Hera felt her body bristle as Jacqueline turned the computer screen. Her eyes flicked over the article, brows knitting together in concentration. Pen poised readily, she short-handed some notes on the pad, nodding as her colleague explained the case further.
Excitement bubbled in her belly, a sign she’d come to recognise as the signal of a good story. Hera pressed her lips together pensively, imagining the Manor ablaze. She could see it clearly in her mind; Smoke billowing from the infrastructure, the smell of charring filling her nostrils and burning flesh… She shivered.
“What a horrific way to go…” she trailed off, vision blurring at the seams as the screen shifted in and out of focus.
Some journalists may have scoffed at the prospect of writing this story. An engineer dead in his home, on the surface, didn’t have the accosting excitement of a celebrity scam or morbid modern-day crime. But Hera revelled in the prospect of giving this late engineer a voice after death. Bringing someone back to life through journalism was a challenge, certainly, but one that she’d gladly accept.
The young, aspiring journalist placed her pad on her desk and decidedly logged into her Macbook. She opened ‘Safari’ and typed curiously into the search bar. First, she’d read all the articles she could find on Edgeworth Manor. Building a backstory, she wanted to better understand who this mysterious engineer was. What research had he been immersing himself in? Did he have any known enemies? A creative as prolific as Nathaniel Edgeworth must’ve crossed an antagonist or 2 in his lifetime. Surely no one angry enough to murder him, though?
The tip of Hera’s tongue poked out slightly from between her lips as she skimmed as many articles as she could fine. Hitting “Print” on those that seemed most relevant, she soon had a small stack of paperwork accumulating on her desk. Taking a highlighter to the pages, she emboldened statements of most interest. Gradually, the young journalist built a picture of Nathaniel. Immersing herself in the burning of Edgeworth Manor, Hera barely noticed the clock ticking by. Minutes slid by as she researched, the hands of the office clock seemed to be moving mysteriously quickly. Hours felt like seconds and she huffed as her pen danced over the pad eagerly.
The buzz of the office came in peaks and troughs. Some would find the laughter and chorus of chatter a distraction but Hera barely noticed anything outside of her office cubicle. A bubble had formed around her, laser focused on the task at hand. All good stories were founded on strong foundations. Much like Nathaniel’s famous architectural projects, carefully laying foundations was integral to staying upright and Hera wanted to build a water-tight case. Jacqueline’s desk, neighbouring her own, slipped in and out of occupation. Occasionally, she could feel Jacqueline’s eyes on her. She barely broke eye contact with the Macbook screen, stack of papers growing in size as she paced back and forth from the office printer.
“Nathaniel Edgeworth’s work was ahead of it’s time, his latest project was rumoured to hold some earth-shattering discoveries. Many would’ve gone to extreme lengths in order to intercept his latest research…” Hera read aloud from the article on-screen.
Tapping her pen gently on her pursed lips, Hera’s gut twinged at the phrasing of the quotation. Extreme lengths? Like burning down his home? Nathaniel, a brilliant mind, was acquiring knowledge someone didn’t want him to have. So determined to stop him in his tracks, this villain had intervened in the most extreme way. A house fire was a strike of genius. The crime in present day would not have been left unsolved. Forensics, discovery… Modern day policing would’ve turned over the suspicious circumstances in which Nathaniel was found dead in his home. Burned alive.
“A mind as brilliant as his would not have been caught in a burning building…” Hera mumbled, tutting and shaking her head.
With that, she shut the lid of her Macbook. It was approaching her lunch break and a gurgle from her stomach reminded her of the fact. She hesitated, hands hovering above the stack of paperwork she’d garnered. Hera turned to Jacqueline who was typing furiously next to her.
“I need to get a feel for this place,” she said, to no one in particular, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “Think I’ll find it easier to get into Nathaniel’s mind if I’m at the site where he took his final breath…”
Hera swiftly pulled her coat on, the sheepskin lining of her aviator jacket immediately feeling too insulated in the warm office. Lifting her tote bag, she filled it with her morning’s research. Before she left, she checked her phone that had been buzzing busily in her pocket. Hundreds of notifications flooded the screen, followers “liking” this morning’s video. Usernames blurred in a flurry as her thumb gently brushed across the screen, exclamations of admiration and approval littered the notifications. She shouldered her tote bag, readying herself to leave, and nodded at Jacqueline. The senior journalist had barely looked up, the click of keys was her goodbye. Hera retreated from her desk, striding past the lines of office cubicles on her way to the elevator.
Feeling the cool air hit her with a wince, Hera’s hand fumbled through her jacket pocket to retrieve her phone. Ignoring the notifications, she lifted the front camera to her face. Followers loved the day to day documentation of her life. Specifically, the stories she was working on at The Telegraph. Careful not to spoil her stories, Hera only shared information that was public knowledge. It was a balance of sharing enough tidbits of her life as a young journalist and still maintaining professionalism. A good journalist never reveals their sources… But Hera loved giving her followers insight into the goings on at The Telegraph. ‘Hera Is Here’ didn’t shy away from sharing her life with hundreds of thousands. In fact, she recorded as much as possible. Regularity was the secret to success as an Influencer. Quality
and quantity. Before hitting record, she fixed her hair and added a layer of lipgloss. Her lips had dried at the touch of crisp air and she rubbed them together as the coconut-flavoured gloss coated them.
“Hera Is Here and guys… I’ve been tasked with bringing the story of Edgeworth Manor back to life! Awesome, right? Dead and buried, burned to be sure, Edgeworth is a scandal shrouded in mystery. I’ve spent my morning reading all I can on the backstory but now it’s time to visit the scene of the crime… That’s right, guys. I don’t think this was a tragic accident. Something tells me there’s more to Nathaniel’s passing than smoke and flames… I think there’s much more behind the curtain! Stay tuned for more.”
Hera’s iPhone clicked as she locked it, slipping it back between the folds of her pocket. Edgeworth Manor was a small drive away and she thumbed in the address as she approached her car, scanning the route. Her car smelt like the fruity air freshener that hung from the rear view and she sighed as she slid into the drivers seat. Door slamming shut behind her, Hera tossed her tote bag into the passenger seat, shifting into a comfortable driving position. Belt sliding across her, the engine roared to life. The car reversed from her allocated parking space and slowly crawled out of the car park. Hera eyed the map on her phone screen, mounted on the dash for visibility. Chart music tinkled out of the car’s speakers and Hera hummed along absent-mindedly, her mind straying to Nathaniel and his plume of papers, charred and undiscovered.
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