AllFreeNovel
Share Us
We all sit in silence, each of us ensnared by our own theories and gnawing thoughts, my bedroom weirdly feeling colder now, my shadow stretching across the room as if to eavesdrop on my fears.
Dad's words have opened a door we can't close, and somewhere beyond it lies questions that will forever remain unanswered. Dad talked about a man looking at him funny at the Dexter’s just days before his death.
Liam went to prison for his death, but his behavior lately does not compute with someone who really knows that he did this awful deed. The cryptic message from Father O’Malley also didn’t help.
There is more here than meets the eye, but I am blinded to it. Now what?
Chapter fourteen
A SNAKE IN THE CHICKEN COOP.
LIAM
Today marks the twelfth week since I started work on Project Africa, and there’s nothing like doom and gloom to start your day right. I lean back in my chair, rubbing my temples as I stare at the stack of paperwork on my desk, wishing I was back in prison where life was so much easier. Martin, my project manager, sits across from me, his usually confident demeanor now replaced with frustration.
"Mr. Dexter," he says, massaging the bridge of his nose. "We've hit a wall with the local authorities. They're not granting us the permits we need to set up the forward-facing company for the project."
As if that's not enough, I also have to deal with the fact that our project data has mysteriously gone missing. Last week, I discovered an empty folder where crucial research files used to be. A sinking feeling takes hold of me as I recall how my officedoor had been slightly ajar that day, even though I distinctly remember locking it.
"Could someone from our team . . .?" I begin, but Martin cuts me off.
"Trust me, I've considered that possibility. But who? And why?"
The truth is, I have my suspicions. My father. He has not been shy about how he feels about the Sundown Project. His disapproval is no secret, and lately, he seems to know a bit too much about our progress—or lack thereof.
He already threatened me about what he would do to protect his nest egg and legacy. A man with an ego the size of Mount Everest needs very little encouragement to bring mayhem onto someone, even his own flesh and blood.
My father was born with cold steel, where his heart should be. He wouldn’t think twice about tearing me down, even if he doesn’t benefit from it at all. He would do it for the sole purpose of inflicting shame and pain. Evil is a word that doesn’t even begin to encapsulate him.
"Martin, keep an eye out for any unusual behavior within the team, all right? We need to find out what's going on . . . we need to identify the snake and stomp on it."
Martin nods, concern etched on his face, before leaving my office.
It's not just the missing data and permit issues that have me worried. Confidential documents have been leaked to the public, causing a lot of publicity and giving my father and his cronies a lot of ammunition. We've taken every security measure possible, but still, the source of these breaches remains elusive.
Yesterday, I received a text from one of my key personnel, Emily, the head of our engineering department. It simply stated,
Sorry, sir. I have to resign for personal reasons. It's been a pleasure working with you.
What was that? And through a fucking text? Her departure is sudden and unexpected, but I can't shake the feeling that my father's influence might be behind it. I know how excited and invested Emily was to even be considered for this mission.
In this industry, Emily is one of those people well-known for being a ball-buster. There is only one entity who could make her leave . . . Christopher Dexter. The man with horns growing out of the sides of his skull.
As I walk down the busy Fifth Avenue after another long, torturous day, I head to the parking garage, and the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. I can't shake the eerie sensation that I'm being followed.
"Must be my imagination," I mutter to myself, increasing my pace, but the feeling persists. I turn abruptly, scanning the crowd looking for a one-eyed-man with gold teeth and a crooked smile . . . a hitman like you see in the movies, but I see nothing. Just people going about their business.
Unconvinced, I duck into a store selling beachwear, mostly neon-colored bikinis and beach towels, and then I step out again, feeling stupid. Before long, I spot a shadowy figure lurking in my peripheral vision. Once again, I decide to put my theory to the test. I take an abrupt turn into an alley, and after waiting a moment, I seehim. . . my tail.
"Gotcha," I whisper under my breath, my heart pounding in my chest.
The sun beats down the vibrant Miami streets as I leave my office, feeling the weight of the world on my shoulders. My mind races with thoughts about the Sundown Project and all the setbacks we've faced so far. Martin's ongoing struggle to secure the necessary paperwork and authorizations is still ongoing and adds a constant layer of anxiety and frustration.
"Hey, Liam! Any updates on the project?" Mr. Rothwell calls out as he catches up with me. Mr. Rothwell is my technical engineer.
"Still working through some hurdles; you know how it is, " I reply, forcing a smile. I am having trouble trusting anybody in my office nowadays, and I don’t know how any project can move forth under such conditions.
Mr. Rothwell nods sympathetically before saying goodbye and heading in a different direction. Inwardly, I groan at the thought of yet another issue that I need to address—the stolen research data. A subtle trail of evidence suggests an inside job, but I can't be sure. The stress of the situation gnaws at me.
