Different Circles

He quickly washed his hands in the sink and then dried them with paper towels. After that, he walked to the office, Laura trailing behind him. Mounted to the left of the computer desk were the nine monitors that showed views from throughout the property. Seven of the monitors were showing night vision views since the sun had gone down more than an hour before. Nothing unusual was showing on any of those. The center monitor and the monitor immediately to its left covered the side view of the gate intercom box and the view from the gate down the access road respectively. They were not in night vision mode since the security lights had been triggered by a sensor located thirty-five feet before the gate and the entire stretch of road was now illuminated as if it were high noon in summer. In the center view was a male in his forties leaning out the window of a car. He had a mustache and Jake could just make out the shoulder patches on his upper sleeves and the top of a badge on his chest. He was staring patiently into the camera. On the road view he could see three marked patrol cars lined up one after the other.

Jake pushed the button which opened the intercom link between his microphone and the speaker/microphone on the gate entrance. “Can I help you?” he asked, his voice monotone.

“Is this Mr. Kingsley?” the officer enquired. He had no video screen on his end and therefore could not see who he was talking to.

“This is Jake Kingsley,” he said. “What can I do for you?”

“Mr. Kingsley, I am Sergeant Stivick of the San Luis Obispo County sheriff’s department. Would you mind if we came up to the residence so we could have a word with you?”

“A word about what?” Jake asked.

“I would rather discuss that in person,” the good sergeant said. His tone was polite but insistent.

Jake had no idea what this could possibly be about. He knew that he did not really have to let the deputies onto his property if he did not want to unless they had a warrant of some kind or had some kind of probable cause to believe that a crime was in progress. But there was no real reason to draw a hard line in the sand right here at the gate. Perhaps they were here to inform him of some sort of threat against him. And even if that were not the case, there was no reason to be antagonistic at this point. After all, if some psycho ever did try to get into his house someday, he would need these people to come quickly and help him. It would not behoove him or Laura to ostracize them unnecessarily.

“Okay,” he said. “I’ll open the gate for you. Drive up to the house and I’ll meet you at the front door.”

“Thank you, sir,” the sergeant said politely.

Jake disconnected the audio link and then pushed the button that opened the gate. On the video, it slowly began to swing open, inward, toward the house. Once satisfied that it was operating normally, he turned to Laura.

“Make a quick sweep and make sure all the pot and things we smoke it with are stowed out of plain sight.”

“Are you going to let them in the house?” she asked.

“Not if I can avoid it,” he said, “but better safe than sorry.”

“Okay,” she said. She headed off on her mission.

He watched the patrol cars file one by one through the gate. Once they were all through, he pushed the button and closed the gate behind them. He watched on the other monitors as they made their way up the road and onto the main plot, moving slowly, no more than ten miles per hour (Jake usually hit thirty-five on the stretch between the gate and the garage, Laura maybe fifteen). The security lights blinked on automatically as they made their journey, switching the views from night vision to regular light. They drove past the five-car garage attached to the north side of the house and into the circular driveway in front of the guest entrance that led into the foyer off the main living room. Once they were all parked and the doors opened, he left the office and walked to that door.

One of the intercom boxes was here. He pushed the button that transmitted to all the other interior speakers. “All clear?” he asked.

A moment later, Laura’s voice answered. “All clear. Heading to you.”

He did not reply. Instead, he stepped to the door, unlocked the steel security bar and withdrew it, then unlocked the deadbolt and the doorknob lock. He swung the door open and found himself facing Sergeant Stivick and two other uniformed deputies, both male, both young and of fairly impressive stature. It was a cold night and all were dressed in their long-sleeved uniforms. The sergeant, who was in front, was looking at Jake. The other two were looking past him, into the house, their eyes peering everywhere they could see.

“Mr. Kingsley?” the sergeant asked, though it was obvious that he knew exactly who he was talking to.

“That’s right,” Jake said. “You can call me Jake if you wish.”

“Jake it is then,” he replied. “I’m Sergeant Stivick. This is Deputy Maxwell and Deputy Clark.”