Daylight in the Night

By Luther McDaniel

Joy Jackson, news anchor at CNN World News, has reached the zenith of her career as a television journalist. Her complacency is abruptly interrupted when she runs into an old high school classmate, Jeannetta, whose life has been devastated by a crack cocaine addiction. Shocked at the appearance of her old classmate, she decides to investigate and produce a documentary on the devastation this drug reeks upon an otherwise promising life. Joys zealous research carries her too far. She samples the drug attempting to gain a more authentic perspective of the drugs effect. Three years later Joy is in disbelief at the depths of her fall from grace. Cocaine addiction has led to the loss of her prestigious job, her family, and the near loss of her best friend, Lisa Farrow. The insatiable compulsion has pushed her into the squalid world of prostitution, her only means of supporting a consuming habit. Lisa is sure that faith in God and prayer will lift Joy from the terrible pit into which she has fallen.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Mar 15, 2018
• ISBN: 9781532034688

Luther McDaniel

Luther McDaniel, Jr., was born in Augusta, Georgia. At age 18, after finishing Richmond Academy High School, he enlisted into the military where he served four years in the prestigious 82nd airborne division serving as a combat infantryman. He finished his military commitment in 1978 and seven years later he decided to further his education. He attended Augusta College where he earned his Bachelors degree of arts within three years, and thereafter earned a doctorate in Juris Prudence at John Marshall Law school in Atlanta, Georgia. After several years practicing law old demons resurged in Luthers life jeopardizing a hard-fought-for career and in desperation he reached back for an old talent, writing, one of which he gives God absolute glory. He signed his first publishing contract in 2008 and his debut novel, The Third Cross, was released in 2010. The novel did impressively well and Luther had found another profession. His latest novel, Daylight in the Night, is scheduled for release on March 15, 2018.

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Copyright © 2018 Luther McDaniel.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

Photoghapher: Taylor McKnight

Model: Aly Mitchell

Editor: Danielle Anderson

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ISBN: 978-1-5320-3467-1 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-5320-3468-8 (e)

iUniverse rev. date: 02/15/2018

Scripture quotations are from The Holy Bible, English Standard Version® (ESV®), copyright © 2001 by Crossway, a publishing ministry of Good News Publishers. Used by permission. All rights reserved.

Scripture taken from the Holy Bible, NEW INTERNATIONAL VERSION®. Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984, 2011 by Biblica, Inc. All rights reserved worldwide. Used by permission. NEW INTERNATIONAL VERSION® and NIV® are registered trademarks of Biblica, Inc. Use of either trademark for the offering of goods or services requires the prior written consent of Biblica US, Inc.

Contents

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

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty-One

Chapter Thirty-Two

Chapter Thirty-Three

Chapter Thirty-Four

Chapter Thirty-Five

Chapter Thirty-Six

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Chapter Forty

Chapter Forty-One

Chapter Forty-Two

Chapter Forty-Three

Chapter Forty-Four

Chapter Forty-Five

Chapter Forty-Six

Chapter Forty-Seven

Chapter Forty-Eight

Chapter Forty-Nine

Chapter Fifty

Chapter Fifty-One

Chapter Fifty-Two

Chapter Fifty-Three

Chapter- Fifty-Four

Chapter Fifty-Five

Chapter Fifty-Six

CHAPTER ONE

It was obvious that something distracted the charismatic news anchor during the broadcast. In between headlines her usually focused bearing appeared to occasionally fog into unrelated thought, but her professional manner in delivering the news concealed any random muse on her old friend’s problem. However, the tiny gaps in her concentration didn’t go unnoticed by her producer.

With journalists currently on the ground in that nation we will report any changes in this volatile situation as we receive them The attractive anchor, glancing down briefly, placed a group of papers to her right and summarily smiled into the camera.

And that’s the news tonight. This is Joy Jackson and CNN World News wishing you all a good night.

The cameras switched focus and Joy quickly pushed away from her desk. She maneuvered her way around the production manager’s cubby, catching in her peripheral view a teleprompt flashing brief messages to the weather girl as she flawlessly advised the viewing audience of a coming cold front. The lights seemed especially hot on set tonight, and Joy was anxious to remove her make-up, which made her face feel even hotter

Her mind on nothing but getting out of there she blindly bumped into her producer in route to her dressing room.

Hey, slow down. That’s your last segment tonight. What’s on your mind?

Oh, sorry, Ray. Didn’t see you. Guess I’m just a little tired tonight.

That’s quite alright, Joy. Anyway…that was a great job, her production manager complimented. That comment in your interview with the President was a stroke of genius. I don’t believe I’ve ever seen him actually embarrassed. But your way of offering him a face-saving grace was as professional as it gets.

Well, thanks, Ray. I had two good reasons for doing it that way you know, Joy responded.

Yeah? And they were?

First off, he’s the leader of the free world and I see no benefit in disgracing such a powerfully talented man. Our acknowledgement that he’s still only a man, with a very difficult job, and incredibly tough decisions to make on a daily basis, makes us more popular with the public on a moral level. Secondly, with me showing him compassion in what most certainly could have been a humiliating disclosure will undoubtedly make me the darling of TV news. He remains a very popular president with the people, and my actions tonight, I believe, will enable me to piggy-back some of that popularity.

Ray’s face crunched in thought as he involuntarily scanned the sleek but curvy silhouette of his star reporter. I should have guessed, Joy, he said as he twisted his mouth a little to the right. Shoulda’ known that your actions weren’t totally selfless. Just who do you think you are, lady, Barbara Walters? Joy leaned backwards as if she’d been insulted. But you’re probably right. The whole thing came off well. Your handling of it may well inch your personal credibility rating above your contemporaries on the other networks.

I certainly hope so, Joy said, spying the light glistening from the slick dome that sat in the middle of Ray’s red hair. And by the way, I’m a better journalist than Barbara.

Ray smirked as he shook his head from side to side as his talented reporter’s cell phone chimed, interrupting their exchange. She took the call.

Yes?

Hello, Miss Jackson. This is Jeanetta. You asked me to call? Joy sensed jitteriness in Jeanetta’s voice. Having had her as a houseguest for more than a month now, Joy had come to know that tone.

Yeah, Jeanetta, I sure did. And thanks. Are you all right?

Yeah─ kinda, I’m gonna need something, soon.

"Trust me, Jeanetta. I’ll take care of you as soon as I get there. And by the way, I’ve told you, you don’t have to call me Miss Jackson. This is Joy, girl, your old classmate. There’s no need to be formal with me. Just call me Joy as always.

Oh, oh… ok, Joy, the young lady uttered.

I’ll be home around eight.

Can you make it any sooner? I’m, I’m kinda’ hurting, she said.

I’ll try. But please, Jeanetta wait until I get there, ok?

Ok.

That must have been important, Ray said. You don’t normally take cell calls here at the station. Anything I need to know about? Ray could sense a little impatience in Joy’s tone while on the phone.

No, Ray. It’s nothing that will interfere with your agenda. I promise. Joy’s facial expression held a hint of deceit. But I do have something I need to run by you. It relates to another story I’m planning on doing, one that will hit home in many families all over the country.

Ok, that’s good. I’ll be willing to go over it with you when you return from Texas.

From Texas!

Yes. We’ve arranged an interview with the other party of this thing with the President. She’s currently living in Austin. I need you to get out there right away and catch this interview while the iron is still hot. We have the President’s version, but the story won’t be complete without hearing from the other side. Nothing hotter than a good Washington scandal. The public is waiting on her and we have the exclusive. I need you on a plane first thing in the morning.

But, Ray…

No buts, Joy. We’ll talk about your project as soon as you return. Meanwhile I need you in Austin by noon tomorrow. Ok?

Yeah. Ok.

Joy rushed to her dressing room, quickly removed her make-up, and shot towards the exit heading to the parking lot. A few of her co-workers observed her unusually quick pace as Joy’s light blue Armani skirt boldly embraced her feminine gait. She jumped into her Mercedes and sped towards Spring Street. Already miffed about her producer’s last minute travel plans she cursed every car she had to trail in route to her apartment. She lived in an exclusive loft in The Vines, a fashionable townhouse community known for its high-level corporate occupants. Located right off of I-75, the sea of lights she saw as she approached her exit further annoyed her. The traffic jelled some two miles prior to her exit.

Jeanetta better be there, she said aloud. I’m not in any mood tonight to go searching for her.

Joy was more than willing to help her old high school classmate out of the disastrous state of being she was now in, and, in turn, boost her own career with a dynamic documentary that would explore both the horrendous fall, and the viable hopes of recovery from it. All Jeanetta had to do was stick with her. She’d get the exclusive on this demon that swallowed people’s lives mercilessly. Joy needed to know what this was, and what could defeat it; in turn she’d let the world know that anyone could be prey to this affliction.

Behold, I have given you power to tread upon serpents and all the power of the enemy Luke 10:19

CHAPTER TWO

….THREE YEARS LATER…

Joy (Sunshine) Jackson didn’t want to get up. She was tired, more tired than usual. A loud volley of gunfire snatched her from a dead sleep and she could hear the violent tone of two men just outside of her door, slashing one another with the vilest of profanities. In an unnatural calm she surveyed the room, peeping through squinting eyelids making sure no windows were broken, and no bullet holes were in the walls. She wiped the hard sleep from the corners of her eyes as she stared a moment at the simple oak dresser next to her bed, focusing on the dimly lit night lamp. The lamp appeared to have once been of some value, but now the vase-like stand had a jagged crack in it running from top to bottom, causing it to fit well into its ragged surroundings. She groaned as she rolled over to face a large stain on the opposite wall. What caused it, she had no idea. And she wasn’t sure she wanted to know. Her fall from grace had come full circle and she was dangerously close to giving up on any possible recovery.

The clothes she’d worn last night sprawled the entire room. A pair of panty hose hung from the cushion of that hideous orange chair next to the door, her hot shorts lay at the foot of the bed, and her crumpled bra idly rested on the top edge of a scarred headboard. Those cute little red shoes she’d gotten on sale at Payless laid lifeless on the faded green carpet, two feet from the far wall. The carpet was soiled and worn flat from all the traffic and neglect. The sporadic vacuuming by housekeeping was merely perfunctory.

It was almost seven-thirty. The darkness canvassing the room was pierced by a slither of summer evening daylight easing through a gap between two filthy drapes. Her fatigue argued vehemently with her desire to get up, but her badly needed rest had already been disturbed and fatigue lost a valiant fight. The stale odor in the sheets she’d spent the night on convinced her to get started.

Screeching sirens pierced the still that was now outside. Joy begrudgingly slid out of bed, dragging half the cover with her. Tentatively approaching the window she eased the drape back, just far enough to get a peek. "Now, what the hell is going on, she asked herself? Blue and red emergency lights flashed a few yards down from her door. She spotted an ambulance and two police cruisers slamming into the parking lot. I hope they get this mess cleaned up before I have to go to work," she grumbled.

Ending her brief investigation, not really concerned whether anyone was hurt she headed for the bathroom a few feet away. She stood over the time-stained face bowl and stared at her reflection. She was still young, only twenty-eight, and she’d already known success, a bright success preceding a dismal failure. Her face was still pretty, but the reflection staring back did little to evidence the stunning beauty that once surrounded an angelic smile, a smile that America had come to love. She looked older now, worn, as used as the dingy facecloth hanging from the towel rack just above the broken commode.

Using layers of tissue to insulate her bottom from the seat, she stooped slowly onto the toilet to relieve herself. After a customary wiping she just sat there, leaning forward with her elbows propped on her knees, her face resting in the palms of her hands as she sat thinking. What happened to me? How in hell did I end up here? Joy felt as dead as the cockroach that lay still on its back in the corner next to the bathtub. Her cell phone chimed and she dragged her tainted flesh off of the toilet and back into the room towards the dresser where her purse was.

Yeah, she answered.

Is this you, Joy?

Who are you calling, Lisa? Of course it’s me.

Girl you sound horrible.

Humph, Joy sighed. You ought to see what I look like.

We still on for eight? Lisa asked.

Yeah, I’m at the Royal Inn, room 103. You’re coming alone, aren’t you?

Sure. See you at eight.

Joy reached under the bed and pulled out her night bag. She scurried through several pieces of clothing before stretching out a cute little green and yellow sundress. She laid it across the unmade bed and used her travel iron to flatten out the wrinkles, then went back into the bathroom to shower.

Manufacturing as many suds as she could with the miniature motel soap bar she scrubbed her body, hard, as if she were scraping old grease from a frying pan. She lathered thoroughly trying to rid herself of last night’s work before douching with one of those scented disposables found in most grocery stores. After drying off she brushed her long silky black hair back, tying it into a ponytail. She brushed her teeth with a guilty vengeance and gargled with peroxide for several minutes.

The sundress she’d chosen clung and its thin material accentuated her curves just the way she wanted. She wore no panties and was well aware that in just the right light any man’s carnal desires would peak. In fact she counted on it. After her meeting with Lisa she’d be getting back to business.

She turned on the television while she waited. The remote didn’t work so she just left it on the weather channel.

Muggy and warm tonight, the meteorologist predicted.

Her mind drifted back into her glory days, into times when she’d dominated the nightly news, but she shut the thoughts down quickly. The memories still held too much pain, too much regret. The weather forecast was fine with her. It had been a hot August and the excessive heat was of minor concern these days. A bright pair of headlights glared through the curtains and Joy eased to the edge of the window and peeped outside. It was Lisa, and as promised, she was alone.

Joy met her friend at the door, rushed her inside, and after two quick glances in either direction of the motel walkway, locked the door and gave her friend a big hug.

Girl, how did you find this dump? The women exchanged embarrassing glances before Joy dropped her head. I’m sorry Joy, Lisa’s instinctive apology. I don’t know why I asked that.

Don’t be sorry. I’ve been asking myself a lot of uncomfortable questions lately. Guess that’s why I’m doing this. Telling this story might give me some answers, and who knows, might even help someone.

What went on outside? Lisa asked. I saw an ambulance pulling off and two police cars parked out front about three doors up.

That’s nothing uncommon around here. Don’t worry about it. This aint The Vines you know.

I sink in deep mire, where there is no foothold… Psalms: 69:2

CHAPTER THREE

Born Joy Denise Jackson, the pseudonym Sunshine had been adopted only within the last three years. Joy met Lisa Farrow in college, at the University of Georgia. Both were journalism majors, both were achievers, and both young, vibrant beautiful women. After graduation the two friends landed jobs in their chosen fields. Lisa went to work for a local newspaper in Augusta, but Joy aimed for larger game. She wouldn’t be satisfied until she’d landed a job with CNN News in Atlanta, a long-term ambition.

The girls kept in contact but Joy withdrew from her best friend for a brief period when Lisa became enamored with this Jesus Christ character as Joy often referred to him as. Upon nearly every mention of his name Joy’s response was the same.

I just can’t see how some young Jew who got himself in trouble with the powers that be of his times, and got himself killed for his efforts, could have anything to do with my life now. Considering the end of his story, doesn’t sound like he was very powerful to me.

There is no end to his story, Joy. That’s all I want you to see, Lisa would reply.

Lisa didn’t push her faith on Joy. She occasionally shared her own remarkable experiences since becoming a believer but when she sensed her conversation irritating her friend she’d let up, hoping Joy would make her own decision to follow the source of her faith. Joy saw no relevance to her life in Jesus’s story. She would go as far as to recognize him as a significant historical figure, say like an Abraham Lincoln, or a Martin Luther King Jr., but a savior of the world, that was a far stretch. Besides, she’d always had to remain totally focused on her career, which left little room for religion.

Joy was a driven, (almost insanely so) risk taker, steadily determined to skip the next rung up the ladder of success if she deemed it unnecessary. Lisa was methodical, more patient. She was willing to pay the traditional dues required of aspiring journalists. Both did pretty well but Joy’s accomplishments seemed to arrive way ahead of schedule.

Joy started out as a field apprentice, covering local news and events, shootings, deadly automobile accidents; corrupt politicians. She loved sensationalism. It ran through her veins. The more sensational an event was, the greater the rush. The only thing she loved more than a hot scandal was the chicken and waffles served at Gladys Knight’s restaurant down on Courtland. Her trade signature as a journalist was always being in the right place at the right time, beating her colleagues to the scoop on some hot new story.

When an opportunity to really get into the action came she pounced on it. In August 2005 she volunteered to go to Afghanistan and work as a field correspondence. She traveled the sandy- rock trails with the 82nd Airborne Division and became intimately familiar with combat tactics. She didn’t see a lot of action, but whenever there was the promise of gunfire she made sure that she was in the thick of it. Once she witnessed the misfortune of an American personnel carrier, traveling just in front of the vehicle she was riding in, detonate an IED. The ear-shattering explosion didn’t deter Joy at all from rushing to the wounded in an attempt to obtain first hand interviews. She was instinctively drawn to the heart of the most dangerous situations.

How long will you give me? Lisa asked.

I figure we’ll go for a couple of hours tonight, then put in an hour or two tomorrow. I’ll play it by ear for the rest of the week, Joy said.

The rest of the week?

Yeah, Lisa. You’re not writing a short story are you? I thought this was going to be novel length.

Well, it is, Lisa replied reluctantly. Will all of our talks be here? The concern on Lisa’s face was apparent.

Yeah. I figure you’re gonna have to front me enough money to stay here for at least a week, Joy said. This place is cheap, as you can see, but it’s convenient. Of course I’ll pay you back. I thought we talked about that, and you seemed alright with it.

Lisa took another quick but deliberate scan of the shanty-looking room just before a loud crack coming from outside in the parking lot startled her. Her big brown eyes stretched. I was alright with it, until I saw this place. Was that a gun?

Hell, I don’t know, Lisa. Coulda’ been.

These people, these surroundings, I don’t know about this, Joy.

Impatience crept into Joy’s expression. Look! Do you want this first hand or not? You can always go make it up, but I bet the authenticity you claim to be looking for won’t be there. It won’t come close to sounding believable. And you’ll be just like a lot of other so-called writers who write about stuff they know nothing about. Now do you want to do this or not!

Lisa looked straight into Joy’s fatigue-worn eyes, peering at her in a manner that assured her friend she wasn’t the least bit intimidated by her outburst. She knew Joy pretty well. She’d seen her badger people into making decisions that they were initially against, and all too frequently later regretted. Her stern posture let Joy know that she wasn’t going to be one of those people. If she went along with this, it would be based solely on her decision, not Joy’s.

Listen to me, Joy. I’m going to do this but we gotta have some ground rules. First off, you got to be totally honest with me; none of that semantics bull I’ve seen you pull. If I’m going to be in any kind of danger I want to know ahead of time. I’m not like you. I don’t get high on adrenaline. I like things controlled. You know that about me.

Joy frowned.

You can get that look off your face right now and tell me something, Lisa demanded. Just how safe are we … right now?

Joy’s frown grew deeper, but was quickly overtaken by that patented smile of hers. Girl, that’s why I love you so much, she said. You’re just as crazy as I am, but in a more orderly way. Both women chuckled. I’d never let anything happen to you, Lisa. I love you too much for that.

Lisa reached into her Louie Vaton and retrieved a small recorder.

Don’t come around here with that thing again, Joy admonished.

With what?

That over-priced bag. Go down to Wal-Mart and buy something not so tempting to thieves, or more specifically, crack-heads.

Lisa pulled out a small writing pad and pen. You ready?

Yeah, Joy said. Let’s start at when I returned from Afghanistan.

The prudent person looks well into their going.

Proverbs 14:15

CHAPTER FOUR

I’m guessing that something you may have been exposed to over there triggered some kind of psychological change, a dramatic change that eventually led to your involvement in this…in this sort of life…this sort of lifestyle. The expression on Lisa’s face made it clear that she was honestly perplexed by whatever was devouring her friend’s life.

Joy’s thin lips curled a sarcastic smile. Let me explain something to you my ignorant friend. No matter what some idiot tells you, drug addiction is not brought on by some horribly traumatic event. Believe it or not I’ve done quite a bit of research on this thing, or, as you say, this sort of lifestyle. It’s not about discovering that your mother was a prostitute, or that your father is gay, or not getting the proper attention you needed as a child. Too many people overcome those and much worse situations and never touch the stuff. Joy paused for a minute to reach inside of her purse. She pulled out a pack of Newport cigarettes and was about to light one when Lisa abruptly stopped her.

Hey! Lisa exclaimed. Please don’t light that filthy thing. Not only will I have to endure the foul odor in my dress until I put it in the cleaners, but I don’t want to breathe the second hand smoke for obvious reasons.

Joy glared at