Write about a roll of film that has been obtained surreptitiously.

*****

The warehouse barely kept out the night. Darkness pressed in on the high, small windows, and only a bare florescent bulb hanging above the grey-blue steel worktables kept it from flooding in and filling the corners of the cavernous room. A thud echoed off the bare brick walls as a side door was thrown open. Gilda strode in, tossing back her strawlike hair as she flipped the Ziploc bag of film towards Wayne with a triumphant smirk.

“Here it is. Cameron snitched the backpack a couple of blocks after the guys made the drop. Stupid thugs. They let down their guard way too fast. They know it’s gone, so we have to move quick. They couldn’t catch Cameron.” she gestured at the slight young teen in the grey hooded sweatshirt who had slumped in behind her, ” The little bastard is quick — but they’ll be on the hunt.”

“Were you followed?”

Gilda gave him her best “go to hell” look. “Of course not. Don’t be an idiot. We took all the necessary precautions. There nowhere near here.”

She leaned casually against one of the cold worktables, trying not to wince as the winter chill on its metal edge branded a streak across the back of her jeans. She crossed her arms, only partially for warmth. “So what’s in these that is so damned important?”

Wayne was completely ignoring her. He bit his lip as he turned the bag over in his hands. His fingers trembled from more than the cold as he traced the unremarkable edges of the black and yellow cartridges of film. “I’m not completely sure. All I know it is Misty died right after they were taken. And if these guys are paying money for them, clearly there’s something in these shots that someone doesn’t want public.”

He looked up at Gilda with a flame burning behind his eyes that did nothing to reduce the chill in the room.

“So let’s make them public.” Wayne turned and headed for a maintenance closet at one end of the long open area. Gilda threw a look at Cameron. “Keep an eye on the door, and raise holy hell if anyone comes in. The boy nodded and shuffled off to sit in the “living area,” which was a shabby sofa next to the tiny space heater along one wall.

Gilda quickly followed after Wayne. Throwing open the door, he revealed another work table jammed in to the tiny space. The smell of darkroom chemicals hit her full. in the face, and she wrinkled her nose at the stench. Wayne didn’t seem to notice or care. He flipped on the red bulb overhead. It’s dull light revealed empty tubs and vats of photographic chemicals, which let of a smell that permeated the entire area. He stepped inside and looked back at Gilda, who was watching him with a sudden look of understanding on her face.

“You were in love with her.”

Wayne didn’t respond. “You want to see what’s on these or not?”

Gilda fallowed him inside the closet and closed the door.