The Unspoken Truth

Chapter Thirteen [Edited]

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Annie's POV

        The street opens up in front of me as I round the corner of the last building on my way to work. I lift my eyes, expecting to see the towering building I know so well. But instead, there was a gap in the row of endless plaster walls. A gap in the exact spot my work place is supposed to be. I take off into a sprint down the dark cement. My lungs are gasping for air by the time I reach Kreysten kneeling on the ashes of what used to be his prized newspaper company. "Sir?" I say from behind him. He looks up with puffy eyes. The grim smile on his face is not like the one he wears all day at work. There is an undeniable helplessness embedded in his smile. The kind that breaks my heart to look at.

         "Hello, Miss Morter," he says.

         "Do you think there was a fire?" I ask.

         "I can't think of anything else that could've cause such destruction," he says, gesturing around the ruins.

        "How could this have happened? We've always been so careful." It's true. Mr. Kreysten is more worried about the company burning down then his editors making grammar mistakes, and that's saying something. He would yell at us for putting stacks of newspapers too close to the coffee machine. Even though we were all certain there was no chance of the papers catching flame. I couldn't tell you exactly when Mr. Kreysten got so fire paranoid. But, there was one time, when I was still new to the company. I couldn't have been there for more than a couple weeks when we had another accident with fire.

        One of the writers at the time had brought in a couple scented candles and a lighter. She said the smell of the candles helped her concentrate on her task because she had a mild case of ADHD. I didn't mind the scent, enjoyed it even. But one day, we were sitting around drinking coffee and editing when a blood curdling scream came from the other room. Thin rays of smoke were carried into our office. Scarlett and I had run into the next room, terrified. The woman, I believe her name was Tina, was collapsed in her seat, her blouse was on fire and it was spreading. Fast. I remember too vividly the sprint I had to make to the phone, dialing 911. I punched the dials so fast, all I saw was a flesh colored blur. Practically screaming at the poor lady on the other end of the phone is still clear in my memory. Then there were ambulances, sirens, and more fire trucks than I cared enough to count.

        Tina didn't die, but she was darn near close to it. Being over sixty five, the petite lady had little zest for life, but she still wanted to live. And when Tina wants something, Tina gets it. I still remember the many times the doctors told us she wouldn't make it out alive. The countless times the hospital staff gave us those sickening sympathetic glances with their sad smiles and depressed eyes. Nature was against Tina but she still got her way, like she always did.

        I pull myself back to reality and glance down at the old man kneeling on what used to be the flooring of his office. I touch his shoulder, trying to comfort him and he glances up at me with a grateful expression. "We'll figure this out, okay?"

        He stands up, suddenly all business. "We need to figure out who did this. So, here's the plan." For the first time, I am happy Kreysten is ahead of the game. "I will call the police and ask them what they think we should do. You go talk to Cooper, Mason and any other employees you can find. Ask them if they saw anything happen down here."

        "Okay." I say, starting off in the other direction.

        "Good luck, Annie!" he calls after me. I am taken aback. In my two years of working for the company, Kreysten has never called me Annie. It was always Miss Morter, or when he's really ticked, just Miss. I try not to think about it. But I keep coming back to his voice yelling my name while I walk around trying to find my coworkers who should be on their way to work by now. I pass a man on his morning jog wearing a suit. My mind busies itself wondering why the man was jogging in such formal attire for the next block and a half. I halt in my step as I realize that it was Mason. I turn around and sprint in the direction I had come, huffing and puffing to catch up with him. When I am less than foot away and feel like I am just about to collapse, I grab Mason's arm. He turns around, eyeing me with questions in his expression.

        "Company... Ashes... Kreysten... Told... You..." I say, through my gasping breaths.

        "Is something wrong?" he asks, confused.

        I take a moment to catch my breath before taking my hand from Mason's shoulder and dusting off my work skirt. "Someone burned the company down. Mr. Kreysten is worried and wants to know who did it. Do you know anything about this?"

        "Someone burned the company down?!" Mason sets into panic mode, pacing back and forth like a mad father.

        "Yes," I say, trying my best to be calm. "Did you see anything?"

        "N-No," Mason says and audibly gulps. "I've got to go see this!" He takes off in the other direction, his feet blurring as he moves the fastest I've ever seen him run down the avenue.

        I keep walking, accepting Mason won't be of much help to me. Air escapes me in a long, drawn out sigh. "You okay?" a voice comes from behind me. I whirl around and find Cooper standing there, just about to walk past me.

        "Yeah, Cooper. I'm fine. Today has been insane."

        "Hey," he says, like something just dawned on him. "Did you know the company burned down? I can't believe it.. I mean, our company right? It's insane! I have pictures and it is just cra--"

        "Wait," I say, trying to use the calmest voice possible. "You have pictures?"

        "Yeah. Good ones, too."

        "If you were there to take pictures, why didn't you stop th--" I interrupt myself in mid sentence, a sudden change in thought. "Never mind. We need to show them to Kreysten."

        "But Annie. The company is burned down. We don't need pictures for the next paper!" Cooper said, laughing as if it was the funniest thing in the world.

        "How old are you again?" I ask him.

        "Sixteen."

        "That explains it then." I say, taking him by the arm. "Come with me." I drag Cooper down the avenue, him complaining the entire time about my death grip on his forearm.