fierce intelligence burning in his eyes. "I would very much

like to make a phone call."

Chapter 5: The One Phone Call

The rookie officer escorted Byron down the hall to a

small, windowless room containing nothing but a battered

metal desk and a heavy, black landline phone bolted to the

wall. "You have five minutes," the young officer muttered,

stepping back into the hallway but leaving the door

cracked open.

Byron picked up the receiver. The plastic was greasy

against his ear. He didn't need to look up the number; it

was burned into his memory. He dialed swiftly, the rotary

tones echoing in the small room. It rang twice before it was

answered.

"Hello?" The voice on the other end was warm, sharp,

and immediately comforting. It was Lorraine, his wife of

twenty-five years.

"Lorraine, it's Byron," he said, his voice steady but

carrying an undercurrent of intense gravity.

There was a split-second pause. Lorraine knew all of

his tones. "Where are you? You were supposed to be back

from Holloway's an hour ago. Marcus is here with the final

drafts of the inaugural speech."

"I'm at the downtown precinct. Holding cell four,"

Byron stated simply.

A sharp intake of breath hissed through the receiver.

"What? Byron, are you hurt? What happened?"

"I'm fine. A young officer named Travis Crawford

decided I didn't belong in the diner. He arrested me for

disturbing the peace and resisting arrest."

"Crawford?" Lorraine’s voice shifted instantly from

worried wife to a ferocious political strategist. "The Chief's

son. He arrested the Mayor-elect."

"He doesn't know. Nobody here knows," Byron said,

keeping his voice low. "Lorraine, I need you to listen to me

carefully. I don't just want a lawyer. I want you to call

Marcus. Tell him to get Judge Harrison, Councilwoman

Davies, and the press. All of them. I want them down here

at the precinct in exactly one hour. And Lorraine..."

"Yes?"

"Tell Marcus to personally call Chief Glenn Crawford.

Tell the Chief there's a highly sensitive situation at the

precinct involving a VIP, and he needs to get down here

immediately to handle it. Do not tell him it's me. Let him

walk in blind."

Lorraine let out a low, dangerous laugh that sent a

shiver of pure adrenaline down Byron's spine. "Byron

Owens, you are about to drop a nuclear bomb on this city."

"It's time to clean house, Lorraine. I love you."

"I love you too. We're on our way. Hold tight." The line

went dead.

Byron hung up the phone. He turned to find the rookie

officer staring at him, brow furrowed in confusion.

"Everything okay?" the kid asked.

"Everything is going to be perfectly fine," Byron

smiled, a chillingly calm expression that made the rookie

take an involuntary step back. "You can take me back to my

cell now."

Meanwhile, across town in the spacious living room of

the Owens household, Lorraine hung up her cell phone and

turned to face Marcus, Byron's fiery thirty-year-old

campaign manager. Marcus was pacing the floor, reviewing

speech notes. "Was that Byron? Is he bringing coffee?"

"Marcus," Lorraine said, her voice hard as steel. "Put

the speech down. Byron is in jail."

Marcus froze, his jaw dropping. "Jail? For what?!"

"Breathing while Black, essentially. Arrested by Travis

Crawford." Lorraine grabbed her coat from the armchair.

"Start making calls. Get the judge. Get Davies. Call Channel

7 news. And get Chief Crawford on the line. Tell him a

catastrophic PR disaster is brewing at his precinct and he

needs to be there in twenty minutes if he wants to save his

job. Move, Marcus!"

Back at the precinct, Travis Crawford was leaning

back in his desk chair, his boots propped up on his desk,

sipping a fresh cup of coffee. He was laughing at a joke one

of the other officers had just told, feeling completely on top

of the world. He had asserted his dominance, put a 'thug' in

his place, and secured his weekend. He had absolutely no

idea that a massive political tidal wave was currently

hurtling toward his front door, and there was nowhere left

to run.

Chapter 6: The Reckoning of Ashford

Chief Glenn Crawford was a massive bear of a man

with a thick gray mustache and a perpetual scowl. He was

on the golf course, midway through his front nine, when