Page 56 of Obsession
Such a masterpiece.
25
SAVANNAH
Boardroom meetings are boring as hell. James insists we do them twice a week: Mondays and Wednesdays.
Thanks to my weekly meetings with Robbie, I’ve managed to weasel my way out of the midweek catch-up, but I’m still forced to sit through an hour of James prattling at the top end of the table. At least there’s coffee and biscuits. I need it.
“Jeanine,” James says, placing his cup back down and running a meaty hand down his light blue shirt and navy tie. “I was very impressed with your report last week. Now that Elliot is working on The Bridge Killer, I need you to take over coverage of the robberies.”
“It has been quiet on that front,” she points out across from me, making hand movements that accentuate her new nails. I mean, they look good.
“The readers are still salivating over the story. Dig up some interesting facts about the victims until the robbers strike again, or better yet, the security system the banks have installed. They all used the same provider, didn’t they?”
“They did,” Elliot confirms beside me, doodling on a notepad.
I roll my eyes. I’m sure he reads newspapers before bed.
James types on his laptop, then turns his attention to Mark, the longest-standing reporter at this paper. “How are you getting on with the cheating scandal?”
“Jaxon Clifton, the famous married footballer got caught balls-deep in a stripper,” Elliot whispers, and I flip him off.
“You must be a really boring man,” I offer sweetly before reaching forward to help myself to another biscuit.
James does some more note taking while I count the ticking seconds, brushing crumbs off my pants. I need to write my column. I haven’t even made a start this week, too freaked out by the latest events to even contemplate what to write.
“Elliot, there’s been more development on your story. A new murder last night. I need you to travel to the crime scene and document as much as you can. Get some juicy photographs too. A speck of blood in the snow, a picture of the bridge. Oh”—he points a single finger at Elliot, eyes lit up—“and edit it to look really gloomy and ominous. The readers will eat that up.”
“You’ve got it,” Elliot answers, nodding away.
“Savannah, give me an update.”
Well, I have nothing new, but I sucked off a prison officer. Living the high life.
I clear my throat and sit straighter in my seat, ignoring the lemony scent of Elliot’s cologne as he reaches for his cup of coffee. He still has some in it. I guzzled mine five minutes into the meeting. “It’s coming along nicely. I have spent the weekend working on my column article.”
Lies. Blatant lies.
“What about the final report? Has Hammond told you about the murders yet? The burial sights of the missing bodies? Has he confessed to any other murders? The methods of killing in cases where the bodies were too decomposed to establish a cause of death?”
“So many questions…” I mutter, causing Elliot to choke on his coffee. “Like I said, I’m making good progress.”
I’m not, but I’m willing to bluff my way to success at this point.
“Send me what you have so far of the report. I’d like to read through it.”
Great…
“Sure, I’ll do that.” I keep my smile as polite as I can.
James is not done. He’s on a mission to ruin my life.
“Since you’ve made such leeway with your report and weekly column and have time on your hands before your next meeting with Hammond, I need you to accompany Elliot today. His project is proving to be a much bigger case than we could have estimated. He needs all the help he can get documenting this story as it unfolds.”
My mouth falls open. Elliot’s shoulders shake next to me.
“You should just tellhim that you’re struggling with your story,” Elliot says as he pulls away from the curb.
