25
It was evening when I got to the VIP Lit offices the next day, holding the key Luka had lent me, just in case it was locked. I knew it wouldn’t be, though. I waited until I saw the lights go on from outside the building, then went inside.
I was shaking, but my resolve was strong. I was ready to finish this.
I pushed open the doors to VIP Lit, stepping inside.
“Hey, Cynthia,” I said in my most chipper voice.
Cynthia looked like she was just leaving.
“Hey,” she replied. “What’re you doing here this late?”
“I was talking to Luka, and thought maybe I could do some digging around on the site from the admin computer, maybe see if I could find some sort of IP address evidence or something for that awful post that went up about me.”
“I saw that,” Cynthia said, frowning. “Are you doing okay?”
“It bothered me for a minute,” I said, playing down my near-nervous breakdown. “But I realized it was better to push through and ignore the haters, and hold my head high until we figured out who did it.”
“I like your attitude,” Cynthia said. “And what’s with this Miss Computer Expert here, throwing around terms like IP address? When you first got here, you barely knew how to navigate a browser.”
“I’m a quick study,” I said. “Can you give me a hand?”
She stared at me for a few seconds. ”Sure. It’ll only take a few seconds.”
"Thanks," I said, shrugging my bag off and setting it down on the sofa.
Cynthia flicked a monitor on and logged into the system, bringing up the administrative panel for the site and clicking around.
“Why are you interested in this stuff all of a sudden?” she asked. “I thought you didn’t like computers."
“I still prefer pencil and paper, but ever since all the rumors started going around, I made an attempt to dig in and learn, to make sure I was demonstrating some sort of value, you know?”
“I hear that,” Cynthia said.
“I don’t know why I was targeted, but I thought if people stopped seeing me as a technophobic, ditzy, smut writer and started to see I’m serious about my work, maybe some of the rumors would stop.”
“Is that why you think your blackmailer targeted you?” she asked. “They didn’t like your smut?”
I suppressed a smile.
Got her.
I slipped my hand inside my pocket, wrapping it around my phone.
“I don’t know for sure,” I said. “But I might have a way to find out who the blackmailer is. That’s why I need admin access to the computer.”
“Think there will be a clue somewhere?”
“Hopefully.”
My phone pinged. I pulled it out of my pocket. It was a note from Luka. Short and sweet.
On our way.
“Oh, god, no,” I said dramatically, looking at my phone.
“What?” Cynthia asked.
