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.

he had just run a race. His heart had, but it was a… dead end. He was feeling sick to his stomach. He had to be dreaming, right? He hadn’t

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

was… last night?” He

narco to show up. All this time wasted, while she… He took a deep breath, trying to keep himself from

the case?” He

of a case,” Dolores sighed. “It’s a suicide, Love. They’ll scrape the

“No.”

the window panes, the tired face of his boss walking in. He ran, almost

want

Department blinked a couple of times,

case? What are you doing here, shouldn’t

Four Season Hotel. I want it,” he insisted, out

His Boss hesitated, confused.

…Rivera, I don’t know what’s gotten into you, but there’s no case. The Forensics are on it

not,” he said. “I’m sure it isn’t,

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

you, Rivera. Shouldn’t you have your hands

Wright and I have

superior frowned, and

excellent detective, you wouldn’t take a lost cause like this… There’s

couldn’t tell him. He remained of

“…I want this case.”

The Chief sighed.

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

he

hell would

stubborn subordinate. Luckily, at six in the morning nobody was listening. Only Dolores was standing a bit further, visibly concerned about her

case… I’ll consider it. Alright? Now get the hell out of my

but it didn’t matter much what his Boss said. He wouldn’t leave things 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

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

turning their eyes to the frustrated