Page 47 of Girl, Forlorn

‘Let’s hope he’s in the office today,’ Ripley said.

‘If he’s not, someone will tell us where he is.’

Ella's heart pounded in her chest as she walked through the double doors into the lobby. The interior was as chic as the exterior, with clean lines and a minimalist design. The receptionist looked up as they approached, her expression neutral.

‘Detectives Ella and Ripley here to see Thomas Holt,’ Ella announced, showing her badge. Her voice was steady, but underneath, a torrent of anticipation and apprehension churned.

‘I’m sorry,’ the receptionist said, ‘Mr. Holt hasn’t been in the office for a few days. We’re not sure when he’s coming back.’

Ella looked over at Ripley, a silent thread between them. Perhaps this CEO had taken a break to get revenge on old classmates, she thought.

‘Where is he?’ Ripley asked.

‘Vacation, although he didn’t say where.’

Ella's suspicion deepened with the receptionist's words. The timing of Holt's absence was too convenient, almost like a calculated move to evade any inquiries. Her instincts told her there was more to this story than a simple vacation.

‘Is there any way to contact Mr. Holt? We need to speak with him as soon as possible.’

Before the receptionist could respond, the front doors opened and a suited gentleman stepped into the lobby. Ella's attention immediately shifted. The man had a confident stride, expensive gold watch, fresh tan that looked painted on.

She recognized him from the headshot on his website.

The gentleman approached, laid his briefcase down and signed himself in at the desk. He extended his hand to Ella first.

‘Hi, can I help you ladies? I’m Thomas Holt, the CEO around here,’ he laughed.

Ella grasped his hand firmly, her eyes locking onto his. ‘Mr. Holt, I'm Agent Dark, and this is Agent Ripley. We're here to talk to you about a serious matter.’

Thomas Holt, taken aback by their direct approach, recovered quickly. ‘Damn, been back in the building five seconds and I’ve already got cops on me,’ he smiled.

His voice was smooth, practiced, but Ella could sense an undercurrent of tension. Thomas Holt was a corporate cliché, and she had to remind herself that psychopaths made up a large percentage of CEOs across America.

‘Been on vacation?’ Ripley asked.

‘When you work a job like this, there’s no such thing as a vacation,’ he said.

‘Tell me about it,’ Ripley said. ‘Is there anywhere we can talk?’

Holt grinned a plastic smile, baring two rows of ice white teeth. ‘No need, because I already know exactly why you’re here.’

Ella's interest piqued at Holt's confidence, his demeanor a blend of corporate polish and subtle arrogance. ‘Oh? And why is that?’

Holt gestured for the agents to join him on the leather sofas in the foyer, out of earshot of the receptionist. Ella recognized it as a power move – taking the lead to establish a power move. A trick right out of the William Edis playbook.

‘Demi Hart, Mark Jensen, Miles Rampell. My old pals, right?’ he asked as he took a seat and spread his legs. The casual posture of a man comfortable in his domain.

Ella didn’t appreciate the man’s assurance, nor his flippant remarks. ‘Yes. You knew them?’ she asked.

‘Knew them, hated them. Heard the news the day I left for vacation and haven’t stopped smiling since.’

Ella’s instincts were on high alert. If Thomas Holt was involved, he was the exact kind of personality to take the overly-brazen route.

‘You hated them. Can you elaborate on that?’

Holt leaned back, seemingly unfazed by the gravity of the conversation. ‘High school never ends. Demi, Mark, Miles, they were the popular kids. A bunch of bullies who pushed around nobodies like me. Meanwhile, it’s the losers like me who go on to found tech companies. Meanwhile, they end up dead with very cheap funerals.’

Ella's gaze hardened as she listened to Holt's bitter tirade. She’d never seen the long-term effects of bullying first-hand until now, and didn’t realize how deep such scars could run. She wasn’t sure who she felt sorrier for – the dead clique or their high school prey.

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