Bridgefield: A Fictional Narrative

"Can I assume your sister wasn't the quiet one? I caught up with my partner as he exited the building.
"I assumed the hair would give it away."
We both sat down in the vehicle before discussing our findings. I showed him the ticket like paper I had found in the notebook, which sparked recognition in his eyes.
"This is a time stamp for entrance at one of the docks."
These docks of course being something Bridgefield was famous for, or at the very least recognizable.
"Can you tell which one she went to?" I was unfamiliar with how much information these conveyed.
"It's possible, at the very least it will be worth checking out." With that he removed a folded piece of paper, that he had apparently located with her locker.
"We're meeting at the usual spot, bring what we discussed." The note's handwriting was astonishingly proper, the type you would expect to find printed in gold for a royal summon.
I leaned my head out of the car, the breeze carried a feeling of dampness to itself, the rain had ceased before we left the building, the sun breaking the clouds overhead. I could see the glistening cross overhead. Under no particular intent I asked something of Henry as he was hanging