Oxnard

  Wright Residence

  Saturday

  Early Evening

  Lani bounces on a large yellow ball across the living room floor. Across the room, Devon and Patricia are engaged in a VR battle. However, the adults are engaged in lively conversation; the television volume set very low.

  Dave is seated on a large beanbag in front of the couch. Octavia is positioned strategically behind the deputy, her arms draped lovingly around his shoulders. To their right, Markus leans on the armrest with an elbow. He gestures with both hands as he tells his vibrant tale.

  "I wish I could say it was a slam dunk case. But really, there are no true slam dunk cases. Every case presents its own legal challenges and no two cases can be looked at from the exact same angle. Anyone who says a particular case is a slam dunk...Either wasn't paying attention in law school...Or they should've dropped out before they showed their ignorance."

  "Well, I don't know," Dave says. "I'd figure that case of the old woman with the extremely hot coffee would be a slam dunk. I mean, two-hundred degrees is two-hundred degrees. No one drinks coffee that hot!"

  "True," Markus says, nodding respectfully. "But you also have to prove the employees knew the coffee was too hot. Not to mention, that they failed to warn the customer. A lot of ways around liability these days."

  "Ha. You mean...Accountability?" Octavia huffs, bending and kissing Dave's cheek.

  "Same thing," Markus replies, glancing over at Devon and Patricia who have begun quarreling. "It's all legal speak."

  Lani bounces past the couch and waves a hand at Dave as she passes by his feet. Dave draws his legs up to give the excitable child more room to safely bounce. Octavia uses her lover's knees as a resting spot for her hands while Dave rests his palms on the carpet beside him.

  "Dad!" Patricia suddenly yells, ripping off her VR helmet. "Devon won't stop killing my animals in the game. He knows I'm collecting them for health points. He literally drowned my chicken. Dad, make him stop!"

  "Patricia...We've been over this," Markus says impatiently. "It's a game. You two either figure it out...Or that game goes away for a very long time. I'm not going to tell you two again. Play nice with each other or find something else to do."

  Rather than hash out their differences, Devon and Patricia decide to call it quits. Patricia shoves her VR set under on armpit and stalks away. Devon shrugs, removing his VR helmet and smiling.

  "I win. Yes."

  "Devon! You need to learn to play nice with your sister. You get used to cheating and you'll wind up in trouble real fast. You understand?" Markus chides his only son.

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  "Sure, Dad," Devon says, his six-year old brain already thinking about the warm sugar cookies on the kitchen countertop. "I promise. Can I have a cookie now?"

  Markus shakes his head in resignation and waves toward the kitchen. The weary father's voice is low but authoritative.

  "Why not? But just one. I don't want you spoiling your dinner by filling up on sweets. One cookie, Devon. One."

  "Okay, Dad," Devon pouts, dejectedly slinking into the kitchen.

  "Well, anyway. Veronica will be back tomorrow. Her flight doesn't get in until around six o'clock. I am so glad. These kids are about to drive me crazy. Between the weekend madness and those damned teacher's in-services last week...The kids have been at each other's throats for days. I need a break."

  "Ha. Just imagine how Veronica feels," Dave laughs. "Being with them twenty-four...."

  Dave's personal cellphone rings before he can finish his statement. Adjusting his bulk on the giant beanbag, Dave retrieves the device from his left pocket. He grins widely upon seeing Detective Mackey's number.

  "Hey, Mack!" Dave gleefully answers. "What's up? First time I've heard from you in a bit. You and the little lady staying busy?"

  There is a brief silence as James considers how to proceed. Having chosen to remain at their secondary home, rather than face Madison, James stands in front of the kitchen window. A sorrowful tear slides out of the corner of his right eye.

  "Uh, sure...Dave," James manages to say. "Dave...I'm in a bit of trouble."

  "Uh-oh," Dave groans. "What'd you do now? Forget to clean out the coffee pot again? Leave your firearm where the kid might play with it? I've told you about your wandering mind, James."

  "It's nothing like that, Dave. Although, I have to admit...I wish it was. It would be a lot easier to deal with. I don't know how in the hell I'm gonna deal with this situation."

  At this point, Dave senses the seriousness of the matter from the tone of James' voice. Not to mention, the hint of strong emotion nearly choking off the young detective's words. Something is in fact very wrong in the City of Castleton.

  "Spill it, Mack!" Dave almost growls. "What's up? What's going on? And don't leave out any details. You know I'll just find out anyway."

  Behind Dave, Octavia straightens up. An expression of alarm alters the female detective's previously calm face. Dave's sudden change in demeanor tells her something is going down. And whatever it is, it isn't good. Why now? Why does evil always choose a time like this to strike?

  Turning away from his kitchen window, James rotates his shoulders before launching into his narrative.

  "Officer Melbourne...One of the officers from my department...Was found dead in an abandoned building at the proposed site of Castleton Plaza. I suspect, and evidence suggests, that her body was used as a decoy to lure one of our officers down there. Namely...Me. I don't know why. But someone called in a phony call to dispatch using Melbourne's voice. Bertram concluded that Francine was already deceased at the time the call was made. She couldn't have made the call. So someone else did."

  "What the hell?" Dave whispers angrily under his breath.

  "But that's not all, Dave. There was a young woman hiding out in the building. She was the real hostage. Turns out...The woman in hiding was Mayor Simon Gunther's secret lovechild. I followed her up to the roof....And someone took her out with what I can only assume was a well-placed sniper rifle. That much will be hard to figure out. When they fished her body out of the river today...There wasn't much left of her head. Bertram says the damage was probably caused by a boat propeller. It's gonna be hard to prove ballistics. And my innocence. Thanks to Mitch the Asshole Turner, everyone thinks I shot the poor woman. I've, uh...I've been relieved of duty. Pending a very thorough investigation."

  Dave leans forward on the beanbag, staring at his phone like it is a foreign object. He presses the device to his right cheek and growls into the speaker.

  "You know what, Mackey? It seems...I can't leave you alone for one minute."