One Night In San Francisco

No Trace

San Francisco, July 2nd, 2013. 10:24 PM.

Detective Clancy McCutchen Jr. gripped his neck tightly as he looked up at the sky. It was painted a brilliant gold by the fireworks. But it was not the beautiful spectacle he had expected. In fact, nothing in the world was normally what it seemed. When something was gilded, golden and beautiful, there was always something sinister underneath. Being a hard nosed detective did that you. Cynicism took over idealism. Instead of looking for the truth, he now dove into the mess full-on until the truth hit him dead on in the face.

He sighed into the air and turned around. Having just exited the building, he reentered it. Obviously, the flare had come from SOMA, where the call-in for the bank robbery had come. He had work to do. He was not looking to going home to an angry wife.

She was getting worse by the day, and that wasn't the worst part of it. He knew she loved him and needed him there. He knew she hated being at home alone. And he loved her very much.

But he just loved his job so much. He could never imagine ever leaving his job. He loved his job even more. It was in the family, everyone told him. He remembered the first day in the forces. The chief had remarked, "chip of the old blocks".

Both Clancy's father, Clancy Sr. and his mother, Andrea, had worked for the forces. And both had been killed in the line of duty. Initially Clancy had not wanted to be a law-enforcement officer, but fate had conspired to make him feel as if he had to continue his lineage and finish the job. The job his parents had started.

He walked absentmindedly up the steps. What a night it had been. While the evidence and SWAT teams had been dispatched to the bloodbath at that mall, he had wanted to go home and accompany Britt until she fell asleep, then take up coffee as his partner for a night of investigation.

He saw his assistant, Thomas, before he could reach his office on the third floor. Tom looked worried.

"Something weird, Clance. The dots connect in a startling way. I think you'll want to know this..."

Thoughts of his worried wife were on his mind as he trudged to his desk and listened to the babbling man in front of him.

James couldn't think of anything to say. Well, a black gun pointed in your face is pretty presuasive, but at the same time he was rendered speechless. He tried to think his way out of things, but sweat clouded his vision and a dull throb impeded his thoughts.

The man finally took the gun off James's face, and moved into the bathroom. He rumaged around a little. James suddenly felt a little curious. Rational, good ol' fear dominated his thinking, but part of him wanted to know what this was about. He guessed it didn't matter if he woke up next morning with a hole in his head.

The man rumbled through the cabinets, and it became apparent he was looking for something. Something important. James wondered briefly if he could overpower the man, but then he remembered the man's buff physique, and scratched that thought.

Then he walked out, and he appeared to fill up the whole bathroom doorway, menacing and phantom-like.

"You could have just told me you were in on it." The gun wasn't pointed at his face, so James could think. What the hell was he talking about. It would at least stave off death for a little if he went on with the ruse, so he joined in.

"Goddammit. You didn't have to do that." His voice was steady, and James thought he did a pretty good job of hiding the consuming fear underneath.

"So then where is it?" It took a few seconds for the quietly spoken words to sink in, but then Jame's heart dropped.