CHAPTER THREE
David stood, stretching his legs behind his desk; the file Amy had delivered lay splayed open across its top. Speaker phone ringing between his four walls within SNI, David reached his threaded hands above his head with a yawn—and a grit of his teeth. His dark slacks and hunter green, aqua dress shirt held their own against any wrinkles he may have picked up in the movement and returning to his seat.
“I am assuming this is an American number,” Sinclair chided, his voice brightening the air it touched. David smirked, recalling the last few moments they were able to speak in person. The man was jovial, no matter the circumstances—more than David was capable of saying for himself. And the grove’s help could not have been finer.
“There’s no fooling you,” David answered with a smile. Joanne appeared at the door. David waved her in.
“Did you cancel the Kovrov case?” Joanne began.
“Uh, oh,” Sinclair sparked. “We’ve been caught.”
“Yeah,” David readied the hold button. “I’ll be right with you.”
“Sure thing,” agreed Sinclair to being put in stasis. David looked to Joanne.
“No, I sent Derek and Robbie. They took Vincent with them. What’s up?” David asked.
“Is that about Torin?” Joanne paused in her own quest.
“Yeah,” David swept the file on his desk closed and to the side, “not directly.”
“Is she okay?”
David sat for a moment, eyes on his business partner. “Is that why you’re here?”
“No,” Joanne firmed, her features sporting the weight of running a company without him. David set his jaw against the thought. “We have some footage,” said Joanne, “that I need your answers on.”
“Mine?” David looked up in surprise. The recline of his chair emphasized the stun. “My account’s on your desk,” he said. “If it does not align with the footage, you need to speak with the team-.”
“When did you first notice the spirits?” Joanne cut in. David sat. Blinked.
“What-?” David stopped, thinking back—only to the moment in question.
“When did you first feel contact with the spirits?” Joanne pressed.
“First floor,” said David. “Three doors into the walk-through.”
“You have ten minutes,” Joanne turned cold, eyes to his phone. “Then meet me in the lab.”
“What is going on?” David asked as she stormed off from his door.
“They made contact with her before that,” Joanne said. Torin’s name was no longer a must for any conversation. “See if Sinclair knows anything about that,” Joanne called from the hall.
David flipped the flashing light of his back line. “Hey, I’m back.”
“Everything okay, chief?” Sinclair asked.
“Yeah,” David said, trailing off for a moment. “News on some of the footage, that’s all. How’s Torin?”
“Is that why you called me?” Sinclair asked. “She flew home few days after you did,” he paused. “What’s in the footage?”
David stared at the empty door. ‘She’s home?’
“David?” Sinclair came. “What did you find?”
“I’ll get back to you,” David clicked the line closed; left his office in search of Joanne, the lab, or another phone. Some topics he did not pack into his office two-by-two. “Jo!”
“Yes?” Joanne asked from Irene’s station, before David could catch up with her. David stopped. Blonde hair down her back, tidy at the sides to give her sideways glances an all-knowing dare. Her skirt suite was a smart combination of demure regality and legislative savage befitting the founder she was. David sighed. Even if she did tend to make him feel otherwise, college years, these weren’t.
Employers did not chase. They did not coddle their hires into staying. He had not risen in the ranks of business the first time by doing so. People had flocked to him, as they do to Joanne and himself now.
“What’s going on with the footage?” David asked. Joanne smiled; David walked with her to the lab.
David stood, stretching his legs behind his desk; the file Amy had delivered lay splayed open across its top. Speaker phone ringing between his four walls within SNI, David reached his threaded hands above his head with a yawn—and a grit of his teeth. His dark slacks and hunter green, aqua dress shirt held their own against any wrinkles he may have picked up in the movement and returning to his seat.
“I am assuming this is an American number,” Sinclair chided, his voice brightening the air it touched. David smirked, recalling the last few moments they were able to speak in person. The man was jovial, no matter the circumstances—more than David was capable of saying for himself. And the grove’s help could not have been finer.
“There’s no fooling you,” David answered with a smile. Joanne appeared at the door. David waved her in.
“Did you cancel the Kovrov case?” Joanne began.
“Uh, oh,” Sinclair sparked. “We’ve been caught.”
“Yeah,” David readied the hold button. “I’ll be right with you.”
“Sure thing,” agreed Sinclair to being put in stasis. David looked to Joanne.
“No, I sent Derek and Robbie. They took Vincent with them. What’s up?” David asked.
“Is that about Torin?” Joanne paused in her own quest.
“Yeah,” David swept the file on his desk closed and to the side, “not directly.”
“Is she okay?”
David sat for a moment, eyes on his business partner. “Is that why you’re here?”
“No,” Joanne firmed, her features sporting the weight of running a company without him. David set his jaw against the thought. “We have some footage,” said Joanne, “that I need your answers on.”
“Mine?” David looked up in surprise. The recline of his chair emphasized the stun. “My account’s on your desk,” he said. “If it does not align with the footage, you need to speak with the team-.”
“When did you first notice the spirits?” Joanne cut in. David sat. Blinked.
“What-?” David stopped, thinking back—only to the moment in question.
“When did you first feel contact with the spirits?” Joanne pressed.
“First floor,” said David. “Three doors into the walk-through.”
“You have ten minutes,” Joanne turned cold, eyes to his phone. “Then meet me in the lab.”
“What is going on?” David asked as she stormed off from his door.
“They made contact with her before that,” Joanne said. Torin’s name was no longer a must for any conversation. “See if Sinclair knows anything about that,” Joanne called from the hall.
David flipped the flashing light of his back line. “Hey, I’m back.”
“Everything okay, chief?” Sinclair asked.
“Yeah,” David said, trailing off for a moment. “News on some of the footage, that’s all. How’s Torin?”
“Is that why you called me?” Sinclair asked. “She flew home few days after you did,” he paused. “What’s in the footage?”
David stared at the empty door. ‘She’s home?’
“David?” Sinclair came. “What did you find?”
“I’ll get back to you,” David clicked the line closed; left his office in search of Joanne, the lab, or another phone. Some topics he did not pack into his office two-by-two. “Jo!”
“Yes?” Joanne asked from Irene’s station, before David could catch up with her. David stopped. Blonde hair down her back, tidy at the sides to give her sideways glances an all-knowing dare. Her skirt suite was a smart combination of demure regality and legislative savage befitting the founder she was. David sighed. Even if she did tend to make him feel otherwise, college years, these weren’t.
Employers did not chase. They did not coddle their hires into staying. He had not risen in the ranks of business the first time by doing so. People had flocked to him, as they do to Joanne and himself now.
“What’s going on with the footage?” David asked. Joanne smiled; David walked with her to the lab.