Page 114 of Pressure

As she zipped around through Solitaire’s records, a chat dialogue popped up on her screen.

Riss?

Her heart skittered and she quickly typed back.

Can’t sleep either?

Her phone rang. Was she ready to talk to him? She needed to work through the information she’d found. He would be the best one to do it with. But she didn’t think she could bear hearing his voice right now, so she let it go to voicemail and typed another message.

Let’s talk here

There was a long pause before he responded.

That works. Find anything?

Do you know an Art Glenstring?

While she waited for him to respond, she opened another window and started running searches on the name.

Can’t say I do but I’m looking at the name now. I’ll dig into it.

She saved the database file and sent it to him with the three entries highlighted. They would have to talk eventually, but for now, digital communication was best.

He called again.

With a sigh she answered.

“Go to sleep, Riss. I’m sorry I got you hurt. We’ll talk soon.”

And then he was gone.

A tear slid down her cheek, but she closed her laptop and snuggled into the pile of pillows.

To her surprise, sleep came much faster than she thought it would.

The next morning, she woke up and brewed a pot of coffee while stewing over the information—or lack thereof—she’d compiled last night.

She pulled out every note she’d written down since going to work for the folks at Solitaire and went through everything in her head. Pulling out a notebook, she began listing the names of everyone who had been involved or mentioned over the course of the last few weeks.

Sebastian Forcythe

Nicholas Sutton

Grant Sterling

Jodie King

Garrett Oliver

Isabelle Alvarado

Lance Moss

Art Glenstring

Austin Yates

Patrick Sutton Yates

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