His last chance his last.., p.1
His Last Chance: His Last Hope Series, #3, page 1
HIS LAST CHANCE
by
M. A. Malcolm
Table of Contents
Title Page
His Last Chance (His Last Hope Series, #3)
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Epilogue
Author’s Note
Discussion Questions
Acknowledgements
About the Author
HIS LAST CHANCE
Copyright © 2022 by M. A. Malcolm
Published by M. A. Malcolm, 2022
Westmoreland, Jamaica.
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
ISBN 978-976-96731-2-0 (E-book)
First e-book edition 2022
Book #3 of The His Last Hope Series
ISSN 0799-494X (Print)
ISSN 0799-4965 (ePub)
The His Last Hope Series also includes:
His Last Resort (Book #1) 978-976-95815-6-2 (E-book)
His Last Hope (Book #2) 978-976-95815-0-0 (E-book)
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Some Scriptures are taken from the HOLY BIBLE, NEW LIVING TRANSLATION (NLT): Scriptures taken from the HOLY BIBLE, NEW LIVING TRANSLATION, Copyright© 1996, 2004, 2007 by Tyndale House Foundation. Used by permission of Tyndale House Publishers, Inc., Carol Stream, Illinois 60188. All rights reserved. Used by permission.
Some Scriptures are taken from the KING JAMES VERSION (KJV): KING JAMES VERSION, public domain.
Some Scriptures are taken from the NEW KING JAMES VERSION (NKJV): Scripture taken from the NEW KING JAMES VERSION®. Copyright© 1982 by Thomas Nelson, Inc. Used by permission. All rights reserved.
DEDICATION
For Soraya, Cecile, and Esther:
Thank you for pouring your gifts into me while I was working on this project.
Your confidence in my ability to see it through helped sustain me and get me to
“The End.”
And for Nordia, who may not see this: You are such a blessing to the world. I may only have met you a couple of times, but your inspiring story, warm ways, and wise words have stayed with me these past five years. May God bless you and your family!
“Father, forgive them;
for they know not what they do.”
—Jesus Christ
(Luke 23:34b, KJV)
“... Forgiveness does not exonerate the perpetrator.
Forgiveness liberates the victim.
It’s a gift you give yourself.”
—T. D. Jakes
Chapter One
In theory, Zoë-Grace Goodluck loved the northwest coast of her island home—Jamaica. Although much of the country had become commercialized, there were still places that boasted unspoiled beauty, and traveling the part of the North Coast Highway that linked the popular resort areas of Montego Bay and Negril allowed her to experience verdant green fields on one side and the aquamarine Caribbean Sea on the other for a part of the journey. In theory, this part of the island was the perfect place to live. But only in theory.
She geared down in her compact hatchback—the most economical vehicle her teacher’s budget could accommodate these days—to take a particularly deep bend in the road. As she rounded the curve, she was just in time to see a truck in the oncoming lane swerve and hit into the side railing before overturning. Parking on the soft shoulder on her side of the highway, she noticed a small herd of goats heading away from the commotion, unconcerned with the damage they had surely caused.
Anyone could deduce what had happened. It was a pity that the residents of the informal settlements on one side of the highway felt the need to cut holes in the chain-link fence so they could easily access the streets and the rocky shores on the other side. It was also a pity that the owners of many goats and a few cows probably didn’t actually own land where they could graze. Zoë-Grace knew that many small farmers and householders would tie the animals near their homes at night and release them in nearby bushes during the daytime. Why more of the goats weren’t stolen had always been a mystery to Zoë-Grace. It would be fairly easy for someone with a large vehicle to simply stop and grab one or two of the animals.
Cell phone in hand, she made a quick call to the Lucea Fire Station, which also housed the town’s EMTs, and then called the last police station she had passed. Thank goodness there was mobile data service on this section of the highway so she could find the numbers.
By the time she got to the cab of the overturned vehicle, which was lying on the driver’s side, three men had climbed out through the passenger door.
“Everybody OK?” she asked, out of breath from hurrying towards the scene while talking on the phone.
The men stretched their bodies this way and that as if testing their joints and muscles before the tallest of the three responded, “We will live,” as he headed toward the back of the truck to assess the damage there.
She noticed one of them grimacing while holding on to his upper arm, so she informed them, “The police and an ambulance should be on their way.”
“Tanks, Miss. And tanks for stoppin’.” The man looked ruefully at a taxi that had slowed down, its passengers gawking at them, before speeding up again. Zoë-Grace heaved a sigh of relief that no camera phones had appeared to record what had happened. Lately, it seemed everyone with a social media account had turned into a reporter, with each person always eager to be the one who ‘scooped’ the latest news story. She had no doubt that if there had been bodies strewn across the highway, people would have gathered not to help the injured, but to capture their images for immediate launching into cyberspace.
“Have mercy!” The man who had gone behind the truck blurted out as he ran back towards them.
“What happen?” The one with the injury wanted to know.
“The back door fly open. Almost every suitcase lyin’ down in the govament road.” His language was a cross between Jamaican Creole—popularly known as Patwa or Patois—mixed with English, the latter perhaps for the benefit of Zoë-Grace, whose mode of dress would have indicated to the men that she was some kind of professional. “Is trouble this!”
“Wi better get dem quick-quick, before di people roun’ here come help themselves. Lawd, I hope wi don’t lose wi job over this.” The gentleman speaking now looked a bit like a shorter version of singer-turned-actor Tyrese Gibson, but with a pot belly.
“Lose wi job?” The injured one repeated. “Lose wi job? How could I know di goat dem woulda’ jus’ run ’cross di road like that? Wi lucky wi never lose wi life! Dis truck is a piece o’ iron. My life not replaceable. Mi have my woman an’ my kids to go home to. Di truck alright.”
“Yes, but yuh know management not going to see it like dat. Management firs’ concern goin’ to be di luggage.” The tall one advised.
Zoë-Grace felt it was time to intervene. “Is there somebody I can call for you?”
“Yes, please.” The Tyrese lookalike retrieved a wallet from his back pocket and fished around in it until he came up with a tattered business card. “Just call di general manager office. The number is on this. Mi readin’ glasses... er... get damaged.”
The driver scoffed, then grimaced and held his arm a bit more gingerly. Zoë-Grace knew that in Jamaica, many people who were either illiterate or barely literate often blamed their inability to read something on not having their reading glasses with them. She couldn’t tell how many times she’d ended up filling in forms at government offices and airports for people who had supposedly left their glasses at home.
The business card bore the insignia of a chain of hotels Zoë-Grace would love to visit someday if her budget ever allowed. It was only as she dialed that she noticed all three men were wearing uniforms with shirts boasting the hotel’s name—Nizani Negril—as well as name tags. The tall one was Jeffrey, the Tyrese lookalike was actually Carl, and the driver was Andy.
She quickly apprised the manager’s secretary of the situation as Jeffrey and Carl moved to secure what they could of the luggage. As she disconnected the call, she assured Andy that someone from the hotel was on their way.
“Listen, miss,” he began, showing more emotion now that the other two men were out of earshot, “I really want to tank you for stopping. In this day an’ age, people so afraid of ebrybody an
Zoë-Grace tried not to smile at his mispronunciations. “No problem, Andy.” In response to his raised eyebrows, she lifted her chin in the direction of his name tag. He smiled and nodded while she continued, concerned about his arm. “I’ll just wait with you until police and ambulance get here.”
The mid-week movie she had been planning to see in Montego Bay could wait.
__________
Nizani Negril’s security manager, Captain Isaiah Hendricks, had barely taken his first bite from the “to-go” plate he’d picked up at the hotel’s Asian restaurant when the cell phone that was never far away started to ring. He chewed slowly, eying the phone and willing it to stop ringing. It seemed he hardly ever got the chance to enjoy the all-inclusive hotel’s award-winning cuisine, even though it was supposedly one of the perks of the job. Something was always happening to get between him and the epicurean delights.
It had to be an emergency. No one who valued their job would call him during his time off if it weren’t. He suppressed a sigh as he recognized the number of the manager on duty. Why did it seem like emergencies only took place when he was supposed to be resting? He swallowed the succulent satay chicken and tried not to sound too annoyed.
“Hendricks.”
“Cap’n? I’m afraid we have a problem that needs your immediate attention.”
And which problem doesn’t? he wondered silently. The manager took her cue when he didn’t respond.
“One of our small trucks was transporting luggage from the airport and there was an accident. A bad one.”
Before he could open his mouth, she continued, “None of the staff got hurt—not seriously, at least—and no other vehicles were involved, but the luggage was apparently thrown from the vehicle all over the highway and there are only three of them on-site. We need to get them to the hospital, and we need extra security over there pronto. I’ve already coordinated a replacement luggage truck and a couple of security personnel from the Montego Bay property since it’s closer, but I knew you’d want to know.”
She was right. Isaiah liked to be completely aware of any disruptions to the regular routine of the resort. He took his responsibilities seriously—some even said too seriously, but Isaiah didn’t know what that looked like. It might not be written in black and white on his one-year contract, but as far as he was concerned, it was his job to stay on top of—or ahead of—everything. He liked to analyze minute bits of information, weigh all the options, foresee potential issues and security breaches, and prevent them from materializing.
Isaiah noted the location of the accident and made a few phone calls before jumping into his company-issued four-wheel drive pickup truck. He didn’t bother to take the time to bring up a map or plug the address into his GPS. There was only one major thoroughfare between Negril and the international airport in Montego Bay, so he knew he would have no difficulty finding the site. All he had to do was drive till he saw it.
As he turned onto the main road and floored the gas pedal, the minivan with several security personnel had difficulty keeping up with him. He glanced in his rearview mirror and saw that they were lagging behind, but he didn’t slow down. Although he knew the staff from the Montego Bay resort would get there before he did, he wanted to be on the scene as soon as possible. The last thing he needed was for the luxury hotel chain to experience a high-level security crisis on his watch.
__________
Zoë-Grace was still on the scene of the accident half an hour later when the police finally arrived. She was still there when paramedics re-set Andy’s dislocated shoulder on the spot. She was still there when a pickup truck belonging to the hotel screeched to a halt and the driver unfolded himself from the vehicle. The tall man with what she could only describe from afar as a military bearing took immediate control of the scene. He looked around quickly before zeroing in on Andy and striding purposefully in his direction. The police personnel on the site stopped working to listen to his clipped interrogation.
“What the heck happened here, Andy?” The inflection in the man’s voice indicated immediately that he was either not Jamaican or hadn’t spent many of his years—which Zoë-Grace quickly assessed to be around forty—on the island.
Andy jumped from his position leaning against Zoë-Grace’s hatchback and stood at attention like a soldier caught falling asleep on his watch. For a moment, Zoë-Grace was sure he was about to raise his hand in salute.
“It, it w-w-w-was the goats them, s-s-s-sir.” In another context, Zoë-Grace would have found his attempt at English combined with his suddenly acquired American accent laughable. Having done a few linguistics courses during her undergraduate days, she knew Andy was attempting to speak like the person he considered most powerful in the situation.
“What goats?!” The newcomer, who was not in uniform and not wearing a name tag, almost bellowed.
“W-w-w-well, s-s-s-sir, I don’t really know where them gone, sir.”
“Are you sure there were goats, Andy?” He narrowed his eyes and Zoë-Grace could almost see Andy’s testosterone evaporating in waves off his body.
“W-w-w-well....”
Before Andy could finish, the man stepped within two feet of him and started sniffing the air near Andy’s mouth. Zoë-Grace could hardly believe what she was seeing. She thought of Andy’s family—the common-law wife and three children they had been talking about when the stranger arrived—and felt led to say something.
“Excuse me.”
The man’s head swiveled toward her, and she got the impression it was the first time he was really noticing her. He raised his eyebrows in a silent question. He seemed to be attempting to spear her with his piercing deep brown gaze, and she fought the urge to look anywhere but directly at him. Instead, she folded her arms across her chest and drew herself up to her full five feet seven inches of height so that she wouldn’t have to throw her head back too far in order to maintain eye contact. He had to be almost six inches taller.
“I can attest to the fact that there were goats on the road. They were over there.” She waved towards the area where she had seen them. Of course, over half an hour had passed and now they were nowhere to be seen.
Before he could say anything, she spoke again. “I’ve been here this entire time.” She didn’t think it would gain any points for Andy if she admitted that she was the one who had called the police and the resort, so she skipped over that information and continued speaking in the driver’s defense. “Not only has this man been completely coherent, but that policewoman over there gave him a breathalyzer and I’m sure she will verify that he was not drinking at all. He was just the victim of the stray animals that are always wandering around in this area. In fact, if you’d had the common decency to ask this man how he is, he would tell you that he had to be treated by the paramedics for a dislocated shoulder.”
“If I’d had the....” The man’s eyebrows inched toward his hairline. He gave his head a quick shake from side to side, as if trying to banish an unwelcome thought. “I’m the security manager at Nizani Negril... who did you say you were? Some kind of ambulance chaser?” The man’s tone softened just a hint, but his face remained serious.
“Ambulance chaser?” She would have laughed if the man weren’t so stone-faced. “We could hardly have those here in Jamaica, where there are so few ambulances to begin with! On top of that, we aren’t as litigious as you North Americans. We don’t sue for every little thing... or every big thing, for that matter. Money isn’t everything.
“In any event, my name is Zoë-Grace Goodluck, and I just happened to be the first on the scene. I just wanted to stay and make sure everything was OK. I was coming from the opposite direction and there was definitely a herd of goats.”
“Thank you.” He wrinkled his brow and looked her up and down. For a moment, she thought he was going to chew her out for interfering, so his next words came as quite a surprise, as did the fact that he seemed to relax just a little, his broad shoulders softening from their previously rigid stance. “In fact, I speak for the management and staff of Nizani Negril when I say that we truly appreciate your efforts. However—Mrs. Goodluck, was it?—everything is under control now. If you’ll just let me have your telephone number, I’m sure the general manager would like to be in touch to offer you some kind of token—”
