Hospitality. Daniel had been adamant, insisting the facility had been lax in their security. With Miss Leonard’s permission, he’d hoped to uncover some answers by conducting staff interviews.
Maybe he should pull his grandparents and find a new facility.
He assisted his grandparents through the security gate and on to the designated visitor parking area, where his Ford pickup awaited them, a dual cab deluxe he’d purchased for their added comfort. He couldn’t get there fast enough. Humiliation sank to the soles of his feet. He scanned the FBI building and the towering windows. Just how many special agents were laughing at the HPD officer who brought in his Alzheimer’s-stricken grandfather? Daniel should have stuck to his original stand and refused to take Gramps to the office. He still had the interviews at Silver Hospitality to finish this week.
His grandfather’s problem began two years ago with a continuous inability to balance his checkbook. Then he couldn’t remember if he’d taken his cholesterol and diabetes meds. Confusion. Frustration. Sudden bursts of anger so unlike Gramps. After several medical opinions and a consistent diagnosis of Alzheimer’s, he accepted his condition. He expressed concern about Gran being able to care for him, since she had health issues of her own. Daniel found Silver Hospitality, where Gramps could stay while he worked. Gran insisted on accompanying him.
Gran scooted into the rear seat of the dual cab and buckled in. Gramps was quiet, probably revisiting another world where the past was kinder. He’d been coherent for most of the interview, giving the FBI his observations. It would help if Daniel had an idea where the fifty grand had gone —then he could investigate further. Gramps was convincing, persuading Daniel to look further into what might be going on at the senior care facility. Security was a selling point for Silver Hospitality, but the same technology designed to keep people safe could be reversed with a keystroke.
Torn between logic and his love for the two people who’d raised him, he gave Gramps a smile.
“Jimmy, don’t drive too fast,” Gramps said. “You just got out of jail, and I’d like to keep your record clean.” He clicked his seat belt tight.
“I’m Daniel.” How many times had he corrected Gramps?
“Who?”
“Never mind. I won’t drive too fast. You’re safe with me.” Oh, the truth in those words. Right there with the sharp regret of his grandfather’s illness.
He pulled onto State Highway 290 and drove into town, heading to the Memorial area of Houston and Silver Hospitality.
“Your mom hates for us to be late. She’s made tuna melts and Jell-O.”
“She’s right here, Gramps. In the backseat.”
The old man covered his face. Tears rolled down his cheeks. “No, Jimmy. What a horrible thing to say. I’m not blind.”
Daniel swallowed the bitterness of Gramps’s condition. Gran touched his shoulder. “We’ll be home soon.”
12:30 P.M. THURSDAY
Laurel believed in kindness. She’d learned it firsthand from Miss Kathryn, the most caring person who’d ever walked the earth, a dear foster mother. Su-Min, on the other hand, was irritated that Officer Hilton had brought his grandfather in for the interview. She’d called it a waste of taxpayers’ time and resources.
Laurel felt differently. Investigating crimes was not a waste. She stared at her cell phone, her thoughts lingering on Earl Hilton’s bright-blue eyes contrasted against his balding white hair and snow-colored full beard. He deserved better treatment.
Pressing in Daniel Hilton’s number, she hesitated, not sure why. The call was prompted by her commitment to the elderly. Nothing more. He answered on the first ring.
“Mr. Hilton, this is Special Agent Laurel Evertson with Houston’s FBI. Do you have a moment to talk?”
“I’m driving to work. Have a little time. I didn’t expect you’d get back so quickly. Of course, the likelihood of
Maybe he should pull his grandparents and find a new facility.
He assisted his grandparents through the security gate and on to the designated visitor parking area, where his Ford pickup awaited them, a dual cab deluxe he’d purchased for their added comfort. He couldn’t get there fast enough. Humiliation sank to the soles of his feet. He scanned the FBI building and the towering windows. Just how many special agents were laughing at the HPD officer who brought in his Alzheimer’s-stricken grandfather? Daniel should have stuck to his original stand and refused to take Gramps to the office. He still had the interviews at Silver Hospitality to finish this week.
His grandfather’s problem began two years ago with a continuous inability to balance his checkbook. Then he couldn’t remember if he’d taken his cholesterol and diabetes meds. Confusion. Frustration. Sudden bursts of anger so unlike Gramps. After several medical opinions and a consistent diagnosis of Alzheimer’s, he accepted his condition. He expressed concern about Gran being able to care for him, since she had health issues of her own. Daniel found Silver Hospitality, where Gramps could stay while he worked. Gran insisted on accompanying him.
Gran scooted into the rear seat of the dual cab and buckled in. Gramps was quiet, probably revisiting another world where the past was kinder. He’d been coherent for most of the interview, giving the FBI his observations. It would help if Daniel had an idea where the fifty grand had gone —then he could investigate further. Gramps was convincing, persuading Daniel to look further into what might be going on at the senior care facility. Security was a selling point for Silver Hospitality, but the same technology designed to keep people safe could be reversed with a keystroke.
Torn between logic and his love for the two people who’d raised him, he gave Gramps a smile.
“Jimmy, don’t drive too fast,” Gramps said. “You just got out of jail, and I’d like to keep your record clean.” He clicked his seat belt tight.
“I’m Daniel.” How many times had he corrected Gramps?
“Who?”
“Never mind. I won’t drive too fast. You’re safe with me.” Oh, the truth in those words. Right there with the sharp regret of his grandfather’s illness.
He pulled onto State Highway 290 and drove into town, heading to the Memorial area of Houston and Silver Hospitality.
“Your mom hates for us to be late. She’s made tuna melts and Jell-O.”
“She’s right here, Gramps. In the backseat.”
The old man covered his face. Tears rolled down his cheeks. “No, Jimmy. What a horrible thing to say. I’m not blind.”
Daniel swallowed the bitterness of Gramps’s condition. Gran touched his shoulder. “We’ll be home soon.”
12:30 P.M. THURSDAY
Laurel believed in kindness. She’d learned it firsthand from Miss Kathryn, the most caring person who’d ever walked the earth, a dear foster mother. Su-Min, on the other hand, was irritated that Officer Hilton had brought his grandfather in for the interview. She’d called it a waste of taxpayers’ time and resources.
Laurel felt differently. Investigating crimes was not a waste. She stared at her cell phone, her thoughts lingering on Earl Hilton’s bright-blue eyes contrasted against his balding white hair and snow-colored full beard. He deserved better treatment.
Pressing in Daniel Hilton’s number, she hesitated, not sure why. The call was prompted by her commitment to the elderly. Nothing more. He answered on the first ring.
“Mr. Hilton, this is Special Agent Laurel Evertson with Houston’s FBI. Do you have a moment to talk?”
“I’m driving to work. Have a little time. I didn’t expect you’d get back so quickly. Of course, the likelihood of
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