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(edited)
____ C O N N O R
'Who was the girl, Connor?Be honest with me,' Hank asked as we pulled up at the precinct. 'There was something awfully familiar about her. I don't know how to explain it. . .'
I caught the look that flashed across Blake's face when Hank asked her to repeat her name. She was terrified. For whatever reason, she obviously didn't want him knowing that she was the little girl that he saved all those years ago. 'Perhaps you passed her on the street or maybe she came into the police station one time?' I offered.
Hank shook his head, killing the engine. 'No, it's something more personal than that. . .' He shook his head, waving at me dismissively. 'You know what? Forget about it. It's probably nothing. Let's just get back to work. We have a lot of paperwork to get through before tomorrow.'
The Lieutenant hopped out of the car, sauntering towards the front entrance. I followed, briskly walking to his side. Once again, Hank went straight to Captain Fowlers office whereas I went to my desk. I immediately started working on my research, searching for any information regarding William Blackwell. After an hour of sifting through online documents, I hardly found anything.
I looked around the office. There weren't many officers in the precinct as of right now. It was late at night, with only a select handful still working. I spotted Gavin Reed across the room. He was walking to his desk, cup of coffee in hand, completely unaware of my presence. I logged into the precincts database. Searching the CEO's name, a restriction popped up on the screen, demanding a password.
The files were registered under Hanks name. Therefore, I needed to acquire his password in order to access the documents I needed. There appeared to be four possible options: Hank's date of birth, a sequence of numbers from one to six, HankAnderson and FuckingPassword.
What would a hard-boiled eccentric police Lieutenant choose?
I paused, smirking as I typed in the last option. The screen flashed green, granting me access.
Obviously.
I quickly got to work, digging through hundreds of documents on Eden Club and its previous CEO. I took a mental image of each one, retaining the information. I had barely scratched the surface when I let out a groan, leaning back in my chair. There was so much to go through, too much. It would take me hours to fully analyse each report, and even longer to find the information I was looking for. I squeezed my eyes shut, pinching the bridge of my nose.
When I opened them, I was no longer sitting at my desk. I was standing in the Garden. It was late afternoon, a soft orange hue falling over the landscape. The Garden was so full of life, and the sudden change from the precincts' bleak atmosphere almost sent me reeling. I walked along the white pathways, heading over the bridge that lead me to the centre of the Garden. It was so tranquil, the air filled with the soft chirp of birds, the swaying of trees in the slight afternoon breeze, and the sound of trickling water over rocks. The feeling that blossomed in my chest because of it was almost indescribable, my systems having a hard time processing the sensation I was experiencing.
