Hour of Reckoning (Donatella Book 2)

by Demetrius Jackson

“The question that we need to answer is why? Why would she purposely try to lead us down the wrong path? My gut says she didn’t want us to know this victim ties back to her. If that is the case, then this victim holds a significant key that Terri doesn’t want us to discover. What do we know about her?”

  “Well, she’s been married for over 20 years to the same man, Neil Hampton. They had two children, both grown living in different states. They have lived in this subdivision for the last five years. They were one of the first residents to buy a house here. She works as the Director of Nursing at Atrium Health, a position she has held for the last seven years. She graduated with a degree in nursing before going back two years later to obtain her master’s. That’s all we have on the prelim. I’m sure we will uncover more given some time.”

  “Once you have a full dossier, please share it with me right away. In the meantime, I find her position at the hospital peculiar. I’d like to speak with her superiors first thing in the morning.”

  “I’m certain that can be arranged. Agent Dabria,” he said with a new fire in his eyes. “We need to find this psycho soon. I don’t want to have any more blood on my hands.”

  “Let’s see where Mrs. Hampton leads us,” she said. She too prayed there would be no more blood, but more was coming, and she was certain she would be the one dealing out her fair share soon enough.

  Chapter 14

  February 6th – 9:00 a.m.

  T he next morning Agent Dabria and Detective Sampson met with Harry Longstill. Longstill oversaw all operations within the hospital and Penny Hampton was one of his direct reports. News of her death came as a shock to him and would devastate the staff. Penny had been a valued member of the team for many years and the nurses under her charge respected and loved her.

  Several times during the conversation Longstill removed his handkerchief to dab his eyes which continued to fill with tears. He thought back to when Penny was promoted to Director of Nursing. It was his first promotion during his tenure and one he was proud to perform. Penny had been a standout nurse and had the bedside manner of a saint. She had a calming influence on every patient she encountered and all the other nurses looked up to her.

  When Longstill spoke to her about her promotion she was apprehensive at first. She enjoyed her position and her ability to touch so many lives. He was able to convince her that within her new role she would have the opportunity to touch even more lives and the care she already showed would help when tough conversations needed to take place with the families of patients in their care. By the end of the conversation, she felt better about the position and agreed that she would give it her level best.

  They stood, shook hands and Longstill led her to the door. When he opened the door and she stepped out, all of the nurses stood outside giving her a round of applause. A cake sat in the middle of the group congratulating her on the promotion. Longstill recalled the look she gave him when she looked back blushing. He knew she would accept the position and every nurse on the staff stood firmly behind her.

  She teared up as she left the office accepting hugs from each nurse in attendance – including Jasmyn Thompson.

  It was clear to Donatella and Sampson that Penny made her mark on Longstill and her staff. When asked if Mrs. Hampton had any known disputes or if anyone in particular stood out, Longstill could not think of anyone. He couldn’t recount one instance in which she had a cross word with a patient or an employee.

  She treated the patients with kid gloves most of the time but was firm when she needed to be. She set the expectations for her staff and was clear on what would be accepted and what would not be tolerated. She was fair with each of her nurses and that is all one could ask for.

  Sampson and Dabria went through some additional perfunctory questions but they felt this was as much information as they would obtain. The pair thanked Longstill for his time, each shaking his hand and giving him a business card. They asked if he remembered anything additional, that could be useful, that he give them a ring day or night.

  “What’s next?” inquired Sampson. “It feels like we are spinning our wheels and going nowhere fast.”

  “I’ve reached out to a trusted colleague and provided him with the details of the case. I hope he is able to delve into elements seeking a connection between all of these pieces. Terri is calculated in all of her decisions; we simply need to understand how the pieces fit together. If my contact provides me with any creditable data, I’ll let you know.”

  She said this last part climbing behind the wheel of her R8.

  “In the meantime, I have a visit to make to a certain Veronica King. Care to come along?”

  This was the first time the FBI agent extended an offer to tag along as part of the investigation. Although they were working the case together, they in effect were working the case separately.

  “Sure,” he said making his way to the passenger seat. “To what pleasure are we visiting Mrs. King?”

  “If you recall, Mrs. King stated she had to go home because her daughter was sick.”

  “Yes and this was corroborated by the principal at the school.”

  “Her husband’s car was videotaped at the convenience store two blocks from the school. Fast forward 20 minutes, the same car can be seen leaving the direction of the school. While you cannot see the child in the car, it’s clear something is in the backseat that wasn’t there when he bypassed the convenience store the first time.”

  Sampson wondered how she was able to obtain this footage but decided he would keep the question to himself.

  “Veronica’s statement is her husband was gone for a business trip and could not pick up their daughter thus she had to leave work early. The thing is, her husband has not been heard of since that day.”

  “WHAT!” Sampson exclaimed. “We received confirmation from the airlines that he was on that flight. Their manifest shows him boarding the plane and the hotel shows him checking in.”

  “Yes; however, I had a colleague of mine do some additional digging. Although the manifest says he was on the flight, and the hotel shows he checked into the hotel, there isn’t one person who can recall seeing him. Furthermore, I find it strange he would be gone this long.”

  Sampson could hardly believe what he was hearing. More than that, he needed to know who this secret colleague is that keeps providing information his team could not ascertain. From the sounds of it, the person in question didn’t work for the FBI, and that made him even more intrigued.

  “I’d like to look Mrs. King in the eyes when I ask her about her husband and when she’s asked to explain his vehicle’s proximity to the school the day of the GIS massacre.”

  February 6th – 9:00 a.m.

  Sal Grandson sat at his kitchen table crumbling another sheet of paper and tossing it at the trashcan. Similar to his previous 27 crumbled sheets of paper, this one hit the side of the trashcan before falling harmlessly to the floor. He placed his head into his hands willing his brain to come up with an answer that made sense.

  After his “break-in” at GIS he had forgotten about the shreds of paper he absconded with prior to escaping the building. Well, it wasn’t a graceful exit. He was running from the long arm of the law. And what was up with that dog? Nonetheless, since Jane handed him the scraps of paper, he was like an old dog with a bone working tirelessly to solve the puzzle but making no progress.

  Jane silently walked into the room witnessing the despair pulsating behind his clenched fingers. She had never seen him like this and in a way, it was comical. She could see his lips working wordlessly behind his fingers, eyes closed so tight that a vein began to materialize down the center of his head.

  “Sal,” she offered hesitantly, “What’s wrong, honey?”

  Sal, realizing for the first time that she entered the room, moved his hands from his head and stared at her with bloodshot eyes.

  This is worse than I imagined, she thought. She pulled out one of the other dining room chairs, that she secretly despised, and s
at next to him. “What’s going on, Sal?”

  His mouth motioned a few words before sound emanated from his throat, “…scraps of paper. It’s those darn scraps of paper from GIS,” he said finding his voice once again. “I have been sitting here trying to solve the puzzle to these scraps of paper. It could be nothing, but then again it could be something. The not knowing is driving me crazy.”

  “Scraps of paper – does this have to do with the scraps I found in your jacket the other day? And what does this have to do with GIS?”

  “Yes, this has to do with the scraps of paper you gave me the other day, and… you’re probably better off not knowing the answer to your last question.”

  She raised an eyebrow, “Really?”

  “Really.”

  She shook her head knowing if he didn’t want to tell her, he did something illegal to procure the information sitting on the kitchen table.

  “Here, let me take a look,” she said turning the paper around with the scraps affixed to it with scotch tape. On the paper she noticed the top line read “Br” followed by “ley”. The second line read “Wh” followed by “he?”.

  “Hmm, not much detail to work from – ”

  “I know’,” Sal said words rushing out in a tumble. “I’ve been burning brain cells trying to figure this out. The more I try to solve this intolerable riddle, the further away I become.”

  Jane cocked her head and said, “Well the second line looks like it’s one of the 5 Ws: Who, What, When, Where, Why – and we can skip How as it doesn’t start with a “Ho”. She cocked her head to the other side.

  “Who he?”

  “What he?”

  “When he?”

  “Where he?”

  “Why he?”

  Sal took a moment to chime in, “I don’t think they are two consecutive words. It wouldn’t leave many options for the top line. Furthermore, the person who wrote this is well educated and I couldn’t see them writing anything down like “What he?”.

  “That’s fair,” Jane conceded. “But I’m still convinced the first word is one of the remaining Ws. It most certainly is a question of some sort. Let’s assume for a moment the word in the middle happens to be “is”, that eliminates “When is he?”. Unless we are dealing with some sort of cyborg, that eliminates “What is he?” as well. That leaves us with three possibilities.

  “Who is he?”

  “Where is he?”

  “Why is he?”

  Sal had to admit, her logic made sense and it was further than he had come. He smiled and said, “That is great work Jane and if you are right, that means the top portion is a name.”

  “Bingo!” she said. “I’ll admit honey bear solving the name may still be impossible.”

  “Maybe not impossible,” he said with a smile. I know a certain FBI agent who has a geek on her personal payroll that could probably help us figure this out.”

  He leaned over almost falling out of his chair and gave her a long, deep passionate kiss on the lips, “Thank you for throwing a lifeline to a drowning man.”

  “Anytime, babe,” she said giving him a peck on the lips and stroking his hair. “By the way, did you look at the dinette options I left for you?”

  February 6th – 11:00 a.m.

  Detective Carl Sampson and Agent Donatella Dabria entered the offices of Global Insights Security. Straight ahead sat the security desk being manned by a mid-40s guard with a receding hairline and a button up shirt that hung loosely from his shoulders. He handed the woman he was helping a visitor’s badge and pointed her to the elevator.

  “Hi, may I help you?” came a voice higher than you would have expected coming from his frame.

  Agent Dabria flipped open her badge while Sampson did the same, “Special Agent Donatella Dabria and Detective Carl Sampson to see Veronica King.”

  He gave their badges a once over and turned toward his computer monitor. He typed a few keys, louder than Dabria would have imagined necessary and plastered a frown on his face.

  “I’m sorry, but I do not see an entry in our visitors manifest for either of you.”

  “That’s because we do not have an appointment,” came the retort from Sampson.

  “Well, without an appointment I cannot let you up to see Mrs. King. She’s a very busy woman and –”

  Dabria was in no mood to banter back and forth with this guard. She felt it was due to Mercury Retrograde; however, that was still over a week away. In reality, she just didn’t feel like small talk after seeing the body of Mrs. Hampton and the similarities between her body and that seen from the victims here at GIS.

  “Our asking was a mere courtesy to allow you to perform the duty you have been tasked to complete. In reality Mr.,” she looked with distain at his name badge, “Busch, me and my partner are going to walk over to the elevator and take it up to see Veronica King. Even if she is otherwise disposed, she will extract herself and see to it that we are not left waiting. You see, we are investigating the horrific scene that played out here some weeks prior and there isn’t anything that will prevent us from completing that job.”

  She began walking toward the elevator bank and he opened his mouth to protest their movement. However, before the words could free themselves from his lips, he decided it was probably in his best interest not to interfere in official police business. He turned back to the entry log and entered their names to the list along with the time of their entry.

  The elevator doors slid open on the fifth floor providing a glimpse into the working atmosphere. Unlike their first visit to the GIS offices, the floor was lively and gave off an air of confidence and optimism. The pair stepped onto the floor making a bee line to the office of Veronica King. Sampson found it curious she had not taken over the CEO’s office – instead she decided to stay in the office where she made a name for herself.

  They traversed down the hallway, Donatella in the lead, gliding as she always seemed to do. Sampson sensed a difference in the FBI agent. She seemed to have an edge different than she had displayed since he met her.

  Less than 20 paces away from the office of CEO King, Veronica lifted her head sensing the determined movement headed her way. A “now what” look danced across her facial features as she stood politely to greet her visitors.

  “Ah, Special Agent Dabria,” she said extending her hand. “I’m surprised to see you here, without an appointment, nonetheless. And it looks like you have brought along a friend.”

  “Detective Carl Sampson,” came the mellow tone taking the proffered hand after Donatella released her grip.

  “Why don’t you two come on in and have a seat. What is it I can do for the FBI and one of Charlotte’s finest?”

  Special Agent Dabria crossed her right leg over her left sitting back in the armed visitor’s chair. “I’d like to go over the discussion we had at your home the day after the unfortunate events that unfolded here, in this very building.”

  “Sure, I’ll do anything I can to assist.”

  “Before we get started, I must say, I’m curious as to why you didn’t change offices. Surely being the CEO comes with a new office.”

  “Easy enough to answer, though I don’t see the relevance. I like working closely with my staff. I always felt the CEO office was too far removed from the action, thus I decided to keep my former office. I have repurposed the office to a game room. It’s a place where the staff can go and blow off a little steam or simply take a break after a grueling morning.”

  In truth, King hadn’t moved into the office because every time she walked in there, she felt the spirits of her murdered colleagues. If she could have found a way to remove the office out of the building, she would have done so.

  “I see. That’s very noble of you,” Dabria said nodding her head forward. “Mrs. King, where is your husband and his mistress Irena Petrov?”

  Although she tried to mask her initial reaction, the shock registered before she was able to compose herself. Both King and Detective Sampson had not expec
ted this question for totally different reasons.

  Agent Dabria had not shared this information with him previously and he wondered for a brief moment if she made this up. However, after seeing the expression on the face of Veronica and knowing she had her ways of finding out information, he knew this was legit.

  Veronica King was assured by her “new employers” that all tracks had been covered. How did this FBI woman know about the affair and how did she know the woman’s name?

  Agent Dabria sat there, calm, fingers tented patiently awaiting an answer. The silence in the room carried uncomfortably as the suspect, which Dabria began to think of her as, answered the question. She decided to let some of her true rage carry part of her answer so that it would seem legitimate.

  “Honestly, I’m not sure. I found out the son of a bitch was having an affair with Ms. Petrov and told him I never wanted to see his cheating ass again. I guess he took that request seriously. A couple days after having a fight about his indiscretions, he took a flight and never returned. I had enough going on personally that him being away was the best thing for me.”

  “The day of the massacre, your husband picked your daughter up from school. We caught his car on camera going to the school without your daughter and leaving the school with her snuggly tucked away in the back seat.”

  Dabria paused and simply looked at the woman across from her that began to shift in her seat ever so slightly. She hadn’t asked a question, just a statement and now waited on Veronica to pick up the thread. Sampson could see the gears working in her head, calculating her response.

  “I’m not sure what video you were watching, Agent Dabria, but I picked my daughter up from the school that day.” She gave Donatella a cold glare, daring her to challenge her comment.

  “Of course, that is what you told me previously. Must have slipped my mind. It’s plausible a man matching your husband’s description, driving the same car, would have a child at the same school.”