Shadows of the Past

8. NEW ARTICLE

Chapter 5

NEW ARTICLE

Rafael tapped out an outline for a new article a few days later. The clicking of his computer keyboard mingled with the voices of other reporters, some on the phone, while others chatted to co-workers about new stories. He could also hear the digital subscription team having a meeting in a nearby conference room.

He’d spent the day after meeting with Daniela fuming and wondering how she could be that angry with him. More was going on with her, and he’d been in the firing line. How dare she say those things to him when she didn’t even know him? Assuming he was arrogant and had no principles. He had principles, but he also had a job to do, and he planned to do bigger and better things in his career. Another award or two wouldn’t go astray. Daniela would not foil his ambitions just because she was grieving and couldn’t see straight. He had a story and went with it. It was his job and she had no right to tell him how to do it.

Since that day, he’d had trouble sleeping. Her long, dark brown hair tied up in a low ponytail, her green eyes boring into his. She might be attractive, but she had no tact. So what if she had a trim and toned body to die for? He wasn’t falling for that.

He stared at the screen, struggling to focus on his next words when someone tugged on his shoulder. He turned to see the short, stout form of his editor hovering over him. Fernando was thirty-five, five years older than him, but they got along well both personally and professionally. “How are you coming along with that article about Abel Lopez? We needed it yesterday, buddy.” His friend rubbed his bushy eyebrows.

Rafael nodded. “It’s coming along, but I have to get this right. His daughter hates me for tarnishing his name in the last article.”

Fernando’s eyes narrowed as he played with his stubble. “I hear you, but if we don’t get this out today, it won’t make production for the morning’s edition. Get a move on, Rafael. We have other news stories to cover.”

“If you leave me alone, I will get to it, Nando.”

Fernando scoffed and put up his hand, directing his attention to a features editor sitting behind him. “I am coming, Alma. Do not miss my charming presence so soon.” His friend was conventionally handsome, married with two children, but he liked to flirt with some of the female staff, and they tolerated it.

Blanca returned from the break room and sat at her desk, facing Rafael’s. She looked radiant in her flowing, cotton dress. Love with Carlos showed. “Thanks for doing this article, Rafael. I’m sure Daniela will appreciate it. I hope you don’t mind doing it, but it can repair things. Abel was a good man.”

He turned to her and rested his back against his chair. “She’d better appreciate it. Otherwise, she’ll have my head in a guillotine.”

Blanca pulled out research notes from her drawer, placed them on to a document holder next to her screen and started typing. “Daniela’s still hurting, so be kind. I imagine you’re still questioning the source of those documents about the money?”

He stopped typing. “An anonymous source bothers me, Blanca, but it also checks out. Lopez appeared to embezzle the funds, but I don’t know who the source is. It had to be someone working with him. I’ve asked around and no one at the company seems to know anything about who could have sent me those financial statements.”

Blanca tilted her head, typing as she talked. “It is weird, that’s for sure. But I imagine it’s someone who has a reason for doing what he did. Either to ease his or her conscience, or because they hated Abel with a vengeance. It doesn’t matter whether it turned out to be true or not.”

Two hours later, Rafael finished his article and sent it to Fernando. “Done and dusted, Blanca. I can focus on something else now.”

She gave him a thumbs up and squared her shoulders. “You should’ve let me read it first. Is it compassionate and balanced?”

He sighed. “Are you serious? I write facts, so no emotions, remember. But it paints him in a positive light. Tell your friend it’ll be hot off the press tomorrow morning and she can read it.” He clicked into his email. “What are you working on?”

“A woman’s fight against a corporation that unfairly dismissed her at work. She has a great chance of getting compensated.”

“That’s good. If she has people on her side, then she might win. Otherwise, a lone person fighting an unfair dismissal can be next to impossible.”

Rafael clicked on an email with an unusual subject: Great article. Keep them coming. But the body of the email was blank. Was this his source? He turned to his co-worker behind him. “Hey, Emilio. You’re good with computers. Come here a second.” Blanca watched him curiously but remained silent.

“Sure, dude.” Emilio locked his computer and strutted over. He threaded his hands through his messy, blonde waves and towered over Rafael. “What’s up?”

Rafael pointed at the email. “Can you trace who sent this email?” Rafael got up to let Emilio sit at his desk. The tall, solid man concentrated on the screen, clicking keys. Whatever he was doing made no sense to Rafael.

Some time later, Emilio shook his head. “I have tried a few things, but I haven’t the faintest. Whoever sent this email is most likely using a VPN to hide his IP address. He could be using software that lets you send emails without registration. All they would’ve had to do is enter your address, the subject heading, and hit Send. No trace at all if you don’t add your details.”

Rafael’s spine tightened. “Why would someone hide their identity?”

Emilio got up and touched him on the shoulder. “You have a fan, dude. Relish it, and don’t over-think it.” He headed back to his desk.

Blanca leaned closer. “Do you think it’s the same guy who sent you those financial statements?”

He frowned. “It has to be, but why? Why are they doing this?” Rafael pressed a finger to his temple, fighting off a headache. “I wonder what they’ll think of my next article about Abel Lopez. It’s just the opposite and paints him in a positive way.”

Blanca squinted. “I’m sure it’s the last you’ll hear from them. They got what they wanted and will most likely leave you alone.”

“You’re right. I am over-thinking this.” He leaned back in his chair, staring hard at the screen as if it would provide insight. He wondered if there was another way to trace this email. The police might be able to, but they’d need probable cause. Shaking away his ruminations, he picked up a list of contacts to ring for his next article and thought nothing more about the email.