Hidden - Laura Griffin Page 0,55
like.”
She nodded. “It sucks.”
“Right. I had to do some of the firing myself.” He rubbed his forehead. “Worst experience of my life. And, you know, it was stressful on a personal level, too. I kept my job, but I’d just forked over savings to pay off my student loans.” He shook his head. “They say you’re supposed to have something like six months’ expenses in reserve? I had, like, six weeks, maybe, and we were doing layoffs everywhere. I was sweating it, thinking I was going to show up for work one day and find out I didn’t have a job.”
“I know the feeling.”
He nodded. “So, you escaped the cuts at the Herald?”
“Barely.” She smiled. “That’s the beauty of being new and cheap.”
Seth was watching her now with a certain eagerness that felt a little intense. She peered over the railing and watched the employees rush back and forth ten stories below.
“What’s it like to work here now?” she asked.
“Better. But still, everyone works insane hours and does the job of two people.” He shrugged. “But we have a young workforce. They can take it. You ready?” He nodded at her coffee.
“Yeah.”
“I’ll show you our Infinity Studio. Another new perk we added.”
They walked down a glass catwalk, and Bailey got slightly dizzy overlooking the side.
“On the record again,” she said, “have there been any more data breaches since the phishing scam?”
“No. And I say that definitively.”
“How do you know?”
“We reviewed all our security procedures, tightened up everything, held training seminars to eliminate the human error angle.”
“How do you eliminate human error?”
“Well, ‘minimize,’ I guess I should say.”
They reached a window looking out on a two-story fitness room. “This is our Infinity Studio. Another benefit everyone is enjoying.”
She looked out over rows and rows of weight machines, treadmills, and ellipticals, all with a view of Lake Austin, the iconic Pennybacker Bridge, and the city skyline in the distance. The studio was packed with thin, sweaty young people.
“It’s busy,” she commented.
“Like I said, it’s a popular perk here.”
Bailey counted twelve Peloton bikes, all in use and all tuned to different scenic ride channels. The views included a rain forest, a beach, a rugged coastline with waves crashing against the rocks.
“Plus, it fits in with our wellness program, so people get points.”
“Points?”
“It’s part of our company health plan,” he said. “You accrue points and get a cash bonus if you meet certain standards like, say, not smoking or eating a plant-based diet, or working out one hundred twenty minutes a week.”
“They monitor your diet?”
“We have an app that does it. You’re laughing.”
“I’m just imagining the Herald implementing a program like that. Most of us eat a Whataburger-and-coffee-based diet.”
“It’s popular because people get cash for it. The program’s very innovative.”
“Sounds intrusive.”
He shrugged. “People love it. Especially the boss. It’s her brainchild.”
“Lucinda Oberhoff came up with it?”
“Oh, yeah.”
“Her name’s quiet a mouthful. Does she have a nickname? Maybe Lucy or Cindy?”
“I’ve never heard anyone call her anything but Lucinda or Ms. Oberhoff.”
“What’s it like working for her? She seems a bit uptight.”
Seth made a pained face. “She comes off that way.”
“But she isn’t?”
“No, she is. But she didn’t use to be so . . . driven, I guess you’d say. That came after.”
“After what?”
He looked surprised. “You don’t know about what happened?”
“No. What happened?”
“I figured you would have read about it.” He sighed and took a moment to sip his tea. “Her family was on a vacation in California. Lucinda and her husband and their two daughters. Her eight-year-old was abducted from a water park.”
“When was this?”
He tipped his head to the side. “I guess it’s been five years now.”
“I missed the story. Did they ever find her?”
“No. Not a trace of her. It was horrible. Lucinda took a six-month leave while they searched, but the police never found anything.”
“I’m surprised she came back.”
“She had to. I think it kept her sane. She plunged into work, and it distracted her from Avery being gone. And there was a divorce, too. She’s really been through hell. She’s a survivor, though.”
Bailey heard the empathy in his voice, and his affinity for his boss made a little more sense now.
He kept walking and they neared a solid black door. A pair of women paused and turned to look into a small glass window before opening the door.
“What’s that?” Bailey asked.
“One of our labs. Our biggest one, actually.”
“Mind if I see?”
“I’d show you, but it’s strictly employees only.”
“Just a look? I don’t need a walk-through.”
“Sorry. We don’t even take