they first were married. He had his grillmaster set atop the island with the long handle spatula and tongs missing from the set. She could see he had already whipped up his homemade barbeque sauce which he covered and sat off to the side.

  “Sorry I’m late,” she said slipping out of her jacket and hanging it in the coat closet. “There was an accident and Waze couldn’t even find a better route than just powering through.”

  “Don’t worry about it, babe. I’m happy you and Marcellous Jr. made it home safely.”

  “Oh – so it’s Marcellous Jr. now? Just yesterday it was Tasha.”

  “Well – today it feels like it’s a boy. So… Marcellous Jr. it is,” he smiled placing his hand on her swollen belly. “Bethany and Troy are sitting in the family room. They arrived about 10 minutes ago.”

  “Lord, let me go in and say hello,” she said as they made their way toward their guest.

  “Bethany, Troy. I’m so sorry for running late. This traffic in Charlotte can be ridiculous.”

  The Evans stood to greet their hostess. Bethany leaned in giving both cheeks a kiss while Troy pulled in the other mother-to-be for a gentle hug.

  “Troy, it’s nice to finally meet you. Bethany has talked so much about you that I feel I know you already.”

  Troy stood a shade over six feet tall with dark brown hair and a slender but full face. He wore frameless rectangular clear frames that covered his dark brown eyes that matched his hair. He had an athletic build – a build that wasn’t that of a professional athlete, but certainly that of a working man who took care of himself.