**LAPD Station**
   The fluorescent lights of the LAPD station hummed, casting a sterile glow across Detective Jane's cramped office. Papers overflowed her desk, a testament to the city's relentless churn of crime. She sat hunched over the surface, the weight of the former mayor's murder pressing down on her.
   "Killing a former mayor…" Jane sighed, the sound barely audible above the station's constant din. "Who would have hired them?" The question hung in the air, unanswered and heavy.
   Caleb, leaning against the doorway, shifted his weight. "I've told you to stop dragging on this. It's definitely the current mayor." His voice was laced with a frustrated impatience that Jane was growing tired of.
   Jane’s eyes flared. "And I've told you," she retorted, the edge in her voice sharpening, "if you keep saying that without proof, you might just get yourself locked up, or worse." The specter of political consequences hung thick in the air, a warning unspoken but understood.
   Caleb ran a hand through his hair, his frustration palpable. "I just feel like something fishy is going on, Jane, and we need to do something before it gets out of hand."
   "Now you're acting like the police," Jane quipped, attempting to lighten the mood. "Why not just report to them that something is fishy?"
   Caleb’s face grew frustrated. “I swear…”
   "Alright, leave my office." She said tiredly.
   "Come on, I was just joking."
   "I know," Jane said, her gaze softening slightly, gesturing at the door. "I just need some space to do my thing. Clear my head."
   "Hmm, whatever." Caleb muttered, pushing off the doorframe. He turned and walked out, leaving Jane alone with her thoughts. The air felt cooler in his absence.
   *Okay*, she thought, taking a deep breath, the stale office air filling her lungs. *This is normal. It happens everywhere. Just forget about it. Focus.* But the words felt hollow, a mantra against the rising tide of unease.
** West Adams Restaurant**
The air inside the West Adams restaurant was thick with the aroma of frying oil and simmering spices. Behind the attendant table, Kelvin expertly flipped a sizzling patty, the rhythmic sizzle a familiar counterpoint to the day's anxieties. Mrs. Julie stood beside him, her face etched with a weariness that went beyond mere exhaustion.
   "So, how's your husband? You've not said anything since you arrived," Kelvin asked, his eyes scanning her face with concern as he handed a tray of food to one of the waiters.
   "Though it's just a few bruises, the doctor said he'd be alright in two, three days," Mrs. Julie replied, her voice flat.
   Kelvin paused, sensing the unspoken words lingering beneath the surface. "But I'm sure that's not what's bothering you."
   "It's nothing," Mrs. Julie said, her gaze drifting towards the bustling dining room. "Just… nothing."
   Kelvin sighed, his patience wearing thin. "There you go again, trying to be secretive. Come on, just tell me what happened."
   Mrs. Julie hesitated, the weight of her secret pressing down on her. Finally, she exhaled, the sound laced with resignation. "(Sighs) I got kidnapped that night…"
   "What?!" Kelvin exclaimed, his eyes widening in disbelief. The patty in his hand nearly slipped. "Tell me that ain't true."
   "Well, it is," Mrs. Julie said, her voice barely a whisper. "But I got released just this morning."
   "Was that why you were absent yesterday?" Kelvin asked, still reeling from the revelation. "I was going to pay you a visit, but men! Yesterday was hell busy here."
   "Getting home, I heard my husband was beaten, that's why I called to inform you. I haven't rested, and it seemed like in ages," Mrs. Julie said, her shoulders slumping with exhaustion. "I can't even rest for a second, thinking of what possible reason made them kidnap and then release me… or was it just a miracle?" Her words were a question and a prayer.
   Kelvin snorted, serving another tray. "Miracle? Who believes in them? You're probably just lucky. Don't let it get to you, and can you get some rest? You look visibly sick." He paused, a hint of concern flickering across his features. "So, have you told your husband?"
   "How can I even tell him, not in that state? He's gonna quit his job, right away."
   "Don't you want him to?"
   "I do, but… not because I made him quit."
   "Whatever," Kelvin said, his tone dismissive but his eyes softening. "Just get some rest."
   The day wore on, each hour stretching into an eternity for Mrs. Julie. As evening approached, she prepared to leave work early to visit her husband at the hospital.
   *Knock knock*
   *Door opens*
   "Oh! It's you. You closed early today," Mr. Brock asked, his voice raspy as he lay propped up against the hospital bed.
   "Yeah, I told my boss what happened, so he permitted me," Mrs. Julie replied, embracing him gently. "You feeling any better?"
   "Yeah, more than this morning, but I still want to leave the hospital."
   "I already told the nurse, she said you could be discharged. You just have to be regular with the prescribed meds."
   "Glad to hear that. I feel like I've been locked in here for, like, eternity—no talking, just sleeping and waking up. And damn! The time seems very slow, like I'm in an infinite world."
   "Honey, that's more like a prison than a hospital," Mrs. Julie teased gently.
   "My point exactly. Let's just leave immediately."
   He changed his clothes, and the two left the hospital, Mrs. Julie carefully driving Mr. Brock home in his blue Camry.
   Throughout the drive, they spoke little, an awkward silence hanging between them like a heavy curtain. Once home, lying side-by-side on the bed, the tension remained, a palpable presence in the room.
   "Aren't you gonna tell me? I know something is bothering you," Mr. Brock said, his voice strained.
   "Something actually is, but I don't know if I should tell you."
   "I'm even more curious. What do you mean you don't know if you should tell me?"
   "(Sighs) Okay, this might freak you out, but promise me you won't quit your job because of it."
   "Okay, I promise," Mr. Brock replied, his brow furrowed with concern. After a moment of silence, Mrs. Julie replied.
   "I got…"
   "Pregnant?!"
   "Nooo kidnapped," Mrs. Julie said, bracing herself for Mr. Brock's reaction.
   "That was… unexpected. I mean, you really got me there," Mr. Brock commented, exhaling slowly.
   "Wait, you think I'm joking?"
   "I wouldn't if you weren't lying close to me now."
   "You could say so, but I was freed this morning, and I was wondering if someone was behind it and who it might have been."
   "Just like that, huh."
   "Who knows? Maybe it was a miracle, or maybe I was just lucky," Mr. Julie replied, her gaze lost in thought. "Anyways, believe it or not, I just wanted you to know."
   "Now I know. Rest assured and get some sleep, you look pale," Mr. Brock said, embracing Mrs. Julie in his arms. "Lest I forget, some detectives have started working on the mayor case."
   "I just hope none of this happens again."
   "Yeah, me too. But what can we do? It all for the best."
........
   The next morning, Mrs. Julie prepared and left for work, the anxieties of the previous day still clinging to her like a second skin.
   Mr. Brock received a call from an unknown number.
   "Hello?" He said, his voice cautious.
   "It's been a while. Ready for the next operation?" The voice on the other end was gruff and familiar.
   "Wow, do you have to change your line every damn time? And what next mission is that? You should at least wait till a week. You don't want the politicians and rich people to leave Eagle Rock because of insecurity. Besides, I'd lose my job before you even reach your goal, do you?" Mr. Brock asked, his tone a mix of annoyance and resignation.
   "You talk too much. We ain't killing anybody this time. I just need my boys to sell some snacks that'd be shared this afternoon."
   "And by snacks, you mean drugs?" Mr. Brock asked, a sigh escaping his lips. "Accepted as long as it's not gonna get traced back to me."
   "This night, then. Meet my…"
   "I'm not meeting any f*cking body if it's gonna cost me any injury," Mr. Brock shouted, cutting off the caller.
   "With your role, you're no ordinary member. I just thought you deserved to know our hideout."
   "You're just a bad guy. Stop acting all kind in a negative way?"
   "Hahahaha, I'm only kind to those that I'm interested in or those that profit me."
   "In other words, you'd get rid of me the moment I become useless."
   "Nah, I'd just treat you like other members. Hahahaha, we'll talk later," the caller said, and hung up.
   "Murder, and now drug trafficking. The 18th Street are just like they know them for," Mr. Brock commented as he walked into the bathroom to prepare for the new day. The steam from the shower rose, a temporary veil against the dark reality closing in around him.
**At the restaurant**
...
......
   "Yeah yeah, I told him, but I can't believe he thought it was a joke. I felt offended," Mrs. Julie said, frying some chips behind Kelvin, who was passing an order to a waiter.
   "He sure has a point. He didn't get a call from the kidnappers, nobody did. You shouldn't blame him for not believing you."
   "I guess you are taking his side then," Mrs. Julie said angrily.
   "Alright, I'd better stay neutral."
   As the two were conversing, three guys wearing a hood and a nose cover walked into the restaurant and straight to where Kelvin was.
   "Hey, care to buy some fine-made snacks?" One of the boys asked.
......
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