Dylan
WE WERE IN some sort of delivery van. There were no seats or windows in the back, and the only light came from the windshield and front side windows. There was clearly no ventilation, either. The van reeked of sour sweat and stale pizza. I held my breath as Brian drove and Nicolai sat with his gun trained on me.
We rolled out of the parking lot, and I looked out the windshield in timeto watch us pass by a US Bank sign.
“Where are we going?” Brian asked over his shoulder.
Nicolai tapped my knee with his gun. “We tore apart your old apartment and didn’t find anything. You keepin’ it at your friend’s house?”
I had no freaking idea where the money was, but Nicolai didn’t look like he’d settle for that answer. I’d always been good at solving problems, and I knew I could figurethis one out. I just needed more time. Or clues. I needed clues. Taking a stab in the dark, I asked, “Did Kirk happen to say when he gave the money to me?”
Nicolai’s brow furrowed. “He said after you were fired.”
Well, that didn’t make sense and only proved Kirk must have been lying. I definitely hadn’t seen that asshole after he’d canned me. Feeling hopeless, I sighed and tried to speak senseagain. “The last time I saw Kirk alive, you were with me.”
The scene replayed in my mind.
Kirk and Nicolai barged into my office. It was the first and only time I’d ever seen Kirk angry. His face was bright red when he handed me an empty cardboard box.
“I can’t believe you went over my head,” he roared. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done? Pack your personal items, you’re out of here.”
“What?” I asked, stunned.
“Your position with this company has been terminated, effective immediately. I need your keys and your badge, and I need you to put your personal items in this damn box so I can get you out of my company.”
I blinked, stunned that he would take such an unprofessional tone with me. Sure, Kirk had hit on me dozens of times, but he’d never been rude or cruel. “You’re firingme?” I asked.
“You just couldn’t keep your mouth shut and do your job.”
There was something else in his expression, something other than anger.
I thought back, focusing on his eyes, the way his hands trembled, the slight crack in his voice when he said job. Kirk was afraid. I hadn’t realized it back then, because I was too shocked and furious.
“I was trying to do my job. A job made impossibleby the inconsistencies on that spreadsheet... which I told you about.”
Kirk glanced at Nicolai and then grabbed a photo from the top of my desk and stuck it in the box. “Pack,” he growled.
