Page 102 of Sinner

The brief scene haunted me all night long. I’d tossed and turned, getting maybe an hour of sleep. Between searching the dark web and using every method I knew to discover more about Xander’schildhood, I hadn’t bothered to try to get any sleep until well after three. Six o’clock had come early.

I was late getting to the office, my brain still foggy.

I was never late.

Never.

I prided myself in being early to everything.

My butt was dragging and this was the first real day of my new job. I still felt guilty as hell for saying yes, but I needed a job. I had no plans of chickening out with the test on Friday, but the closer it came to the day, the more anxiousness I experienced.

I would do my best during the day and drop into bed right after I got home. I’d yet to be shown my new office. That was also supposed to happen today. I felt guilty about being excited. How had my life gotten so off track?

The moment I walked in through the main doors, it seemed as if I’d been shoved into a vacuum. The conversations that always buzzed in the office slipped to whispers only. I glanced around the cubicle center and people ducked down when they saw me coming. Okay, what in the hell was going on? Maybe they were pissed I’d been promoted. Some of them were catty enough.

I took off my jacket and tossed my purse into one of my desk drawers. The moment I sat down, I pulled up my email.

Only I was locked out.

I tried my password again and was refused admittance.

What the hell?

Maybe Sam had added additional security given what I’d be doing for the company. I was supposed to have a meeting with him this morning anyway. I might as well see if he was available.

There was a distinct chill in the air as I headed for the stairs. Everyone who passed by me slunk away. By the time I was on the second floor, my gut told me something was terribly wrong. Almost as soon as I knocked on the door, I heard Sam’s voice ushering me inside.

He was already sitting on one of his beanbag chairs, surfing through his iPad.

“Sam, I might be early for our meeting, but I can’t get into my email. Did you make a change?”

He took a deep breath and lifted his head. He’d never taken this long to search my eyes before. Sam was what I’d called a gregarious man. He was almost always jovial and happy, making jokes and smiling throughout the day even during tough times.

There was no smile on his face. His features looked as haggard as I felt.

“Come and sit. I need you to read something for me.” He placed his iPad on the table and nodded to one of the other beanbags.

As soon as I was close, he stood up and walked toward one of the windows in his office.

I was hesitant to sit down. My instinct told me whatever I was about to read I wouldn’t like. There was no getting away from it. He was my boss. With the iPad in my hand, I sat down and tried to focus.

It was an article from one of the top-rated gaming magazines in the country. I’d read dozens of reviews on games in them overthe years. This piece appeared to be an editorial as well as a review.

The byline immediately brought a wave of anger into my system. Dorn Franklin. The review was first and as I knew instinctively, the piece was scathing. The man hated everything about Dark Nights, calling it a primitive excuse for the violence used and adored by the three men who created the company.

Sour grapes.

Maybe I’d rethink filing a complaint at the police station against him. Who cared how powerful his friends and family were. I could cause enough of a ruckus maybe he’d leave Dark Nights alone.

I glanced at Sam after finishing it. He must be gloating, although often bad reviews helped sales to soar. I could only imagine what Xander was thinking right about now mostly given the author of the review.

Onto the editorial. By the third paragraph, my mouth had dropped open. The man was accusing the Blackwell brothers and the people on the board of several horrific crimes including racketeering. Really? For what purpose? They weren’t members of organized crime and they certainly didn’t need to launder money. My God, Dorn was an idiot and the libel accusations would ruin his career. Blackwell had a kick-ass attorney.

“What is the bozo trying to do?” I asked, although I was just thinking out loud.

“Keep reading.”

After a handful of other accusations, Dorn quoted several sources while obtaining his information. Some I knew. Some I didn’t.

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