by Dobi Cross
His father stayed silent. They both knew Drake had been behind the events that had brought the company to its current state. But there was no evidence to prove his guilt. Despite how much his father and the employees had tried to figure out what was going on, Drake had been a ghost. His father couldn’t afford any more damages to the company and couldn’t keep it secret from his investors for much longer. It would spell the end of the company once investors descended like vultures to get their money back. And his father couldn’t let his legacy and reputation be destroyed just like that. “Done,” he said finally.
“Hold on, that’s not all.” Drake took his sweet time sipping the cup of coffee that was in front of him. It had a bright taste. Perfect, just like the way he was feeling right now. His father’s eyes flashed but he said nothing. “I have two conditions.”
“What are they?”
“One, you have to retire effective this evening. The news will go out on the wire tonight.”
The muscle in his father’s jaw twitched though he said nothing.
Number two, you have to fire Stevie Knox.”
“Steven Knox.”
“Yeah, whatever. Just take him along with you. I don’t want his grubby hands on what belongs to me.”
“Anything else?”
“That’s it.”
His father snapped his fingers and a man who Drake recognized as his father’s long-time lawyer materialized as if out of thin air. Without speaking a word, he opened his briefcase and extracted a set of documents and handed them to his father.
Drake smirked. So his father had known what he wanted.
His old man signed the documents and then handed them to Drake. Drake looked them over and nodded, satisfied that they were no traps hidden in the fine print that could trip him up in the future. He signed both documents and gave a copy back to his father. The lawyer picked the document and tucked it back in his briefcase before stepping away.
His father didn’t utter another word—he just got up and strode out of the restaurant, his wooden walking cane making a clickety-clack sound on the tiled floor. Drake had felt the brunt of that cane on his back for many years and wasn’t sad to see it go. It was obvious his father had no plans to reunite with him ever again. He could only imagine how much havoc that cane would make in the house once his father got home.
Drake had won, but the victory didn’t taste as sweet as he had expected. But that didn’t matter. Now he could do whatever he liked with the company, and nobody would stand in his way. Phase One of his plan had been successfully completed.
It was time to focus on Phase Two.
Drake whistled to himself as he reclined on the sofa in his home office. He’d moved back to his original home. There had been no need to hide any longer after the discussion with his father. He’d never thought it possible, but he’d missed this place with its fifteen-foot floor-to-ceiling windows that gave Drake a spectacular view of the city. It had been the first place he’d bought when he made his first million, and it had surprised him that he had nostalgic memories of his early morning swims in the infinity pool located in the private rooftop terrace.
He inhaled deeply. Ah, the sweet scent of victory, he thought. He now had control over his old man’s company. And if things went according to plan, he would soon have control over the city. That would be the fulfillment of his long-time dream. But right now, it was time to celebrate. Going to the H Club might do the trick.
A knock sounded on the door. Drake turned his head to see Tiny walk in dressed in his customary black outfit.
His mood turned sour. He hated betrayals no matter how little. Maybe it was time to take care of Tiny too.
“What is it?” he barked.
“I’ve got news about Zora Smyth. She just got suspended.”
Drake rubbed his fingers along his jaw line. “That’s not too bad. She can handle it.”
“What do you want me to do?”
“Keep an eye on her as always. Any other news?”
“Nothing else.”
“Alright. Now, since I’ve gotten what I want from my father, it’s time to disband the team. The Collmark funds need to start making money again.”
“Yes, sir.”
“You can go.” Tiny stepped out of his office.
Drake got up and sauntered over to his desk. He sat down in his swivel chair and opened his desk drawer to pull out the black burner phone. He dialed a number and it went to voicemail. Drake disconnected the call. A few seconds later the phone rang. He picked it up. “Any news on the girl?”
“She was suspended,” Monkey said from the other end of the line.
“Anything else?”
“It seems she may have a new man in her life. A Detective Dave McKesson came to visit her. Turns out her roommate is missing. I looked him up, and he has a history with her—they’ve dated before.”
Drake’s jaw tightened. No other man was allowed in Zora’s life no matter who he was. And Tiny had not told him. A second betrayal.
“What would you like me to do?” Monkey said.
“I need you to confirm that he’s actually dating her. Let me know when you find out.”
“You got it.”
“Did you get any information on the other matter that I asked you to dig into?”
“Not yet, but I’m working on some interesting leads today. I’ll likely have some updates for you in a few days.”
“I’ll need it faster than that.”
“I’ll do what I can. You don’t have to worry. It will be good.”
“Alright.” The line clicked dead.
Drake placed the phone back in his desk drawer and locked it. He got up from his chair and paced the front of his desk. He stopped, grabbed a paperweight—a gift from his father when he made his first million and which he’d always kept as a memento—that was on his desk, and tossed it from one hand to the other as he walked back and forth.
A new man. Zora didn’t have that right. He banged his fist on his desk, and the papers on the surface scattered. She belonged only to him, and if he couldn’t have her, no one else could. But he would have to tread carefully since there was a detective hovering around her. There was no need to bring undue attention to himself—he still had his side business to consider.
For now, he would watch and wait.
And if things changed, he would take drastic action.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Zora had tossed and turned all weekend. There’d been no news from Christina—no phone calls from her and no text messages. She had checked in with Dave to see if there’d been any progress. He was still waiting for the results from forensics and had interviewed Christina’s colleagues, but nothing had come of it.
His team was still trying to track down Nurse Keller—her sister had confirmed she was on vacation outside the area. Nurse Keller had told her she would be incommunicado for the duration of her vacation to get the rest she needed. And none of the other SICU medical staff who had been on-call that night remembered Christina. Dr. Graham had also been harder to pin down. Dave figured he probably had something to hide and promised to stay on his tail.
Zora had thought about calling Marcus to see if he could help with the case. More eyes on it could only help. But Marcus had gone on an important assignment overseas and would only be back in two weeks time. Which would be too late for Christina.
The logical next step would have been to call Christina’s mother to let her know what was going on. But Zora was nervous about doing so. Christina’s mom had a series of heart attacks last year and was only now getting back to good health. Telling her about Christina would set her back. But then Christina was her only child, and if Zora was in her mom’s shoes she would want to be told the truth. But knowing Christina, she would not have wanted her mom to know what was going on. That put Zora in a conundrum. So she decided not to tell her unless she had some positive progress news to report as well. Or if it became inevitable, which was an option Zora refused to consi
der.
The disciplinary interview at ten a.m. that Monday morning had also weighed heavily on her mind as she headed to the hospital. Zora had prepped for the interview, but in hindsight she shouldn’t have invested the effort.
The interview had been a disaster. From the moment she’d stepped into the conference room, the interview had pretty much been taken out of her hands. No one had listened to anything she had to say. The committee had droned on and on, finishing each other’s sentences as if they had practiced together beforehand.. The whole thing smelled of a setup. She didn’t get why they’d even bothered calling her in. She supposed they wanted to be able to note that they had done everything by the book.
She was seeing one of her patients when she got the notice about their decision. Zora was suspended for a full month. The ad hoc committee notified her they would forward their report to the Medical Executive Committee, who could accept, reject, or modify the recommendations. The final decision from MEC would be sent to her by certified mail. At that time, she could exercise her right to a judicial review hearing. But Zora sensed this was merely a formality to fend off any future lawsuits and convince themselves that they had carried out a fair process before firing her. And if she didn’t resolve this case against her and stop the process, she might even end up losing everything, even her medical license.
Zora tried to maintain a straight face and a cool head as she completed her work with the rest of her patients. She could feel eyes on her back as she moved from one patient to the next; she was sure the other medical staff had already heard the news. The hospital grapevine never slept and was as efficient as ever in spreading gossip around the hospital. But this was her first time being a victim of the vicious network.
She handed over her patients to the attending-on-duty. He remained solemn as she discussed the patients with him unlike his usual cheerful self. But she didn’t need the pity. She was dying to get out of the hospital, but she needed to first make sure that her patients were in good hands.
Zora held herself ramrod as she left the acute care general surgical unit and headed to the call room to pick her things. The room was empty save for a junior resident in a corner, who pretended to be reading and refused to look her in the eye. It was just as well. She wasn’t in the mood for chitchat. She was about to press the code to open her locker when she noticed that the locker’s door was slightly ajar. Zora jerked the door open, and her items spilled out onto the floor.
Her heart picked up its pace. Someone had been to her locker. She usually kept everything in its own place since it made it easier for her to find whatever she was looking for.
She turned to the junior resident. “Did anyone come to my locker?” she asked.
The junior resident ignored her.
“Taylor, I asked you a question.”
Taylor looked up from the book he was holding and stared brazenly into her eyes. “I don’t know,” he said.
The insolent twat. So he’d heard her the first time. He must be gloating about her situation since she’d embarrassed him last week when he’d almost killed a patient with his incompetence. Well, enjoy it while it lasts because I’ll be back and on your case, she thought.
Zora turned back to her locker and picked up her items from the floor. What could they have been searching for? And then she remembered. She dug into the back of her locker and pulled out the ASCRS Textbook of Colon and Rectal Surgery that she kept at the bottom. She flipped through the book, but she couldn’t find the copy of Jane Doe’s operative report that she’d stuffed there. She turned the book upside down and shook its pages. Nothing fell out. It was gone.
Zora dropped the book back in her locker and leaned her head against its door. So they had wanted to erase every trace of Jane Doe’s records. But they hadn’t known she would take precautionary measures. They had no idea she had stored an electronic copy of the report in a cloud account, and the attending had backed up his files elsewhere. They must be dreaming if they thought they had bested her.
She grabbed her bag from her locker and slammed the door shut. From the corner of her eye, she spotted the resident sending a text on his phone as she left the room. Probably providing the latest update on the Zora celebrity news.
On her way out of the hospital, Zora could hear the murmurings. She gritted her teeth and kept her gaze straight ahead. From the corners of her eyes, she saw nurses she’d worked with averting their eyes, a few residents from other departments who pointed her out to their colleagues, and non-medical staff who pushed their carts further away when they passed her. It was like she was suddenly a leper, and nobody wanted to get infected.
Her head reminded her that a good majority of the medical staff were people like her, who were much more focused on helping the sick than discussing the latest gossip, and so were probably attending to their patients. But her heart wished they were here instead to cheer her on.
Zora exited the hospital and hailed a cab from the cab zone. The sound of thunder clapped loudly against her ears as she rode home. The skies threatened a downpour, black clouds skirting the horizon. It was as if the whole universe agreed with the verdict against her.
The ride to her apartment was quick. She lumbered up the stairs and opened her apartment door. The place seemed empty, devoid of life. Zora wondered if the brightness she had always felt on entering her home had been a dream. An optical illusion.
She dropped her bag on the couch and looked at the living room corner to see if she needed to water her favorite plant, the hardy one among the others. But it was dead. Dead like her life.
That’s when the sobs swelled within her and broke through. Zora’s tears flowed as she collapsed on the couch and the sobs racked her body. She didn’t know how long she stayed in that position.
When she opened her eyes, it was dark outside the windows. Zora sat up and rubbed her puffy eyes. She had cried herself to sleep.
Everything that had happened came flooding back as she sat there staring into space. Had it really been only about a week ago that John Doe disappeared? One minute she had been a witness reporting a case, and now she was the victim in yet another witch hunt. Why her and not someone else? Not that she wished this on anyone. But she’d been minding her own business, heads down on saving patients’ lives. There was no reason why this should be happening to her.
But she couldn’t change what had happened. There was only one thing to do. She was going to fight back. They had another thing coming if they thought she was just going to wilt and die.
But first she had to eat something even if she wasn’t really hungry. Zora got up, padded across the living room to the kitchen, and opened her stainless steel fridge. It was empty save for a half-full bottle of milk, which smelled rancid. Zora tossed the bottle in the garbage can under her sink.
She searched the cupboards and found a packet of popcorn. It would do for now. Cooking had never been her strong suit, so she had learned to stock only the basic necessities. Popcorn was one of them. Christina was the cook; she loved making dishes from all over the world. Christina. Tears welled up behind Zora’s eyes at the thought of her. Hang in there, Christina. We’ll find you, she thought.
Zora sniffed as she popped the popcorn pack into the microwave. This was not the time for tears. A few minutes later, the microwave dinged. Zora removed the popcorn, poured it into a clean bowl, and carried it back to the living room.
She needed to get a good handle on her emotions, and then the planning could begin. The only way was to distract herself. So she picked up the remote control from a side table. As she flipped the channels, nothing caught her attention. She didn’t feel like watching the romantic comedy on Channel Five, and the medical drama on Channel Twelve only amplified her pain.
As she changed the channels randomly, a news headline caught her attention. Zora dropped the remote on the coffee table and leaned closer to hear what the reporter was saying. A body had been found in the nearby reservoir, and the police had just identified the body
.
Zora gasped.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
The picture that stared back at her was Jane Doe! Her name was Jasmine, and she had been a non-immigrant student at the local college. Zora’s heart quickened and she barely held back her excitement. This was the patient that everyone claimed didn’t exist! As Zora watched, she discovered Jasmine had a family.
That’s when she remembered the man. The one she had bumped into on her way into the ER. The man that had claimed that he was Jasmine’s brother. Zora was skeptical of the relationship; the man looked like a bouncer unlike Jasmine’s more delicate features. And he had disappeared. A real brother would never have abandon his sister in the ER just like that.
Zora’s mind raced and she stood up and paced. This was good news. Not in the sense that Jasmine was dead; that was a terrible loss of life. But she now had a good lead—her sail had finally caught new wind.
Time to find out more. The reporter had mentioned that an autopsy had been done and the body released to the family. The family wanted to bury her immediately, so the funeral service was scheduled for tomorrow. Which meant that the man would be in attendance if he was really Jasmine’s brother. But her instincts told her it wasn’t the case. Which meant he might be involved in her death; he didn’t seem a Good Samaritan type of fellow. Tracking him down might give a clue as to who set her up.
Maybe she should call Dave and let him know. Zora stopped pacing. No, she needed to be sure first before reaching out to him.
Her next step was now clear—she would attend the funeral service. The reporter had stated that it was scheduled for ten a.m. Nothing was going to keep her away.
She would start there.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
