Julie buried her face in her hands for a minute, just letting the sobs come. “I'm ruined,” she whispered.
Because there was not a soul on earth who could possibly understand what she was going through right now. If her own husband and kids wouldn't stand beside her in this...
Well, really...who else was there?
CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED EIGHT
Chapman
Sadness 86%
Angst 13%
Other 1%
KORY: LOL what happens if you get sadness to 99%? Does it give you a prize?
Chapman had an idea about what it would mean if they got it to that level, but he didn't want to say just yet. Already, his manipulation had been so effective, he was almost surprised. But, hey, it shouldn't have been surprising. Socialite's news feed was a trusted source, and Julie Blair was clearly vulnerable.
BYRD: lol give her another push and see what happens
Chapman smirked. Of course he was going to, but he had to be careful about how. He'd already summoned two breaking news alerts to her phone when she stopped scrolling her news feed, so he needed to back off on that.
No, the next attack had to be more subtle. Less...personal. She needed to connect some dots.
Chapman hit the 'net, and went searching. It only took a second, and then he dumped the link into her feed, and waited to see if she'd bite, start scrolling again.
She sobbed a few times, and then...she did.
The article pulled right up, headline plastered right across the center of her screen.
“I JUST WANTED IT ALL TO BE OVER,” SAID HOLLYWOOD STARLET'S SUICIDE NOTE, “AND NOW IT WILL BE.”
KORY: OHHHHHH masterstroke!
BYRD: super subtle lol
Chapman watched as Julie Blair blinked her stupid, tear-filled doe eyes at the screen. “Come on, you little bitch,” he whispered. “Do it.” He was already searching for the next article.
Turned out...he didn't need it.
Because Julie Blair sobbed one more time, fresh tears rolling down her cheeks, and she put her computer down on the table in front of her. The camera gave Jaime a perfect floor-to-ceiling view of curtains, which Julie promptly walked over to, and pulled apart, revealing–
Ah, yes. A hotel balcony.
CHAPMAN: What floor is she on?
KORY: The 10th.
He smiled. If this worked...it'd solve all Julie Blair's problems, and be a nice little thing to have in his toolbox for the future.
She unlocked the sliding glass door and stepped out onto the balcony. He checked the GPS on her phone; yep, she'd carried it out with her. So if he needed to give her a last push...
He didn't. She opened the notepad on the phone, and he watched her compose her last words.
I'm sorry for all of this. Sorry it all happened. Sorry I wasn't good enough for anyone to believe me.
KORY: LOL YESSSS SHE'S DOING IT
BYRD: lolololol
I wish I'd been a better, stronger person, but I'm not. I can't handle what life has thrown at me. Don't even know where to start.
Chapman sat forward, watching with eager eyes. Yes, yes, yes...
I'm sorry to my family for the shame I brought on them. Sorry to my babies that they'll have to read all about me in the future. Sorry for all the things they'll have to see.
KORY: Come on, you dumb bitch! It's not an essay contest!
BYRD: 1st prize lol
And to Dom...I'm sorry...
For everything.
Then she dropped her phone gently onto the concrete floor, and Jaime watched through the laptop's camera as she climbed over the railing, on shuddering legs, and held onto it, dangling over the distant skyline of Washington DC.
CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED NINE
Julie
She stood there, hanging on the outside of the balcony rail, feeling the cool night air on her face, chilling the trails of tears that had cut their way down her cheeks.
It was better this way, wasn't it? No one would miss her now, no one would be sad she was gone. Maybe Dom would find a new wife, someone better, sweeter, less of a workaholic, more...worthy. He could marry her, and maybe her kids wouldn't even think of her as their mom anymore, at least until they were adults and could handle the horrible truth about what a failure and rotten person she was.
Everyone said it was so...so it must have been true.
She dangled there, on the edge, just for a moment–
Then she let go, and started her long plunge to the street below.
CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED TEN
Chapman
KORY: YESSSSSSSS! TOUCHDOWN!
Chapman had pulled up the cameras on the street below and yes, indeed, a long-haired female body came crashing down into the street just a second later, smashing into the pavement with brutal, life-ending force.
BYRD: u guys we did it lol now THAT is gonna be news 2nite going live in minutes gunna lead w/ this
Chapman sat back in the plush airplane seat, taking a deep breath as he glanced around the quiet, darkened cabin. Man, he felt spent. Hell, he almost felt like he needed a cigarette after that. The Julie Blair business was a triumph, and they should celebrate its successful end.
But there was still work to be done.
CHAPMAN: Okay, well, that's one thing scratched off the list. Still two to go, though.
BYRD: yep nealon and el presidente what next
Chapman smiled. It was becoming a habit, and there really was some relief in scoring even such a small victory as they just had. It almost restored his faith that yes, the Network could accomplish something big.
CHAPMAN: Gondry next. And I've already got things lined up to make it happen...
CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED ELEVEN
Sienna
I got off my bunk and wobbled over behind Cassidy, who was humming along to whatever the hell she was listening to in her ear buds. It sounded metal, but wasn't turned up loud enough that I could hear anything.
She did a double take when I got close, either sensing the vibrations of my footsteps or my movement. Which was fine, because I would have preferred she see me coming rather than surprising the hell out of her.
“Sleep well?” she asked, her music stopping abruptly as I got close.
“No.”
She shrugged. “Not my fault.” She had about five different things going on the screens in front of her, one of which was a live feed of NNC network, with a header touting that Chris Byrd was going to go LIVE! WITH A SECOND SHOW TONIGHT! IN MINUTES! Cassidy caught me looking, and smiled. “Want to hear what he has to say about you?”
I stifled a yawn as I checked my phone for the time. “Sure, why not?”
She nudged the volume up, and the sound of Byrd's theme music began to play over some really high-quality speakers. I always knew Cassidy went first class – or at least she had since she'd taken my advice about using her brains to get wealthy – but I was at least a little surprised by the rich sound playing out of her display. I did not voice this to her, though, because she appeared to be working on coding something on the farthest left screen on her display while pausing every now and again to pull up and skim a news item from Flashforce on the next screen, while referring to instructions for something on the center one. I had no idea what was going on with the rest of the screens at first, because they were blurry; it took me a moment to realize they were security cameras around the warehouse and that one had a display of sensors on the doors and windows of the place.
“Good evening,” Byrd said in his usual, so-serious manner. “I'm coming back to you live tonight with a second show because this evening has been just packed with events. I'm going to have an update on breaking news regarding Sienna Nealon with analysis from our expert panel in just a few moments, but first, I want to lead with the biggest news of the night–”
CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED TWELVE
Chris Byrd
“–I'm referring, of course, to the unfolding scandal with White House Communications aide Julie Blair
at its center.”
The lights were on Chris Byrd, warm on his makeup-padded face. He kept the resolute look on his ruggedly handsome features – that's what fans called them – and maintained his absolute gravitas as he launched into this incredible story he was about to break.
He had to keep the smile inside. No chance of letting it leak out. This was a solemn occasion. Great news, sure, but it had to be presented in the right way. With the right amount of empathy.
After all, Julie Blair was dead. He couldn't crow about it or he'd look like a total asshole.
“There are new developments tonight in this saga, which of course we've done our best to keep you informed of,” Chris looked into the camera with the glowing red light. Broadcasting was like second nature to him at this point, and following the light from camera to camera was easy once you knew what to do. He liked doing it this way, felt it gave him a personal connection to his viewers, let him convey warmth–
–something Julie Blair wasn't going to feel ever again–
Chris froze. Where had that come from?
He stumbled, paused, let the dead air hang for a moment while he composed himself. “We've been working on a story all night,” he said, trying to pick up smoothly where he'd just tripped over his own words, “with the DC Metro police. Our sources have told us that earlier tonight, as reported by other outlets–” Hell if he'd give that choad Kory or his webzine Flashforce credit for beating him to press, “–that Julie Blair checked into a hotel on the outskirts of DC. A few hours later, police were summoned to that location to respond to reports of a woman who leapt from the top of the hotel–”
–she was someone's wife, someone's mom, and now she's splattered on the pavement–
Chris stared at the red light, feeling like it was a demon eye, pure fire, looking into his soul and finding...
He swallowed, gulped, realized he'd just stopped again, leaving dead air, the camera fixed on his speechless, handsome, mien. “–Sorry, this is a...a sensitive subject. Reports that the jumper...was a woman...fitting Julie Blair's description...” His mouth felt so dry. “...That...she came down...in front of Blair's hotel room...”
The lights were so bright, shining at him. That red light...
–someone's mother, arms that will never wrap around her babies again–
The thoughts just slammed into Byrd, one after another, feelings washing along with the imagery so strong and fierce–
He touched his face; there were tears streaming down his cheeks.
Chris Byrd was crying.
On air.
“I'm sorry,” he gasped, as it all broke loose. “I – I helped kill her. We – the Network – we helped kill her. Watched her...go right up to the edge, watched her break, watched her feelings overwhelm – Dave Kory and I did it, wrote all these pieces about her, all total bullshit, about how she was being investigated – Morris Johannsen, too. We flooded the zone with coverage, and she saw it all – all of it, couldn't deal because – who could, really? And she just...” He made a fruitless gesture with his hand, mimicking a leap. “I killed her. We...killed her.”
He shoved back from the table, that red light still pitilessly on him, the lights so hot they felt like they were causing him to smoke under the collar. “I'm sorry – I'm sorry – I just can't–”
“Chris, what are you–” His producer's voice broke through the gripping, unstoppable melancholy that had washed over him. Chris shoved past his producer, barely taking note of him, or of the first guest in the panel, waiting just behind him. “Chris, wait!” the producer called after him. “Where are you–”
But Chris didn't care. He'd killed that poor woman. The Network had. The darkened studio blurred around him as Chris staggered for the nearest glowing EXIT sign. He had to get out of here, the guilt was choking him, emotions like a hammer weight in his head, in his heart, overwhelming in a way he'd never felt before–
“What...what the hell was that all about?” he heard his producer ask as Chris staggered, uncertainly, toward the exit.
He heard his guest's answer. So calm. So reserved. Just what he'd always come to expect of the man. “It was like he couldn't control his emotions.” A small clucking noise. Disappointment?
Chris didn't have time to ponder it. He pushed into the hallway, determined to get out of here, out from under these hot lamps, these cameras, somewhere that the red eye of the judging public wasn't on him, somewhere he could find absolution from his secret shame. He let the door close behind him, and seconds later, he'd already almost forgotten former Senator Robb Foreman's response to his producer.
CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED THIRTEEN
Sienna
Cassidy tore her eyes off Chris Byrd's on-screen meltdown and looked at me suspiciously. “What the hell was that?”
I stared back with complete innocence. “...What?”
She turned back to the screen with the Chris Byrd show on it – now gone to commercial – then started typing. A search result came up on the next screen over, and two clicks later Cassidy let out a crow of triumph. “Ah ha!”
I could read the screen fine, but didn't react other than to ask, “What?” Then pretended to study my nails, which were in terrible shape, as always.
“Byrd's guest list for tonight's second show,” Cassidy said, “includes the former senator from Tennessee, Robb Foreman.” She turned to look at me, narrow cat's eyes of amusement. “Say...didn't you work with him during the war?”
“I might have.”
A little smile spread across her lips. “President Harmon mentioned something interesting to me about him at one point, in passing.”
“Oh?”
“It seems he thought Foreman was an empath,” Cassidy said. “That he could read emotions, even...push people, emotionally.”
“Is that so?”
“When was the last time you saw Senator Foreman?” Cassidy asked.
“Oh, a few months ago,” I said airily, “when I was in Tennessee.”
Cassidy chuckled, turning back to her screens. “Deviouser and deviouser, Nealon. I love it.”
“I'm sure I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about.”
“Oh, I'm sure, too.” Cassidy perched over her keyboard, typing something else so fast I couldn't possibly have hoped to tell what it was. “So...you wanna talk about your exit earlier?” She pointed at the security schematic of the warehouse. “I have a sensor on the rooftop hatch.”
“I admire your paranoia,” I said, “but it's a ladder to the roof and as I'm sure you can confirm, I was gone for all of five minutes. The only thing that happened was I got some air, because it's stuffy as hell in here.”
“Mmhm,” Cassidy said, turning back to the screens. “I like humidity. Byproduct of the aquatic tank life.”
“You and Scott Byerly would get along great.”
“Doubt it,” she said, focusing on...well, whatever she was doing. “Knew I should have installed cameras on the roof. You were gone for four minutes and thirty-eight seconds. That's an eternity for you.”
I rolled my eyes. “We're on the outskirts of DC. Not sure where you think I could have gone in that time, even with my new super special ice sled powers, but I promise you it's not far.”
She looked at me suspiciously, but finally relaxed, shrugging. “That tracks. So...you just destroyed Chris Byrd, it looks like.” That hint of a mischievous grin returned. “What now? You going to take the fight to the Network?”
I yawned. “Right now I'm going back to sleep. Wake me if anything else cool happens.”
“Very disappointing!” Cassidy called after me as I made my way back to the cot and collapsed.
“Stay tuned.” I set the alarm on my phone and buried my face in a rough pillow as the frame squeaked beneath me. “It ain't over yet.”
CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED FOURTEEN
Chapman
CHAPMAN: WHAT THE ACTUAL EFF WAS THAT?!
KORY: Shit, you guys. Or maybe I should say “u guys” since we'
re talking about Byrd.
FLANAGAN: Lol.
CHALKE: Lol.
FLANAGAN: Jinx.
Chapman slammed a hand against the limo armrest. He'd transferred to the car right about the time Byrd's little confession had started trending on Socialite. Sure, he hadn't liked the douche, but come on! He was one of them.
CHAPMAN: Not sure I'd be laughing if I were you, Kory. You just got called out by name.
KORY: WHAT?! I'm on a plane, I didn't *see* him break down! HE ACTUALLY NAMED ME?!
CHAPMAN: Oh, yeah. Called you right out.
KORY: SHIIIIIIIIT.
CHAPMAN: Yeah, I'd keep my head down if I were you. Wherever you're going.
Chapman slammed his hand down again, and Chase looked at him with cool eyes. “Problem, boss?” she asked.
“Nothing Veronika can't solve – hopefully.” He turned back to his phone.
CHAPMAN: Now we're down to four of us. Four. Our numbers are cut nearly in half.
FLANAGAN: But we're moving forward on the Gondry thing now. How's that going?
Chapman sighed. He hadn't checked in on it lately, and probably should. He opened his video calling app – an encrypted one he'd designed, and which he'd installed on Veronika's phone. He could delete it from her phone at a distance, a neat little quirk of the program.
The video call went straight through, and he found himself looking at Veronika's cool, unimpressed, irony-laced features. “'Sup, boss?” she asked.
“How's it going?”
She shrugged, and he could barely see it in frame. “Fine. Phinneus's friends showed up. We're doing a little chitchat, a little planning. Ready to move shortly.”
“How long will it take?” Chapman asked. The sooner they could get this done, the better.
Control: Out of the Box (The Girl in the Box Book 38) Page 32
