Page 3 of Whispers of the Lake

Sadness.

“Stoooppp,” Bree said, exaggerating the word. “She did not.”

“I swear that’s what I heard. Apparently, it happened months ago, but Hailey saw a note about it or something when she was clearing Twyla’s desk. Now Rose is clocking all these hours and coming up with all these stories because she has so much time on her hands. She’s kissing Twyla’s ass so hard, but I keep hearing Benson is going to get the senior reporter position. Poor woman is going to get her heart brokenagain.”

“Well, he should get it.” Bree chortled. “He doesn’t come with all that baggage. Seriously. Rose is so fucking weird. She makes all of us look bad.”

That’s it. Time to shut that shit down.

I flushed the toilet, unlocked the stall door, and trotted out. Both girls peered over their shoulders at me before looking at each other and fighting smiles. I took the sink between them, giving my hands a wash before reaching around Janna for a paper towel. After drying my hands and tossing the damp paper in the trash bin, I made a show of running my fingers through my box braids, completely unbothered by their presence. I even applied a new coat of lipstick to add to the nonchalance.

They fingered at their mascara-heavy lashes, swiped their lips with gloss, pretending not to notice me. Done with my show, I started to leave the restroom, but a darker thought snuck its way in and made me stop in my tracks.

“Janna, didn’t you bring your boyfriend with you tonight?” I asked.

Janna gave Bree a nervous glance. “Yeah. Why?”

“Because I’m pretty sure I just saw him sneaking to the elevator with Virginia,” I answered. “And I’m pretty sure they’re going to her office right now so she can suck his dick and then ride it. But I could be wrong.”

Janna’s jaw dropped. Bree’s eyes widened. She was lucky I didn’t have petty dirt on her. I’d seen her washing up in the restrooms one early morning before anyone else was in, and she had a duffel bag next to her feet. It was dirt, but I wasn’t low enough to make fun of a homeless person.

With a smirk, I twisted on my heels and left the restroom. If there was one thing about me, it was this: Even if I felt weak, I’d be damned if I let anyone shit on my job and how hard I worked.

Having a cheating husband was one thing, but being stellar in my career was another. I was good at what I did.

Janna and Bree knew this and were simply jealous of it. Normally I ignored them and their snobby looks, but things were changing now. I was done being the nice girl—the sweet lady who takes the high road. Sometimes it felt good to unleash my pettiness and hit people exactly where it hurt.

CHAPTER THREE

“This is really starting to stress me out, Rose.” Zoey’s voice cut through my phone’s speaker again as I sipped the last dregs of my coffee.

I’d stayed up way too late working on details for my investigation and fact-checking things with Herbert over the phone. I meant to call Zoey back after the party last night but was too frustrated to do so. Instead, I drank half a bottle of wine and dove straight into work. Work was the only thing keeping me sane, it seemed.

“It’s been too long,” Zoey went on. “Do you think she’s okay?”

I refrained from rolling my eyes just as a I heard a knock on my office door. Herbert stepped in, waving a few sheets of paper in the air with a huge grin pasted on his face.

“More info on Cowan,” he mouthed.

I silently thanked him as he slid the paper across my desk. I picked it up with eager hands, perusing the papers, studying the violent domestic report from Cowan’s wife, Melissa. One he desperately tried to hide by paying off a lead detective on the case.

Robert Cowan, CEO of a massive tech company with headquarters in Charlotte, was “allegedly” drugging and raping some of his female employees. Melissa Cowanallegedlyfound out about this and reported it to the police. News leaked and I’d been on it like Winnie the Pooh on honey. The next thing we know, Cowan’s wife revokes her statement and they’re traveling to Ibiza and wherever the fuck rich people travel to these days.

On one of the papers were photos of Robert’s wife smiling from ear to ear but there was no spark in her eyes. It’s almost like she was beingforcedto smile, forced to enjoy their escape to restore their marriage. In other words, forced to live a lie. It made me wonder what Robert had on her.

This carried on for a month before video footage came out showing Robert Cowan at a bar with a twenty-four-year-old girl named Anabel who worked for his company.Allegedlydropping something into her drink. The footage was released yesterday morning.

This story was the only thing I could focus on at the moment (or perhaps it’s what I chose to focus on). If executed well, it could top me with that senior reporter hat, the one Twyla so happily liked to dangle above my head like a carrot. What I should’ve been doing was sending an email to Anabel to see if she’d be interested in meeting with me for an interview, but that couldn’t happen because my ex–best friend’s little sister was on the phone.

“Oh, this is beautiful,” I said. A grin split my face in half as I read over Melissa Cowan’s revoked statement. It had taken some digging to get it.

“Rose? Oh my God, are you even listening?” Zoey’s voice crackled through the speaker again and I briefly averted my attention from the report to the phone screen.

Sighing, I reluctantly set the paper down to pick up my phone. “Zoey, I’m sorry. What . . . uh . . .” I rubbed my forehead with the pads of my fingers, trying to remember what she was talking about. “What did you ask me again?”

“I asked if you’ve heard from Eve,” she said, and I could tell she was talking through her teeth.

“Oh. That’s an easy one,” I told her, snapping my fingers. “No.”

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