EPILOGUE

One year later

Waking up in the ICU over a decade earlier had been Sheila’s true moment of reckoning.  After four long days in critical condition, she slowly came to consciousness and realized to her dismay that she hadn’t succeeded in ending her life.  Her awakening had given her the resolve to fight back. 

When the battle with Dominex was over, she had agreed to marry Jerry, under one condition.  Jerry conceded and agreed to move to the only place where Sheila felt at home.  Sheila’s gang found Jerry a job as an advocate for consumer complaints.  He only complained about the cold Newark winters during winter.   

When the struggle with Dominex ended, Jerry sat her down and asked the big question: Had taking Dominex down made up for all of her pain and suffering? Sheila just looked at him with sadness, and never answered the question.  Jerry had been right about revenge.  It was never enough.

David Manning never looked back.  He had rushed to greet his retirement with open arms and was now on the lake almost every day doing what he loved the most.  The stress of being an honest man in the midst of a political hurricane was now a fading memory.

Manning’s replacement, Fred Fielding, was enjoying his new position with all the perks that went with it – off the record of course.  The letter that had been sent to the US Attorney General’s office never arrived, and no inquiries followed its path to determine what had become of Dominex’s disciplinary process.  Fielding also profited nicely when each pharmaceutical company had been given the opportunity to make David Manning’s new sedative warning requirements fade away.

When the FDA received a request for approval of the new sedative, Klonex, it had been processed and approved in record time.   Dominex Pharmaceuticals had taken good care of Mr. Fielding and he had responded in kind.  The sedative market as a whole continued on, unscathed.

Dominex was now in the re-building stage.  When the generic drug for Valipene was finally approved, they had begun the process of bringing back available staff.  They were surprised to see how many of the employees they had laid off were still available for re-hire, a full year later.  The start of the twenty first century had not been an easy time for the highly skilled or experienced applicant.  They had been joined by too many others in the massive sea of downsizing and corporate bankruptcies.  The positions that remained were being filled with lower-cost, entry-level workers.  The thriving economy of the Nineties was gone and good jobs were hard to come by in the “O’s." 

Charles Roman had begun to lose some his hair and was developing a wider mid-section as a result of his stressful life.  To his dismay, he was losing his boyish charm and was no longer the “chick magnet” he used to be.  He spent most of his nights alone.

Sam Reynolds could no longer ignore his doctor or his symptoms, and had to retire due to a Peptic Ulcer that refused to heal as long as he continued to work for Dominex.  Jeff Edwards took his place as Vice President.  Charles had require that he lose the pony tail.

George Donovan married Sally and they had a beautiful baby girl.  They named her Dawn.  His recovery program was thriving, due to the fact that it was the only place where sedative victims could receive real treatment.  He had finally succeeded and his daughter would be proud of him.

Michelle Roman had been rescued by her prince charming, Mark Randall, who had turned out to be everything that Charles Roman was not.  Michelle maintained her own residence and her independence.  She had learned the hard way not to rely on anyone else for her peace of mind.

Brian Carter was recovering slowly and had gone back to work part-time.  It would be another year before he would consider himself healed; however, the boredom of staying at home was more than he could stand.  He was currently dating Sandra Jenkins and had no idea where the resourceful Pam had gone.  All he knew was that he was relatively happy and his life now made sense.  He was finally able to sleep at night.

When the FDA approved Dominex’s new sedative, Sandra Jenkins had gone on a crusade with Carol Freeman.  Jason Sample was no longer available to assist in the investigation.  He had accepted a job at the New York Times and was busy pursuing a story about business accounting fraud within billion dollar corporations. During Carol’s temporary retirement, she had begun to take it upon herself to contact anyone in the media who might have access to public persuasion.  Both Sandra and Carol had contacted every major television station and newspaper, as well as 20/20, Sixty Minutes, and Oprah.  They were shocked at the lack of response they received.  No one wanted to touch a subject that was so radically against such solid American cornerstones as the FDA and the pharmaceutical empire.  No doubt they had been perceived as two obsessive women with a grudge.

Carol had even attempted to organize the Internet group and had contacted attorneys for a class action lawsuit against the giant drug companies.  Most members of the group were too sick or too afraid to participate, and the ones who had been willing to come forward were rejected repeatedly.  The lawyers that reviewed their case had all concluded that there was no hard evidence linking the use of the drug with the illness that had resulted when they stopped taking it.

Eventually, both Sandra and Carol had to give up the fight.  Sandra knew a dead horse when she saw one and Carol was only marginally able to handle the stress of the battle.  With great sadness they were forced to give up the idea of ever bringing the sedative issue to light through conventional means.

Carol attempted to move on with her life, but could not let go of her sense of betrayal.  Her daily fatigue and newfound limitations were a constant reminder of how she and so many others had been innocently led down a devastating path of self-destruction.  In a last ditch effort, Carol did the only thing left to warn others like herself: she wrote a book. 

Carol believed that if she were able to warn a sleeping population of consumers and generate some initial awareness, perhaps she could plant the seed for tomorrow’s public outrage.  She sincerely hoped this plan would work, and that people would listen. 

The experience of Benzodiazepine withdrawal had taught Carol and Brian the most important lesson of their lives: the fabric that holds us together is fragile. All of its elements can be torn away in a moment, and the pieces of what make us who we are can disappear in a flash.  Each day is a gift, and the path we walk is a reflection of who we are.  You should not give this time away in the hope that tomorrow will be better.  The drone of outrageous compromise will overtake tomorrow and leave you with dreams… never lived.

We are victims by our own uninformed consent,

Resulting in a Silent Epidemic.

Silent Epidemic is the first of three Carol Freeman Novels.  In Grave Perception, Carol begins to rebuild her life and joins forces with Dr. George Donovan. But their great ideals are challenged by a very dark force and a murder investigation that focuses on the wrong man.  Join the continued adventure with your favorite characters,. 

Grave Perception:

Mitchell Becker’s wild and destructive lifestyle had cost him a marriage, a family, and a home.  He had two choices, pull himself out of the ashes of his miserable existence – or die. 

One year later, still shaky and vulnerable, he makes two important trips, the first to his beloved and reluctant ex-wife, Jodi, and the second to his mother’s gravesite.  While begging for forgiveness for the second time that day, he notices a strange woman lurking the grounds.  She appears lost and so out of place in the twenty-first century.  Becker writes her off as just another freak encounter and returns home.

Had Becker remained with Jodi on that day, he may have been able to prevent her murder.  Instead, he becomes the prime suspect.  A corrupt district attorney becomes Becker’s worst nightmare, and a guilty verdict is all but a sure thing, as a creative DA spins a web of deceit for the jury.

Becker’s freak encounter becomes his only alibi, but there’s a serious problem with her testimony.  She is considered to be psychotic and delusional, destroying any hope of being a credible witness. 

Although she is unable to help in the conventional sense, and all seems lost for Becker, she offers him a solution no one ever thought possible.

Visit my website for more information at www.jillprovince.com

A Cycle of Greed is the final piece of the Carol Freeman Trilogy:

Cait Milner is a brave and vibrant woman struck down by a common and incurable illness.  Her need for a lifetime of treatment triggers the loss of her insurance.  Cait, while in her distorted mania, decides to fight back.  The CEO of America’s largest insurance company, Medwin Insurance, becomes the target.  In the ultimate irony, she decides the best revenge for an insurance giant is a taste of his own medicine.

 As Cait single-handedly goes after retribution, the powers of the healthcare empire and political community have their own agendas.  Faced with a potentially damaging presidential candidate, they seek the aid of a very private, elite organization to find anything scandalous that will guarantee a win for the incumbent. They are not about to see their massive profits invaded by an over-zealous boy scout. But with their opposition so close to victory, it is a race against time.  

This seemingly unrelated whirlwind of agendas comes together with astonishing clarity and shines a blinding light on the domino effect that has become a multi-billion dollar empire.  Left in the hands of those who profit most, it truly is a Cycle of Greed.   

Visit my website for more information at www.jillprovince.com

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Illusion is coming in November 2014.  Here is a preview:

Illusion

The explosion consumed the night sky, momentarily illuminating deserted streets.  The Ford pick-up, now engulfed in flames, echoed the explosion as the gas tank quickly erupted.  Distant windows became illuminated as people arose from their three AM slumber to explore the source of the sudden outburst.  With barely a beat, sirens could already be heard in the distance.

The man watched from the safety of a dark corner of dense brush.  It was vital that the truck devour all evidence of his absence.  There would be no body, no dental remains.  Just a pile of rubble marginally linked to his license plate.  He would be, for all intents and purposes, dead and gone.  It was vital that his former employers believed this without a shadow of doubt.

The man buried himself further into the foliage as firefighters and police made the final, dramatic entrance to the bonfire.  Timing here was everything.  The blaze needed enough passage to destroy the truck and all evidence of his remains.  But this man was not an arsonist.  He didn’t get off on the excitement of the destruction, and he certainly didn’t want any other property to be claimed as hostage to his one and only crime against humanity.  There was a greater good to be honored here. 

People were standing in doorways wrapped in blankets and barefoot, causing them to dance slightly back and forth to keep from freezing.  The blaze offered enough warmth and intrigue to sustain them.  Police held back the more brazen onlookers while firefighters quickly put out the last of the angry outburst.  The remains sat smoldering, forcing thick black clouds into the night sky.

Media vans from channel six and twelve forced themselves into the mix.  Although the best of the drama was over, a greater story was just under the surface waiting for discovery.  Trucks rarely lit themselves on fire.  This was now a crime scene.  As police waited for the smoldering pile to reach approachable temperatures, yellow tape was used to section off and barricade the area.  Reporters pushed that line to the limit, thrusting microphones into faces of anyone wearing a uniform.  Questions, such as, “Do we know if anyone was killed in the fire,” reached mostly dead ears.  No statement would be available to the press for some time.  Certainly not until the rubble could be examined for remains.  They knew this.  Premature questioning was a required part of the job.  Even at three AM.

Firefighters left the scene first, with their forensic man remaining behind to begin the long process of reenactment.  The man watched the police deal with the media and contain the area.  He watched as curious onlookers terminated their vigil, determining that it was too cold to remain outside on a frigid January night.  The excitement of the blazing truck was slowly overtaken by the need for warmth and sleep. 

Exhausted and empty, he crept quietly to a second vehicle he had stashed in a nearby garage.  A small, un-identifiable black Toyota Camry anonymously drove off into the night.