Read Online Speak No Evil by Tanya Anne Crosby - Free Book Online
Authors: Tanya Anne Crosby
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Although Caroline didn’t quite share Augusta’s extreme prudence where money was concerned, she would never have spent funds on decorating when the company was losing so much money. The price of the chandelier in the reception area alone could cover someone’s salary for a year.
They passed a small windowless room and Pam waved to the occupants as they passed, but didn’t stop. “What’s that?”
She pointed at the room they’d just passed. “That? Oh, Web slash audience development,” Pam said a little dismissively.
Caroline didn’t hold it against her. She was pretty sure the girl had come by that attitude honestly. Her mother would only have had a skeleton crew on hand for the most rudimentary of Web tasks. Aside from having a presence on the Web as a substitute for the Yellow Pages, Flo had never been too keen on new media. This was something Caroline intended to change. The Web, with all its inroads into social media, was the undeniable future.
“How many work in there?”
Pam held up four fingers. “Four—an audience development specialist, two developers and a designer, but one of the developers is on vacation and our designer broke his middle finger and, uh . . . can’t work.”
Caroline smirked. “I won’t ask how.”
Pam leaned to whisper, “I didn’t either, but once you get to know him, it’ll make sense.”
“Do you know how many people work for the paper now?”
“Not exactly, maybe one hundred and twenty—but Lila, in payroll, can tell you for sure.”
Caroline’s brows knit. If her guess was accurate, her mother must have already begun to pare down the payroll, despite what Daniel claimed. The last summer she’d interned for the Tribune, they had reached nearly one hundred and fifty employees.
In the newsroom Caroline recognized the most faces, but the one person she’d expected to run into—dreaded it, in fact—she didn’t. Apparently, the editor in chief had a toothache and was spending the morning at the dentist.
By the time Caroline made it back to her desk, it was lunchtime and she considered stepping out to call Savannah, but Pam had no sooner walked out of her office than she stepped back in, knocking tentatively on the doorframe. “Sorry to interrupt, but there’s a woman out here who says she really needs to speak with you.”
Caroline stood, her brow furrowing. “She asked for me?”
“Well, she asked to speak with the publisher, not the editor. That would be you, right?”
It sounded strange to hear the title from someone else’s lips. The shock of it made her hesitate an instant too long.
“Frank’s back, but I thought . . .”
“No . . . go ahead and bring her back,” Caroline directed.
Pam left and returned in less than five minutes, leading in a young woman whose eyes were full of torment. At first, Caroline barely noticed anything else about her, so palpable was her distress.
“Thank you,” the woman said, stepping meekly into her office. She couldn’t be much older than Caroline and looked as though she had been sobbing for days. Her brown eyes were red rimmed, bloodshot, the lids swollen.
Caroline walked around her desk, afraid the woman would collapse, she looked so frail. “How can I help you?” she asked.
“My name is Karen Hutto,” the woman said, her voice catching on a sob. “I-I need your help to find my little girl.”
Apparently Amanda Hutto’s father was supposed to have picked her up for school the morning she disappeared. Late for work, and in danger of losing her job, Karen Hutto had left her six-year-old standing out on her front lawn, book bag in hand, waiting for her father, who apparently forgot it was his court-appointed day to play dad and just never showed.
Certain it was going to be another late night, Jack ran by the house to shower and clean up, and while he was there, he took a few minutes to speak with a few of the neighbors about Amanda. No one had seen the kid the morning she disappeared—no one
They passed a small windowless room and Pam waved to the occupants as they passed, but didn’t stop. “What’s that?”
She pointed at the room they’d just passed. “That? Oh, Web slash audience development,” Pam said a little dismissively.
Caroline didn’t hold it against her. She was pretty sure the girl had come by that attitude honestly. Her mother would only have had a skeleton crew on hand for the most rudimentary of Web tasks. Aside from having a presence on the Web as a substitute for the Yellow Pages, Flo had never been too keen on new media. This was something Caroline intended to change. The Web, with all its inroads into social media, was the undeniable future.
“How many work in there?”
Pam held up four fingers. “Four—an audience development specialist, two developers and a designer, but one of the developers is on vacation and our designer broke his middle finger and, uh . . . can’t work.”
Caroline smirked. “I won’t ask how.”
Pam leaned to whisper, “I didn’t either, but once you get to know him, it’ll make sense.”
“Do you know how many people work for the paper now?”
“Not exactly, maybe one hundred and twenty—but Lila, in payroll, can tell you for sure.”
Caroline’s brows knit. If her guess was accurate, her mother must have already begun to pare down the payroll, despite what Daniel claimed. The last summer she’d interned for the Tribune, they had reached nearly one hundred and fifty employees.
In the newsroom Caroline recognized the most faces, but the one person she’d expected to run into—dreaded it, in fact—she didn’t. Apparently, the editor in chief had a toothache and was spending the morning at the dentist.
By the time Caroline made it back to her desk, it was lunchtime and she considered stepping out to call Savannah, but Pam had no sooner walked out of her office than she stepped back in, knocking tentatively on the doorframe. “Sorry to interrupt, but there’s a woman out here who says she really needs to speak with you.”
Caroline stood, her brow furrowing. “She asked for me?”
“Well, she asked to speak with the publisher, not the editor. That would be you, right?”
It sounded strange to hear the title from someone else’s lips. The shock of it made her hesitate an instant too long.
“Frank’s back, but I thought . . .”
“No . . . go ahead and bring her back,” Caroline directed.
Pam left and returned in less than five minutes, leading in a young woman whose eyes were full of torment. At first, Caroline barely noticed anything else about her, so palpable was her distress.
“Thank you,” the woman said, stepping meekly into her office. She couldn’t be much older than Caroline and looked as though she had been sobbing for days. Her brown eyes were red rimmed, bloodshot, the lids swollen.
Caroline walked around her desk, afraid the woman would collapse, she looked so frail. “How can I help you?” she asked.
“My name is Karen Hutto,” the woman said, her voice catching on a sob. “I-I need your help to find my little girl.”
Apparently Amanda Hutto’s father was supposed to have picked her up for school the morning she disappeared. Late for work, and in danger of losing her job, Karen Hutto had left her six-year-old standing out on her front lawn, book bag in hand, waiting for her father, who apparently forgot it was his court-appointed day to play dad and just never showed.
Certain it was going to be another late night, Jack ran by the house to shower and clean up, and while he was there, he took a few minutes to speak with a few of the neighbors about Amanda. No one had seen the kid the morning she disappeared—no one
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