As word spread of Hyder’s firing, employees of the Daily Times showed up at the coffee shop to say they were sorry and give him moral support.
Lester was the first to come. He gave Hyder a big hug right away. He even had tears in his eyes. He promised Hyder that he would come visit him often. Hyder knew Lester was fond of his mom’s cooking, so there would be other reasons for his visits. But Hyder had come to rely on him and he would miss not working with him.
Veronica was the next former co-worker to appear. She was fuming at the way Dunny had fired him. She was prepared to give Dunny a piece of her mind, but Hyder talked her out of it. There was no point in her putting her career on the line for him. He was after all, still a temp. Veronica assured him he would find a paper that would appreciate his talents. Hyder hoped so.
Mabel Parker, the secretary at the Daily Times, came by for a quick visit. She told Hyder that she would miss him and if he ever was in the neighborhood he should drop by to say hi. Hyder told her that he would, but deep down he knew that the Daily Times was the last place he’d want to come back to.
In the end, Hyder was left by himself.
He felt utterly alone. He was in a profession that no longer wanted him. He didn’t know what else he would do with his life. Worse, he didn’t know how he would break the news to his mom. It was bad enough that he had been investigated by the FBI.
It couldn’t possible get any worse, Hyder thought, but then regretted thinking it. He had come to realize that it could always get worse.
FORTY-ONE
Nolan sat at his desk, staring at the file before him.
He was back in the detective division and he was once again sitting in the middle of the room. He wished he could get his old desk back. It would be a relief to stare out the window, like he wanted to right now.
“Nolan,” a voice chirped. “I didn’t know you were psychic?”
Nolan turned to find Detective Angelo Pascale standing by his desk. Nolan wanted to make a quip about Pascale’s Mafioso attire, but instead he said, “Is that the same toothpick you had in your mouth the last time we met? It’s disgusting.”
Pascale pulled it out and flicked it away.
“Always a smart-ass, aren’t you?” Pascale jerked his head. “At least I get serious work done. Unlike you, I don’t stare at closed files.”
“I was reading it.”
“Like I said, I didn’t know you had special psychic abilities.”
“I do. I can see through people and all I see right now is a bag full of turds.”
Pascale’s face turned red and his inner gangster came out. “Listen, you piece of dog shit, the entire department feels sorry for you, but I don’t. What happened to you, in my opinion, you had coming.”
“I’m glad you think so highly of me, Pascale,” Nolan said calmly. “Thank you.”
“Kiss my ass, Nolan,” Pascale fumed.
“No, thanks, I’ll leave the ass kissing to you. You do it way better than everyone.”
For a moment it looked as if Pascale would hit him across the face. But then he saw Sergeant Halton walking toward him and he said, “Later,” and walked away.
“You stirring up trouble, Nolan?” Halton growled.
“Yes, sir… I mean, no, sir,” Nolan gave him a salute.
“You done with the Freeland case?” he asked.
“No, sir.”
“Why not?
“I don’t think it’s a suicide.”
“Then what is it?”
“I don’t know.”
Halton blanched. “If it’s not suicide then it has to be a homicide. Was the victim murdered?”
Nolan thought about it. “I believe so.”
“You believe so? Do you have any proof?”
“I don’t know.”
Halton looked as if he was speaking to a five-year-old. “This is what you're going to do,” Halton said slowly, so that Nolan didn’t miss a single word. “You will close the case as a suicide.”
“I can’t do that, sir,” Nolan replied. “My gut feeling is saying that it may not be.”
Halton inhaled deeply. “Okay, then I’ll give you three days to prove to me it is not a suicide and if you don’t prove it to me, then I’ll transfer the case to someone else who will close it as a suicide. After I have taken the file away from you, I will then send you down to storage to help out with organizing the old files. I’m sure you will have a good time being a smart ass with all the paperwork down there.”
“What about Captain Ross?”
“Don’t worry about Ross.” Halton smiled. “Once he finds out how much resources we are wasting on a case that should have been closed on day one, I think he’ll see things my way.”
Nolan didn’t know what to say.
“Three days,” Halton put his fingers up. He then walked away triumphantly.
FORTY-TWO
Nolan rubbed his beard and scratched his head.
Halton had given him a deadline, and if he didn’t meet it the alternative would not be pretty, especially for Nolan.
He couldn’t imagine spending his days down in the dungeon, as the storage department was nicknamed.
He had to crack this case or else it would crack him.
He opened the file and began going over the contents inside it.
It still bothered him that he could not locate the forensics report. Who was it that came and retrieved the file from the coroner’s office?
He didn’t know, but he knew it somehow had something to with Freeland’s death.
He read the first few pages of the report from the scene of the crime and something stuck out at him.
The prescription bottle.
Freeland’s daughter had been adamant that her father never took such medication. According to her, Freeland was not depressed and was never on anti-depressants.
If that was true, then it would be the break he was looking for.
The department kept evidence of all active files in the detective division. This allowed the retrieval and examination of evidence more efficiently. However, the evidence for cold cases was stored in another part of the building.
Nolan found the bag containing items taken from the scene and brought it back to his desk. Although it was initially categorized as a suicide, Nolan had decided to collect items that he felt would assist him in writing up his report. The prescription bottle was one and the other was the handwritten suicide note.
He had learned a long time ago that even if a case looked straight forward at first glance, it could become something entirely different on separate viewing. He had, therefore, always made sure to tag items that might help him later on.
He scanned the label on the bottle, decided to pay the doctor whose name was on it a visit.
Dr. Jacob Isenberg’s office was located on the main floor of a plaza.
Nolan went up to the assistant and introduced himself.
He took a seat along with the patients who were waiting to see the doctor.
Five minutes later a woman appeared from behind the door, followed by a man in a white coat.
Dr. Isenberg looked to be in his early sixties. He was slim, balding, and sported a graying beard. He also wore thick glasses.
The assistant waved Nolan over.
He could tell the other patients were wondering how he got to see the doctor first when they had been waiting before him.
He introduced himself again.
Dr. Isenberg looked like someone who’d had a long day, but he still managed a smile.
“What can I do for you, Detective Nolan?” he said, escorting Nolan into a room.
Once seated, Nolan produced the bottle of prescription medication.
Isenberg adjusted his glasses and examined the label.
“Eric Freeland?” he looked confused. “Excuse me for a moment.” He got up and left the room.
He returned with a thick file. He again adjusted his glasses and then began flipping through the pages.
�
�That is incorrect,” he finally said.
“What is?” Nolan asked.
“I never prescribed Eric anti-depressants.”
“But your name is on the bottle.”
“I can see that, but I assure you, as Eric’s practitioner, I never put him on any medication. If I did, I would have had some record of it. His file shows nothing.”
Nolan rubbed his beard.
“When was the last time he visited you?” Nolan asked.
“That I can tell you.” Isenberg began looking through the file again. “The fifth of last month.”
“Why did he come?”
“Eric wasn’t sleeping well and he wondered if there were any deficiencies in his body. I took a blood sample and it came back it was normal. So I told him to get more exercise. I’ve found a good workout to be ideal for a good night’s sleep.”
Nolan nodded. He palmed the bottle. “Alright. Thanks, doc.”
He stood up to leave. Isenberg said, “When was the last time you went to the doctor’s?”
Nolan shrugged. “It’s been a while.”
“If you don’t mind me saying, you should get a full checkup,” Isenberg opined. “You don’t look well.”
“You can tell that by looking at me?” Nolan was curious.
“The eyes can tell a lot about what ails someone.”
“Good to know, doc. I’ll definitely make an appointment with my family doctor. Thanks for your time.”
Instead of driving back to the station, Nolan decided to visit the pharmacy listed on the bottle.
When he reached the address he found himself looking at an ice cream parlor. Nolan scanned the surroundings. There was nothing that resembled a pharmacy.
Nolan tapped his fingers on the steering wheel.
Someone had gone through a lot of trouble fabricating the prescription medication.
But why?
It was up to Nolan to find out.
FORTY-THREE
Hyder was on the couch, channel-surfing. He never stayed on one for too long before going to the next.
The house was empty. His mom and brother were both at work.
Hyder was depressed and confused. Maybe it was why he couldn’t stick to one channel.
He felt restless and lost. Everything had happened so fast. One minute he was employed and the next he was not.
Hyder’s mom had tried to make him feel better. She had assured him that one of his uncles would give him a job. Hyder knew that uncle well. He had no desire to work for him. That uncle owned a small accounting firm, and with Hyder having no accounting experience, he would be relegated to a data entry position.
His cell phone vibrated. It was Jessica. This was the fifth time she had called that morning. Hyder felt like crap and the last thing he wanted to do was speak to her.
What would he tell her? That the FBI had accused him of terrorist behavior and because of that he was fired? Right.
He let the phone go to voice mail. Eventually, he would muster up the courage to listen to the messages.
But not right now.
At this moment all he wanted to do was feel sorry for himself.
His dream of being a journalist was over. Who would hire him now? Even if he went to the Daily Times’ competitors, would they take him, knowing the reasons for his being fired? He didn’t think so.
He would have to find something else to do with his life, but what? He wasn’t qualified for anything else.
Maybe he would become a writer. How hard could it be? The reason he became a journalist was to tell real stories. Maybe now he could write fictional ones.
The thought made Hyder feel a bit better.
He could write about a Muslim reporter who investigated conspiracies around him. And who else better to write this than him? It would surely sell.
But this feeling didn’t last long. Did he even have it in him to write them? Would he even be able to make a living off these stories? And above all, would people even read stories with a Muslim character in them?
Hyder suddenly felt depressed. He faced long odds getting people to root for a Muslim hero.
The front door opened. Akbar entered.
Hyder didn’t bother greeting him. Akbar went straight upstairs.
Two minutes later, Akbar came down. He was wearing a sweatshirt and sweatpants. He placed his gym bag to the side and came over and sat across from him.
Akbar was everything Hyder wasn’t. He was well-educated, made good money, and was also in good shape.
If you placed him and Akbar next to one another, no one would guess that they were brothers.
They were not only physically different; they were also different in personality. While Hyder was an introvert, Akbar was not. While Hyder avoided going to parties, Akbar was the life of the party. While Hyder wasn’t very religious, Akbar took his faith seriously. While Hyder loved to stay inside, Akbar preferred to be outdoors. While Hyder wasn’t very athletic anymore, Akbar was hitting the gym regularly. Their differences went on and on.
Akbar glanced at his watch. Akbar was always busy. There was always someplace he had to be.
Growing up, Hyder had tried to be more like Akbar by dressing and acting like him. But like everything else, it didn’t last long.
Hyder was waiting for Akbar to say something, like how he should grow up and finally take more responsibility with his life. To Hyder’s surprise, Akbar gave him a sympathetic look, said, “I’m sorry for what happened. It sucks, and there is nothing I can say or do to make you feel better. But if you keep praying, I am certain Allah will bless you in whatever you choose to do next.”
Hyder managed to say, “Thanks.”
Akbar nodded. He stood up, grabbed his gym bag and left.
Hyder went back to flipping channels.
FORTY-FOUR
Jessica put her cell phone down and let out a big sigh.
Hyder had so far not returned any of her calls.
She wanted to speak to him. She wanted to tell him what had happened at the condominium building. The man who chased her had shaken her up badly.
She wasn’t sure if this man had anything to do with how her dad had ended up. Plus, she wasn’t sure if it was safe to check out the remaining names on the list anymore.
She was at the coffee shop, sitting by the corner windows.
She still hadn’t started work yet, Chloe was covering for her. But just coming here and spending a few hours in the shop made her feel secure.
Chloe came over and asked if she needed anything. Jessica shook her head. Chloe was aware of what had happened at the condo and she was doing everything as a friend to make Jessica feel better.
“Just yell whatever you need,” Chloe said, walking away.
Jessica went back to staring out the window.
Just a little while ago her life was simple. She was going to her classes at George Smith College and she was working at the coffee shop. Work, study, and squeeze in some time for fun.
Her professors at the college were very understanding of her situation. They were willing to defer her exams to a later date.
This allowed her to focus on finding out what exactly happened to her dad.
This was also why she needed to speak to Hyder. She also wanted to know if he had made any progress in his interviews.
She knew that Hyder didn’t really owe her anything. He was doing it out of loyalty to her dad. He was going out of his way to help her. So she couldn’t impose on him anymore than she already had.
She let out another sigh.
What would she do now? She wasn’t sure.
She spent the next couple hours just staring out the window.
When Chloe’s shift was over they decided to head back to the apartment.
On the way there they stopped over at a grocery store and picked up frozen lasagna. They had decided to stay home tonight. They would make dinner and watch a movie. It would be a girl’s night in.
It was Chloe’s idea, one Jessica was grateful f
or. She had been through a lot recently and it would be nice to escape for a little while, even if it was in a movie.
With the lasagna in hand they argued about which movies to watch. Chloe wanted to watch a romantic comedy, while Jessica wanted to watch a serious drama. In the end, the romantic comedy won out. Jessica needed something light in her life and a serious drama wouldn’t do that.
When they reached their apartment they both stopped.
The front door was slightly ajar.
They looked at each other. They were certain they had locked it before leaving.
Chloe motioned to Jessica that they should leave and come back with the police.
But Jessica shook her head. She wanted to know what was going on.
Jessica pushed the front door back.
She peeked inside and listened. There was no noise.
She put her fingers to her lips. She slowly went down the hall with Chloe following behind.
The living room was a mess. The DVDs they were going to watch were scattered on the floor. The lamp was on its side. The sofa cushions were on the rug. Even the magazines on top of the coffee table were disorganized.
They rushed to their bedrooms.
Jessica’s bedroom was in worse shape. The mattress was off the bed, the pillows and blanket on the floor. The closet door was open. Her clothes, still attached to their hangers, were on the bottom of the closet. She spotted papers and other documents next to the side table.
She went out into the hall and saw Chloe looked pale. “My room is a mess,” Chloe said, the words barely coming out of her mouth.
“Mine too,” Jessica said, putting her arm around her. Chloe was shaking. Jessica took her out into the living room.
“It’ll be okay,” she said. “Everything will be fine.” These words felt hollow. Jessica wasn’t sure what was going on but, like Chloe, she too was scared.
She looked around the apartment. It looked like someone had thoroughly gone through it as if they were looking for something.
But what?
FORTY-FIVE
Jumu’ah was a congregational prayer held every Friday in the afternoon. According to the Prophet Muhammad, this prayer was twenty-five times more blessed then any prayer performed alone. It was, therefore, why Hyder always tried not to miss the prayers. But with a full-time job and other life commitments, he was guilty of missing quite a few.
The Silent Reporter (A Police Procedural Mystery Series of Crime and Suspense, Hyder Ali #1) Page 11
