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“Panthea Daniels,” a voice called. Suddenly, her heart skipped a beat. Her eyes snapped open, and she bolted upright on the poor excuse of a cot she’d tossed and turned on for the last twenty-four hours.
“Did—did you just call my name?”
“Yeah bitch, but why don’t you just stay here, and let me go since you ain’t got no place else to be,” a nasty hooker said as she shot Panthea a dirty look.
“Cool it, Cinnamon,” the guard said. He motioned toward Panthea, “Look, you need to come on. You made bail.”
Panthea could hardly believe her ears. It was true, and she was about to leave that god-forsaken place and go home.
She quickly shuffled herself from the cot, slipped her feet into the plastic slippers and rushed out of the cell she had shared with the hooker and two other women.
After processing wrapped up, Panthea was so thrilled to be walking out the doors, she didn’t know if she should shout or start dancing. She wanted to do both, but the sight of Scott quickly curtailed her desire for celebration. What the hell took you so damn long? Panthea thought.
“Are you okay?” Scott asked.
As if you could actually care, Panthea thought. “I’m as good as can be expected,” she answered bitterly.
“Well, let’s get you home and cleaned up,” he said.
Panthea wanted to wash herself for days in hopes of sending this horrible experience down the drain. She knew and understood her battle was far from over, but still, she’d been humiliated with an arrest then jailed like some common criminal. She wanted nothing more than to return to the comfort of her home.
When Marcus arrived at his office, he found Olivia there waiting for him. Much to his surprise, Garrett was sitting in the waiting room right next to her. “Good morning, Olivia. And Garrett, what are you doing here?”
“I don’t know what he’s doing here,” Olivia said before Garrett could answer. “I told him I got this.”
“I know you got it, Olivia, but the circumstances of the case have changed. It’s a murder case now. You did a good job on the surveillance, but I just think that I’m better qualified to handle a murder investigation, right Marcus?”
“Let’s talk in my office,” Marcus said then led the bickering duo down the hall. Once they got to his office, Marcus quickly asked Olivia what she’d found out before her and Garrett could start up again.
“Not much,” Olivia said and took out her notes. “I’ve been looking into the victim, Abril Arrington, and other than her name, where she lived and where her office was, I haven’t found out very much.”
“What kind of business was she in,” Marcus asked.
“She ran a small business called Venture Capital, which put investors with business people looking for financing for their new, growing, or struggling business.”
“What type of investment?” Garrett asked.
“Venture capital investments are generally high-risk investments, but offer the potential for above-average returns and or a percentage of ownership in the company,” Olivia said.
“What about the murder, Olivia, anything on that?” Marcus needed to know for both professional and personal reasons.
“Nothing yet. I haven’t heard back from my contact in the department.”
“See, that’s exactly what I’m talking about,” Garrett interrupted. “You shoulda had that yesterday. In a murder investigation there is no time to waste, Olivia. That’s why you need to let me handle this, Marcus.”
“Why you gotta handle it, Garrett?” Olivia shot back. “You must think you’re the only one with contacts in the department. Now I told you, I talked to my guy, all he could tell me at the time was what she was charged with, and he’ll get back to me. I’m expecting a call from him any minute,” Olivia said in defense. For her, it was a little deeper than just being the one to handle the investigation; it was a matter of money. If Garrett took over the investigation, that meant she would be out of a job.
Marcus held up his hand. “Enough,” he said loud enough to end the debate. “Garrett, get on the phone. See what you can get from your sources.”
“Who’s the lead detective?” Garrett asked.
“Guy named Silver.”
“Jerry,” Garrett said and began dialing. “Me and Jerry go back.”
“Atlanta Police, how may I direct your call?” the feminine voice answered.
“Detective Silver please. Garrett Mason calling.” Garrett put the call on speaker and motioned for Marcus and Olivia to be quiet.
