Page 49 of Hunting Ground

“Delete those!” He snaps, his voice faltering. “If you don’t–”

“You’ll fire me?” I snap flatly. “You can’t. You’ve fired almost everyone who can do anything of fucking value. Fire me?” The sound that leaves me is a low, mean laugh. Relief surges through me at having something to blackmail him with, instead of doing something that I hadn’t quite planned out.

Anger had brought me here tonight, and the lack of a plan had stopped me at his door. But the evidence against him is going to get me home and sleeping like a baby before midnight, hopefully.

His heated glare falters, and he scrambles to shove his equipment haphazardly into a drawer of the desk. Carl spares his arm a look, pausing like he’s thought of something that troubles him, but then fixes his glare right back on me instead.

“What do you want?” he snarls with all the hatred in his ugly, balding little head. “What will it take for you to delete the pictures?”

“Fire Edmond.” I almost cut him off by how quickly I snap my reply. But I don’t stutter, no matter the incredulous, angry look he gives me while rubbing his arm

“You think I’m going to fire my nephew?” he snarls. “You’re joking.”

“He assaulted Kara!” My voice climbs an octave, hands twisting in my shirt at my sides. “What the fuck is wrong with you?! You know he did it, since you saw the security footage! If anyone else saw that–”

“Well they won’t,” he snaps with finality, causing me to draw back in surprise. At my confusion, Carl scoffs. “Please. Don’t be naive. I deleted that footage last week.”

My hands go cold, even as I admit to myself that I should’ve known. “What is wrong with you?” I whisper, genuinely disturbed by how little he cares. “It’s the third employee he’s harassed and made quit! You have to know–”

"I said I deleted that footage,” he snaps, head jerking to the side so he can look out the window. “Don’t be naive.”

My mouth opens to argue, but I pause. Something about the words feels off, and the garbled way he mumbles out a few expletives doesn’t help his case. “Carl–”

“What–” He looks at me, eyes wide and startled. “The fuck are you doing here this late, Sable? You…” His mouth goes slack for a moment, then snaps shut. “You’re gonna delete those fuckin’ pictures before I make you!” Suddenly he’s on his feet, and even as I brace myself to run, he hits the side of the desk, staggering, and bounces off the window like a slow moving, fleshy ping pong ball.

“Carl?” I breathe, watching as he goes down but doesn’t get back up. He looks up at me with wide, panicked eyes, gasping, and reaches towards me with one pale hand.

“Call… Call!” he demands in a rough, hoarse voice. His hand claps to the bend of his elbow where he’d been injecting himself with something when I’d come in, and realization hits me like a semi truck.

“You’re overdosing.”

“9-1-1!” His pathetic gasp comes again and he suddenly shoves himself upward, looking like a seal at Sea World performing a trick for a fish. His back legs flop around like a tail, but his movements yield success; his phone ricochets off the desk, hitting the threadbare carpet on the floor.

Carl’s hand slowly reaches for it, but I’m fast. I kick the phone away, not wanting to touch it with my hands, and I watch as it hits a corner on the other side of the desk.

My manager lets out a long, helpless keen, his eyes coming back up to me. “Call 9-1-1!” he pleads as saliva bubbles at both sides of his mouth. “Please!”

Slowly, and far enough that he can’t touch me, I kneel down in front of Carl to watch as his face starts to get paler, and the bubbling of spit on his jowls becomes full-on drooling.

"You know…I bet Kara said please,” I whisper to him, supporting my chin on my hand. “I know for a fact Veronica would’ve, too. I don’t know the other woman that well, but if I had to guess, she was terrified of your nephew. Did you ever give them the help they asked for?” I can’t look away from him. The way he writhes is pathetic, his feet kicking the floor and his mouth open to pant while his eyes roll wildly.

It’s better that any movie I could go see in the theaters, and my eyes feel glued to the man who’s made my life hell for four years. When at last he stops thrashing, though with saliva still dribbling down his face to puddle on the floor in front of him, I get up with a weary sigh.

“Yeah,” I agree, not really talking to anyone now that he’s dead. “That’s what I thought.”

The house on Farmer’s Road isn’t what I’d expected it to be.

When we’d pulled up to the end of the driveway and parked the SUV, I’d spent the whole trip up the winding gravel thinking we were about to show up to some luxury rental in the woods. I’d been looking for the edge of a well manicured lawn, a fence, a fucking pool for all that went.

But instead, when we’d come upon the old ranch-style house with its stained white siding and cracked porch, I’d wondered if we’d been tricked by Elaine. There’s no way a club of rich assholes would voluntarily step foot in this place, I tell myself. There’s no way.

That had been my opinion up until one of said rich assholes had banged out the door to grab something out of one of the cars lined up in the gravel parking area side by side. Freshly showered and looking very happy with himself, he’d towed the heavy bag back inside, the duffel thrown over his shoulder.

My eyes had locked onto the shock of long, blonde hair that was trailing from the duffel, and on the way the bottom of the bag stained with something dark, and I’d recoiled slightly.

Yeah, I’d realized in that moment. We’re definitely in the right place.

But that had been two hours ago, and we’d decided to just watch for a little while, before actually doing anything. I deepen my crouch at the edge of the woods, the black plastic mask in place over my face. It isn’t as fancy as the boys’; the smiley face in silver sharpie has been drawn on haphazardly, and doesn’t quite glow in the dark like theirs almost does.