Prompt Post: ROUND TWO
ROUND TWO IS CLOSED
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Rules post.
Flat view.
ROUND TWO: Updates Post (WIPs only)
ROUND TWO: Fills Post (completed Fills only)
damalur's firstclasskink on Delicious.
Volunteers always welcome.
Please use the Discussion Post if you want to talk about community alterations or get my modly attention. Do not ( Read more... )
<< ROUND ONE | ALL ROUNDS | ROUND THREE >>
Rules post.
Flat view.
ROUND TWO: Updates Post (WIPs only)
ROUND TWO: Fills Post (completed Fills only)
damalur's firstclasskink on Delicious.
Volunteers always welcome.
Please use the Discussion Post if you want to talk about community alterations or get my modly attention. Do not ( Read more... )
Erik let his gaze drift over Hank McCoy. He held himself like a young, eager professional who was ready to snap up the first bit of business he could. There was a hint of nerves in the way he sat on the edge of his seat, but Erik could find no raw fear in McCoy’s face. If he was Shaw’s associate, then he was a freelancer-someone brought in for a one-time gig. But Erik couldn’t imagine this skinny kid doing anything more physical than lifting a camera.
But then again, Erik had been wrong about people before. So it was with great care that he watched McCoy’s face when he spoke the name, “Special Agent Moira MacTaggert.”
There was a pause, a moment of confusion, before the name snapped into place and realization flickered in McCoy’s eyes. He drew himself back and the eager color in McCoy’s face receded, leaving only an unhealthy pallor.
“She sent you?” McCoy asked.
Erik nodded. He didn’t say anything else. Erik wasn’t in the habit of giving out valuable information.
McCoy looked as if he needed something to fidget with-he moved to grip a camera that wasn’t around his neck. He clasped his hands and twisted the fingers together. “I was doing a shoot,” he said. “It wasn’t a paying gig, but I needed to get out. I did some urban shots, thought I might put together a series on local architecture. I was near that cluster of old hotels-you know, downtown. Some people showed up in a few of the photos. I really didn’t think anything of it, until I was cropping some of them on my computer. I had zoomed in to erase some of the faces, because I didn’t have permission to use these people in my work. But as I was working, one of the men looked really familiar. It wasn’t until a few days ago that I realized where I’d seen the face before, um, on America’s Most Wanted.”
McCoy rose and walked to the desk. Pulling open one of the drawers, he began shuffling through a series of papers. It took a moment for him to find what he was looking for-a large picture printed out on cheap office paper. He handed it to Erik.
Erik was no judge of photography, so he couldn’t tell if the picture was any good. The shot was of the front of an old hotel, the focus on the elaborate sculptures worked into its stone entryway. But even so, Erik could see the two men standing by the stairs leading into the hotel. The man in the foreground was starkly featured, with brown hair and a wedge of a nose. Only his profile was in view, but even then Erik could see the smirk on the man’s face. He stood with his hands in his pockets, shoulders thrown back in a posture of indolent confidence.
It was Shaw.
“I called the FBI,” McCoy continued. “Found the agent in charge of Shaw’s case. Figured she would know what to do with this information. But… she didn’t take the photos. She said it wasn’t safe, but she’d be sending a representative later.”
Erik’s fingers tightened on the photo and it bent in his hand; he made a conscious effort to relax his grip. “Do you remember anything about this man? While you were taking the photo, did you see who he was with? What he was doing?”
McCoy was already shaking his head. “No. I’m sorry. I didn’t realize the man was a criminal until days after the fact.”
“When was this photo taken?” Xavier asked.
“Uh, six days ago.” McCoy looked as if he were doing some mental math. “I called the FBI three days after that.” He unclasped his hands and held them, palms out, in a gesture of apology. “I’m sorry I’m not more help.”
Erik nodded. “I’d like copies of all the photos you took that day.” If McCoy had taken other pictures in that area, there might be clues that the kid hadn’t stumbled upon.
“I can burn all the files to a CD for you,” McCoy said, leaping from his chair. He looked almost grateful for something to do. “Just give me a few minutes.”
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