Chapter Seven

David sat at his customary table at Stephano’s, the local bar where most of the ‘One Week Window’ staff spent their off hours. It wasn’t quite a dive, but it certainly wasn’t the upscale urban hang out that its owner had desperately branded it as. A few tables away from where the detective sat perched two female analysts, trying to drink their Irish coffees while a cameraman tried his best to flirt with them.

Into the Fire

            Without fail, every time that the stench of gasoline sputtered into the crisp, choking billows of smoke, the red and amber gleam of the flames lighting up the inside of the warehouse, Art felt the same sting of excitement in his guts,

Chapter Six

        The corporate offices of Atlas Communications, now doubling as the police headquarters as well, sat in a nondescript office building a block away from Still Waters Mortuary.

The Saint – Part One

Life had become a series of binary choices for Karen Comstock. Rent or telephone bill? Food or electricity? Karen had quickly discovered that desperation and stress can temper the strong and crush the vulnerable, and she had become as brittle as porcelain.

Chapter Five

    Dr. Lauren Jamison adjusted her mask and glanced up at the observation deck above the surgical theater that Atlas Communications had built for “One Week Window’s” live autopsies.

The Prodigal Father

The machine whirred to a stop, and as soon as it had shut down, the two technicians shot each other meaningful looks. The man inside was one of the Serpent’s top paying customers and every week he spent an entire day inside the Love Machines without more than a quick break in between sessions to down some nutrient supplements and mop his brow.

Chapter Four

             It was company policy that the detectives on ‘One Week Window’ wait a full twenty-four hours after the network picked up the case to discuss it with the bereaved family. 

An Ordinary World

Todd Adams sat in his boss’s office on the eighteenth floor of the Guardian Insurance Company with his head lowered. He knew that Peter Stewart saw any sort of personal issue as a distraction but he couldn’t wait any longer. “Yes, Todd.”

“I need time to be with my son. He’s very ill.”

            “You’ll have to wait.”