A/N: Hello everyone! Thank you for your wonderful feedback on the last chapter. I'm so glad you're enjoying this storyline!
Chapter Seven
The man's name from the television was George Zimmerman, and a quick Google search led Gwen to his phone number. He worked at the same environmentalist group as Sally Mason, and wrote a number of articles on the website about pollution and corporations abusing natural resources. When she got home from OsCorp one day, she dialed his number and felt her stomach twist further with each ring. She didn't exactly know what she would tell him. Or if he would speak with her. The phone clicked to a voicemail and she left a brief message with her name and a request to meet. After repeating her phone number she hung up.
It took Zimmerman a few days, but when Gwen's phone rang on Friday night, she immediately recognized the number flashing on the screen. She took a deep breath and then answered the phone.
"Hello."
"Hi, is this Gwen?"
"Yes, this is her," she said, nerves making her voice sound strange.
"I'm George Zimmerman. You called me earlier this week about Sally Mason. You wanted to meet?"
"Yes," Gwen said, finding herself growing bolder. "I saw you on the television when they were reporting Sally Mason's death. I know that she was investigating OsCorp's waste practices."
"How do you know that?" Zimmerman asked suspiciously.
"I…I can't say," Gwen said. "I'd prefer to keep my sources anonymous. But, if we could sit down and talk sometime. You seem to know what she was looking into."
"I do," Zimmerman said, his voice still hesitant. "Why are you interested in this?"
She thought of all those people who died in the incidents at the harbor, and then she thought of Peter. She thought of his bruised body after going against the creature the first time, and then all the subsequent bruises.
"I'm interested because it needs to stop. Whatever they're doing, they need to be stopped."
Zimmerman didn't respond for a moment, and she almost thought he was going to hang up when he said, "Meet me at Holebrook Cafe tomorrow at four. I'll have The Jungle on the table."
"Okay, thank you for…" she trailed off when she was met with the dial tone.
Peter and Gwen sat in the cafeteria, Peter examining his plate of food as he picked at some lumpy gray stew with his fork. He shook his head and said, "I really should have known better than to get the chef's special. It never ends well."
"Uh huh," she said absentmindedly, taking a bite of her sandwich.
"I don't understand how they can put edible ingredients together, and end up with something so revolting. Really, it's a talent."
"Yeah."
He looked up from his plate, surprised at her lackluster part in the lunchtime conversation. Usually he was the one poking around for words while she talked around him in circles. Now, she was uncharacteristically monosyllabic.
"Gwen, what's going on?"
"Nothing," she said, taking a sip of her drink. He gave her a look and she said, "Really, it's nothing. Now, what were you saying about your food?"
"Nothing worth repeating," he said dismissively. "You sure you're okay?"
"I just haven't really been sleeping well," she said. Ever since she learned about Sally Mason's death, she spent her nights tossing and turning. Peter nodded, not asking for a further explanation. He didn't need one. After seeing the things he did, she figured he didn't get much sleep, either. She shifted positions in her seat, crossing and then re-crossing her legs. He was watching her again, clearly not convinced that it was only a lack of sleep causing her behavior, and after considering it for a moment more, she told him about her phone call with Zimmerman.
"You're meeting with him?" he asked, jaw tense.
She nodded. "He knows what Sally Mason was looking into. I think he'll be able to give us some insight into what we're dealing with."
"Where are you meeting?"
"Holebrook Café," she told him, opening her cup of yogurt. A bit of yogurt smeared on her finger and she wiped it on her napkin.
"When's the meeting?" he asked.
"This afternoon at four."
"You're meeting already?" he asked, clearly surprised by how quickly things had come together. She smiled slightly and said, "I work fast."
"Yeah, uh, you definitely do."
"To answer the question you're not asking," she began knowingly. "He seems like a nice guy. Not at all the type to stuff you in their trunk or anything."
Peter frowned at her glibness. "I'm sure he does."
"And we're meeting in a public place," she said. "It'll be fine."
"Any chance you'll let me come along?"
She gave him a look and asked, "Any chance you'll let me?"
Peter laughed, shaking his head. "It's going to be like this for every step of the way, isn't it?"
"It's not my fault you're so stubborn," Gwen said. Peter smirked and said, "I was going to say the same about you."
Without thinking, Gwen said, "Well, look at us. A perfect pair."
The moment the words left her mouth she regretted them. Her cheeks flushed and she began stammering that she meant a perfect pair in a crime fighting sense, not in any other sort of sense that might be implied.
Peter nodded stiffly. "Right. Of course."
Gwen was a bundle of nerves before her meeting with George Zimmerman. She kept telling herself that she could do this. Even more, she could do this and do it well. The notebook tucked in her bag was filled with the questions she wanted to ask him, and she had rehearsed them briefly before heading over to Holebrook Café. She spotted him in the corner, The Jungle prominently displayed on the table. Reminding herself to breathe, she composed herself and headed toward his table. She stopped short when she spotted Peter seated in the opposite corner with a perfect view of Zimmerman's table. Her mouth dropped open in surprise, and she quickly maneuvered through the tables over to where Peter was sitting.
"What do you think you're doing here?" she demanded softly, hands planted on the table as she leaned in.
He looked at her innocently and said, "I'm just enjoying some coffee."
She was about one smart remark from pouring that coffee he was enjoying down his pants. Or throwing it at that ridiculous innocent look he was shooting her. Did he really think she was that dense?
"Peter," she warned. "If you're going to keep tabs on me, at least admit to it."
"Fine," he said. "I'm here to keep tabs on you."
"That's it!" she shot back, pointing at his accusingly. "That's…that's just like you! You don't trust me to do one simple thing!"
"No, I don't trust this Zimmerman guy you're meeting," Peter corrected. "Besides, we said we would work together."
"Yes," Gwen said slowly. "But remember where you asked if you could come with, and I said no?"
"Technically I'm not with you," he said. "I'm on the opposite side of the café."
"You are unbelievable," she bit out. "Seriously, you are-"
"You're going to be late for your meeting," Peter interrupted, glancing at his watch.
"We're not done talking about this," Gwen warned before leaving. As she walked to Zimmerman's table, she thought how much that exchange was akin to her parents when they would argue. Shaking away the thought, she stopped in front of Zimmerman's table and asked, "George Zimmerman?"
"You must be Gwen," he said, removing the book from the table and putting in his messenger bag. She settled across from him.
"Thank you for meeting with me," she said. " I really appreciate it."
"It's no problem," he said, watching her carefully as she pulled her notebook from her purse.
"So, uh, where should we start?"
Peter knew she wouldn't be happy he was there. He had envisioned a number of ways that she would ream him out when she saw him there, and her actual reaction was not far from the imagined ones. He couldn't let her go in alone, though. Yes, he was probably being overbearing. And the chances of something happening in the interview were slim to none. For all intents and purposes, this guy seemed to be on their side. He couldn't be sure, though, and for that reason he claimed his table in the corner and watched them.
Zimmerman was talking, and whatever he was saying had Gwen's entire attention. She hastily scrawled notes in her notebook, only looking down at the paper for brief moments before hungrily returning her gaze to Zimmerman.
Zimmerman was similarly engrossed in their exchange, leaning forward intimately as he talked. He occasionally used hand gestures, his hands gliding in the space between him and Gwen to illustrate a point.
They spoke for about thirty minutes and Peter could see Gwen had filled at least six pages with notes. Zimmerman stood first and she followed him, extending her hand for a farewell shake. Zimmerman took her hand, grasping it as he said something to her. She nodded emphatically, covering their hands with her spare one. Zimmerman walked out of the café, casting Peter a look at the door as if to say he knew he was there the entire time.
Gwen walked over and sat opposite Peter. He waited for her to tell him what they had talked about, and when she remained quiet he asked, "Is it that bad?"
"It's bad," Gwen said. "It is very bad."
"What is it?"
"Sally Mason got an anonymous tip that OsCorp was pumping waste into Billings Harbor," Gwen began, pulling her sweater tighter around her torso. "So, her and Zimmerman went down to the harbor to do some tests. They found the pH balance completely off. The levels should have been toxic to the fish, but instead of them dying something else happened."
"The mutations?" Peter said.
Gwen nodded. "He said it was minor at first. They wouldn't have even noticed it if they weren't looking. But then the ferry accident happened."
"That's what made Mason go to the papers," Peter guessed, waiting for affirmation. Gwen nodded. "Do you think she was killed, then?" he asked.
"It seems too coincidental," Gwen said. "I mean, this environmentalist is about to take OsCorp through the ringer and happens to get caught in the middle of a home invasion?"
"It's possible but unlikely," Peter agrees.
Gwen shifts in her seat, something about her exchange with Zimmerman still bothering her. Peter sensed her preoccupation and asked, "What is it?"
She swept her eyes to his and said, "Peter, if they really did kill her because of what she found, what the hell are they pumping into that harbor?"
A/N: I'd love your thoughts!
Just a quick heads up - there will not be an update until Monday. See you then :D