There were many other places where he would have rather been... Jail. A snake pit. A firing line. Instead, he was home.

Ward stared blankly at the television screen as his wife listed, for the hundredth time, all of his failures and shortcomings.

He had been late for dinner, as he often was. In the past, it had been because of his job, but lately more to delay the inevitable clash.

She had remained civil while the kids were with them. But as soon as they’d gone to bed, her bile had spilled out.

It had become a routine—albeit a twisted and unhealthy one. They’d clean up the table while she derided him; he’d say some nasty things back while he washed the dishes; then he’d go pout on the couch while she blew her last fuses.

Not that he was perfect. Of course he wasn’t. He was just as flawed as she was—they both were human, after all. But sometimes it felt like they had reached a point where it was more about hurting the other person than offering constructive criticism.

“I’m so tired of this crap!” she lashed out. “You know you missed Peter’s game? Again!”

Was that today?

Damn. It was. He’d forgotten all about that.

Anything that affected his kids bothered him a lot more than anything Monica could say—or do.

But he was not about to apologize. At least, not to her. He’d talk to Peter... later. After he’d let her wind down. If he walked out on her, it’d just make things worse. He’d found out the hard way the easiest way to deal with his wife was to stay quiet while she poured all her venom out.

Sometimes, though, he’d pour some of his own. Out of spite. Or because he just couldn’t bear it anymore.

For the hundredth time, he wondered why they were still together. And, for the hundredth time, the answer came to him just as quickly. For the kids, of course.

“Enough is enough,” she said. “I’m leaving.”

That hit him like a ten-ton truck.

“What?” he asked, standing to face her.

“Oh, so now you talk!”

“What did you just say?” he insisted, anger rising in his voice.

“I said that I’m leaving. And I’m taking the kids with me. I’ve had enough of your attitude.”

“No.”

She laughed. “Is that all you have to say? You’re so pathetic.”

“You can go if you hate me so much, but you’re not taking the kids.”

“Are you real right now? Alright, I’ll bite. I go, they stay. Then what? You’re at work all day. We barely ever see you. You gonna leave the kids alone at home? Is that your plan?”

He frowned. “I’ll get a babysitter.”

“The hell you will! They’d be spending more time with her than with you, and much less with me. Not happening. I’m taking them, whether you like it or not.” Before he could say another word, she lifted a hand. “I warn you! I will take you to court over this if you make me. Who do you think the judge will side with? A never-at-home dad or a loving and distraught mother? You think on that, Brian. You think on that real hard.”

He stared at her in disbelief.

The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

How had it gotten to this? Had there been signs he’d missed?

Sure, they fought a lot, but they both loved their kids. They always put them before everything else. They never would have done anything that could hurt them... At least, that’s what he’d believed until now.

“Have you thought what this would do to them?” he asked.

He hated himself for letting his voice quiver.

“They’ll be better off this way, believe me. No more unrealistic expectations, at least. And you can still see them... whenever you can make the time.”

She finished putting away the dishes as he just stood there.

“I’m going to bed. You can sleep on the couch.”

She turned the lights off and walked out of the room.

For a long time, Ward stared at the spot where his wife had stood.

Then, slowly, he lay down on the couch and wiped a tear from his eye.

***

The young short-haired brunette stumbled into the room with a panicked expression on her face.

Her startled friend closed the door behind her.

“Are you sure you’re alright, Susan? You don’t look well.”

“I’m okay now,” she said, taking a deep breath as she tried to reason herself back to some form of calmness. “I’m safe now.”

“Safe?”

She looked up at him, suddenly worried. “Did anything strange happen to you recently?”

“You mean aside from you showing up after ten years of silence, looking like you’ve seen a ghost?”

She blinked. “I’m not making any sense right now, am I?”

“No, you’re not.”

Susan let herself fall into a chair. “I’m sorry. It’s been... a crazy week.”

“What happened to you?”

“The less you know, the better,” she muttered.

He threw his arms in the air. “Whatever, Susan! I’ll go get us something to drink.”

As he left the room, she stood and hurried to the window. She pushed a side of the curtain and eyed the street below. It was late enough now that everyone should have been home... but she still saw a couple walking by... and there, a tall dark-haired man...

Did he just look at her?

She pulled away quickly, her heart beating fast.

“What are you doing?” asked Adrian, as he returned with two glasses.

She rushed back to the chair. “Nothing.” She took the drink he handed her and downed half of it. “Thanks.”

“Why are you here, Susan?”

“I need help.”

He made a face. “Understatement of the year.”

“I’m serious! I have nowhere to go. I’m desperate, Adrian! Could I stay here? At least for a little while?”

“Of course, but—”

“Thank you! Oh, thank you so much! You’re a life savior!”

She jumped out of her chair and hugged him.

“I’m sorry to drag you into this mess... but I didn’t know where else to go.”

“Don’t mention it,” he muttered. “Though I wish you’d tell me—”

“Please don’t ask.”

He sighed. “Fine. Are you hungry?”

“Famished!”

“Alright. I’ll order us something to eat.”

***

The young detective stood in front of the house, an empty bag in his hand.

He knew no one would be home, as the doctor was at work right now. So he leaned down, lifted a pot of flowers that sat on the porch, and grabbed the keycard hidden underneath.

After unlocking the front door, Brown searched the living room. Every time he moved something, he was careful to place it back where it had been.

He was not really expecting to find anything unusual. The lipstick was at the lab, and they would soon have a name to match the prints found on the tube. He hoped it would be enough, as it likely would be their only clue. Whoever had killed John must have been a professional, as he had left no traces of his passage.

That was when Brown found it.

He almost missed it, too. It was small—tiny—and barely noticeable. Someone had placed it under a light bulb.

The place had been bugged.

That gave him pause.

What did it mean? Did it even have any connection with the murder?

It had to.

What else could explain its presence?

Not that the murder itself explained it any better.

He left it where it was and stepped into the dead man’s room.

Without hesitation, Brown headed for the desk. Above it, a painting hung on the wall. He lifted it and set it down gently on the floor, revealing a safe. He typed in a code and its door opened.

He pulled the bag open and tossed all the contents of the safe into it.

Several items were in there—a wallet, a ring with the symbol of a crescent moon, some papers, three books...

And a locket, too. He lingered on it for a moment, pursed his lips, and set it gently inside the bag with the rest.

Once he was done, Brown closed the safe, put the painting back on the wall, and walked out.

It was frustrating not to know what had happened.

Well, of course, he knew what had happened. He just didn’t know who had done it. Let alone for what reasons. And that, perhaps, was the most puzzling part of the equation.

The bug only made it all the more intriguing.

They had looked at the security cameras, but either they had been tampered with or whoever had committed the crime had known which spots to avoid to not appear in the footage...

Which, again, hinted at a professional.

He tossed the bag on the back seat of his glider and keyed in an address. The vehicle lifted off as he sat back and pondered.

Whatever it took, he would see this to the end.

No matter what.

He had to find out who had killed John Rosenkrantz.

That was the only way he could make sure it never happened to him again.