Up above the rocks, the park was quiet. The only sounds that could be heard were those of cars driving overhead on the Whitestone Bridge.
The park, which spanned an acre and a half of open land, sat in the shadows beneath the bridge, with the East River as its north border. Surrounded by a residential community on its remaining three sides, the park had been structured into a sloping hill. Filled with a variety of greenery, it contained a small playground beneath the base of the bridge, a bicycle path, and dozens of wooden benches, which people used to take in the view.
Turning to his left to look further up the street, he noticed a piece of wood hanging from the rail. He couldn't make out what was written on it because it was covered with ivy. Climbing through weeds and bushes, he made his way over to the fence. After pulling back the ivy with both his hands, he couldn't believe his eyes. Engraved into the plaque was 12 Crimson Lane.
12 Crimson Lane, six acres of land located in Powells Cove with a private road intersecting First Street. The property, stretching down to the East River, listed an eighteenth century mansion on the grounds.
Father Sumner nodded in response and drove on. Turning onto First Street, he paid close attention as he approached the piece of property the Bishop had spoken about.
"This is it," he said, pulling into the driveway. " Twelve Crimson Lane."
Dark green, dreary woods surrounded her. It resembled nothing of the place she once knew.
On first impression, the grounds resembled nothing more than a wild, overgrown woodland.
She reached the end of the shadowy woods. In front of her lay a clearing and beyond it sat the old Stedman estate.
"I don't know," she said, wiping her eyes. "I found one of her cameras on the Stedman estate grounds."
"Why do you want to know about the Stedman estate?"
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