Chapter 30 Sloane #2
“Until next time, darling,” he whispers. I turn, and he’s already halfway to the door with his hands in the pockets of his joggers. A man should not look that good doing something as ordinary as walking away. I stand there at the sink, watching until he walks out the door.
? ? ?
I’m not sure what I’m feeling as I make the drive to Obsidian Press.
Last night was unexpected, and wild, and dangerous in the way that your favorite guilty pleasure might be.
But it was also beautiful and so raw. The things I let him do to me.
I’ve never in my life been so open about my desires.
I’ve never allowed anyone to see those parts of myself that I’ve kept behind lock and key my entire life.
He didn’t even have to break in to find it, and he didn’t run from it.
Instead, he met me in the dark, and our shadows danced in recognition.
His words replay in my mind. “You’re mine.”
Mine. His. I should probably be running from the red flags and the alarm bells.
But instead, I find myself suddenly wanting to join the color guard.
Images of me frolicking in a field with a couple of giant red flags flash through my mind.
Cue the bells, too, because I do not want to run from this.
In fact, I want to run full speed into whatever this is and let it consume me whole.
Riven Reilly is not a man you walk away from.
And even if I wanted to, I’m not sure he’d even allow it.
I show up to work at 11:03 am. It’s a Monday, so it’s pretty busy. I nearly get run over by an intern carrying a stack of folders as I make my way to Alex’s desk. He spots me walking over and stands.
“Sloane, hey! Let’s go talk in the conference room.
” He grabs the file and walks away from his desk.
I follow him through the busy office and down the hall, turning into a room near the end.
I walk over to one of the black swivel chairs and take a seat, placing my backpack down on one of the chairs next to me.
He takes one of the chairs opposite mine, dropping the file on the table.
My eyes stare at it like I can see right through the manila folder.
“Everything okay this morning?” he questions, opening the file and thumbing through until he finds the paper he wants. He pulls it out and places it on top of the stack.
“Yep. I just overslept. Long night,” I say, keeping it short and sweet. My attention is focused on the file and what it means.
“It’s not like you,” he says, studying me. “I mean, you’ve never been late a day in your life. You had me worried there for a second. If you need to talk, you know that I—”
“I don’t. I’m fine. Everything is pretty great, actually. I stayed up a little later than usual and took melatonin to help me sleep. That’s probably why I didn’t hear my alarm go off this morning,” I lie, reaching for the file. He pulls it back.
“Okay, but if you change your mind, I’m here,” he says, holding his hand over the open file. I reach over and try to read the page he’s keeping away from me.
“Look, Sloane, you know I can’t have you leading on this story, right? I mean, there’s a serious conflict of interest and—”
“I know that, Alex,” I snap. “I want to know why it’s being reopened. Has there been new evidence? Has someone come forward?”
“Well, yes, kind of. One of the lead detectives has been following a clue for a while now after finding something at the crime scene. They kept it under a tight lid so that the public didn’t overreact.
They didn’t want to potentially scare off the killer.
” He pauses, dropping his voice to a whisper.
“And also, this is super confidential, so I don’t want you speaking to a single soul in or out of the office about this.
I’m not even supposed to have it. The lead detective happens to owe me a favor. ”
“Okay. Got it. I won’t say a word. What is it, this thing they found at the scene?” I ask, needing him to get to the point. He looks me over for a moment, contemplating whether he can trust me to remain quiet.
He sighs. “Looks like some sort of earpiece. There’s a creepy-looking symbol etched into one side, and a number on the inside.
A serial or tracking number, maybe. Do you recognize it?
” He passes me the sheet of paper he’s been gatekeeping, and I look it over.
The image displayed on it is almost impossible to see.
I squint my eyes and turn it toward the light.
“It was nearly missed. My detective was only able to see it in the light. Says that the black on black would otherwise make it pretty much invisible. Neat, huh?”
I don’t know about neat, but it is interesting. That makes my sigil theory more likely. I’ve investigated a few cults, and this has power and control written all over it. I nod, studying the image. In the center lies the shape of an eye with a … holy shit.
“Is this a sound wave?” I ask, darting my eyes up to him.
He narrows his eyes at me, smirking. “That’s what he thinks, too. I didn’t pick that up right away. Good catch, Sloanie.” My mind is going in a million directions that all point me to one thought. But. No. It couldn’t be, right?
“What do you think of the rest of it?” Alex asks, breaking me from my thoughts. I bring my eyes back to the image. The eye with the sound wave in the middle of it is encircled by a spiral. Like a hypnosis spiral?
“Hypnosis?” I question, smiling at him like I’m on a game of Jeopardy. Can I get Hypnosis for $500, Alex?
He looks pleased with my answer. “Yes! Wow. You deserve a raise. Why have I not given you a raise yet?” he jokes excitedly.
An earpiece.
A sound wave.
Hypnosis.
Oh my God.
Sabel. Sabel killed my father.
The realization hits me like a tidal wave, and I temporarily feel the air leave the room. My ears ring, and my vision darkens as my senses start to slowly disappear. Alex’s voice breaks me out of the impending panic.
“Sloane, I know this is a lot. If you don’t feel up to this, we can table it until later,” he says, reaching a hand across the table. I pull mine back before he makes contact. He averts my gaze.
“I’m fine. Let’s keep going,” I assure him, remembering something else he said about the earpiece.
“You said something about a number? Where is it?” I ask.
“It’s etched on the inside. Same color.” He pushes another page toward me. It reads “8.” That’s it? A single digit? Okay, not much to work with.
“Any leads on it from your guy?” I look up at him in question.
“He isn’t saying. He wants us to take more of an underground approach with the story. Keep the readers on edge until the truth is revealed.” Ahh, of course he does.
“Figures,” I say. I’m already mentally checked out and trying to figure out how I’m going to find the information I need.
“Sloane, let’s let the detectives do their jobs, okay?” He eyes me suspiciously.
“I will,” I say, standing. “Thanks for letting me know, Alex. I appreciate it.”
“Of course, Sloanie. Anything for you.” He stands, gathering the papers and placing them back in the file. He picks it up, tucking it beneath his arm, and follows me out of the room.
? ? ?
We went back to our separate desks in the office and resumed work.
I worked for hours, finding bits and pieces that may or may not form a bigger picture.
A lot of investigative work is simply fitting the pieces together until they form one big, coherent puzzle.
The process can be exhausting, but the results are usually worth it.
At the end of my search, I was able to deduce three things.
One, the sigil is a secret symbol for whatever Sonus is hiding beneath the surface. I’d be willing to bet there’s a secret board working on the frequencies. I think the guys of Reverb were onto something that day Van tested me himself.
Two, the eye with the sound wave symbolizes an awakening through frequency.
Three, the number eight is a wild card. An eight turned sideways could be an infinity symbol, or it could be a mirror image.
Perhaps a never-ending frequency, or Sonus Corp leading a double life?
The number eight can also signify a new order and a new beginning for humanity. Maybe it’s all of the above?
While I’m not positive that my findings are correct, something tells me that I’m at least close to the truth. I’m grinning like I discovered a huge secret, and perhaps I did.
I’m so onto you, Sabel, and you’ll never see me coming.