Shadows stretched long across the Sterling Gallery's polished marble, a silent sentinel in the fading twilight. Luna watched from across the street, a cold dread twisting in her gut. She clutched her messenger bag, the stylized 'S' symbol from Lyra's painting burning in her mind. It was time to find Frank.
Minutes later, he emerged, a burly figure in a crisp security uniform, his face etched with the weariness of a man nearing retirement. Frank. Lyra had spoken of him once, a kind man who'd always offered her a coffee when she worked late, who admired her spirit.
Taking a deep breath, Luna crossed the street, her heart hammering against her ribs. She moved with purpose, her gaze fixed on him. "Frank?" she called out, her voice a little shaky.
He stopped, his eyes, tired but alert, narrowed slightly. "Can I help you, miss? The gallery's closed."
"Luna. Luna Hayes," she introduced, extending a hand. "I'm a friend of Lyra's. Lyra Vance."
Recognition flickered in his eyes, a brief moment of softening. His grip was firm, calloused. "Ah, Lyra. A real shame, that was. A real shame." His voice held a genuine sorrow.
"I know it was," Luna agreed, her voice dropping. "And I don't believe it was an accident, Frank. Or… suicide."
His brow furrowed, a flash of defensiveness. "What are you talking about? It was all over the news. Tragic, but an open-and-shut case, they said."
"They said a lot of things," Luna countered, stepping closer, her voice barely a whisper. "But I knew Lyra. She wasn't that person. There's something more, something hidden. And I think the answers are inside that gallery."
Frank shifted uncomfortably, glancing around the deserted street. "Look, Miss Hayes, I can't help you. My job, my pension… I can't risk it."
Pressure mounted in her chest. She had to make him understand. "Lyra deserved more than a quick headline. She deserved justice. Didn't she mean anything to you?"
He winced, his gaze falling to the pavement. "Of course, she did. A bright, talented girl. Always had a kind word. But what do you expect me to do? Break into the company servers?"
"Not break in," Luna clarified, her eyes locking onto his. "Access. You have access, don't you? To the archives. The security logs. The employee files from that period."
Sweat beaded on her forehead despite the cool evening air. Her gamble was risky. If he refused, her options dwindled to almost nothing. This was her best, maybe only, shot.
"I'm not asking you to steal anything, Frank. Just… to look. To confirm what I already suspect. That something isn't right about the official story. Something the Sterling family doesn't want anyone to find."
The mention of the Sterling family made his jaw clench. He looked up, his eyes meeting hers, a silent battle raging within him. Fear warred with a deep-seated sense of injustice.
"The Sterling's are powerful, Miss Hayes. More powerful than you can imagine. They crush people who get in their way." His voice was low, gravelly.
"I know," Luna admitted, her resolve unwavering. "But Lyra was crushed. And someone needs to answer for it. For her." She saw a flicker of the old admiration, the kindness Lyra had spoken of.
He sighed, a long, weary sound, his shoulders slumping. "What exactly are you looking for?"
A spark of hope ignited within Luna. "Anything related to Lyra's final weeks. Her access logs. Any unusual visitors. Any changes to her schedule or studio access. Most importantly, I need to see the gallery's security footage from the day she died. Every angle."
Frank rubbed his chin, his gaze distant. "Footage is archived. Not easily accessible for outsiders. And company policy…"
"Company policy led to Lyra's death, or at least covered it up," Luna interrupted, her voice sharp with conviction. "Please, Frank. For Lyra. Just one look. A few minutes. I won't cause trouble. I just need to see."
He hesitated, then slowly nodded. "I can get into the older system. Not the main server, but the backup. It's a risk. A huge risk for me. If anyone finds out…"
"No one will," Luna promised, her voice firm. "I swear it. I'll be discreet. Just tell me when and where."
His eyes scanned the street one last time, a haunted look settling on his face. "Wednesday. Midnight. Back entrance to the loading bay. Don't be late. And don't bring anyone else."
"Thank you, Frank. Thank you." Relief washed over her, chilling her to the bone. This was it. A foot in the door. A chance to peel back the layers of deception.
He gave her a grim, knowing look. "Be careful, Lyra. Some ghosts bite back."