Colt Crawford - Chapter 1

It was New Year’s Day and Colt Crawford once again found himself alone in his car outside an upscale bar in a swanky L.A. neighborhood. The sky was enviably blue and the afternoon temperature hovered around 72 degress. It didn’t seem right for a January day. Within the solitude of his car, Colt pondered how his parents must be feeling at that moment as rain gently pounded the roof of their suburban Portland home. They were, no doubt, sitting in front of a warm fire watching the rain drops streak down the living room window as a college bowl game played out on the 52 inch plasma TV Colt had bought for them for Christmas last year. How many times had he sacrificed his holidays to camp outside a restaurant or flashy house waiting to catch somebody sneaking around with someone who was off limits?

For the first seven or eight yeas of his career as a private investigator, Colt had thrived on the job. He loved the thrill of the hunt, even when it involved countless hours of waiting and watching. But on this day, and on many others like it over the last few years, the magic was gone. People would always do dumb and selfish things and Colt was growing increasingly tired of interfering with the lives of idiot celebrities who were determined to screw up every last chance they might have at true happiness.

Life as a private investigator for the stars did have its perks and that detail was not lost on Colt Crawford. The seats of his BMW 650i were indeed comfortable. As Colt sipped his iced latte he inhaled the rich smell of leather that enveloped the car’s interior. Peering over the rim of the paper cup, he scanned the front door of the bar waiting for his latest target to emerge.

Most investigators would shun a car as flashy as a Beemer so Colt didn’t mind that in this neighborhood his car was as inconspicuous as a Honda or Toyota might have been in any other part of the the city. As he sat in the warm mid-afternoon sun, he was tempted to put down the convertible top, but that would only draw attention to himself so he decided against it.

As the minutes ticked by, Colt caught himself letting his mind wander from his task. Thoughts of a life free of the constraints of the big city brought him a momentary reprieve from the daily grind. He could almost feel the wind in his face as he imagined himself gliding down a wide open highway on top of a powerful motorcycle. Just as his thoughts were tempting him to throw in the towel and walk away from it all, a brief commotion in front of the bar shook him back to reality.

Glancing out the front window of the BMW, he saw a man and a woman engaged in a heated discussion. “That’s her,” Colt mumbled to himself. He pulled the camera from the passenger seat and zoomed the lengthy telephoto lens in on his target. Snapping the shutter four or five times in sequence, Colt was satisfied that he had the last piece of evidence he needed in order to prove to his client that his girlfriend was indeed cheating on him.

With the camera once again resting on the seat beside him, Colt Crawford started the ignition and the car hummed to life. With a quick flick of the wrist the gear shifter slid smoothly into drive. Just as he was about to move his foot from the brake pedal to the gas and pull away from the curb, he glanced back at his target. The discussion between the woman and her companion was heating up even more. He could now not only see their animated gestures, but he could also hear angry words. If he listened closely, he could even decipher some of them. “Time to put the top down,” the detective said to himself.

Even though he disliked his chosen profession at the moment, he couldn’t help but do the job he had been trained to do. Once the roof of the car was tucked neatly away, Colt could make out most of their conversation. The two were clearly involved in a disagreement. “Come on!” the man yelled. “I’m your brother and I care more about you than he ever will!”

At that, the tone of the discussion seemed to settle by several degrees. The woman’s eyes dropped and he confident demeanor vanished. Colt glanced down at the file he had created for this case. What was her name? he wondered. Flipping through a few pages, he quickly found what he was looking for. His finger rested on the name, Mandy Miles. Again peering through the powerful telephoto lens, Colt looked back at the pair and saw that Mandy had tears in her eyes. “I don’t know if I can do it,” he saw her lips mumble. And with that, the man put his arm around Mandy Miles and the two walked off toward the parking lot. With their backs to him and the argument over, Colt had no way of knowing what was going on so he pulled the Beemer away from the curb and pointed the car back toward his office.

As he merged the car onto the 405 and drove north, he pondered the mistake he had almost made. He mentally kicked himself for not picking up on the brother/sister angle earlier. It all started to make sense as he sorted out the scenario that had been unfolding in front of him for the past week - the secret meetings, the late night rendezvous. Mandy Miles had been trying to leave an abusive relationship and had turned to her brother for help. Colt shuddered at the thought that he had almost helped an abusive man trap a frightened woman in his grip. Then, right there in the number three lane with the wind blowing through his hair, Colt Crawford made a decision. He was thirty-three and single and it was time for a change.

What kind of change should Colt make? Use the voting buttons to the right to cast your vote. You can also leave comments with some of your ideas.

Results:
A) Close his office permanently and join his brother in his real estate business. - 0%
B) Close the office indefinitely and take an extended road trip in the BMW. - 75%
C) Close the LA office and start over with a new practice somewhere else. - 25%