Phil Williams - 2050 - Psycho Island

“I’m Detective Barrett.” They shook hands.

Barrett was probably in his fifties with gray hair, feathered and parted down the middle, the shape resembling a butt. He had deep crow’s feet, a large nose, and a first-world gut.

The detective led Derek upstairs via the elevator and into his cramped office. Derek sat across from Barrett at his desk.

Barrett tapped on his laptop screen. “You wanted to file a missing person’s report?”

“Yes. My girlfriend, April Murphy’s, missin’.”

“Do you have her address or phone number?”

Derek provided both.

“Okay, I got her.” Detective Barrett turned his screen to Derek. “Is this her?”

Derek examined the mugshot. “That’s her. Was she arrested?”

“Once. For solicitation. Although the charges were dropped.”

“She’s not a prostitute.”

Barrett raised his eyebrows. “What does she do then?”

Derek swallowed. “She’s an escort, but it’s not sexual. She’s just a date for politicians and businessmen.”

Barrett nodded his head slowly. “You might be right, Mr. Reeves, but escorts in DC are typically high-end pros. It is possible that we busted a party, and she was at the wrong place at the wrong time, but it’s also possible that she’s a pro. When was the last time you or anyone heard from her?”

“As far as I know, the last person to talk to her was Krystal, her roommate. Sorry, I don’t know her last name. Krystal said she talked to April before she went out on Saturday around six.”

“Did she know where April went?”

“Only that she was workin’ a party, but she didn’t know where.”

“When was the last time you saw April?”

“Friday mornin’. She stayed at my house Thursday. My family has an orchard in Luray. She came to help me with the harvest.”

“Did you talk to her or text with her after that?”

“I spoke with her Friday afternoon, and we texted Saturday around lunchtime, but that was it. I have the texts on my phone if you want ’em.”

“I’ll take a look.”

Derek removed his phone from his pocket, tapped to the text string in question, and handed it to the detective. Barrett scrolled with his thumb, reading the texts. He returned Derek’s phone.

“What happens next?” Derek asked.

“It isn’t illegal for an adult to go missing. Without any signs of foul play, I have to wait forty-eight hours before filing this report. If I presume she went missing at 6:01 p.m., immediately after she was seen by the roommate, that would mean that I can file this at six this evening.”

“What happens after you file the report?”

“I’ll add her face to the facial recognition database, and we’ll start looking for her.”

“By we , you mean the cameras, right?”

Detective Barrett nodded. “If she’s out there, the cameras will find her.”

Smells of the baking turkey with rosemary seasoning emanated from the kitchen. Jacob left his home office for the succulent smell. Rebecca and Lindsey sat at the kitchen island, sipping tea, overlooking the living room from the open kitchen. Jeeves prepared Thanksgiving dinner behind them. Spike the dog lay in the living room, in energy-conservation mode.

As Jacob approached them, Lindsey pointed at her stepfather, smiled, and said, “Spike, attack.”

Their little robotic dog stood on all fours and raced toward Jacob, who froze like a deer in headlights. The aluminum and titanium dog stood on its hind legs, hugged Jacob’s thigh, and mimicked sex. Rebecca had her hand over her mouth, stifling her laughter. Lindsey nearly fell from her chair cackling. Jacob shook his head, a small grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“All right. That’s enough. Get him off me,” Jacob said.

“Spike, heel,” Lindsey said.

The dog released its hold on Jacob and returned to its spot in the living room.

Jacob play-frowned at Rebecca and Lindsey. “Both of you are immature.” He then addressed Lindsey. “Is this what you’re learning in robotics?”

“No, but if you can program a robodog to hump a leg, you can program anything.”

“I can’t argue with that.” Jacob walked around the bar, put his hand on Rebecca’s shoulder, and kissed her on the cheek. “When’s dinner?”

“At two,” Rebecca replied.

“Smells great.” Jacob checked the time on the stove. It was almost two. “Where are the boys?”

“Where do you think?” Lindsey asked, as if it were obvious.

“I’ll go get them,” Rebecca said, sliding off her barstool.

“I’ll go,” Jacob said. “Enjoy your tea.”

Rebecca kissed him on the lips and said, “Thank you, honey.”

“Get a room,” Lindsey said with a smirk.

Jacob took the stairs to the walkout basement. The finished basement was nearly three thousand square feet and housed an extra bedroom, kitchen, living room, workout room, theater, and two VR rooms. Jacob opened a VR room. The boys were in the padded room, headsets over their eyes. Ethan lay on the rubber sensory floor, his hands held out in front of him, as if blocking an attack. David stood over his little brother, making a chopping motion with his hand, and yelling, “Die. Die. Die, stupid fucker!”

“That’s enough!” Jacob said.

The boys removed their headsets and looked to their father.

“He keeps killing me,” Ethan said, his eyes wet with tears.

“Go on upstairs, Ethan,” Jacob said. “Dinner’s almost ready.”

Ethan sniffled and nodded at Jacob. He hung his headset on the wall and went upstairs.

Jacob turned his attention to David. “What did I tell you about that kind of language?”

Six-year-old David hung his head and said, “You told me not to say it.”

“And why do you keep picking on Ethan? You know he’s sensitive.”

David looked up with a suppressed grin. “It’s not my fault he’s bad at Death Duel.”

“I don’t want you playing that game anymore.”

“Aww, Dad. Why not?”

“Because it’s too violent and I think it’s making you act cruel toward your brother.”

David crossed his little arms over his chest. “That’s not fair.”

“It is fair. I should shut off VR completely.”

“Whatever.”

“Go wash up for dinner. And be nice to your brother.”

“Fine.” David stomped upstairs.

The Roths sat around the dining room table, with Jeeves serving steaming plates of rosemary roasted turkey with white-wine pan gravy, fried Brussel sprouts with bacon, dates, and halloumi, and butternut squash stuffing. On the side, Jeeves served pumpkin dinner rolls and a baby greens salad with cranberries and candied walnuts. To drink, he poured an excellent pinot noir for the adults and homemade pear and apple soda for the kids, as well as water for all.

“This is unbelievable,” Rebecca said, taking a bite of the Brussel sprouts.

“Outstanding,” Jacob said, taking a bite of the turkey.

It took approximately eight hours for Jeeves to prepare and cook the meal but only twenty minutes for the Roths to eat it. Then another five minutes to devour the sweet potato pie with maple whipped cream. As they reveled in their satisfaction, Jeeves began to clear the table.

“Can we go play now?” David asked.

“Not yet,” Rebecca replied. “It’s Thanksgiving. We should talk about what we’re thankful for.”

“I think you’re supposed to do that before you destroy the meal, like conquering Vikings,” Lindsey said.

“I don’t think it matters. I’ll start. I’m thankful for my lovely husband and my three beautiful children.” She leaned over and kissed Jacob on the cheek.