"What we had is over, Dawn. You don't have to do this anymore. You're free to go."
I traced the glass separating us with my fingers, looking into his green eyes and whispered to the phone, "So you want to know why I'm still here?"
He just stare...
It was increasingly harder to imagine how Navy Yard used to look like back when it wasn't abandoned. The beautiful marble composition erected in 1838, had been abandoned since the mid-'60s. It had been a public place for the first time in years once when an exhibit by artist Bettina WitteVeen was housed inside for a few months. Now it was shuttered again, only to be replaced with illegal storage of drugs.
"Mrs Dale, I think we should leave now," Jason warned me from behind as I leaned even more forward to hear what the group was talking about.
"Jason, you're going to get me caught. Shh," I hissed and stared through the small creek.
Megan Bateman's business strictly revolved around crime as it seemed. They were discussing a drug dealing project. Two men, dressed in denim jumpsuits listened carefully and took notes of her instructions.
Almost instinctively, I held my phone, switched off the flash and took several pictures of the situation. But right then, my phone buzzed, causing me to panic.
Megan frowned, "Go check the back of the yard."
One of the jumpsuited men marched out and took a turn. Next, I felt a tug at my elbow, my scream smothering as the figure hauled me out of the building and pushed me inside my car.
It was Jason.
I knew I had screwed up big time but he didn't mind. Instead, he climbed into the car, started the engine with a roar and propelled it out of Flushing Avenue, fast enough to beat the men in jumpsuits.
For a fleeting while, I wondered how it would be if I informed the police of this place. Then again, Megan was sleek enough to move it to next level, probably this place would be wiped clean the next day.
I crawled into the backseat, my cheek rubbing against the leather upholstery. The car moved at an acceptable pace. Outside, the city was visible, leaving a fading Brooklyn behind.
I pressed my cellphone screen awake, contemplating. Finally emailing the pictures to Luke Piper, my security officer.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
"You saw Owen Austen & Ben Smith," Luke announced, dropping two files on my desk.
"Are you sure?" I grabbed the files, going through them one at a time.
"Hundred percent. Five years ago, Vin Wilson & Owen Austen had pulled a heist at a jewellery store. But they were proved innocent." Luke, from across me, spun a paperweight, facing me while I went through the files.
"And Ben Smith had run a small organization for excellent forgers with Wilson approximately three years ago," I muttered ever so slowly. "That does the Math."
"Are you going to tell anyone?" Luke's golden eyebrows knitted together, anticipating.
"Probably Maxwell. He'll decide what to do. Thank you, Luke. I'll call you."
