Access Denied: The Bullseye

2. Meskin's Footfall

Luckily, she didn't need to accept any defeat. Naima Marek yelled for them to come inside for dinner. Genevieve picked up the queen and pawn piece and reset her side of the board. Marek looked at her the whole time. There was nothing he could do. When she stood, she waved for him to follow.

Inside, leaning on the kitchen table, Naima had the phone's microphone part covered with her hand. She glanced at them. "I'm ordering," she said. "Any requests?"

Genevieve shook her head and Lenny started rattling off an order of his wife to repeat. She thought she would go to her room—a little space that was separated by a wall from the rest of the pawn shop. As she walked out, she saw Marek take the phone from his wife. Genevieve turned to signal Naima that she'd be back soon.

Naima held up her hand. She wanted to talk.

Naima Marek, formerly Meskin, had met Genevieve two years ago in her family's pawn shop. Genevieve became a frequent customer, pawning off semi-valuable goods. But she had been coming to the Meskin pawn shop for years before that. They gave good prices for the measly items she stole and they didn't ask many questions.

But Genevieve hadn't become friends with Naima Meskin until she stole from Meskin Pawnbrokers. She had tried to swipe an old penny from one of their shelves in their Boston shop, but a camera had caught her. Later, she had to take the camera that watched her too. No one had noticed. No one had said anything. Genevieve had even assumed it was alright to come back and sell another stolen good to the Meskins.

Naima had been on the counter that day. She'd given Genevieve less than half of what the watch she brought in was worth. She had subtracted the costs of the penny and the camera. "Fair is fair" she had said.

Both women moved out of the kitchen area.

"What?" Genevieve asked. Naima looked dishevelled. She was never dishevelled.

A gulp. She was about to give Genevieve the boot. Either she was being fired (which was the best case scenario) or she was going to tell her what Lenny Marek was very subtly trying to signal. Naima looked around, then with a hand on her abdomen she said: "I'm pregnant."

Geez. It was nothing she assumed. She exhaled, though she wasn't relieved. Genevieve's forehead creased. "Does he know?"

"Yeah. Yes, he knows."

"But this is about something else," she stated, leaning back onto the wall. "Isn't it?"

Naima's face fell. Then she pulled open a drawer, taking out a heavy ring of keys. "Come on," was all she said before moving toward the front door.

The keys to the pawn shop jingled in Naima's hand as she played with them. Genevieve followed quietly behind as she led them to Meskin Pawnbrokers. The Meskins had expanded to Windham, Maine a year ago. The family now owned a chain of pawn shops on the east coast. Naima bent slightly to unlock the main lock.

Meskin Pawnbrokers wasn't too far from the Mareks' home. They lived right next door to their place of work. It was a three minute walk from their home. Genevieve, living in the small room behind the shop, had an even shorter walk to work. A pawn shop, a therapist's office, a stone wall and the opposite street was the most of what Genevieve had seen of Windham in her five months here.

Pushing it open, Naima directed her to the main desk in the shop. She turned on the desktop computer and slowly sat down in the seat. Jabbing another key in a lock, she pulled open the drawer. Genevieve wanted to speak. She even opened her mouth a few times in an attempt. But then she saw what Naima was doing. She was showing her security footage.

Her voice immediately returned.

"Naima, I swear. I did not steal anything," Genevieve told her, quickly. "I didn't touch anything. Didn't even look at something the wrong way."

Genevieve didn't know why she was defending herself. She hadn't stolen anything. There were moments when her hand rested on something longer than it should have. But she didn't take anything. There shouldn't even be anything on the cameras.

Naima's hand left the computer mouse and she looked up at her strangely. "I know you didn't steal, Nevi. And I'm not accusing you of anything either. And besides, I wanted to show you outside footage of the shop, not inside."

"Why, what happened?"

A few clicks and taps, and Naima didn't have to answer. A separate tab opened up on the desktop. Time ran on the top right side of the screen and at exactly 17:31:07, a buff man in a dark bomber jacket, walked towards the shop entrance. Standing in front of the glass, the man peered inside.

Four to eleven was Genevieve's shift everyday of the week. The man was either spying on her or he was looking to steal something.

There was about thirty seconds more footage of the man looking inside the shop. It was hard to catch, but before he left, he lifted his head and stared directly at the CCTV.

Naima looked at her with wide eyes, as if to ask "you saw it too right?" It was impossible to not see the man in front of them. He was making it obvious he was there. Taunting her that he had found her. There were only two people who would want to spy on her—Blind Spot or Redstone. Or Emerson Rothstein.

Three viable candidates.

It was clear this person wasn't intending to spy. They were trying to scare her. Trying to show her that she had been found. That meant it couldn't be Blind Spot. If they were spying on her—which they most probably were—they wouldn't want her to know they were spying on her.

Vincent Redstone or Emerson Rothstein. According to Carlos De 'Gracias, Redstone and Rothstein were related. They were half brothers and had a younger sister called Lorraine Rothstein. Vincent and Emerson didn't have the same brother, partly the reason for their hostile relationship. So, the man could've been spying for either of the brothers or the both of them, if they had reconciled and joined forces.

Genevieve wasn't sure who was more dangerous. She looked at Naima silently. She wasn't weighing who was a more dangerous enemy. In her eyes Blind Spot, Rothstein, Redstone, a petty thief; everyone was equal. For her it wasn't a matter of who she thought best to avoid. It was a matter of how quickly she could get away from them.

"You want me to leave?" Genevieve asked.

It sounded like a question. It wasn't. Naima tilted her head, like she did when she didn't want to explain something in detail. "You had to know you couldn't stay here forever, right? And I wouldn't have said anything if, if..."

"If you didn't have a child coming," she finished for Naima. "I understand. I'm trying to find another place, alright. Give me till the end of this month, Naima. I'll be out of your hair by then."

"That was much easier that I imagined," Naima said with a strange look on her face. "I'll get to finding your replacement. Until this month, Nevi."

Naima stood from her chair and hugged her in a way that seemed too awkward. They had never hugged before. She shut off the computer, put everything back in its place and then locked the drawers and the doors from the outside. They talked about meaningless things to fill the few minutes it took for them to get back to Naima's home.

The ordered food was already set on the table when they came back. Naima's husband immediately pulled out a chair for her when she came. He looked at Genevieve from the corner of his eye, making sure she caught his look.

Genevieve knew Lenny wanted her to leave. He probably jumped up and down when he saw the footage—a reason to kick her out. She didn't know why he didn't like her, but she had an idea. Five months ago, Kiara Deaton had handed in a report in which details about Lenny Marek's fight club were included. Police had raided the club and arrested anyone who was there that day.

Should've fought legally. He didn't like her because of her past affiliations with Blind Spot Agency. Genevieve didn't understand his hate, but she understood what his side glance meant.It was the same message he sent her each time he beat her at chess. Defeat.