Description: Chapter One The Vic Detective Salvi Brentt stared at the dead body. She wondered what had been going through the killer''s mind at the time of the attack. It was meant to be a quick, easy mugging. But a hard shove, the victim fell back, and his skull met horribly with the pavement. The mugging had turned into murder. And for what? An expensive smartwatch and a gift card to Kiki''s virtual shopping service. The perp had run. They always ran. But in the dead heart of the city that was a useless thing to do. With the constant rotation of police drones, watching everything from on high, there was little one could get away with out in the open. And if you shove a man, he dies, and you run? The police have you. And if you manage to get away, they have your face and they will track you down. They''ll get you for the murder, and the city will lay a compensation claim for the cleaning of the bloodied pavement. That''s why many thought the security companies ruled the cities. In a world where no one trusted anyone, everyone wanted evidence - not just the cops. Cities watched residents, businesses watched employees, people watched their property, their spouses, their kids. Of course, some people made good money hacking these systems and erasing all traces of certain goings-on. But not this perp. No, he was a fool who lived just one block away. One block... At first Salvi couldn''t decide whether he''d been desperate or just plain stupid. When they found him, he ignorantly answered the door. He took one look at her, Mitch, and the holo-badges glowing at their chests, then slammed the door in their faces. When her partner barged into the apartment, hot on his heels, the perp was already at the window climbing onto the fire escape. Salvi ran back down to the street to meet him head on. Well, it was more like side on. She kept herself hidden behind a wall and heard him running toward her. As he raced by, she kicked out her leg and sent him slamming down to the ground, his chin and hands raking along the sidewalk. He barely had time to give her a panicked look before Mitch was on top of him. Despite the circumstances, the perp still tried to struggle free, but her senior partner soon put an end to that. With an arm around his throat, Mitch hauled him to his feet, then slammed him hard against the wall, where Salvi swiftly snapped a pair of digital cuffs around the man''s wrists. Turns out the guy had lost his job and had four kids to feed. So, he was both desperate and stupid. Regardless, he took an innocent life. The man had to pay. Salvi tapped the glass display of her console, closing the image down. She finished reading over the report, ensuring all the detail was there. Riverton, the department''s dedicated AI, always prefilled the data for them; transcriptions from interviews and the like. But it always took a human to add the finishing touches and ensure the thing was readable and would stand up in court. When she was done, she pressed her left thumb against the authorization panel beside her console. It flashed blue as it read her print, then green, indicating the department''s system had accepted it. She then scrawled her signature onto the scratch pad. It registered on the display, then she tapped "File Report". And off it went. Another case closed. She heard the soft whirring sound of Sadie approaching, the homicide department''s assigned robo-cleaner. Salvi looked up as it moved past her desk, sweeping the floor. Rounded and white, it looked much like a rubbish bin with a ball-shaped head atop. It swiveled its face toward her, lights flashing where eyes, nose and mouth would normally appear. "Good morning, Detective Brentt," its electronically generated voice sounded. "Morning, Sadie," she replied as it swished on by. Chimes sounded across the six screens on the wall to her left. The mugshows were being updated. Salvi watched as the screens went black, then one by one, the new images appeared featuring the latest persons of interest. Five were male, one was female, all mixed races. The mugshows still gave her the creeps. Staring at a single photo was one thing but watching moving footage was something else. As if on cue, one by one the persons of interest turned, offering a side profile. Creepy, yes, but valuable. Seeing footage of a criminal, of how they moved, their mannerisms, twitches and tics, even the way they smiled or frowned, made it that much easier to identify them in real life. They turned again, offering the view of them from behind. She waited until they came full circle and faced the front again. When they did, she scanned the row of faces, trying to etch each one of them into her memory. If the drones in the sky didn''t pick them up, maybe she could. Hernandez approached and stopped by her desk. His dark eyes shone with curiosity, but no smile met his mouth. She studied the thick gold chain he wore around his neck and the wide collar of his shirt. He was always one for keeping up with the latest trends, but this outfit was reminding her of some weird fashion from almost a century earlier that probably should''ve stayed there. "Morning," she said. "Guess who we ran into last night at the Chinese takeout?" he said, running a hand over his dark gelled hair. "Who?" she asked. "Old man Stan." "Old man Stan!" Bronte''s deep voice thundered as he came to stand beside his partner. A good head taller and muscular in build, Bronte''s dark skin made Hernandez look white. "Yeah?" she gave them both a slight smile. "And how''s Stan doing?" "Good." Hernandez nodded, dark eyes studying her. "He asked how you were doing." "Yeah?" Her smile broadened. "He asked about me, or was he asking about the job? He misses it, doesn''t he? I knew he would." Bronte beamed a big smile. "He''d never admit that, but yeah, he misses it. But he did ask about you, Salv." " How''s Mia doing? " Hernandez grinned, imitating Stan''s New Yorker accent. "Don''t call me that," Salvi said. Stan had given her the moniker because she reminded him of some character from an old film. "I don''t look a goddamn thing like her," she said, crossing her arms. Hernandez chuckled. "Spitting image, Salv. You got the dark brown bob, the red lips, and you''re always wearing the white shirts and black pants. You''re Mia!" Bronte laughed and walked off toward his desk on the other side of the bullpen. "So," she said, pulling Hernandez''s attention back. "Stan. How''s he doing?" "He''s doing good. You should go see him sometime. I think the old guy would appreciate that." He glanced over to the empty desk opposite hers. "Where''s your new partner at?" Salvi checked the time on her police-issued iPort, a thick data-enabled wrist cuff. "He can''t be too far." "How''s he been doing?" Hernandez''s eyes sharpened on hers. "It''s been nearly four months. You must have a good feel for him by now." "He''s doing fine." "Really? Seems to me he''s been drinking a bit." Salvi went to respond but Ford called out from her office. "Brentt and Grenville! You''re up!" "The boss calls," she said to Hernandez, then stood and glanced at Mitch''s empty desk, wondering where the hell her partner was. Hernandez checked his iPort and pursed his lips, just as Mitch finally walked in. She caught her partner''s eye. "Ford''s office." Mitch nodded as he made his way toward her with two takeout cups of coffee in hand. He held one out for her and she took it. For whatever reason, every morning he brought her a coffee. At first she thought it was just a gesture from one new partner to another, but three and a half months had now passed and he was still bringing her one every day. She wasn''t complaining. "What''s up?" he asked, pulling his dark wraparound shades onto his head. "You''re late," Hernandez said, studying him. "Big night?" Mitch''s hair was still wet from a shower, his face unshaven, his eyes a little bloodshot, but he smelled of aftershave and mints. He smiled and pointed at Hernandez. "You''d make a good detective, you know that?" Salvi grabbed him by the arm and ushered him toward Ford''s office before Hernandez could respond. They found Ford sitting at her pristine desk, which was empty aside from her console display, a hologram of her wife and kids, and a cup of what smelled like Strawberry Cofftea. Back in the day she''d been attractive, athletic and known to hold her own in the field and in a fight, but now she carried a little extra weight and the stress of being detective lieutenant. Salvi eyed the large glass screen affixed to the wall behind Ford, displaying a map of the city with various lights glowing and flashing, indicating the current location of all callouts. She wondered which one would be theirs. "Don''t get too comfortable," Ford said as they took a seat in the guest chairs, her light blue eyes fixed on her console''s display. "You got a drive ahead of you." "Where''re we going?" Salvi asked. "The body of a young female has been found inside her home in the unincorporated community of Bountiful, just outside the city. Looks pretty nasty and the sheriff''s office is small, so they don''t have the manpower to work it. Weston and Swaggert will be handling the forensics. They''re already on their way. This is a first for the community so it''s big news. You heard about Bountiful, right? It''s one of the tech-pullaways." "Survivalist or religious?" Salvi asked. "Religious," Ford said. "But Bountiful was founded before the Crash." "How religious?" Salvi asked. "Cult religious?" "Cult''s a pretty strong word," Ford said. "Let''s go with extremely devout." "I think I heard about that place," Mitch said. "Bountiful is the one next d

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