Chapter 1
Detective Lieutenant Jeff Chandler of the Los Angeles Police Department was a guest speaker at the police academy. Wearing his suit and tie, his shoulder holster concealed under his jacket, Jeff drove an unmarked police sedan on this hot August day. The scent of smoke lingered from the many fires burning all over Southern California. It seemed as if this was the new normal. Fire. Smoke. Ash. California had so many acres of forestland and National Parks, it seemed to combust from drying out and then either a careless campfire or lit cigarette butt tossed out the window, ignited terrible blazes. He entered the building and spoke to one of the secretaries in the administration department. Holding up his ID and badge, Jeff said, “Detective Lieutenant Jeff Chandler. I’m speaking today to the class.” “Good morning, Lieutenant.” Jeff doubted they knew him, since it’d been a while (cough-cough twenty years) since he was a recruit. A lateral transfer from Seattle PD. But these ladies no doubt didn’t work here back then. “Do you know which room I’m supposed to be in?” “Yes. Just head down the hall. Sgt Wilson is expecting you.” “Thank you.” Jeff pocketed his ID and made his way through a corridor. It brought back many memories. Most of them were about the hard physical work and studying penal codes and police procedures. A man in uniform, with sergeant stripes on his shoulder, older, with gray hair spotted his approach. He smiled and reached out his hand in greeting. “Lieutenant.” “Sgt Wilson, nice to meet you.” Jeff clasped his hand and shook it firmly. “The class is excited. You’re a legend in the department.” “Hardly.” Jeff felt modest but he did have a very high conviction and clearance rate. “Chandler!” was shouted from beyond the classroom doorway. Jeff saw Lt Billy Sharpe approaching. The handsome man in his fifties wore navy blue shorts and a matching T-shirt with LAPD Police Academt written on the chest. Billy taught defensive tactics after a long career in the police, which included SWAT, detective for violent crimes, and even Chief of Police for Santa Monica’s department. He was married to superstar, Alexander Mark Richfield, a man twenty years his junior. The two men hugged and smiled at each other. Billy was taller than Jeff by around three inches, and extremely fit. His blue eyes were like gun-metal steel and his brown hair was graying at the temples. But Billy was still absolutely gorgeous. How else could he nab a stunner like Alex Richfield? While they waited for the recruits to arrive and fill the classroom, he and Billy spoke softly together. When Alex’s dad, Mark Antonious Richfield, had all their friends visit his estate in Paradise, Billy and Alex always stayed over. “So, they finally dragged you off the street to come speak.” Billy put his hands on his hips. His biceps were enormous. One had a barbed wire tattoo with a black rose inked on it. Jeff salivated at the sight of him, but he didn’t dare seduce Billy. No way. Billy and Alex had cheated on each other so often, they had nearly come to blows and divorced. Jeff assumed they were both behaving. “They clip my leash every once in a while and I’m able to sneak away from my desk.” “Do you mind if I sit in?” “Of course not.” Jeff looked behind him as more students entered the room.
