Sam swiveled around, a resigned look on his face. “I’m afraid so. I’m sorry your job here didn’t last very long.”
“So it’s definite? I thought there was a chance the paper would stay open with new ownership.”
“I thought so, too. Why else would anyone want to acquire us?”
“Who’s the new owner?”
“Some company called New Western Media. I’ve never heard of them. Turns out they’re newly formed. Their paperwork was filed recently with the Secretary of State’s office.”
Kimani sank down into a nearby chair. “New Western Media. Do you think they’re affiliated with a rival paper?”
“I wondered that at first, but we know all the owners of the various media outlets in this geographic area. New Western Media doesn’t seem to be linked to any of them. The only good news in this is that we all get a severance package worth three months’ salary and extended health insurance.”
Her jaw dropped. “Three months! That’s very generous. And odd.”
“I thought so, too. I quizzed Ralph, one of the original owners. He said he was just as stunned about the closure. He actually thought New Western Media was a good Samaritan, an angel funder, who was coming in to save the paper. It’s the strangest thing. This company acquires us in record time, all shrouded in mystery, and the only communication we get from our new owners is a letter from their attorney’s office providing the two weeks’ notice and details of the severance package.”
“Do we at least get to keep the press going during our last two weeks?”
“I think so. There was no mention of turning off the presses immediately.”
“So, will we still have time to run the profiles of the mayoral candidates?”
“If you hustle.”
She nodded. “I’ll get it done.”
“When you start job hunting, I’m happy to be a reference for you. Just know that I’ll be serving as a reference for many of your colleagues as well. I hope everyone lands something.”
“What about you?”
“I guess I could always be a lecturer again. I like teaching, but I’ll miss the press. I’ll miss the clicking and clacking of computer keys in the newsroom. I’ll miss hunting down a good story.”
“What should we do about the Scarlet Auction scoop?”
“Has the district attorney given you any indication when they’ll be wrapping up their investigation?”
She shook her head.
“Call them and ask. I’d like to honor their request, but circumstances have changed.”
“Will do.”
Sam swiveled his chair back around to stare out his office window. She felt bad for him. And hoped that he would find a new job situation to his liking soon.
The rest of the afternoon moved slowly, with many of the Tribune staff still in shock.
“Maybe I’ll have to be a wedding photographer for a while,” Ron said.
With only two weeks to work on the mayoral candidate profiles, Kimani worked at a faster pace assembling the background research. By the time she looked up at the clock, it was past nine o’clock. After hopping on the light rail back to her place, she arrived home at ten o’clock. As she walked up to the duplex, she noticed that the lights were on.
Marissa was supposed to work the last shift at the bar and grill tonight, so had her roommate come home early?
Kimani walked up to the front door—and saw it was slightly ajar. That was strange. Marissa didn’t usually leave the door open, but maybe she had forgotten something and was planning to head out the door again.
Suddenly, Kimani couldn’t shake the feeling that she was being watched again. Turning her head, she looked behind and scanned the streets, sidewalk and other homes. Except for a car passing by several blocks down, it was quiet. No one happened to be out at the moment. Kimani would have felt comfort in even the sound of crickets, but there were none.
She pushed the door open a little. “Marissa?”