Chapter 2 - scene 2.

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Aiden had five hours to kill before his meeting at the University. He toyed with the idea of diving back into Fortworth’s records, but his head was already pounding, and he was growing rather sick of staring at screens of data. So he decided to do something completely unrelated and tidy up his living space a bit. The house cleaning programs did a good job with taking out the trash and making sure his dishes and clothes were clean, the floors moped, and all horizontal surfaces dusted.

However, after a deplorable accident when the cleaning robots picked up and incinerated some informant reports that had slid off his desk, destroying vital information, Aiden had drastically modified the program. Now none of the personal items were to be touched unless they were placed in the “laundry” or “trash” containers. He had made an exception for dirty dishes, and those could be picked up wherever they lay, because he knew he would never remember to put them in the sink. And since he hadn’t bothered filling up the baskets in the last month, his living room had piles of dirty clothes thrown everywhere. There was even a pair of socks in the now thankfully empty fish bowl.

So Aiden spent the next hour systematically gathering his dirty clothes into the laundry basket, which soon overflowed, much to the distress of the robot responsible for loading the cleaner. For some reason, Aiden was certain that it was the same robot that had cussed him out the day Ricky had brought him the Fortworth case.

“I know, little fellow,” he said, patting the robot’s shiny polymer body. “As far as owners go, I’m really quite dreadful, ain’t I?”

The robot ignored him and continued zipping between the basket and the cleaner. Aiden left it to its job and went back into the living room.

He looked at the fruit of his labor with a satisfied smile. At least the room didn’t look like the aftermath of a frat party anymore. Mary Ann would have approved.

That’s when he noticed a pair of jeans stuffed under the couch, one leg peeking out. He pulled at it, and the jeans came sliding out. Sitting on top of them was an old stuffed rabbit. Aiden’s heart thumped painfully in his chest, and his lungs constricted, making it impossible to breath. Mr. Whiskers, Jasmine’s favorite toy. She had carried him everywhere, and she had refused to fall asleep without it.

The day of the accident, Aiden had received a panicked call from his daughter.

“Daddy, I forgot Mr. Whiskers!!!” Her voice had been shacking and her face had been streaked with tears.

“Don’t worry, pumpkin,” he had said. “I will rescue Mr. Whiskers and bring him to you.”

“Love you, daddy. You’re the best!” had been the last words his little girl had said to him.

He had turned Jasmine’s room upside down looking for that damn toy when this transmitter had started ringing.

“Mr. Stapleton? This is officer Giordano from the Appalachian police department. There has been an accident…”

With a strangled sob, Aiden dragged himself out of his memories, grabbed his coat and fled the house.

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