In still waters

It was to Bison that Jeffrey now turned, desperation driving him to seek help from the dangerous man he both feared and relied upon.

Chapter 8

An hour later, Jeffrey found himself standing before the entrance of the sprawling two-story mansion. The light-colored edifice resembled an impregnable fortress, secured behind an expensive stone fence. A small army of burly guards in black suits patrolled the grounds, their watchful eyes scanning for any sign of trouble.

Jeffrey pulled up to the gates, stepping out of his vehicle with forced confidence. The security detail, recognizing the sheriff, allowed him to pass without issue. Two particularly imposing guards were tasked with escorting the visitor to the house.

As they entered, Jeffrey was struck anew by the opulence of the interior. The massive living room resembled a tropical oasis, complete with a central fountain surrounded by lush vegetation. Subdued lighting cast long shadows across the space, while a large parrot squawked loudly from its ornate cage suspended from the ceiling. The green walls were adorned with expensive frescoes, and the air was cool and crisp thanks to state-of-the-art air conditioning. Oversized dark green leather sofas and armchairs lined the walls, facing an enormous flat-screen TV that dominated one wall.

At the far end of the living room, a grand staircase of expensive white stone with dark wood banisters led to the second floor. The upper level opened onto a long, straight corridor. Its walls matched the green theme of the lower level, with large potted plants lining the hallway. Several closed doors of dark, richly stained wood were visible, with a large panoramic window at the corridor's end. Jeffrey was led through the first door on the left – Bison's office.

The office décor was a stark departure from the rest of the house. A gleaming black floor reflected the bright light from a hanging crystal chandelier. Fresh air wafted in through a large open window, carrying with it the muffled conversations of the guards at the gates. Light gray walls served as a backdrop for an impressive array of weapons – Bison's prized collection, which he treated as a hobby.

The man himself sat behind a massive black wooden desk, lounging in a large dark leather chair. He wore a white tank top that emphasized his muscular physique, a thick gold chain hanging around his neck and resting on his chest.

The most striking features of the office were two Japanese katanas mounted on a stand behind Bison's desk. Opposite sat a slightly smaller black leather chair for visitors. Every detail of the room exuded expensive taste and power.

"Leave us," Bison commanded the guards, who promptly exited the office. "Well, hello Jeffrey. To what do I owe this unexpected visit?"

Bison's tone was all business, tinged with an underlying strictness that put Jeffrey on edge. Despite their long association, Jeffrey genuinely respected – and feared – Bison. He spoke softly, almost pleadingly, as he took a seat in the chair opposite the crime lord.

"I assume you've heard about what happened to my daughter?" Jeffrey began, his hands resting nervously on his knees.

"Yes, I'm aware," Bison replied, his voice devoid of sympathy. "Shit happens. I know everything that goes on in our town. My condolences, Jeffrey. But what does this have to do with me?" He raised an eyebrow, resting his chin on his index finger as he regarded the sheriff with cool detachment.

"I know who killed my daughter," Jeffrey said, leaning forward and placing his hands on the desk. "This guy needs to be dealt with. I need the help of your people."

Bison let out a derisive laugh, looking at Jeffrey not with pity, but with contempt. "Jeffrey, you clearly don't understand what you're asking right now. My people aren't your personal hit squad to solve your problems. That's what the police are for." The gang leader's voice dripped with irony.

"I thought we were partners," Jeffrey protested, unable to hide the hurt in his voice.

"Ha! If we're partners, you especially shouldn't come to me with requests like this. I hope I've made myself clear?"

"How can this be?" Jeffrey's tone grew more insistent, desperation creeping in. "I've been working for you for eight years. I've never let you down. You have to help me."

"Jeffrey, I don't owe you anything," Bison's voice took on a dangerous edge. "You seem to have forgotten that you're living comfortably only thanks to me."

Defeated, Jeffrey stood and began to walk towards the office door.

"You know, Jeffrey," Bison called after him, a smirk playing on his lips, "this is karma for your past." Jeffrey turned, his face a mask of confusion as he stared at the floor.

"I always say that in this life, everyone gets their due. Your day has come."

Bison's malicious laughter filled the room. Jeffrey raised his eyes to meet Bison's gaze.

"Don't talk to me about karma," he spat. "I already know we're all sinners here. If you can't help me deal with this guy, at least tell me where I can find him."

Jeffrey approached the desk once more, showing Bison a photo of Bradley Force on his phone. Bison glanced at it, his face twisting with disgust.

"I don't know this guy. People like that don't run in my circles."

Without another word, Jeffrey turned and left, fury and despair warring within him. He had been certain Bison would help him. Now he realized he would have to hunt for Bradley on his own.

Back at the station, Nick and Christian were hunched over their computers, scouring databases for any information that might lead them to Bradley Force. But as the hours ticked by, their frustration only grew. It seemed that little had changed since their last search. Bradley Force still had no official job, no registered address. His last known residence remained his mother's house, where they had already failed to find him. The detectives felt like they were chasing ghosts.

"I don't understand," Christian exclaimed, slamming his fist on his desk in frustration. "They have to be living somewhere!"

Nick rubbed his forehead, a thought forming in his mind. "What if Bradley's mother lied about her son no longer living with her? What if she does know where he is?"

"Christian," Nick continued, a new determination in his voice, "we need to set up surveillance on Bradley and Steven's houses. Something tells me that's how we'll find them."

"I'm not sure that's a good idea," Christian replied hesitantly. "But at this point, what do we have to lose?"

As they made arrangements for the surveillance, Nick couldn't shake the nagging feeling that they were in a race against time. He kept thinking about Jeffrey's volatile state, worried that the grieving father might take matters into his own hands before they could locate Bradley.

Within the hour, surveillance was set up on both Bradley and Steven's houses. The police settled in for what they hoped would be a short stakeout, but were prepared for a long wait if necessary. They were on duty around the clock, watching and waiting for any sign of the two young men who had become the focus of their investigation.

Chapter 9

A week passed.

The stakeout had yielded no results. Bradley and Steven remained elusive, their whereabouts a maddening mystery.

Nick and Christian found themselves back at the station, nursing cups of coffee as they tried to make sense of their lack of progress. Outside, the sun shone brightly, a stark contrast to the gloomy mood within the office.

"I think we need to put out an APB on Bradley," Christian declared, the frustration evident in his voice.

Nick sighed heavily, rubbing his forehead as he frowned. "We don't have grounds for that."

"And isn't the fact that they both disappeared right after Rose's murder grounds enough?"

Nick didn't answer, his mind clearly elsewhere.

"I think we need to call off the surveillance," he said after a moment. "I'll phone the officer on duty now and give the all-clear."

As Nick dialed the number, he was surprised by what he heard on the other end of the line. The officer reported that just minutes ago, Sheriff Jeffrey had arrived at Bradley's house. After knocking, Bradley's mother had answered and let him in. Alarmed, Nick instructed the officer to report any suspicious activity and hung up.

"Damn it all," he muttered under his breath.

"What's wrong?" Christian asked, concern etched on his face.

"The officer just told me Jeffrey showed up at Bradley's house. He's inside right now."

"Well… I guess he's still looking for Bradley after all."

"Looks that way," Nick replied, his voice tight with worry. "If the officer doesn't report that Jeffrey's left within ten minutes, I'm sending him in."

Five tense minutes later, the officer called back. He reported that Jeffrey had stormed out of the house, slamming the door behind him in a rage. Bradley's mother had run out after him, shouting that her son hadn't killed Rose.

Nick gave the order to call off the surveillance, his mind racing with the implications of what had just transpired.

Chapter 10

Evening fell. 9:00 PM.

Nick arrived home, the weight of the day's events heavy on his shoulders. His house stood as a bastion of normalcy amidst the chaos of the investigation – a modest two-story structure built in classic American style. Its brown exterior and black roof blended seamlessly with the other homes on the street, large windows and a spacious porch lending it an air of warmth and welcome. A well-maintained lawn stretched out front, complete with a barbecue area that spoke of lazy summer evenings spent with family and friends.

Despite its modest size, the interior of the house radiated coziness and cleanliness. From the entryway, soft, light tones painted the walls, creating an atmosphere of calm. The living room boasted a plush carpet in a complementary shade, while a comfortable beige sofa faced the television. Soft blue curtains framed the windows, and nearby, a glass-fronted cabinet displayed family photos and various knick-knacks collected over the years.

The kitchen, though small, was equally inviting. A large, spotless window at the far end allowed natural light to flood the space during the day. A rectangular dining table, covered with a crisp white tablecloth, stood nearby, surrounded by six light wood chairs. On either side of the kitchen, countertops provided ample workspace, while a two-door refrigerator in sleek gray completed the efficient layout.

A staircase near the kitchen led to the second floor, where two bedrooms awaited. Nick and Kate's room was decorated in soothing light tones, featuring a large bed and a spacious wardrobe. The children's bedroom was a whimsical contrast, with a bunk bed shaped like a playhouse and walls covered in bright wallpaper depicting stars and planets – a perfect haven for young imaginations.

Nick's wife, Kate, was the heart of this home – a devoted wife, loving mother, and skilled homemaker. She and Nick had been together since their youth, their bond only strengthening with the passing years. At thirty-nine, Kate remained a striking beauty – a blue-eyed blonde with long, flowing hair and a smattering of freckles across her fair skin. Of medium height and slender build, she still turned heads, a reminder of her days as a frequent winner of local beauty contests in her youth. Many remarked on how well-matched she and Nick were, their physical similarities only emphasizing their deep connection.

Their children, Edward and Gina, were perfect blends of their parents. Edward was the spitting image of his father, while Gina took after her mother in both looks and temperament. The family was completed by Thor, their loyal Doberman, who was treated as a full-fledged member of the household.

Kate had always loved cooking and caring for her family. In her younger days, she had dreamed of becoming a designer, but the whirlwind romance with Nick had altered her life's trajectory. Yet she harbored no regrets, finding genuine happiness in the life they had built together. Kate's parents lived in San Francisco, and the family made it a tradition to visit them for a month each summer. Nick's parents, seeking warmth in their golden years, had relocated to Orlando, Florida. Nick and the children made it a point to visit them when the chill of autumn settled over Austin.

As Nick entered the house, he could hear the tail end of dinner. Thor, ever vigilant, was the first to greet him, bounding towards the door with enthusiasm. Close behind came the pitter-patter of small feet as Gina and Edward raced to welcome their father home. Nick stood in the hallway, removing his jacket and shoes, a smile breaking through his weariness at the sight of his children.

"Dad's home! Dad's home!" they chorused, their excitement palpable.

"Hi Gina, hi Edward!" Nick knelt to kiss each child, then gave Thor an affectionate pat. "I've missed you all so much. I'm home early today! Where's your mom? Why isn't she here to greet me?"

As Nick embraced his children, he heard Kate's footsteps approaching from the kitchen. Her voice, tinged with a hint of exasperation, reached him before she came into view.

"You call this early? We were just about to head to bed!" Kate stood in the doorway between the kitchen and the hall, dressed in a pink home T-shirt and black knee-length shorts. Her hair was pulled back in a messy bun, and she held a kitchen towel in her hands.

"Kate, honey, don't start," Nick pleaded, his tone light despite his exhaustion. "You know you're the greatest treasure in my world."

He moved to embrace his wife, the familiar scent of her shampoo momentarily pushing away the stress of the day. Since Rose Saltano's murder, Nick had been spending long hours at work, often returning home well after the rest of the family had gone to bed. Kate understood the demands of his job, but he could sense the underlying hurt in her words.

After washing up and changing into comfortable blue pants and a T-shirt, Nick joined his family in the kitchen. The children, excited to have their father home at a reasonable hour, eagerly shared stories of their day – tales of triumphs in sports, adventures with friends, and all the little moments they'd been longing to share. Kate stood at the sink, washing dishes, a smile playing on her lips as she listened to the animated chatter.

"Dad, can we watch a movie together when you're done eating?" Edward asked hopefully.

"No movies tonight," Kate interjected firmly. "You have to get up early tomorrow, remember?"

"Please, Mom?" Edward pleaded, his eyes wide and imploring. "We'll only watch for a little bit, then straight to bed. Promise!"

Kate's resolve wavered in the face of her son's puppy-dog eyes. With a sigh, she relented, unable to deny her children this rare evening with their father.

As Kate finished with the dishes, Nick came up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and planting a kiss on her cheek.

"You're the best mom and wife in the world," he murmured. Kate's smile widened, the tension of the past weeks melting away in the warmth of the moment.

"I love you all so very much," she replied softly.

Nick headed to the living room, Edward and Gina flanking him on either side.

"So, what shall we watch?" he asked, settling onto the couch.

"Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles!" the children exclaimed in unison.

"Alright then, let's do it!"

They all cuddled together on the couch, Nick in the middle with the children snuggled against him on either side. As the familiar theme music filled the room, Nick felt the day's worries begin to recede, replaced by the simple joy of being with his family.

"Wake up, sleepyhead!" Edward's voice, tinged with amusement, roused Nick from an unexpected slumber. He felt a small finger poking his stomach gently.

"Did I fall asleep?" Nick mumbled, blinking in confusion.

He had been so exhausted, yet so content, that he hadn't even noticed drifting off. Nearly an hour and a half had passed, the movie long since ended. Kate, he realized, had already gone to bed.

"Okay, kids, time for bed," he announced, stifling a yawn. "We'll finish the movie another night."

After tucking the children in, Nick headed to the kitchen for a glass of water before turning in himself. As he reached for a glass, his mobile phone, left on the kitchen table, began to ring. The caller ID showed it was Christian.

"What could have happened now? It's 12:10 AM," Nick muttered, a knot of anxiety forming in his stomach.

"Hello, Christian. What's up?"

Christian's voice crackled through the speaker, urgency evident in his tone. "Nick, you need to come in right away. Bradley Force and Sheriff Jeffrey have been brought to the station. Jeffrey burst into the house of a guy named Peter Gomez – apparently, he's a drug addict and a friend of Bradley and Steven. Jeffrey started shooting up the place with his pistol! Thankfully, no one was injured. The neighbors heard the shots and called it in quickly. Steven Cooper and Peter managed to escape in the chaos."

"Christ," Nick swore under his breath. "I'm on my way."

"Alright, I'll meet you there."

As Nick hung up, he realized that any hope of sleep had vanished. He didn't wake Kate, not wanting to burden her with this new development. Instead, he quickly changed back into his work clothes and headed out into the night, his mind racing with the implications of Jeffrey's reckless actions.

Chapter 11

Upon arriving at the station, Nick learned that Jeffrey and Bradley had been placed in separate holding cells. He instructed the officers to bring Jeffrey to the interrogation room, ensuring that the sheriff's weapon – the pistol used in the shooting – had been properly confiscated and logged as evidence.

The interrogation room was a stark, windowless space that seemed designed to unsettle those brought within its walls. Dark blue paint covered the walls, adding to the oppressive atmosphere. A large table dominated the center of the room, flanked by four chairs. Overhead, a long fluorescent lamp cast a harsh, unforgiving light. Behind a two-way mirror, two officers stood ready to observe the proceedings.

Jeffrey was led in, still in handcuffs. Once seated at the table, an officer removed the restraints. Nick took his place across from Jeffrey, while Christian positioned himself near the entrance, a silent observer to the tense scene about to unfold.

Nick leaned forward, his voice low and controlled, but tinged with disbelief. "Jeffrey, what the hell were you thinking? Have you completely lost your mind? You're facing charges of attempted murder. Do you understand the gravity of what you've done?"

Jeffrey met Nick's gaze unflinchingly, his voice devoid of remorse. "I don't care. I've said it before, and I'll say it again: I have no doubt that he's the killer."

Nick shook his head, frustration evident in his tone. "You're lucky you didn't wound or kill anyone. You realize you'll likely be removed from your position as sheriff, right?"

"I've already told you, I don't care!" Jeffrey's voice rose, his anger palpable in the small room.

Christian, sensing the need to redirect the conversation, interjected. "How did you even find Bradley Force?"

"His mother told me," Jeffrey replied curtly.

Nick's eyes narrowed, suspicion creeping into his voice. "What, did you threaten her?"

Jeffrey's response was brusque, bordering on insolent. "It doesn't matter. I've said all I'm going to say. Do your job and put that bastard Bradley away."

Christian sighed heavily, his voice tinged with disappointment. "Jeffrey, Jeffrey, you should have thought about your wife Mary."

Nick reached for his mobile phone, dialing the duty officers. He requested that Bradley be brought to the interrogation room. Moments later, Bradley was led in, his hands cuffed and his gaze fixed on the floor. He swayed slightly as he walked, his demeanor unsteady. Upon seeing Bradley, Jeffrey leapt from his chair, lunging towards the younger man with murderous intent. The officers quickly intervened, forcing Jeffrey back into his seat. Bradley remained standing near the door, his posture tense and wary.

"I'll kill you!" Jeffrey roared, his face contorted with rage.

Nick's voice cut through the chaos, sharp and authoritative. "Jeffrey, if you don't calm down right this instant, I'll have you put back in handcuffs!"

Bradley's voice, when he spoke, was nasal and slurred, his words tumbling out in a rush. "Hey, get this psycho out of here! He tried to kill me!" He jabbed an accusing finger in Jeffrey's direction. Bradley's appearance was as disheveled as his speech – his black jeans were torn and dirty, his blue T-shirt looked as if it hadn't been washed in weeks. The zigzag scar on his cheek stood out starkly against his pallid skin.

"And you, you bastard, killed my daughter!" Jeffrey shot back, his voice dripping with venom.

"Jeffrey, I'm warning you for the last time," Christian interjected, his patience clearly wearing thin. "Shut up, or I'll have you removed from this room immediately."

Bradley's next words came out in a panicked rush. "I've already told you, I didn't kill your daughter. We were friends, we hung out together!"

"Shut your mouth!" Jeffrey bellowed. "My daughter would never have associated with a dirty lowlife like you!"

"That's enough!" Nick's shout silenced the room. The interrogation had devolved into a circus, with Nick cast in the unenviable role of ringmaster, desperately trying to maintain order and extract some semblance of truth from the chaos.

"Sit him down and remove the handcuffs," Nick instructed the officers, gesturing towards Bradley. They complied, seating Bradley at the edge of the table opposite Jeffrey. Bradley kept his head down, his gaze fixed on the table's surface.

Christian, eyeing Bradley's disheveled state, couldn't resist a barbed comment. "You look awful, to put it mildly. A homeless person would look more presentable."

Nick shot his partner a warning glance before turning his attention back to Bradley. "Look at me, Bradley. Tell me where you've been for the past two weeks. We have a witness who saw you with Rose at the bar on the night of her murder. It's a strange coincidence that you disappeared without a trace after that."

Bradley raised his head slowly, his bloodshot eyes darting nervously around the room as he rubbed his nose. "We were just hanging out that evening, that's all. And these past two weeks… I've been drinking. Because I found out Rose was dead. My mother told me – she saw it on the news."

Bradley's words came out in a slurred mumble, punctuated by frequent pauses to wipe away the saliva that dribbled from the corner of his mouth.

"What are you mumbling about, you freak?" Jeffrey interjected, his voice dripping with contempt. "Tell the truth! Admit that you killed Rose!"

"Jeffrey, I swear to God, if you don't shut up right now, I will have you removed from this room," Nick warned, his patience finally reaching its limit. He turned back to Bradley, forcing his voice to remain calm and steady.

"Bradley, we also know that you and Rose were arguing that evening, and then had some kind of physical altercation. After which, she left and was later found dead. How do you explain this? What happened between you two?"

Bradley's hand shook violently as he pointed an accusing finger at Jeffrey. "We fought because of him!"

"Because of me? What nonsense are you spewing, you degenerate?" Jeffrey snarled, his voice low but dripping with venom. Nick shot him a warning glance that could have frozen hell itself. Jeffrey lowered his head, and Bradley seized the opportunity to continue:

"Rose told me you'd never approve of us being together. So I lashed out, told her to go crawling back to daddy. She stormed off, and I split about two minutes later. I was a mess, so I crashed at my friend Sarah's place – her house is just a stone's throw from the bar. You can verify it with her. I'll jot down the address for you."

"We'll look into that," Nick said, his voice measured. "But until your story checks out, you're not going anywhere." He paused, studying Bradley's face with the intensity of a raptor eyeing its prey. "Now, there's one more thing I've been itching to ask… That nasty scar on your cheek – where'd you pick that up?"