Page 111 of Deadly Force

Brooke

Two weeks later…

I'm holed up in my office, fingers resting on the keyboard, when my phone buzzes on the desk.

Unknown Number.

My heart starts to thud against my ribs. I stare at the screen, watching it light up with each insistent buzz. Unknown numbers haven't exactly brought good news lately. My hand hovers over the phone, trembling slightly.

I look at the door. Should I call for Caleb? Just in case?

No. The threat’s gone. Crowley confessed. Lawrence broke under questioning. Both he and Lawrence are going to jail for a long, long time. But my pulse is racing, and I can't shake the feeling that answering this call might change everything again.

The phone buzzes one more time, and I know if I don't answer now, I'll spend the rest of the day wondering who it was and what they wanted.

I swipe to answer, my voice barely above a whisper. "Hello?"

"Eeee, I finally get to talk to you! Hi, hi, hi!"

The enthusiastic female voice is so unexpected, so completely opposite of what I was bracing for, that I almost laugh with relief. My shoulders sag as the tension bleeds out of me.

"Um… sorry, I don't…"

"Oh! I'm Delilah. I work for Hightower. We haven't met. You and Caleb! That’s EPIC!"

She screams the last word in my ear, so I put her on speaker to protect my eardrum.

"He told you?"

She giggles. "Not exactly. I talked to him this morning. He was way too cagey about why he had to stay for a week longer since the danger is over."

I press my lips together as a smile forms. "He was injured. He needed a place to recover."

She lets out a tinkling laugh. "Sure he did. Anyway, that's not why I'm calling. He said you're having trouble getting Eliza's story published?"

I let out a sigh. "It's a political hot potato. No editor is willing to get burned."

"Yeah, figured. But don't worry. I've got your back."

"You do?"

"Sure! I've got contacts. Underground outlets. Places that still believe in truth, especially the inconvenient kind."

Surprise makes my jaw drop. "Thanks, but I'm looking for credibility… I promised Eliza’s parents I’d make sure as many people hear Eliza’s story as possible."

"They're not glossy. No New York bylines. But they're legitimate. They reach people who want more than headlines."

I run a hand through my hair. "And you're offering to set that up?"

"I'm offering to connect you," she corrects. "You want the story published, you want it to be seen, this is a way to do it. Legacy media is dying… you must know that?"

I do. People aren't just skeptical of the media anymore, they're exhausted by it. Spun headlines. Cherry-picked facts. Outrage posing as objectivity. Truth has become a commodity, packaged to please shareholders and audiences alike. And when corporate interests sit in the editor's chair, journalism turns into messaging.

It's not that the truth isn't out there. It's that most people don't trust the gatekeepers anymore. And with men like Lawrence in charge, who could blame them?

I toy with the ballpoint on my desk. "Can you send me those names? Numbers? I'll talk to Caleband see what he thinks." Although I'm pretty sure I know what his answer will be.

Her voice brightens. "Sure! And give Caleb a big hug for me."