Devon rushes into his office and locks the door behind him.He sits behind his desk, then starts looking around for the bottle of scotch he kept in one of the drawers. He can't find it, which pisses him off. He slams the drawer shut and sits back, willing himself to calm down or he's going to lose his shit.That old woman, she said her name was Bertha Johnson, didn't want to cooperate at first, but Devon always finds a way to get someone talking. He threatened her, but when that didn't work, he promised to help her get what she wants. And when she talked, she fucking talked. He had a hard time believing her, but there was no way he couldn't. She knew exactly what she was talking about, her story made sense. He knew a small part, but now he finally pieced everything together.The story is too fucking crazy to be true.He needs to make calls, get people investigating this immediately, but Sam will be in his ass about this, because people need to be paid for their work, and the company c
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