He wasn’t looking forward to it.
The last time he had shown up, he nearly had a fist fight with a fellow officer.
Nolan couldn’t remember who the officer was, but he clearly remembered the Captain was not pleased. Nolan had been drinking the night before and when he showed up at work he was drunk out of his mind.
An officer had commented on Nolan’s state of mind and that triggered something inside him. Nolan was ready to kill the officer had it not been for others who restrained him.
Soon after, Nolan was sent to the force’s psychiatrist who had prescribed him medication, which he still hadn’t chosen to take. The psychiatrist also recommended he join AA, but Nolan hadn’t chosen to go there either.
He would go, though, if he had a drinking problem.
Tom Nolan was not an alcoholic. No sir.
He drank more than some people, but nothing that would impair him from doing his job.
He thought about his job and he suddenly wanted to have a drink.
The cases he had worked on before invigorated him, not so much now. When they placed him on medical leave, he was glad that it happened.
It allowed him to focus his energies on more important things. Drinking, sleeping, more drinking, more sleeping, the possibilities were endless.
He finished the cup and looked at the time.
He didn’t have the heart to get up and go. Plus, he still wasn’t sobered up to meet his colleagues yet. He ordered another strong cup of coffee.
His cell phone rang and he checked it.
It was Sergeant Doug Halton. Halton was a pain in the ass and he was also Nolan’s supervisor. After the examination of Freeland’s home, Nolan had gone AWOL. He hadn’t shown up at the division, which he was planning to do right after he finished his coffee.
Nolan squinted. Was it Halton whom he had the fight with? He wasn’t sure. His memory was a little foggy at that time.
Regardless, Halton had it in for him, Nolan was sure. He was as big of a prick as Pascale. If Halton had his way, Nolan would have been fired by now. It was Captain Ross who still wanted to see him employed.
This was another reason why Nolan had not quit. The Captain somehow saw something in him. Nolan did not know what, but it was why Nolan was going to go back.
A thought ran through Nolan’s head. Did the Captain feel sorry for him? For what happened to him? Nolan shook his head. That was impossible. If the Captain did indeed pity him, he would have left him to rot in his home. For the Captain to come and summon him in person spoke volumes. Captain Ross wouldn’t give up on him and Nolan would do his best not to disappoint him.
He looked at his watch and then at the cup. It was empty.
I should go now, he thought.
Nah, five more minutes, he reassured himself. Halton can wait.
SEVENTEEN
Hyder was typing up his story on the South Asian Festival when he heard a knock on his cubicle.
“Hi Mrs. Parker,” Hyder said.
Mabel Parker had worked at the Daily Times for the last twenty-two years. She was barely five feet tall with gray cropped hair and she always wore bright and colorful dresses. Her dresses were so colorful that she sometimes looked like a walking, talking Christmas tree.
Hyder never paid much attention to the way she dressed. She had always been pleasant to him, which he appreciated. Also, whenever possible, she made sure to bake cookies and cupcakes for him.
Hyder had tasted so many of her sweets that he was beginning to feel physically sick just thinking about them now.
Hyder smiled. “What can I do for you, Mrs. Parker?”
“There’s a phone call for you,” she said. Mrs. Parker worked at the front desk, which meant she answered any and all direct calls made to the paper.
“You didn’t have to come all this way,” Hyder said. “You could have just forwarded it to this line.”
“I wasn’t sure where you’d be sitting today,” she replied. “Plus, I needed the walk.”
“Do you know who it is?” he asked as they made their way.
“She wouldn’t tell me her name.”
A woman? Hyder thought.
He followed her to the first floor, where she handed him the receiver.
“Hello,” he said.
“Hyder Ali?” a female voice said.
“Yes, may I know who’s speaking?”
“It’s Jessica Freeland. I’m…”
“I know who you are. What can I do for you?”
“I was hoping we could meet.”
“I remember, for coffee.”
“No, not for coffee. I would prefer if we met somewhere public.”
“Okay, where do you have in mind?”
“Do you know where Rosetta Park is?”
It was a twenty minute walk from his building. “Sure.”
“Can you meet me there in an hour?”
“I can.”
“And please come alone.”
The line then went dead.
EIGHTEEN
Nolan took the elevator up to the fifth floor where the detective division was located. He hoped no one would notice him on his way there. A few gave him an odd look as they entered the elevator but no one said a word to him.
Nolan was wearing dark sunglasses. His shirt was untucked under his blazer and his pants were creased. He hoped he hadn’t forgotten to wear socks. When he pulled his pants up, he noticed that he was wearing them, albeit in different colors.
One can’t be too perfect, he thought, and shrugged.
The elevator doors opened and suddenly it felt like the air had been sucked out of the room.
Everyone stopped what they were doing and looked his way.
He casually walked in.
He scanned the familiar faces but didn’t bother greeting any of them.
He moved past them and went all the way to the end.
He knocked on a door and waited.
“Come in,” a voice said from inside.
Nolan didn’t respond. He just waited.
“I said, come in,” the voice grew louder.
Still, Nolan did nothing.
A female officer stood nearby watching him.
He gave her a smile.
The door swung open. “Didn’t you listen, I said…” Sergeant Halton’s face was red. “Nolan?” he said, blinking.
“Reporting for duty, sir,” Nolan replied, giving Halton a salute.
“You have some nerve showing up now,” Halton demanded. “I’ve been trying to contact you for God knows how long.”
“Sorry,” Nolan said.
“Sorry?” Halton’s face was red again. “You’re sorry?”
“Um… very sorry,” Nolan mumbled.
“Get in!” Halton slammed the door behind him.
Nolan looked around Halton’s office. It was exactly how it was when he was last here.
“Sit,” Halton said.
“Yes, sir.” Nolan did.
Halton gave him a stern look. “Take those Goddamn glasses off, Nolan.”
“I can’t, sir,” Nolan said.
“Why not?”
“I have a prescription for those.”
“You what?”
“I had cataract surgery. Doctor told me to keep them on.”
“You're always trying to be a smart-ass, aren’t you?”
Nolan didn’t say anything.
Halton went around and sat behind his desk.
“Listen, Nolan,” Halton said. “I don’t like this situation any more than you do. You don’t want to work for me and I don’t want you to work for me. If it was possible I would rather you quit, but as you are in my office, I guess that’s not going to happen.”
“You can always fire me,” Nolan said.
“I wish, and believe me, I would like nothing better than to do that,” Halton said. “But, knowing what you’ve been through, I would have the union up my ass. Not to mention have the Police Association Board questioning my decision. Plus, the
Captain seems to think you are worth something, so I guess my hands are tied, as they say.”
Nolan smiled. Halton couldn’t do shit to him.
“Wipe that smile off your face,” Halton growled.
“Just happy to be back to work, sir,” Nolan said.
“I’m sure you are.” Halton shook his head. “Now, what’s going on with the Freeland case?”
“Who?”
“The suicide!” Halton nearly yelled.
“Right. I’m on top of it. I’m following all leads. We’ll have a suspect soon.”
Halton was about to lose his temper. “It’s a Goddamn suicide! Write the report and close the case.”
Nolan nodded. “Gotcha.”
“You’re an asshole, you know that.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Get out.”
“Right away, sir,” Nolan got up and left.
Outside he spotted Detective Lopez.
“What was that all about?” she said. “It sounded like Halton’s head was about to explode.”
Nolan smiled. “Five more minutes and it would have.”
NINETEEN
Rosetta Park was in the center of the city. It was close to 400 acres, which included sporting facilities, a restaurant in the middle of the park, nature trails, gardens, playgrounds, and even a large pond on the west side of it.
Hyder entered from the north entrance.
He regretted not asking Jessica where they should meet. Actually, he never had a chance to ask her much. She sounded like she was in a hurry and before he could say anything, she hung up.
Also, what did she mean by come alone?
Was she in trouble? Hyder couldn’t think why.
Maybe she needed someone to talk to. She had just lost her father, after all.
Hyder kept moving deeper into the park. There were oak trees on both sides of his path. The air was cool and crisp. The branches rustled in the wind.
The temperature wasn’t chilly or cold, it was just right.
The sun was coming down at full strength. At certain points of the path, where there was little or no shade, Hyder could feel the warmth of its rays.
He stopped and let it hit his skin.
Hyder wondered why he never bothered coming down here more often. It was only a twenty minute walk from the Daily Times to Rosetta Park.
Life, like everything else, had gotten in the way. Hyder was too busy trying to create his own path that he never bothered to stop and smell the roses, so to speak.
That was why he now stood admiring the beauty and nature of the park.
The phrase that popped into his head was Mashallah, an Arabic phrase for praising the magnificence of God.
He was about to keep walking when a hand grabbed him by the elbow. “Just follow me.”
He looked back. It was Jessica.
“What…?”
“Please,” she said.
They hurried down the path. They looped around the trail, which took them an extra ten minutes to do so, and finally came to a stop at the children’s playground.
They found a bench opposite the sand pit, sat.
“What’s going on?” Hyder finally asked.
He noticed Jessica’s green eyes were even brighter in the sunlight.
“My father did not commit suicide,” she said right away.
Hyder didn’t know how to respond.
“I know they found a note on his study table,” she continued. “And also medication pills, but I am telling you he was not depressed.” She bit her lip. “My dad would never have taken anti-depressants… he… he was a bit paranoid about those things.”
Hyder was aware Freeland was skeptical on any medication that altered the chemicals in the brain. He thought those drugs were created by the government to control the masses. He had once listened to Freeland speak non-stop for an hour about how true the movie The Manchurian Candidate was.
Hyder was never one to make too much of conspiracy theories. He had found them to be a fun alternative to the truth.
Freeland, however, was a fervent believer in them. Hyder never thought Freeland was cuckoo or anything, he just placed him as being eccentric.
“Jessica,” Hyder chose his words carefully. “I’m truly sorry that your father is gone now, but you have to consider that he may have been suffering severely. People change their beliefs, their thought process, even their habits, when confronted with such pain. We have to accept that your father took the alternative he thought was best for him at the time.”
She narrowed her eyes and stared at him. “How well did you know my dad?”
Hyder shrugged. “Well enough, I guess. I was at Franklin University for four years.”
“Did you know my dad kept a diary?” she asked.
Hyder nodded. He had seen him scribble something in a book once or twice before.
“Well, I can’t find it,” she said. “I have searched his house and it is not there. He always kept it on him. I tried contacting the detective working on the case and he is nowhere to be found.”
Hyder scratched his head. He tried to remember the detective’s name.
“It’s Tom Nolan,” Hyder finally said.
“Yes. That’s the name they gave me.”
“Maybe, he has it.”
“I hope so, but why would he take it if it’s a suicide?”
Hyder had no response.
“Hyder,” Jessica said, but stopped. She then looked away. Children were laughing and giggling as they played on the playground equipment.
“What is it?” he asked.
When she looked back at him, her eyes were moist. “I feel I can trust you.”
“But you don’t even know me.”
“My dad did. He trusted you and I trust him. So I’m going to tell you something.”
“Okay” Hyder said, not knowing how else to respond.
“I think my dad was murdered.”
Hyder’s mouth nearly dropped. “Are you sure about that?”
“Yes, I don’t believe my dad was depressed. Even if he was, he would never have taken his own life. It would have gone against everything he stood for.”
Hyder nodded. It was out of character from the Eric Freeland he had come to admire and respect.
“Also, he had been acting strange the last couple of weeks. I couldn’t tell anyone, not even my mom. If I did she would have gone on and on about why she had left him in the first place. My mom blamed his strange antics for the end of their marriage. Anyway, it does seem odd that around the time my dad’s behavior changed, he suddenly decided to commit suicide.”
“He may have been suffering from mental illness,” Hyder blurted out. He suddenly felt sheepish, regretted saying it.
Jessica wasn’t offended. “I thought that too, but there’s something else.”
“What?”
“I think someone’s following me.”
Hyder nearly jumped out of his seat. “Are you sure?”
“Absolutely. In the last day or so I have seen a black sedan parked not far from my apartment. The engine is always running, like someone was inside, watching.”
Hyder thought about it. “Is that why you wanted to meet me alone, in this park?”
She nodded.
Hyder rubbed his temples.
This was too much—a murder? He wasn’t sure he was ready for this.
“What can I do?” he asked her directly.
“I need your help to find who killed my dad and why.”
“I don’t know.” Hyder stood up.
“Let me ask you this,” she said, looking him straight in the eye. “Did my dad mean anything to you?”
“Yes, he did,” Hyder replied without any hesitation. “He made me who I am.”
“Then will you help me? Please?”
He nodded, said, “But first we have to find Detective Tom Nolan. We have to speak to him.”
TWENTY
Nolan had been given a desk in the middle of the room.
It was not the desk he was hoping for. The one he wanted was located at the other end of the room, near the windows.
Prior to his leave he would sit and sometimes watch the city below him. It gave him a sense of purpose that he was doing a job that provided some form of security for those walking the streets. If anything ever happened, they were assured that he would do his utmost to find the perpetrator.
Right now, he felt no purpose in his job. In fact, he felt like a prisoner. He was stuck in a room, surrounded by detectives and police officers who were watching his every move.
Somehow, his reputation had preceded him. They were waiting to see what Tom Nolan would do next. Would he pass out at his desk, only to be berated by Halton? Would he explode at another colleague, which would start an altercation of some sort? Or, would he give up and start drinking right where he sat, which would pressure the Captain to sack him once and for all?
Nolan would do none of those things.
Earlier, a clerk had handed him the file on the suicide.
Nolan would go through the details, write up his report, and close the file as instructed.
He flipped the cover over and his head began to spin.
The mere thought of doing anything remotely related to work made him physically ill.
He got up and headed straight for the washroom.
He felt a dozen eyes on him.
He entered and made a bee-line straight for the cubicles. He sat on the toilet seat and put his face in his palms. He wasn’t ready to be back, he needed more time to recover.
What he really needed was another drink.
He had a bottle in his car. He could quietly sneak out and take a sip. Just one sip and he would be good to go.
He licked his lips. That was a great idea.
After everything he had been through so far, he deserved it for sure. Until a day ago, he was sitting in his home and resting his delicate body.
Captain Ross had shaken him out of his daily schedule. It would take Nolan several days, or even weeks, to get back into the groove.
It was wrong to jump into another case, he told himself. It was not good for his mental health. He needed to ease himself into it one baby step at a time.
He clapped his hands together. The noise reverberated throughout the washroom.
The Silent Reporter (A Police Procedural Mystery Series of Crime and Suspense, Hyder Ali #1) Page 5