Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 78334 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 392(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78334 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 392(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
“They’re buying burned land through layered LLCs within seventy-two hours of fire containment,” I say, tapping the screen to pull up another acquisition timeline. “Every single time. Same financing structure. Same holding company.”
“And until you prove arson,” he says, reaching into his desk drawer and pulling out a bottle of Tums, “it’s aggressive development strategy, not a criminal enterprise.”
I hold his gaze, refusing to back down. “You hired me to chase stories just like this.”
“I hired you because you’re relentless,” he corrects, popping two chalky tablets with a grimace. “There’s a difference.”
He swivels his monitor toward me, bringing up another file. “The port bribery story? That one’s airtight. We have wire transfers, a cooperating source, a timeline we can defend. That’s a major piece, and it’s ready for you to finish.”
“And RainVest?” I press.
“RainVest is a lawsuit waiting to happen,” he says quietly. “And I don’t feel like defending an avoidable situation.”
I don’t bother hiding my frustration. “Since when do we scare that easily, Simon? What about our loyalty to the truth?”
He sighs, rubbing his temples. “Since the insurance premiums doubled after your private military contractor exposé, Tessa. Since you embedded with a militia group in Montana and I had to hire someone to rescue you. Since you ran that cartel piece and got your tires slashed twice in one month. Take your pick.”
My chin lifts in defiance. Those were excellent examples of why I’m so good at my job.
He leans forward then, his tone shifting from exasperation to something closer to concern. “You don’t do small, Tessa. And that’s why you’re one of the best reporters in this building. But it also means you pick fights with people who don’t fight fair.”
“If I didn’t have to pick a fight, it wouldn’t be newsworthy,” I maintain stubbornly. “And this story is the real deal, Simon. I know it.”
“You want to keep digging?” he continues. “Fine. But file the port story first. It’s clean, it’s documented, and there are credible sources. You chase RainVest after that, and we’ll do it with the legal department looped in from day one.”
I know he’s trying to protect the paper. And maybe me.
“I’ll have the port draft by Friday,” I say, because I’m not reckless. Just stubborn.
“And RainVest?”
“I’m not dropping it.”
He studies me for a long moment before nodding once. “I didn’t expect you to.”
Back at my desk, the rain has thickened and now beats loud enough to drown out some of the newsroom hum. I curse under my breath as I realize I don’t have an umbrella.
My phone rings on my desk and I grab it without looking. I always answer if I’m able.
“Ward,” I say automatically, holding the phone between my ear and shoulder as I stuff folders into my briefcase.
“It’s me… Erik Lanning.”
A bolt of pure adrenaline shoots down my spine and I sit up straight. “Erik… hi. It’s good to hear from you again.”
“Did you look into that stuff I told you about?” he asks in a hushed voice. The man reached out to me over a week ago with an incredible story about his employer, RainVest, and I’ve been obsessing over it ever since.
“I looked at everything you told me to. And yes… there are very shady workings. The fires, the cheap land grabs. But… that doesn’t prove anything, really.”
“I know,” he murmurs. “But I wanted to make sure you were serious first. I wanted to make sure you’d take the time to look into it.”
“I have,” I reply earnestly and summarize for him all the evidence I’ve been accumulating.
He’s silent for a beat, then he says, “I’ve got information for you. It’s everything you need to break it wide open. I’m walking tonight… quitting without notice. I want to hand this off to you and then I’m going to disappear for a while.”
Erik’s a whistleblower and he’s scared. He had hinted to me in our first call that he could get me inside information from his employer, and it looks like the ball is rolling now. My pulse doesn’t spike so much as sharpen. This is the moment every investigative reporter lives for—the proverbial nail in the coffin.
I glance toward Simon’s office. He’s on the phone with someone, gesturing wildly with his hands. I wonder how mad he’s going to be that I’m putting attention on the RainVest story when he explicitly told me not to. On the one hand, I’ve seen Simon fire reporters for less. On the other, a story of this magnitude, if it pans out, is going to be the pinnacle of our careers.
“Let’s meet up,” I say, knowing I have no other choice than to go for it. I grab a pen to jot down a note. “Tell me when and where.”
“Meet me tonight. Harbor Steps parking garage, second level near the stairwell. Ten p.m.”