Damien's POV
The day began like any other, except I knew this one had trouble written all over it. River and I pulled up to the Brown mansion—if you could call the extravagant estate a "mansion" and not a monument to excess. The driveway was paved with what looked like marble, and the sprawling gardens were trimmed so perfectly that it made my own barely functional houseplants feel insulted.
We rang the doorbell, and a guard opened up, all muscle and no charm. He led us inside without a word. As we walked through the grand hallway, I couldn't help but feel like I'd stepped into the lair of a Bond villain. The floors were polished to a mirror-like shine, reflecting the light from a crystal chandelier so massive it probably had its own gravitational pull. Gold accents adorned every visible surface, from the railings to the picture frames of what I assumed were Mr. Brown's ancestors—or perhaps just portraits he bought to seem more important.
The guard led us up a spiral staircase, our footsteps muffled by a plush crimson carpet. As we ascended, I noted every detail—the positioning of security cameras, the weight of the doors, and the expensive-but-not-practical placement of vases that would shatter into a million pieces at the slightest bump. My instincts told me this place was as much a fortress as it was a showpiece.
Finally, we reached Mr. Brown's office. The guard knocked once before pushing the door open.
"Detectives," Brown greeted us, a polished smile plastered on his face as he leaned back in a chair that probably cost more than my entire year's salary. His office was an extension of the rest of the house: excessive. A massive mahogany desk dominated the room, flanked by towering bookshelves that looked like they'd never been touched. The air smelled faintly of cigar smoke and arrogance.
"Good day," I began, flashing my badge. "We just need to ask you a few questions and we'll be on our way."
He leaned forward, his smile not faltering for a second. "What made two very busy detectives visit me this early in the morning? Is it because of that parking ticket I got the other day? I've already paid the fine."
"Unfortunately, we're here for something more serious," I replied.
"Serious?" He arched a perfectly manicured brow. "What's going on now?"
I pulled out a photograph and slid it across the desk. It was a picture of the three men we'd arrested the day before. "Do you know these people?"
He picked up the photo, squinting at it like it was a blurry image from a bad crime drama. "Nope, never seen them before."
"They were caught in one of your buildings," River chimed in. "With illegal weapons."
Brown shrugged, setting the photo back down with a lazy flick of his wrist. "Many people trespass on my properties. This isn't the first time."
I leaned forward, my tone sharpening. "We have an audio confession of them claiming to work for you. Choose your next words carefully."
He chuckled lightly, shaking his head. "Many people lie to get out of trouble, Detective. Unless you have tangible proof connecting them to me, I'm afraid I can't help you. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have other matters to attend to."
River and I exchanged a glance. He was right; without more solid evidence, we had nothing. Reluctantly, we stood and left the mansion. But as soon as we were outside, I couldn't help the smirk spreading across my face.
"Back to square one," River muttered, frustrated.
"Not quite," I replied, holding up a small, sleek card. "I swiped the guard's elevator keycard."
Her eyebrows shot up. "How does that help us?"
"It gives us access. Brown keeps detailed records of his employees somewhere in his office, I'm sure of it. We just need proof linking those men to him."
"You're not suggesting…"
"That's exactly what I'm suggesting," I interrupted. "An unwarranted search."
River stared at me, her moral compass clearly spinning. "I can't let you do this."
"You want this case solved, don't you?"
She hesitated but eventually sighed. "Fine. But I'm coming with you."
"Look at that," I teased. "You haven't even been my partner a week, and you're already breaking rules willingly."
"Oh, shut up," she muttered, a reluctant smile tugging at her lips.
---
We waited until nightfall before returning. Dressed in black, we scaled the wall surrounding the mansion. I gave River a boost, and she hoisted herself over with surprising ease before helping me up. We crouched in the shadows, surveying the grounds. The mansion was lit in all the wrong places, and guards patrolled sporadically, leaving gaps in their coverage.
Then I noticed the fountain.
It wasn't just decorative; it was mechanical, shooting jets of water high into the air in rhythmic bursts. An idea formed in my head, one as crazy as it was effective.
I timed the fountain's cycle—every 15 seconds, the main jet surged upward at a velocity I estimated to be 10 meters per second. Using basic physics, I calculated the trajectory and force required to launch us to the second-floor window. The math was crude, but it was enough to make me confident.
River stared at me like I'd lost my mind. "You're kidding."
"I'm not," I replied. "The water pressure is strong enough. Trust me."
She muttered something under her breath but followed my lead. When the fountain's jet fired, we jumped. The force propelled us upward, and I grabbed the edge of the window frame just in time. River, however, slipped. I caught her wrist, pulling her up silently.
We climbed through the window and shut it behind us. The room was dimly lit, but it was clearly Brown's private office. We split up, rummaging through drawers and shelves.
Then I heard it—a faint sound, like footsteps. Grabbing River's arm, I pulled her into a closet. The space was cramped, and we ended up face-to-face, her forehead brushing against my chest. For a moment, we both froze, barely breathing. I stared into her blue eyes and a smile escaped my lips before I spoke. "You know, you're not so bad when you're quiet."
The sound we heard in the office soon faded and I felt it was time to continue searching for what we came for. "Clear," I whispered, stepping out.
We continued our search until I found it—the folder. Sure enough, the names of the three men we'd arrested were listed under the employees list. Either Mr. Brown forgot to clear his table or he had nothing to lose if we found that list. As River took pictures of the list, I noticed something odd on the desk: a blueprint. It wasn't your typical building plan type of blueprint, It looked strange. I brought out my phone and snapped a photo of it, I had a feeling I would need that for future investigations.
We were about to climb back out the window when a deep voice cut through the silence.
"Stay right where you are."