1

As Daniel dreamed, his mind went to the most wondrous places.

Places that had no buildings but old stone shacks and wood cabins. Old homes.

There was no sign of technology. Long, windy roads and forests dominated the landscape. Woods so thick a person could get lost and disappear.

There were no cars, only horses and carts. The only entertainment came from scrolls. People regaled stories with verve and exuberance, many listened.

He dreamt of dragons who flew with freedom. They owned the skies. As aeroplanes passed over people in modern times, dragons did the same here. It felt so real.

Though the skies were dominated by dragons, this world felt peaceful. Which was a sharp contrast to when his psyche went into the next dream.

It was anything but peaceful.

Debris was everywhere. Nearby buildings, broken and filled with flames. It was daylight, but the air filled with black smoke made the day look like night. Bodies, lifeless bodies were everywhere. Daniel crawled and touched the once warm skin of people who meant so much to him. He held them, grabbed them, and shook them for any sign of life.

There were little fires everywhere.

A woman called out for him. 'Daniel…. Daniel.' Her voice was weak, but it was a voice he recognised. His name repeated until it echoed out of existence.

The smoke grew thicker and dropped lower. Daniel was alone in the smoke that took hold of his lungs and filled them with the awful dread of this moment.

He wasn't alone here.

Big footsteps clunked and grew louder as the ground shook beneath Daniel Bridgewater. The boots stood next him as Daniel stopped his crawl. The boots were thick soled with a small heel to them. Above the boots which had no laces, but iron straps were more iron, in fact, it was iron-plated armour.

Before he knew it, Daniel was off the ground and held in the air. The pain grew across his body, eyes, his eyes which burned from all the smoke, could focus on what was in front of him.

Daniel's vision blurred as the giant man who looked like he wore a jousting mask. Daniel managed to grab and open the mask. He saw who this monster was.

It was him. Older, but was the spitting image of him.

The larger moved Daniel closer and said to him in a low raspy voice. 'You couldn't save them. You couldn't save her.'

This version of Daniel hung the other over a chasm. 'If you couldn't save her, of all people. Then why do you continue to live?' He looked past him and into the darkness below. 'If you can't choose between life or death. What do you choose? Did you want me to choose it for you?'

He dropped Daniel into the endless dark. Then a realm of red and fire loomed in closer and closer, before a land of spikes emerged and getting closer and closer until –

He woke up sweating and gasping.

He got up. It was dawn. The streetlights had started to turn off. He looked forward to nothing, but his mind was everywhere.

This is why he hated sleep. The one realm he couldn't control.

2

Daniel got dressed in his usual attire. It had gone past seven in the morning. He was hungry and decided to get some breakfast, he also decided to get Erica some breakfast. That would be cool since she did that for him.

As he walked to the reception, the fresh air agreed with him. Walking after a terrible night's sleep did help and it was something he relied on. He enjoyed the peace, lack of excitement.

He walked to the reception and entered it and saw that Andy was there and very much still on his phone.

'Englishman. Good morning.' He declared without even casting an eye at Daniel.

'Good morning.'

'How can I help you?'

'Where's that diner you said to us when we first booked in?' Daniel asked.

Andy's eyes remained fixated on his mobile. 'Yeah, come out of here, take a left, and go on for two minutes, then a right after another two minutes and it's there. The diner.'

'Thanks. Do you recommend anything on the menu?'

'I recommend a few of their waitresses, but don't say my name or they will spit in your food.'

'Why?' Daniel queried confused.

'Let's say that they couldn't take it when I moved on.' Andy answered nonchalantly.

'You're a real ladies' man?'

'I didn't put that on me. The good lord did. I'm blessed.' Andy explained finally taking his eyes off his phone. He looked at Daniel. 'I don't know why, but women love me.'

'I see it.' Daniel couldn't see it, not the outward aesthetics anyway.

Andy wore another Hawaiian shirt of even more gaudy colours, pink and red. To Daniel, it was too loud for this early in the morning. Andy's stubble had started the transition from having a little hair to a thickened beard. His red arm hairs stood up a little on his arms. The room was cool or he got some friction from something electrical. Unfortunately for Daniel, he found the answer to his query.

'If you're thinking did he get laid last night? You'd be right. If you are also thinking, did I drop her home? You'd be wrong, buddy. She got an Uber-like she'd said she would. She went back to her husband or fiancé or some clueless idiot.' He was straight back to his phone.

'You only date committed women?'

'They're the best. They want an adventure. So, call me Indiana Jones. Plus, there's no one hornier than a taken woman.' Andy revealed, 'They give me what they don't give those men.'

'And what's that?'

'Their truest, most unfiltered self. Most women are freaks, but fucking assholes make them feel like shit. Call them whores when these women wanna express themselves. But they need to express themselves and I allow them to be themselves and they want me so bad because of it.'

'Because you give them attention?' Daniel shook his head. 'It's not that easy.'

'When you boil it down to brass tacks English that's what it's all about with anyone. Give your attention and make a motherfucker feel valued. Then you got them. No matter what you do, they will at least listen to you.' Andy stated, his eyes barely moved from his phone.

'You a guru Andrew?' Daniel asked impressed.

'Andy and only Andy English. I don't claim to be a messiah. I know women. Well, the women around here. Not a clue what the women in Malaysia are like, but I sure would love to find out.'

'Can we be friends, for real, Andy? I could listen to you all day.' Daniel asked.

'Get in line, Buddy.'

3

Daniel reached the diner named Ralph's as per Andy's instructions.

The diner was quiet and had several booths spread out. To the left of the diner and to the corresponding sides around the counter and kitchen. Bathrooms were to the far left. A jukebox was near the middle of the main floor. There were pictures of Steelers players new and old and players from Penn State College.

Daniel noticed the picture of a young Royce Drysdale, Taylor Lambert, and Oliver Harris was up on the wall. Clearly younger had all had very long hair. They looked in a celebratory mood as they are lifting their helmets in what looked like a game they had won.

Harris. Daniel thought. I swear I heard that name before I met… Before Daniel could think more about that.

'Good morning, Hun,' A waitress came up to him, 'you looking to order?'

The waitress looked to be in her forties but looked younger, but her deep raspy voice matched her age.

A smoker Daniel mused to himself.

Her hair looked greasy, little unwieldy even tied back, few blonde strands escaped her bun. The light blue uniform with short sleeves, white apron, clip for her pad, and skirt fit the whole look of the place.

'Yes,' Daniel said as he snapped out of his thoughts, 'uh what's good here?'

'For this time of the morning. The breakfast special.'

'What's the breakfast special?' Daniel enquired.

'That's egg whites, bacon, and some hash browns. Some German sausages, mushrooms, and two slices of toast with Penn's finest churned butter. That will keep you full till lunch.'

The waitress named Brenda, spoke with such enthusiasm, Daniel could not say no.

'I'll have that please.' Daniel replied with a smile.

'Great take a pew and I'll get your order ready.' Brenda said.

Daniel nodded and sat in a booth three rows down from the door. He slid down the leather seats placing his hands on the table. He looked at the salt and sugar shakers. Then looking outside at the cars and trucks that went past.

The world just keeps on moving Daniel thought.

All that happened last night and all that's going to happen isn't going to change a thing in the great scheme of things.

There was some peace in that. Nothing was bigger than the world chugging along. Throughout his forty-one years, he had faced plenty of people who wanted to make a bloody impact on the world.

All that takes a toll he thought, this case will as well. He thought about Roman Wallace and how he was so close to him earlier. Before he left this earth, he was going to get answers.

This remained the only real reason that Daniel Bridgewater was still on this earth.

Then I can stop having these dreams Daniel challenged himself.

The door opened, the bell at the top of the door rang, snapping him out of his thoughts. It was a group of black men; they walked in laughing and jostling. They each wore workman's clothes. Coalmen's clothes, hard hats, thick boots, thick jackets. None of these men were small. They looked like American Football players going to work in the mines.

This was the largest concentration of Black people he had seen in Preston since he portalled here. There were five of them, he couldn't tell if they'd started their shift, or their shift had ended. They sat on the other side of the room in a booth. One of them, who was at the counter and asked for coffee, but could feel Daniel's eyes on him. He looked past himself and then at him.

'Do I know you?' The man asked Daniel. 'Could I help you with something brother.'

At once this was awkward and welcoming.

'Sorry no. I'm good.'

'With that accent, I thought you would be.' The man replied as he moved closer to Daniel. 'You one of them agents investigating the shit that happened in the warehouse up north a few days ago?'

'Fuck.' Daniel laughed to himself.

'What?'

'People do talk around here, don't they?'

'Yeah, gums flap, because nothing special happens round here or that's what they like you to think.'

Daniel looked at the man confused. 'What do you mean?'

'May I?' The man ushered to sit and Daniel who nodded yes. The man sat down. 'I'm Brandon Hopewell. You?'

'Agent Bridgewater.'

'Agent Bridgewater, ever since you and that sweet sister rolled into town. Some cops have been dying. Most are in mourning, but a few people round here, people who look like you and I are celebrating.' Brandon offered.

'Why?'

'A lot of them cops have been causing us some hell. False stops, planting drugs, unlawful killings. That shit keeps happening around here. A few years ago, I was in a county jail for thirty days.'

'For what?'

'Usual shit. Resisting arrest, a fucking arrest that should never have happened. I was at the wrong place at the wrong time and the wrong fucking cop was there.'

'And people are happy they are dying?'

'I see none of the good cops sticking up for us and if they are, their voices are small. Hell, they're non-existent. Blue wall of silence, eh?' Brandon paused. 'Most stops? Us. Most Arrests? Us. Most deaths? Us. Now they're someone out doing damage to them. No one likes the loss of any life, but these fuckers have parties when any of them they get one of us. Hell, I hear they had a chart, called the Blacklist for all the shit they have done to us, it was a weekly chart. Marks given for arrests, deaths, convictions. Then some internal report came out from state ethics board and the list got extinct, but they kept some of them bad apples.'

'Why are you telling me this?'

'Well to watch your back, because if you think you're one of them, you're already losing and you're gonna find that shit out the hard way Agent. Also to ask you to let that this man in black's shit continue. so, peace can come to us.'

'You know I can't subscribe to that. I'm working with them.'

'And some of them will work against you brother. Despite your authority, it doesn't matter to them. You can boil it down to you're still another brother. Hell, that Lambert could go to hell as well.'

Daniel's eyebrows raised. 'Why?'

'He was right-wing piece of shit, jumped on the train of all these politicians trying to make America the way it was. He and all those fuckers who died went out looking for brothers.' Brandon informed. 'Caused a few disappearances within our community. People who ain't coming back and that's why when you see us any of us, we come and go in groups. Too many of us have been taken.'

'How long has this been going on?'

'It's become more prominent for around five years. But you don't have to look to far to know that's it's been happening for a lot longer. The police don't give a shit about our missing people.'

'You're telling me that those men were part of some,'

'Yep.' Brandon continued. 'I know that man who got them is one of us. I can feel it. He made them suffer. Like they have made us suffer for years Agent Bridgewater. He's a brother and you need to let him do what he needs to do.'

Brenda came through with a plate of the breakfast classic and placed it in front of Daniel. It smelled good, but Daniel was distracted. 'What would you like to drink?'

'Coffee, milky with two sugars please.'

'Got it, Idris.' Brenda jotted that down and then looked at Brandon. 'You wanna order anything, Hun?'

'I'm going to order over there Brenda. Saying a quick hello to my new friend here.'

'Okay.' Brenda replied as she went into the kitchen.

'She called you Idris?'

'Because I am English.'

'Yeah, the accent.' Brandon acknowledged 'I wanted you to know that, leave the man to do this thing.'

'I can't do that. I'm here stop him.'

'All for a buck huh?' Brandon countered as he sat back, the disappointment was clear across his face.

'Ain't about the money.'

'Then what is it about Agent Bridgewater? What is it about for you, brother?'

'He's a killer.'

'So, you intend to stop this man, but not the ones sanctioned by the state right?' Brandon argued. 'Cause a lot of them killers are running free. Having their barbecues with their families and getting their pensions. We're…we're dying and we gotta smile about it like it's nothing. It is common. Like we deserve it. You think we deserve that shit, Agent Bridgewater?'

'No. Of course not.'

'Are you going to do something about it or are you going to smile like the rest of us and act like it's nothing.'

Daniel sat forward. His posture went from relaxed to intense in seconds. 'You don't know me so I'm going to let that one go. I know of the plights of people that look like us, we have a lot of that shit where I'm from. If I can do something, I will. I can't let this man kill any more people. Cop or not. That can't happen, but if I do find out something, something that affects you and us, I'll stand in the way of it. I need to and I've been doing that for a long time.'

'Words are words Agent.'

'Actions will happen.'

Brandon nodded. 'Well, you have a good day. Take care, Idris.' He got up and started to walk away.

'Brandon.' Daniel called as Brenda came and placed the coffee in front of him. 'Thank you.' He said to Brenda as Brandon turned round, he asked. 'You know the name of the groups?'

Brandon walked back and stood in front of Daniel. He leaned in close. 'They go by many names. The Riders, The Hunters of SA—Superior Age and I heard they call themselves The Greycloaks.'

'The Greycloaks.' Daniel said.

'Yep.' Brandon commented. 'If you're gonna go digging. Remember to find your way out, 'Cause if you go too deep you ain't coming back like some of those men.' Brandon added. 'Have a good day, Agent.'

'You too Brandon.'

Brandon walked back to his group slipping back into the ongoing conversation between the four men like it was nothing.

Daniel was alone and started to eat. There was a lot to process, but he was still hungry.

himself, 'The Greycloaks.' He said to himself.

4

Daniel and Erica met with Royce back at the station. They walked in and were met with the usual stares, but they noticed the number had greatly reduced to around ninety-four percent of the room that kept their eyes on them.

It felt like a drastic improvement for the circumstances.

Veronica asked if they needed coffee, both said yes and knocked on Royce's door.

'Come in.' called Royce.

Both were surprised as they entered the room. Royce had cleaned up the room considerably. Files were in boxes stacked up on the wall to the right. They were labelled too. Papers were no longer on the floor. Evidence bags were packed on a nearby shelf. The carpet on the floor was revealed to be certainly from the 1970s, with wildly eclectic oranges and reds blotched all over the place. This carpet needed to be burned or gotten rid of.

Royce's desk even looked clean. It was hardwood, with a few harsh black shavings around the sides.

'Yeah, I got in here early. I got to cleaning. This case takes precedent.' Royce mentioned as he pointed to his pinboard, which had pictures of the twelve victims. Above the pictures were three cards with the words Motive. Cause. NXT Target.

'Good work, Royce.' Erica noted, happy that Royce got to cleaning and felt like a brand-new man. Someone invigorated.

Daniel looked a little disappointed. He liked the mess. Genius was forged by mess. It gave Royce a little bit of character. Now he was like every other clean-cut cop. 'Nice.' He encouraged with no real enthusiasm. It was simple and the moment called for simplicity.

'We need to look at these men. Find out why they were there, why our guy in black was there and why he did what he did.'

'You heard of The Greycloaks?'

Royce sat down. The shock in his face could not be hidden. 'Where did you hear that?'

'From a citizen.'

'Was Taylor Lambert one of them?' Erica queried.

Royce sighed. 'Yeah.'

'Right-Wing politician. Led a right-wing group, has there been a foul play here. In this town.' Daniel probed.

'What do you mean?'

'From what this citizen told me,. Police haven't done anything about this group or the high arrest rates of black citizens.' Daniel paused. 'This true?'

Royce tapped the Bic pen he held as he listened to the question. Daniel could not figure if this was a sign of nerves or just an annoying trait of his. 'Taylor was very powerful here. His family, like Oliver's, is part of the history here in Preston. Their influence isn't just powerful, it's generational.' He paused. 'The demographics changed here as Pittsburgh and Philadelphia became too expensive, so more people, people who look like black people moved up here and well, most have taken to it and give no fucks about it. Like them as neighbours, like them as colleagues and employers. Friends and lovers... Others in this part of the world did not, some of them worked for the police. Some of them went into politics.' Royce stretched his back and closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them, he made sure he kept eye contact on Daniel and Erica. 'This was weird for me because we were in a football team, and we had great black teammates who were our friends, fucking brothers. Blood, sweat, tears and all that shit. Plus, we won district and state titles together, but something happened, Before you ask, I don't know what, but something happened to him, and he just changed. Started going to some of these rallies that were going around town, started going to those podcasts and the dark web. Like he was influenced by someone.' Royce paused again. 'We weren't talking then and well, once he went so far to the other side, I didn't want to know him. Then he won the local district seat, then mayor, and he was on his way.'

'Did he have influence? Here on the police. Local government?' Erica said.

'He would do.' Royce said, 'Some of these cops are good people, care about everyone in the community. Protect and serve everyone. There are just a few bad,'

'Apples.' Daniel and Erica said together.

'I've heard that song before. I don't like it.' Erica remarked.

'Neither do I.' Daniel affirmed.

'Same here, but what the fuck do you want me to do? I'm just one cop working through the system. I'm not a miracle worker and I'm certainly not like you two. Going around anywhere with no authority. Above our laws.'

You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

'We aren't above your laws. We just work to the one great law. The one true law. We protect the people against forces greater than their own. The very last line of defence.' Erica insisted with some pride.

'I want to clap, I really do. I felt that, but I'm still here and those people are still here, and we must work together. I must work with the best that I got and these officers, despite how I feel and how they feel. I must get on with it.' Royce concluded and looked emotionally exhausted from that exchange.

'I know you do Royce.' Daniel acknowledged as he looked at the board moving closer to it. 'But we must know why there was a right-wing group near enough slaughtered at a warehouse, why this group has been threatening, kidnapping and causing your black citizens with such dread. Is our killer a victim of them? With a town with his recent history of treatment of its citizens… could it be revenge?'

'Did I hear that right? You called our potential killer a victim?'

'No one's born evil, Royce. We were all innocent once in our lives.' Daniel clarified as he looked at each of the victims. 'Evil is forged over fucking time. It's bred into a person. Attractive to a right type of person. It's the cause and effect that can happen to anyone of us.'

'Where's the separation then? What separates the good from the bad?' Erica asked.

'If I knew that I'd be rich.' Daniel surmised. 'I've seen evil in many forms. Not much good came from them. Maybe it's choice. Maybe it's fate. Maybe it's a bit of both. I don't know, but something is going on in this town, a telekinetic and magic are here right now in this town, we need to figure the fuck out what's happening, or it is only going to get worse.'

'So,' Erica added as she walked up to the pinboard. 'We speak to the victims' families. Find out about these men. Find out who they were. Paint a clearer picture.'

Royce and Daniel both nodded in agreement. They all looked at each of the victims and focused on their faces.

5

The phone rang in Oliver Harris's office.

The room had glass walls and three glass tables. One for Oliver's desks which was the largest of the three. The other two were for decorative purposes. Some magazines were on them.

Everything in the room was new or cleaned to look new. The walls were only one way glass, so Oliver could see the world past the glass, but anyone else could not see into his world. He moved a glass of water across his desk without touching it.

The phone kept on ringing. He took the glass and drunk from it but kept his eyes on the phone. He clicked his neck and took a deep breath. He picked up the phone.

'Yes.' Oliver answered.

'Yooooou alone.' Came a voice that sounded haunted and hollow, but also with deep booming base.

'Yes.'

'Have yooooou received the equipment?'

'I have.'

'You said science would break through. You said that no spells could open.'

'The spell will be put into the machine. It is the blending I told you about.'

'Magic and science.'

'Yes.'

'But hoooooow did that work for you before, with your experiments?'

'The experiments are ongoing. They are like anything that involves progress sir. We go off-road, go a few different directions, but we end up in the same destination sir.'

'I worry for yooooou Oliveeeeer. Yoooooou bet a lot on this. Raylon bet a lot on yooooou. He allowed yooooou to where one of his bracelets. Said it would protect yooooou.'

'And I appreciate it sir.' Oliver replied with nerves.

'Yoooooou should. I will call for an update on the ongoing situation. There are no further problems?'

'No sir. Everything is handled and is on schedule sir.'

'Next time Olivvvver. Find a mirror to talk through. I hate these contraptions. Do not make meeeee ring yooooou again.'

'I will sir.' Oliver said and the phone disconnected. 'FUCK.' He screamed. 'Fuck.' He said with a lower tone. His right arm glowed purple and with a sweep of that arm, the glass slammed into the glass. He pressed a button on his phone. 'Lowrey.'

'Yes Mr Harris.' Came the female voice of Lowrey. She sounded startled, but she would as the glass of water hit the wall right near where she sat.

'I need you to clean up this fucking mess in my office. I got other messes to clean.' Oliver proclaimed as he looked at the shards of glass on the floor. 'Don't you fuck this up.' He said to himself.

6

The trips to the families did not go down well.

Most of them did not want to talk to anyone, the pain, the raw unfiltered pain of their grief was too much to disclose to anyone. The statements they gave to the local press were enough. Some tried to talk, but could only talk to Royce, "he being one of us." Which could be taken so many ways but once Daniel and Erica left, they didn't tell him that much.

They were good men, fans of Taylor Lambert. Loved what he represented. Loved that he spoke to the ignored part of the town and for greater purpose, the country. He brought these men together, made them feel good, made them believe that one thing could change for the better.

Of the families, only one spoke and agreed to speak to the three and it was the person that they did not think would talk at all. Jennifer Lambert.

The city of Preston had little built-up areas. No vast number of high-rises, no architecture that dominated the skyline, there was no skyline. What there were a vast number of was land and large houses on those lands. Royce drove another version of his Camaro. An older less blue, much greyer version, that wasn't a patch on his car, but he hoped that his car would be released and fixed soon.

They drove into a gated community having to be buzzed in. The high iron gate had long thick bars, above the bars was the name Englewood, made from golden iron. This part of Preston was where the rich resided.

The gate opened and they drove through. This part of the world was the next level of affluence. Houses so big that other houses were near a quarter a mile away. The area had its own medical clinic and food stores. Had its own gas station. There were facilities for the rich that meant that they really didn't have to leave. The only thing that the three did not see was a school, a police force, and a fire station. That would be close enough to its own community.

It was reductive to call these houses just houses. These were mansions, that were almost shameful in their own opulence. There were large fountains outside each of these mansions, open fields bigger than most of the city's other districts, there were other several football fields and basketball courts. Tennis courts.

As they passed through the large and wide boulevards, large yachts were either parked in front of houses, or as they saw as they came up to it, parked on a marina that was nearby, that for Daniel and Erica had some of the greyest yet clearest water they had ever seen.

The air seemed fresher here too and as they drove through the area, they also noticed that only one car passed them as they entered the community. That they took this trip through Englewood like they were the only ones there.

'Strange how this is here and yet, only a few miles away.' Daniel mused.

'Yeah, there's the poor. You ain't got that shit in London?' Royce asked.

'Yeah, we got that shit in London.' Daniel gazed all the wealth in front of him.

'That shit is everywhere.' Erica concurred. 'It lets people know who they are and sadly where others think they belong.'

Those words resonated with Daniel and Royce. There was much more to say on that.

They drove on past the marina and turned right. Drove into a road that had only four mansions on it. At the end of the road was the mansion that belonged to The Lamberts.

The Lambert's mansion had a gate and they had to wait to be bussed in. They were and they drove on a long path that led to the mansion. One either said of the path, tall oak royal oak trees lined alongside low bushes at the front. Past the trees they could see the green fields, that spanned for miles.

They pulled into what looked like a courtyard, complete with the seemingly pre-requisite fountain of what looked like a warrior angel pointing a bow and arrow into the air. The warrior angel was put on a pedestal, and around the pedestal were eight spouts that had water coming out of it.

This was on the middle of the courtyard, surrounded by slick road and parking. There were several trucks. A few Cadillacs, Toyotas, and some Chevrolets.

'Politics pays.' Erica remarked as she looked at the various cars parked.

'Taylor was rich before he got into politics. The Lamberts has a long history here in Preston.' Royce said as they parked in one of the few free spots the courtyards.

All three got out of the car and started to walk to the front door. The front of the house had four large white columns made of marble and had a Roman Empire look. At the front and had three floors.

'He claims to be the man of the people, the common man, but lives here. Away from his fans.' Said Erica who looked as they walked past the large columns.

'That was the magic of Taylor. No matter where you came from, he could sound like he could relate to you.' Royce said.

'You fell for the trick?' Daniel asked.

'Most do.' Royce answered quickly, like that answer was prepared.

They reached the front door. A thick oak made door with a lion's head as the door knocker, but the lion's head was larger then most, as it was made of thick iron, silver in colour. Royce knocked twice.

No response.

He knocked again, twice.

No response again.

Royce was about to knock the third time when the door opened and Jennifer Lambert opened the door dressed in all black short sleeved shirt and long black skirt, but was made up, red lip stick here, an earthy blush that matched her skin there, her long brunette hair tied back.

She looked at the three but kept her gaze on Daniel.

'Mrs Lambert.' Royce said.

'Royce.' Jennifer said, but she looked at Daniel as she said that. 'Come in.'

7

They sat in Taylor Lambert's study. It was full of bookshelves and most of the book were about American history, athletic trophies from American Football, Basketball and Ice Hockey.

There were pictures of Jennifer and Taylor. Wedding photos, holiday photos.

There was a centre rug, and the floor was smooth wood. Clearly buffed often.

They were sat on three sofas made of soft brown leather with shawls at the tops and sides.

That felt like Jennifer's choice Daniel thought.

'I didn't offer tea, you brits like tea?' Jennifer wondered.

'We do, but I'm fine.' Daniel answered.

Royce and Erica also said they were fine.

'So,' Jennifer remarked moving on faster than that conversation starter, then expected, 'You want to know about Taylor.'

'Ok,' Royce said as understood that Mrs. Lambert looked to cut to the chase, and he was obliged to assist. 'What was your husband doing at the warehouse the night he was murdered?'

'I don't know, there's things he tells me and there's things he doesn't.'

'Aren't you supposed to not keep secrets in marriage?' Daniel questioned.

'You clearly haven't been married. Got hit with the reality. They only work with secrets.' Jennifer countered.

'He met with the twelve victims. Did he meet with them often? Was he part of the right-wing group, The Greycloaks?' Erica questioned.

'He met with a lot of people. Taylor was the prince,' Jennifer paused as said her husband's name in in present tense, 'he was the prince of Preston. People loved him.'

'Was he part of the Greycloaks?' Royce probed with a hint of frustration.

'A lot of people loved him. People from all over.'

'Why do you think he was killed?' Daniel prompted.

'I want to say wrong place wrong time, but when someone is loved so much by some many, that person, who is in the public eye is going to receive hate. Hate from a person who doesn't love themselves, wants to be a loner, wants to be a loser. They want to the world to revolve around them and take the spotlight from themselves.' Jennifer went on as she sat forward. 'Whoever killed Taylor wanted to take his light, but all they did is make him stronger. They made him everlasting. They made the ones who loved him, adore him and that adoration will make him immortal.' Jennifer paused. 'The one who killed me made a major mistake one I believe he will pay for.'

'What makes you say that?' Erica queried as she sat forward.

'Someone who is loved like Taylor, someone will get him justice or vengeance. Wherever it is you guys and gal or someone else. But if he sticks around here, he'll be dead, and it won't take so long.' Jennifer affirmed.

Royce nodded and everyone noticed that Royce had his phone on record and was placed on the centre table.

'What do you know about The Engrave Corporation?' asked Daniel.

'They have several warehouses here and a main office in Patterson, recently built. They have put money into this city and Patterson.'

'Taylor had any links to them?'

'The only one I know is that Oliver Harris, his best friend, his oldest friend works for them. That's the only link I know.' Jennifer offered.

'Ok,' replied Royce, 'Does anyone else have any other questions?'

Daniel and Erica both shook their heads.

'Then that is that. Thank you, Jennifer, for having us.' Royce consoled as he pressed the stop button on his phone. 'I am sorry for your loss.'

'Are you Royce? Are you really?' Jennifer insinuated and the air just changed in the room.

'Sorry?' Royce exclaimed confused.

'If there was one person, one person who would have, what's the word? Ambivalent feeling about Taylor's murder?'

'Why?' Daniel asked.

'Not my business, well it was my business, but you will have to ask Detective Drysdale about it. That would be his business, but if he was honest to himself, if there was one person that felt glad that Taylor was killed then it would be Detective Royce Drysdale.'

They all looked like Royce as he barely held it together.

'I know you are going through a lot. I can't imagine the pain Mrs. Lambert. I can't and I'm truly sorry for your loss.' Royce sympathised as he took his phone and left the room.

Jennifer laughed. 'I don't blame him in some ways. After what he did to him. I'd feel the same way to.'

'I know that you know you won't tell us, but was it bad?' Daniel probed.

'Yeah, as bad as it gets in this town.' Jennifer replied. 'Excuse me.' She looked uncomfortable and got up and left the room.

Daniel and Erica watched her leave.

'Shit, this town.' Erica whispered as she shook her head and felt her forehead. 'All this drama.'

'Drama's everywhere,' Daniel continued, 'and we just found out some shit about Engrave. That Harris, who I think Marty was talking to before he shot himself works for Engrave.'

'You think they're involved.'

'Yes.' Daniel replied. 'Big time.'

8

As the black Camaro pulled out of the gated community of Englewood. You could hear a pin drop in the dead silence of the car.

What could be said?

Plenty, but there had to be a tactfully agreeable way to do this, to not hurt Royce or insinuate anything, but also at the same time, time itself was ticking and if Royce was holding back anything, then he needed to say something.

'I know what you are thinking.' Royce sighed. 'What the fuck was that about?'

'I did wonder.' Erica queried.

'I've known that woman for a long time. From when her name was Jennifer Henshaw. She was a cheerleader. Head cheerleader, meaning she was the most wanted girl in our school and usually they got with the quarterback.'

'And the quarterback didn't get with her.' Daniel coaxed.

'No.' answered Royce with obvious exhaustion.

'So, who did the quarterback get with?' Erica questioned.

'He got with the studious girl with brown eyes, a glorious smile, and the type of girls they wrote teen comedies about. The girl who grew up to be my wife.'

Erica looked confused once Royce said, "Teen comedies," and he leaned in. "Check out a film called She's All That. Then you'll understand.'

'So, she got with Taylor Lambert, the big fish in this town, as a rebound?' Erica asked Royce.

'He wasn't the quarterback and in any town across this country, the quarterback is the key man.' Daniel added.

'Ain't that right.' Royce sighed.

'But why would she say that you'd want him dead? You need to tell us Royce.' Daniel pushed.

There was a pause. Royce had to weigh up the options. Jennifer put him in this awkward situation, which he should have known she'd do. He realised that was probably the reason she wanted to be seen.

To get at him. There was no way of avoiding it.

'A few years ago, Taylor and Jennifer were having trouble and Taylor hassled my wife. She told me about it, and I handled it.' Royce explained.

'Handled it how?' Erica enquired.

'I met up with him and told him to stay away from my wife. He said no. I said you say no and you're going to put me in an uncomfortable situation, which will eventually put you in a difficult situation. That I was going to come for him and I'll make sure he's never seen in the same way again.' Royce paused as he took a right turn. 'You see, more than anyone else, Taylor really cared about what people thought about him. He acted like he didn't, but he did. If I put it out there in this fresh green town where our politicians, our local government, held to a higher standard, then he backed off. But he didn't like the fact I stood up to him and used his sway to get me demoted, put on the streets as a beat cop, then worked admin when I was ready for homicide. I was on my way and after Taylor worked his magic, four years of my career in homicide taken from me. All because I threatened him. It affected me and took its toll on my marriage. For a long time during that shitty period, I hated the man.' Royce paused again. 'I started drinking heavily, went around town, fucking telling anybody who was willing to listen and many who weren't that I wanted something bad to happen to him. I would love to see Taylor fucking Lambert dead.'

'Bad place, bad thoughts.' Daniel understood.

'That's right.' Royce responded. 'That's right.' He repeated a little more ruefully.

'So why would the man in black want you at the crime scene?' Erica challenged.

'Maybe it was someone I told during that time. Wanted retribution for me after I said all those things. Maybe Taylor did the same shit to them. I don't know.'

'How many people did you tell? That you wanted to end Taylor.' Daniel asked.

'Too many and I wouldn't remember exactly who. For a long time, I was the town failure. Failed Quarterback in college. I came back with my tail between my legs. I had no future because I didn't know that I could love anything more than Football. It was my longest relationship, then I found the police and I found my purpose.' Royce clarified with a little pride that poked through.

'Well, he wanted you there and we have to figure that out,' Daniel considered, 'but that will come. Right now, we have a new target. Engrave Corporation.'

'We're going to Patterson?'

'No, not yet. We must do some due diligence on Engrave and your old mate Oliver Harris, once we get what we need, something, some clue. We're going to pay him a brief visit.'

9

For Wilfred Johnson, the night shift at his gas station was the worst. Wilfred was in mid-sixties and left his hair a distinguished grey. The youthful vigour and pride that he once had for Johnson's Gas Station had long gone, he hoped he could start to look past this and have his own life. That his son, Odell, would take over, but Odell was not here. He was on a date and Wilfred had come in to bail out his son.

Instead of being sat at his couch and enjoying his favourite television game show, which was Jeopardy, the only screen he watched this night was the main CCTV screen. This showed the various pumps, the car park, the car wash, and the interstate that drivers drove through.

It was a slow night Wilfred would not be relieved until the morning where he hoped his son at least got a second date and not just had sex with a woman and swiftly leaving.

The boy needs to be married goddammit Wilfred thought.

The store section was well stocked with food, drink, magazines, maps, and toys for unruly children.

The lavatories were clean after Wilfred did his thing, he always done in the thirty years he managed this station. Wilfred's father passed to him, and his father received from Wilfred's grandfather. An annoyingly successful family business. Annoying in the sense it was the only gas station around in seventy miles each way.

Others had tried, but failed to move in the area, but the area itself may have been cursed. Various other gas stations came and went. Pumps exploded, Cars disappeared and sadly shooting sprees happened and the only one that survived or had the best luck was Johnson's.

So, the big companies stayed away. Too much misfortune. There are too many possible lawsuits.

A few cars came and went. Relatively uneventful.

Then a red Ford pickup truck came in from the interstate and pulled into the station at a relatively fast speed. It broke just outside the store.

Four men came out, two from inside the truck, holding their sides tight and two from the pickup. Those two leapt off the back of the pickup with exuberance, their hands in their pockets. All were white men, around their twenties, and gave nothing away.

Wilfred noticed one of them had a steely-eyed focus. He watched as they entered the store as the door was flung open and they filed in. The four then separated.

One man went to the freezer section, near the alcoholic drinks. One went to the middle section. One went to where the bathrooms were, and one walked directly to Wilfred, who was already at thought.

Wilfred had been in this job long enough to understand a flanking move. That the man near the bathrooms looked to see if anyone else was there. The other two had a look around.

Wilfred had easy access to a Smith and Wesson pistol which was already loaded. The pistol had a silver barrel and black handgrip. He had five clips available, a thirty-eight calibre with a fifteen round magazine locked and loaded. His right hand was ready to press on a police alert button. Next to that was the pistol.

They could just be rowdy, but they could also be dangerous. Wilfred had to be sure.

It was life and death.

The man who walked in front of him. Looked to his far right at the man near the bathroom who shook his head.

Wilfred gave a big gulp as a man, clad in black top and dark brown trousers came up to his desk. The man had heavy bags under his eyes, but those eyes looked straight at Wilfred who had to keep calm. 'You fellas, ok? You need any help.'

'We're good. Can I ask you a question?' The man ventured with an unconvincing smile and a wild look on his face.

'Sure.' Wilfred replied.

'Good. Do you believe in fate?'

'I guess. Why?' Wilfred asked as he kept his peripherals on the other three men.

'That fate could be bad for you and good for me. That fate decides things.' The man looked at Wilfred's name tag. 'Wilfred. You see you didn't know it, but today you were always, always going to be here. Like I knew it, we knew that we were going to be here. Fate is something you can't figure out and you cannot fight. It happens. Now when we woke up today, we knew that we were gonna rob here.' The man brought out his gun. This was a pump action shotgun. Wilfred had already pressed the alert button twice.

'Take out your hands. Slowly.' The man urged as the others all took out their own shotguns.

Wilfred did what he was told to do and took out both his hands as slow as possible.

'Take out all the cash from the till and stuff it in this bag.' The man threw a leather bag at Wilfred, it landed between him and the till.

Wilfred opened the till and slowly took out each bill and stuffed them in the bag. The man watched every move.

The man in the middle section, by the shelves asked, 'How are we looking?'

'We are looking good. Our new friend is doing what we are telling him to do and we got some cash.'

'Why me? Why here?' Wilfred asked as continued putting the bills in the bag.

'Why not?'

'No business deserves to be robbed.' Wilfred objected.

'Well, no one deserves to be poor, but hey it's the world we live in. The world isn't fucking fair Wilfred. It isn't fair at all.'

The till was clear, and Wilfred passed the bag back to the man.

'Thank you, Wilfred. Now you can pass me your gun and do not attempt to lie. Pass it slowly, any fast move and there'll be a hole where your face used to be.'

Wilfred once had fast hands, but age and time caught up with him. He slowly reached and passed his pistol to the man who took it. He surveyed it.

'God, I do love a Smith and Wesson. It's the smell after a bullet flies out. For me its intoxicating.' The man quipped with a smile that soon faded. 'Where's the safe?'

'Back office. Behind me.'

'Open the door, go in and open the safe.' The man ordered. 'I'll be right next to you.'

The man walked around the counter; Wilfred unlocked the small door that kept the counter from the rest of the store.

The man followed Wilfred but gave hand signals and the other men moved positions. They were in a small room with a big local area map on one side and the video recorder for the CCTV. The safe was dead centre. 'Open it.'

Wilfred kneeled slowly and turned the code, shifting left three times and right four times. The safe opened and there were more bills. The man pushed Wilfred to the floor and packed the bills.

The man hollered, 'TIME?'

'Five, no six minutes!' a voice came from outside the room.

'Time's ticking Wilfred.'

Wilfred rubbed his elbow, which hurt, but didn't reply straight away. 'If I was younger.'

'But you're not!' The man yelled and got right in Wilfred's face. 'You're not.' The man calmed as he stuffed the last bit of money into the bag, picked up Wilfred, pushing him back out to the counter. As they came out of the small room, the man walked out with the bag raised above his head like it was a great victory. He threw the bag at the closest man who caught it with ease. The man then destroyed the video tapes and the recorder.

'Well Wilfred we are done here. There are no hidden cameras we don't know about?'

Wilfred stays silent.

'You must be wondering, why you can see our faces? You must be wondering that?'

Wilfred did wonder that, but he did not want to give them the satisfaction of admittance.

'Well, we are at the most critical part. Your death. That's the thing about fate—you didn't know that today was your last day on Earth. I ask if you did know it was. What would you do differently? But how can you answer it when you are in fact about to die.' He paused and took a breath.' Like I knew when I woke up today that I was going to kill you, Wilfred. I wasn't happy about it, I don't feel good, but sadly for you, Wilfred I also don't feel bad. Killing is easy if you're detached from the target. I know you have a family. A life. I don't care. I literally give no fucks. It's horrible that I don't. Maybe it's a defect.' The man pondered.

'We need to go.' said the man closest to the leader of the group. He looked unsettled. Rushed.

'We are. I just need this man to know why he's going to die. He is owed that much.'

'He fucking knows, man, he knows. Just fucking do it. The cops could show up at any fucking moment. He damn sure pressed on that damn button!'

'Okay????' The leader said. He looked at Wilfred. 'I know you alerted the police. You got good instincts, Wilfred. Real good.' He paused. 'How do you want to die?'

'I don't.' Wilfred faltered as the tears fell.

'You don't have the choice. Not for this. The choice you get is how you die. Shot in the face or in the back? The chest? You want a slow one? Though I think this gun would be quick. Maybe the back.'

'Why didn't,' Wilfred said, and more tears fell, 'why didn't you fucking wear masks? I wouldn't have seen you.'

'Cause as much as we like robbing, we, maybe, like killing. I just love to see the light leave the eyes, Wilfred. It's a beautiful thing.' The leader paused again. 'Hole in the head or hole in the back.' He asked. 'Now you better answer or I'll make the choice for you.'

Wilfred swallowed some more tears. His eyes closed. All he could think about was his late wife. That she left him only a few years ago. Spared from this horrid, brutal world. A world that was so unforgiving to the innocent. To the ordinary. Now he was going to see her again. The solace in that thought within Wilfred was embraced. He thought of his son.

Live on, son. Live on Wilfred thought.

Then his wife again. I always loved you. I can't wait to see you again. Wilfred closed his eyes.

Wilfred turned around and his back faced the leader, who just nodded.

'I see.' He pumped the shotgun and aimed at Wilfred, but then each glass wall shook violently. Each man looked around. 'What the fuck?'

The glass reverberated and then exploded.

The men dove, and all were hit with glass. Before they knew it, the four robbers were lifted off the floor and were thrown into the wall across the store. Shelves were smashed into, and the wall had man sized cracks. The men landed hard on the floor.

'Fuck.' The leader groaned and he felt his back. He rolled to his left side.

They all groaned. Hearing footsteps, but all knew that it was not Wilfred. They looked to the counter, and Wilfred was still stood there, but he had a full body shake that looked violent and fearful. The big, clumping footsteps got louder and louder.

The leader crawled over to reach his shotgun as it was a few feet away. He inched closer and closer as those footsteps got closer and closer. He inched to the trigger, but the gun flew from his hand and stayed in the air. The leader of the group sighed and said, 'Fuck.'

The leader was lifted four feet into the air. Facing the floating shotgun which was pumped forward with ominous click. The other three men were also raised off the floor, at the same height as the leader. Their guns were also pointed at them as they also pumped aiming at them.

The leader as well as the others could barely move their heads. An unknown force held their head straight, but the leader turned a little a great pain like his head was being squeezed by a vice and making his eyes went blood red, veins popped and teared up in pure pain.

The leader saw a man clad in black walk over the food and drink and toys. He walked with authority, but also neatly avoided those things. Walking up to the men. Going right up to the leader.

'You fuck.' The man in black snarked. 'Many ways to rob a man, but you wanted to torture him. I want to ask you why?'

'Cause…. cause it is fun.' The leader smirked amongst all the pain his head and neck felt. 'I like the power.'

'The gun gives you power, but without it. What are you? You are weak. As powerless as someone could possibly be. You can't stop this. Like you can stop your boys dying.'

'Whaat?'

Before the leader could react, the other three had their heads blown clean off. Their headless bodies dropped to the floor. Blood splattered across all the areas nearby. The blood was thick and blotchy. Pieces of brain matter stuck on nearby walls.

The leader was the only one alive and he started to cry. The deepest of sobs. The store was quiet apart from his sobs.

The man in black looked at the leader. He looked curiously, the leader couldn't see his face, but the bending of the neck left then right, showed that he looked like he was trying to figure out this man. 'You talked about fate not knowing you are in fact not in control of your own.' The man in black surmised, 'threatening this man, you ain't powerful, but you are a killer. The power you have is just limited.' He paused. 'I heard how you were torturing him. I feel real fucking compelled to do the same to you.' He paused again. 'How would you like to die? Crushed head or shot gun to the chest?'

'I…. I…. I….' The leader struggled to talk as the pain in his head grew.

'What?' The man in black smirked. 'What is it?'

'I'd rather not die. Please I didn't.'

'But you did.' The man in black countered. 'You were not going to spare this man and I won't either. Enjoy your death.' he brought his right hand forward and made it into a fist. He clenched it and the leader's head exploded and the shot gun blasted his chest. The headless body flew into the nearby wall.

All the guns dropped to the floor.

The man in black surveyed the carnage. He turned around and walked to the counter.

Wilfred stood shaken. Eyes closed.

'Be thankful for another day. You never know what can come along to change your fate. Open your eyes brother.'

Wilfred did open his eyes and has he turned around, saw the carnage.

Sirens could be heard in the distance and getting louder and louder.

Two police cruisers came in and the cops came out guns drawn. They looked at Wilfred and he stood there still shaken not just from fear, but also relief.