The Dark Secret of the CEO by Sofia de Orellana

“Agent Rivera! …Hey, Rivera!”

He turned around, glaring at the figure in the doorway. The woman chuckled.

“Oh, someone had a bad night.”

“Thirty hours awake in a bloody car with fucking Wright for nothing,” he grunted.

“Oh, that explains it,” the woman walked over to pat his shoulder. “What can I get you? Coffee?”

“I’m on my second already,” he sighed. “That and the cold shower helped… But thanks, Dolores. I just need to finish filing that damn report before twelve or the Chief’s going to give me hell.”

“I wouldn’t sweat it,” she scoffed. “Chief’s been talking to journalists all morning, he won’t remember your report until next week, Love.”

“What happened?” He asked with a sigh, stretching his neck. “Gunfight?”

“No, some poor chick committed suicide. Found dead in her hotel room. The case’s pretty clear, but she was some b-rate celebrity so we’ve got all the media covering it.”

He frowned, making the woman chuckle.

“You’ve really been out of the loop eh, hun? It’s all over the radio and TV. Look.”

She walked over to grab the abandoned remote on one of the desks, and switched channels from a soap opera to the news channel. The headline was large, and the journalists’ faces were a bit more stern than usual. The images were showing the front of the Four Seasons Hotel, that fancy place between Park Avenue and Madison Avenue, with a crowd gathered and the dramatic lights of police cars. He frowned. There were dozens of people gathered, and in the middle was indeed their boss, in his uniform, visibly holding an impromptu press conference.

“Look at him,” scoffed Dolores. “They dragged him out of bed at one in the morning to handle the journalists. Poor Rodney…”

He scoffed too, grabbing his half-empty cup to chug down the rest of that coffee. If he remembered well, their Chief of Department was supposed to be off today… Bad luck some famous chick had decided otherwise.

Suddenly, the image on the screen changed to a picture with a face on it. A face he had seen before. He didn’t even hear his cup fall on the desk, bounce and crash down on the floor. He stared at that face, and the name that was scrolling across the bottom of the screen. He slowly stood, in shock.

“Hey! …You alright, Flaco?”

He didn’t answer. No, he hadn’t even heard the question. He felt light-headed, his thoughts spinning. No, not her. He hadn’t even made the connection. He took the remote off Dolores’ hand, turned the sound up. The death had occured right before midnight, the legists had said. Found in her bathtub by her fiancé half an hour later. No witnesses. They showed the images of some young people, crying out as the body-shaped bag was taken out of the Hotel. A fan in tears was interviewed, still in a complete state of shock. So was he.

“…You alright?” Dolores asked gently. “…Were you a fan of hers or something?”

“…Or something,” he muttered.

of his eyes. He was breathing loudly, as if he had just run a race. His heart had, but it was a… dead end. He was feeling sick to his stomach. He

the poor darling. I’m never fond of these celebrities, but she

was… last

just streets away all that night, waiting for some narco to show up. All this time wasted, while she… He took a deep breath, trying to keep himself from

on the

Dolores sighed. “It’s a suicide, Love. They’ll scrape the carpet just to make her fans and the media

“No.”

boss walking in. He ran, almost

want

Department blinked a couple of

case? What are you doing here, shouldn’t you

of the Four Season Hotel. I want it,” he

His Boss hesitated, confused.

are on it

not,” he said. “I’m sure it isn’t, Boss. Please. Give me that

stain on his pants. He sighed, and walked past him,

what’s gotten into you, Rivera. Shouldn’t you have

cold, Wright and I have gone

frowned, and sat behind

you wouldn’t take a lost cause like this… There’s no one to

He remained of

“…I want this case.”

The Chief sighed.

Whatever your reason is… I can’t give you a case that does not exist, Rivera. Her family doesn’t even seem to care much either. The journalists are my main issue at the moment, and those bastards will bite at the smallest hint we give them that there’s more to it.

he muttered between

hell would you know

his stubborn subordinate. Luckily, at six in the morning nobody was listening. Only Dolores was standing a bit further, visibly concerned about her colleague. When their eyes met, she shrugged. He went back to the man standing in front of his

it. Alright? Now get the hell out of my office before I really need

at that no matter what the forensics said. He stepped out, giving Dolores a vague sign of the hand. He walked out to the coffee machine, just so he could have something else to do. The New York City Police Station was always busy, no matter what time of the day. An old lady in front of him was shouting at

to it, the anger building. Her yelling wasn’t helping. She kept shouting, and shouting. He was the one who wanted

the machine. Everyone in the station froze, turning their eyes to the frustrated cop. The