Page 22 of Stalker

“Would you like some coffee?” he asked.

“Honestly, I’ve had more coffee in the last five months than I ever want to see again.”

He chuckled. “You did a fabulous job with the Baker prosecution. I know it was a tragic and draining case, but you stuck to your guns. You showed diplomacy, cunning, and lack of fear. The case truly highlighted your qualifications.”

Why did he make it sound as if I was applying for a job? “Thank you, sir.”

“I won’t beat around the bush as I’m certain you’d like to finish up whatever paperwork and enjoy a night off.”

“Yes, I would.” I laughed.

“I have a special case I want you to work on and I think you’re the only one who can really get into the nitty gritty of it.”

“A case?” Great. If it was something Mr. Wells was working on, then it could be another one that took months. I preferred the nice, easy ‘wham, bam, thank you, ma’am’ cases that were a week or two, tops.

“Yes, but not what you’re thinking. Call it more of an investigative situation.”

“O-kay. You have me intrigued.”

He picked up a file from his desk, handing it to me. Once I accepted it, he walked toward one of his floor-to-ceiling windows, shoving his hands into his pockets as he stared out at the Chicago skyline.

I shook my head before opening it. The Blackwell Group. The name rang a bell, but I had no idea from where. What I found were mostly printed pieces found on Google or copies of articles written forForbesandFortunemagazines. A highly successful gaming company. From what I read, there was nothing outstanding other than they had the entire market in the palms of their hands and made money hand over fist.

“What am I looking at here?” I finally asked.

“What you aren’t seeing is who the men truly are.”

“Go on.”

He turned around. “Have you ever heard of the Obsidian Society?”

“Um… No.”

“Most people haven’t because the three owners of the company have tried very hard to keep it the dark secret that it is. It’s a very exclusive, private society where the potential members are required to pass certain tests.”

“Tests. Okay. That’s not so unusual,” I told him.

His laugh sent a set of shivers down my spine. “I’m not talking about a basic personality test. I’m talking about questions regarding the deepest, darkest parts of you. If passed, then it’s followed by various games that mirror their highly popular Dark Nights.”

“I don’t play video games.”

“Then you should learn. It’s a virtual reality game so real that there are dozens of disclaimers, but even then, they’ve been sued several times from players being nearly scared to death or acting on their sexual proclivities.”

I took a few seconds to think about what he was suggesting. “Are you telling me these contestants are forced into these contests?”

“Oh, no. They agree. Many of them vie for the opportunity. I’ve heard rumors of very conniving behavior prior to becoming a contestant.”

“Any other tests?”

“All of this is hearsay based on a single article written about the Obsidian Society and some chatter on the dark web, but the follow-up tests involve real life scenarios that some would consider mirroring those of a violent or sexual criminal.”

I leaned forward in my seat. “Like what?”

“Primal hunts. Abduction. Caging. To name a few.”

“Why in God’s name would anyone agree to something so disturbing?”

“For the payout including a job with the Blackwell Group, money, lavish gifts. Again, that’s based on conjecture, but I truly think the men are evil enough they are capable of craving that kind of power. Holding lives in their hands.”

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