The smell of fresh and new cleaning products swam into my nostrils as I walked forward, into the museum. The inside was bright, yet ever so dusty as I continued walking. For some odd reason, there was nothing really on the old green walls. It seemed almost like the wall itself was the art piece, yet I knew that was far from the untold truth. And the very reason I knew, was because there was a single panting on the wall.

The painting had streaks of paint slashed accord with different abstract shapes covering the page. It felt right hanging on the wall, the green blending with the blue in the strangest of ways as it hung there on the nail.

I looked for anyone, anyone I could ask to see where the rest of the paintings had gone.

But I was alone, standing in a large room, glancing at a large wall. And I only hoped someone could help me.

The painting looked like a painting made by a famous painter only in there first or second year of painting. It looked less of a masterpiece and more like a clue of some sorts the longer I stared at it.

Then I understood. I understand all of it, the reason the museum was empty, the reason I left to come here rather then the park. I understand it all.

I walked forward to the panting and carful not to touch the paint, I turned it upside down. With a click, then a ding, it opened like a safe door.

And unfortunately, the only thing on the other side was a paper, and a body.

I sat with my lighter in my hand flickering it on and off, then on and off again. Other then my lighter flicking, the room was dark and dusty.

The phone on the bedside table buzzed, lighting up and showing the name “Mark Heisenberg, FBI”

This was, unfortunately, a more of a normal call then non. Mark had helped me get my name out of several cases and made sure I kept my job. “Hey Mark, what’s the problem this time?” A voice, deep and country like responded from the other end “Problem? Can’t a friend call for fun?” “Did you?” “No, not at all, your name was brought up in the Magnus case. He asked for you especially to interrogate him”

Out of all the times Mark called me, this was by far the weirdest way my name was brought up. Last time, for example, there was a possible arson threat at my property.

             “Why me? There’s at least a hundred agents active currently “

The other end of the phone grew quite. And while the other end was silent, I grew impatient. While I was holding my lighter before, I had set it down when Mark had called. When it comes to business, personal or work, the caller gets my undivided attention. A crackle came from Marks end as he finally said “Magnus says he’s your son” My face had gone white, and if I were standing up I was not anymore. This new was impossible, my son had died in my very arms on December 3rd, at exactly 12:40. I remember the time and day so clearly, it was like it was my birthday. “My son is died Mark, you know this” “I know this, but unfortunately, his DNA says otherwise “