As Taylor appeared in Weston's office hours later, she still felt a faint hum of amazement. Besides jumping to the next city over with Clint, they had traveled to two others each one further than the last.
Each time she had taken his hand, preparing to teleport, a coil of fear had squeezed her heart. Clint's reassuring squeeze on her hand was the thing that made her take the plunge anyways. When they landed back in the storage room he had been grinning, more elated than even she was. It was a sight that she decided she liked a lot more than his intense brooding.
Nudging the day's accomplishments from her mind, Taylor focused on her surroundings. Past the office walls night shift police officers puttered about, the late hour stealing away the eagerness the day would have spurred.
Inside the office, another corkboard had been added and it was cluttered with the dozens of photos Taylor had taken the night before. Weston stood in front of the crowded scene, arms crossed and the sleeves of his shirt rolled up.
"I see you got the pictures I sent," she said.
Weston started, for once her presence surprising him. Taylor looked to his desk and spotted a power bar and the wrappers of others in his trash can. The evidence told her that it had been a long day where he hadn't stopped turning over the case.
Weston was slow to speak, his silence putting Taylor on alert. She knew each of her brother's silences. They all held something different. The one he was wearing right then was weighed down with troubled thoughts.
"How did you get these photos?" Weston finally asked.
Taylor stilled, registering a strange tone in her brother's voice. One with a hint of concern and something else she couldn't identify.
"Are you not happy with what I got?" she asked.
Weston ran a hand over his hair. "Shadow, how much danger did you put yourself in?"
Taylor refrained from commenting on the stupidity of the name for once, sensing her brother's tense disposition. When she didn't respond right away, Weston went on.
"This photo right here," he said, pointing to one with a document and a hand resting beside it. "How did you get that close? And here." He motioned to one with a trail of cigarette smoke obscuring part of the image. "What about all these?" He swept his hand over the second corkboard where all the faces of the crime family members were pinned. He jabbed a finger at one face that was frozen mid-sentence. "That was taken from a head-on angle, not from above. How did you get these?"
As he talked, his voice had gotten more and more strained. Taylor shifted out of her darkened corner, aware that her brother was on edge.
"It's a long story," she said. "Why are you so worried?"
Weston rubbed his face. "I've been asking you to put yourself in danger without a second thought. What you can do is incredible and somehow it has blinded me to the fact that you're still vulnerable to harm." He shook his head. "I've asked too much of you. I've put you in a position that you should never be in."
Taylor folded her arms. Danger had become a common occurrence in her life. Whether Weston asked it of her or she asked it of herself, it was simply something she dealt with. Why it should dawn on him now that she could be hurt struck her as strange. Added with his troubled manner, she wondered what was going through his mind. As well as she knew him, she still couldn't pick apart his thoughts.
"I walk into those situations on my own free will," she said. "It's not on you to dictate my actions or take the responsibility for them."
Weston shook his head, whether in disagreement or to dismiss his thoughts she didn't know.
"Still I have no right to ask anything of you. You could be hurt, injured and part of that would be on me because I asked you."
Taylor remained quiet. Everything her brother was saying made sense. It even had a ring of truth to it, but she was not the issue. Somehow she knew that.
"This isn't about me," she said. "You've had months of seeing me able to handle myself. What is this really about?"
Weston gave a low, humorless chuckle and ducked his head.
"I didn't know you knew me so well."
Taylor didn't speak. Though her lack of response opened the air for him to fill it with his own words, he didn't. Taylor could only see his back, but it was enough to notice there was a stiffness to his posture.
"I once told you, you could tell me anything," Taylor said softly. "That still holds true."
Weston dropped his shoulders and let out a breath. Taylor waited, sensing as he worked his way up to sharing. Minutes stretched on without anything said, but she remained quiet.
"That man," Weston said, pointing to a photo showcasing a man in his mid-thirties with a scar on his right eyebrow and pale gray eyes. "His brother is the reason my aunt is dead."
The news was like a blow to Taylor's stomach. She reached out and gripped a filing cabinet, needing to steady herself.
"Four years ago," Weston went on, unaware of Taylor's reaction. "My aunt was attacked. He took her purse and left her bleeding out. She made it to the hospital, even remained conscious long enough to describe the guy." He stopped, his silence burdened with memories wrapped in grief. "We got him, but lost her."
Taylor blinked, not realizing she was crying until the action sent tears spilling down her cheeks. She had only been thirteen when the news of her aunt's death had come. It had felt like someone had ripped out her insides, leaving her empty.
"Her name was Eda," Weston said. He laced his fingers and placed them on top of his head. "She is one of the reasons I became a cop."
Taylor swiped at her cheeks, momentarily distracted from her own hit of grief. This was something she hadn't ever known.
"Growing up she would talk about how important it was to help people. Help and happiness. Those were two things she believed every human should be given." He let out a breath of a laugh. "It's why she did charity work with our church and was a baby photographer. She said baby photography captured the essence of happiness and preserved it for parents who had seen enough of the world to need more happiness."
Taylor smiled, despite the ache in her chest. She could picture her aunt's caramel eyes lighting up as she showed them the best of her work, laughing at a boy's dimples or a girl's wide grin. Taylor wasn't sure there was a person on earth who had laughed and smiled more than her aunt.
A sober silence invaded the office as Weston dropped his hands.
"She was the kind of person who had a faith in God so strong she could face cancer head-on and come through smiling. And in the end, it wasn't a disease that stole her, but another life that stole hers."
Taylor was standing beside Weston before she even knew she was there, their shared pain pulling her forward. She rested her hand on his arm and he looked down at it as if realizing he hadn't been talking to himself.
"I'm truly sorry for your loss," she whispered.
Weston stared straight ahead and nodded. Taylor knew he was struggling to keep his emotions in check. If it had only been his sister there then he wouldn't have worked so hard, but instead, he was only with a shadow.
Taylor gestured to the mass of information.
"Did you find out anything important?" she asked. It was a gift. A distraction from his grief. One she needed as well.
He cleared his throat.
"I did." He zeroed in on two pictures. "This is a blueprint for the Hyatt hotel. And this other one is a schematic for a bomb that could level a building. It seems kidnapping is not the play they are going for but an assassination."
Taylor stepped forward, inspecting the images and gazing at the ones that surrounded it.
"And all the rest of the documents confirm that?" she asked.
"Most do," he said. He touched on a page close to where she was looking. "Right here is a list of companies that own a range of trucks that would be big enough to carry a bomb. Underneath the list, you can see a part of a map of the city and a route they would take. You can't see more than a piece of it so I don't know where it's starting from, but the logical destination would be the hotel."
Taylor crossed her arms frowning. "And the visiting Senator would be at the Hyatt?"
"It's the nicest hotel in the city so logic would point to that."
The pair fell quiet, studying the images that all meant something, all except an answer to what the plan was.
"Why?" Taylor said, breaking the silence.
Weston looked at her and so she spoke on.
"Why assassinate a Senator? What's the point? Aren't they more concerned about drugs and stuff? What's in it for them?"
Weston exhaled slowly and ran a hand over his hair again. "That's what I've been trying to piece out. A vast majority of the information points to a bombing, but if they plan to bomb the hotel what is the point of the crates filled with guns? Also, look here." He indicated a small section of a photo where another part of a blueprint was sticking out. "What is this blueprint too? Is it multiple bombings or something else entirely?"
Taylor stared at the board, wondering if she had helped or made everything more complicated.
"You said before that there were two options, you thought it could be a kidnapping or a heist. The bomb doesn't make it a kidnapping, but could it someway help with a heist?"
Weston rubbed his jaw. "They could bomb a building after hitting it, but I'm not sure there is logic in that." He took a step back, surveying everything. "But say you're right, say it's not a bombing, we have to think about what else it could be."
"Okay, what is the point of a bomb?"
"It destroys evidence. It kills people. It creates shockwaves. It levels a building. It makes barriers. It scares people. It generates chaos..." Weston trailed off, staring but not really seeing. Taylor waited. "What if the point of a bomb is not to kill but to distract?"
He moved forward. "If we look at all the information, guns, a truck, a bomb, a planned route, and multiple blueprints all being part of one plan then we could have a making of a heist." He jabbed a finger at the Hyatt hotel. "Look here, this is not a location worth hitting for money. It caters to the wealthy but a bank would hold twice as much money than all the guests put together. But if we don't look at what it is but rather where it is you find that it is at the center of the city, in the heart of the business district."
"Place a bomb there and it could do a lot of damage."
"As well as diverting every attention away from a less obvious location." Letting out a breath, Weston placed his laced hands on top of his head. "That is one option."
"And it's one that connects all the information."
Weston nodded, still staring at the photos. "There could be others." He rubbed his eyes tiredly. "The one thing that is conclusive about all of this is they are planning something big and we have to stop it."
**********************************************************************
"I am Groot."
(I mean if you have a catchphrase, might as well used it ALL THE TIME, right?)
That brings up the question: what is your superhero catch phrase?
Sunshine Girl's catchphrase is: Light up the world!
What do you think? Does it work? I kinda like it but I want your opinions since I literally came up with it right at this moment.
Also, quickly before you dash off to the next chapter and leave in a flash (yes, I did just make two speedsters references!) what are you thinking about all of this? The aunt? The heist? Are your spider senses tingling?? 🦹🏻♀️🦸🏿♀️🦸🏽♂️
মজার ব্যাপার (Bangla): In the final scene of Avengers when they are all eating, Captain America isn't because Chris Evans was growing out his beard for another movie and to cover the beard up he was wearing a prosthetic jaw.
Vote, comment, follow but only if you stand for catchy catch phrases!