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[universitypenguin]

Summary: Princess conducts interviews with witnesses in Fredericksburg to learn more about the disappearance of Li Wei and Zoe Chapman. Meanwhile, Lloyd confronts Tate Corbin about what he saw the night Julia went missing, but the answers only lead to more questions.

Word Count: 5,064

Masterlist

Author’s Note: I’d like to dedicate this chapter to @nomadstucky. Without her, I never would’ve been able to dig my way out of this latest writing slump. Her feedback was critical to getting this chapter moving in the right direction when I was going off the rails creatively. Thank you so much!

Warnings: Allusions to domestic violence, discussion of murder and other criminal behavior. Minor use of foul language. Only appropriate for 18+ readers. No minors.

Chapter XXIII

The cabins were in good repair. Seeing them in person disrupted the mental image you’d formed of the Chapman Bible Camp. It wasn’t the neglected place of crumbling disrepair you’d imagined it to be. Words like charming and neat came to mind, rather than decrepit and gloomy. The cottages were arranged around an ellipse shaped quad in uniform fashion, like spokes on a wheel. Their vibrant colors were reminiscent of the famous bathing boxes at Brighton Beach. Each one was painted a different shade of the rainbow and trimmed in a contrasting hue. The yellow cabin had purple trim, the green cabin fuchsia pink, and so on.

Instead of the Adirondack style commonly found in rural Virginia, the cabins boasted steep, angled roofs and front-facing gables adorned with whimsical gingerbread bargeboards. The whole aesthetic was so unabashedly Queen Anne that the cabins could’ve blended in with the homes on San Francisco’s famous Postcard Row. They seemed both too sophisticated and too cute for these primitive woods.

After her husband passed away, Mrs. Chapman had sold the bible camp. It was now in the hands of a musician who’d turned the tabernacle into a concert hall and rented out the cabins on Airbnb. Zach was fetching the keys from the owner while you waited on the porch of the converted tabernacle.

Standing here, you wondered if this visit was a fool’s errand. This morning Lloyd had called to tell you he’d be leaving the search party this afternoon to cover Roth’s interview with Tate Corbin. After hanging up, you’d itched for something productive to do. The abduction had injected a fresh sense of urgency into the investigation, but you’d agreed to keep your distance from Harmony because Lloyd was worried that Shun Nguyen would return to familiar surroundings. It was a reasonable assumption, one you didn’t have a counter argument for.

Still, you’d itched with a need to do something, so you’d turned to the mystery surrounding Li Wei and Zoe Chapman. Now that you were actually here you couldn’t shake the feeling that you’d drifted off course. The place to look for fresh leads was forty miles north of here, yet this was where you’d come.

What breakthroughs did you expect to generate digging into a case that was almost twenty-five years old? You were about as far from a lead as Pluto was from the sun.

Gravel crunched as Zach came up the walk behind you.

“I got the keys,” he said.

“The place looks better than I expected. More charm, less gloom.”

“Like a fucking rainbow in the woods,” Zach said, inserting the key in the lock.

“Uh-huh.”

“It’s creepy, though.”

“Creepy?” you asked.

“The place feels off. Too pretty for its history, like Gettysburg without a war memorial.”

- - - - -

Zach went to explore the camp and forest while you waited in the concert hall for your witnesses. Twenty minutes later, the first of two former employees arrived.

Mrs. Koep was a petite fair-skinned woman with thin lips and a broad face. She wore a white button down with a silk scarf draped around her neck and carried a pink Michael Kors purse. Her handshake was firm when she introduced herself as the camp’s former groundskeeper. Right behind her, the other ex-employee Mrs. Brittenridge entered the hall. Mrs. Brittenridge was the opposite of Mrs. Koep. The former administrative assistant and camp nurse was tall and thin. In contrast to Mrs. Koep’s carefully coiffed appearance, Mrs. Brittenridge wore a plaid button down with the sleeves rolled up to her elbows, straight leg jeans, and scuffed suede boots. Her dark brown hair, worn in a shaggy bob, gleamed with red highlights that complimented her olive complexion.

If they hadn’t introduced themselves, you’d have figured Mrs. Brittenridge for the groundskeeper and Mrs. Koep for the nurse. You sat down together in the pews. The two women took the second row while you sat in the first, angling yourself to face them.

“Thank you for coming,” you said.

“Of course,” Mrs. Brittenridge replied.

“Why did you want to meet us here?” Mrs. Koep asked.

“My colleague, Zach, is exploring the grounds, and I thought the familiar setting might help jog your memories.”

Mrs. Koep’s chin lifted. “My memory is just fine.”

Mrs. Brittenridge shot the blonde woman a tired side-eye, but didn’t comment.

“Rolling Stone magazine said your law firm is investigating the murders in Harmony,” Mrs. Koep said. “Is that true?”

“I’m afraid I can’t comment about ongoing cases.”

She scowled.

“We’re glad someone’s looking into Li Wei and Zoe’s disappearance again, and we’re happy to help anyway we can,” Mrs. Brittenridge said.

“I was hoping you could fill in some blanks surrounding Li Wei’s disappearance. What was she doing just before she disappeared?”

Mrs. Koep answered first. “She was supposed to take the campers on a nature hike before lunch, but never showed up. I learned she was missing when Mr. Chapman came to the potting shed and asked if I’d seen her.”

“The last time I saw her was that morning,” Mrs. Brittenridge said. “She came into the office to fill up her water bottle.”

“What time was that?” you asked.

“Eight-thirty,” Mrs. Brittenridge said.

You turned to the other woman. “And you, Mrs. Koep?”

“I caught a glimpse of her around nine. She was heading into the woods.”

“And Zoe?”

They debated whether Zoe had been with Li Wei that morning or not, but neither one could say for sure. With some more questioning the women decided their last official sighting of the little girl had been on Friday afternoon.

“What about Li Wei’s personal life?” you asked.

Mrs. Koep scoffed. “Non-existent. Her social life fell off a cliff after Zoe was born - some people even compared her to Boo Radley.”

By the icy glare she shot at Mrs. Brittenridge, you could guess who ‘some people’ had been.

“Betty, I didn’t mean anything by it.”

“You were right, though! She was a recluse! She was bored and lonely. All of her friends had gone off to college and left her behind.”

“She had Zoe, and her parents. You were there for her, too,” Mrs. Brittenridge said.

“It wasn’t enough,” Mrs. Koep said, wringing her hands. “Her mother should’ve pushed her to date, to get out and socialize. She practically was Boo Radley in the end.”

Mrs. Brittenridge sighed. An uncomfortable silence settled, and you waited to see if they’d continue. When they didn’t you pivoted to the main line of questioning you hoped this visit would shed light on.

“Who was Zoe’s father?”

Mrs. Brittenridge stiffened. Beside her, Mrs. Koep’s expression transformed from distraught to frosty. Neither of them answered. You retreated to a less aggressive position, realizing the delicacy of the subject called for coaxing, not pushing.

“Mrs. Koep, you worked here the longest. Since 1982, if the records are correct. Were you close with Li Wei?”

“Yes. She used to follow me around everywhere, always wanting to play in the dirt when I was planting flowers. I had kids who were a few years older than her, so I didn’t mind.”

“Did she ever confide in you about Zoe’s father?”

“Li Wei was a quiet girl,” Mrs. Koep said.

“She was quieter after she had Zoe,” Mrs. Brittenridge interjected.

You weren’t getting any useful information from the direct approach. Despite their obvious dislike of one another, the women were working in concert to dodge your questions.

A strategic retreat was in order.

“Do you have any theories about what happened to Li Wei and Zoe?”

Mrs. Brittenridge lowered her gaze, but Mrs. Koep offered a theory immediately. “I always assumed it was an accident of some kind. There’s a lot of abandoned mining shafts in the area.”

Mrs. Brittenridge’s lips compressed into a flat line.

You smiled at the former groundskeeper. “Mrs. Koep, would you mind taking my colleague, Zack, around? It would be nice to get the perspective of someone who knows the area.”

“Of course.”

“Mrs. Brittenridge, if it’s not too much trouble, I’d love to see where the administrative building was.”

“There’s not much to see. The new owners tore it down.”

“Any familiar spots would be great,” you said.

You led them out of the tabernacle and Mrs. Koep headed east to where Zach was inspecting the tree line, while Mrs. Brittenridge turned west. She walked to a picnic table hidden behind a grove of trees and sat down on one side. You took the place opposite her.

“This is where I used to take my breaks.”

“It’s a pleasant spot.”

“It’s private. You wanted to get me alone, so go ahead. Ask,” Mrs. Brittenridge invited.

“Do you know who Zoe’s father was?”

“No. Li Wei and I were friendly, but we didn’t have a relationship where she’d be comfortable sharing such personal information.”

“Would Mrs. Koep know?”

“Maybe. Betty was like an aunt to her. I always assumed she’d confided in her, but I’m not sure.”

“How long did you and Betty work together?”

“Seven years.”

“Were you full or part time at the camp?”

“Full time, May through August. I was a school nurse at Monroe High.”

“Li Wei graduated from Monroe, didn’t she?”

“Yes.”

“What was she like as a student?”

Mrs. Brittenridge considered the question before answering. “She was very smart, especially in English and exceptional in art. She wasn’t the most outgoing person, but always had friends.”

“You’d say she was well liked?”

“Absolutely,” Mrs. Brittenridge said. “She wasn't exactly shy, just reserved. The kind who thought before speaking.”

“Was she much of a partier?”

“Not in high school.”

You raised an eyebrow. “And after?”

“Sometimes when you’ve led a sheltered life, a little freedom goes to your head.”

“Got it. One more question. Why don’t you and Betty get along?”

“I had a cell phone in 1992.”

“Mmmhhh.”

“You’re too young to understand, aren’t you?”

“Probably.”

“Back in the early nineties, only drug dealers had cell phones, or at least that’s what people thought. I had one, which immediately roused her suspicions. To add insult to injury, I set up a website for the camp in 1996, then persuaded the Chapmans to put in a computer station so the kids could email their parents instead of writing letters. You’d have thought I suggested we convert to Satanism.”

You ran through your follow up questions and then walked Mrs. Brittenridge to her car, thanking her again for coming.

Then you headed down the curving path, around the oval lawn, past the cabins, to the garden shed. Zach was waiting outside.

“How’d the tour go?” you asked.

“I don’t think she likes me,” he said.

“Welcome to the club.”

Zach smirked. “Oh? Your charm met its kryptonite?”

You sneered at him, ignored his silent laughter, and stepped over the threshold into the plywood floored shed. The only source of light was a rectangular skylight on the roof.

Mrs. Koep was standing on the far side of the shed with her back to you. Her hands rested on a high table constructed from two-by-fours and MDF board. She stared at the garden tools that hung from the pegboard behind the table. Despite her chic clothing, she looked far more at home in this spartan surrounding with its crude furnishings than she had in the concert hall.

“I missed this place,” Mrs. Koep said, breaking the silence. “It’s weird to miss somewhere that smells like manure and gasoline, but I did.”

Mrs. Koep turned around and leaned against the table, crossing her arms over her chest. It was time for the confrontation.

“You knew Li Wei better than anyone,” you said.

“I like to think so.”

“Do you really believe she and Zoe fell into an abandoned mining shaft?”

“No, I don’t. But that’s what I want to believe, so I do.”

“Is it easier that way?” you asked.

“Being in denial for twenty years isn’t easy, it’s a survival mechanism.”

“What exactly were you in denial about, Mrs. Koep?”

It was stuffy and warm in the shed, but she rubbed her arms as if trying to generate heat.

“At first, you let yourself believe something irrational. Then… when reality breaks through the facade… you make yourself believe it because you can’t accept the truth.”

“You know something about Li Wei’s disappearance that you’re not telling me.”

“You’re very blunt for someone so young.”

“Thank you.”

“I wish I’d been that way when I was twenty-five. It would’ve spared me a divorce.”

This time you didn’t respond, just nodded.

“Li Wei didn’t give me the name of Zoe’s father. She said he was from up North - I think she meant D.C. - and that he’d been in a fraternity. They weren’t in a relationship or anything like that. Zoe was the product of a one night stand.”

“Did he know about Zoe?”

“I’m not sure but I think she would’ve told him. Whatever the case was, he wasn't in the picture. Li Wei was dating someone else.”

Excitement surged in your blood. That hadn’t been in the file. “Really? When did she start seeing him?”

Mrs. Koep squeezed her arms, gripping them until her knuckles turned white.

“Some time in March.”

“Why didn’t you tell the police?”

“Because I was afraid her parents wouldn’t approve. I didn’t want to start any trouble for her.”

You nodded. “And you’re sure the relationship began in March?”

“Pretty sure. I always came up early to start on the flower beds. He drove a motorcycle - not a Harley, it was a sporty thing, like the one Tom Cruise rode in Top Gun. I saw it parked in front of her cottage a few times.”

“Did you ever see her boyfriend?”

“A couple times, from a distance,” Mrs. Koep said.

“Can you describe him?”

“Caucasian, early twenties, with dark blond hair. I guess he was about six feet tall, give or take. He looked a bit like David Beckham.”

“You spoke to her about him?”

Mrs. Koep nodded. “I warned her that if I’d seen her sneaking around with him it was only a matter of time before one of her parents caught on.”

“What did she say?”

“She told me it hadn’t been serious and that they’d broken up.”

You swiped open your phone and pulled up an image of Julia Xiarong.

“Have you seen this woman before?”

She studied the photo carefully. “I don’t think so. Who is she?”

“She was related to Li Wei. A friend of hers said she’d been looking into her family history in 2002 and uncovered records of an adopted cousin.”

“How did she know they were cousins?”

“There was a family mystery about her uncle. He fought in the Chinese Civil War and fled to Taiwan in the 1940s. No one ever heard from him again. She found his death certificate and learned that he’d had a daughter who died in childbirth, which led her to Li Wei’s adoption records.”

“Was there proof Li Wei was related to her?” Mrs. Koep asked.

“If you mean a DNA test, I don’t believe so. Her friend said she came to Fredericksburg in March 2002 and tried to get in touch with Mrs. Chapman. I don’t know if they connected or not.”

“It wouldn’t have mattered if they did,” Mrs. Koep said. “Mrs. Chapman had Alzheimers. She’d lost everything but her long-term memories by the end of 2001. Her sister came up from Arizona to take care of her. She stayed on for a year until it was time to move Mrs. Chapman into a memory care unit, then sold the camp.”

“Is it possible she met with Mrs. Chapman’s sister?”

“Maybe.”

“Do you have a number for the sister?” you asked.

“In my address book. I’ll send it to you.”

“Thank you.”

Mrs. Koep squinted at Julia’s picture. “She’s dead isn’t she?”

You cringed internally, realizing your mistake. Detective Roth was going to have your head.

“I do recognize her. She was in the Rolling Stone article.” Mrs. Koep’s eyes narrowed. “You found Li Wei and Zoe’s bodies, didn’t you?”

“I can’t share any information about the investigation.”

You braced yourself for her to unsheathe her claws, but instead of lashing out, she opened her tiny pink purse and handed you a card. It was an old-fashioned calling card with her name, phone numbers and email address.

“When you can release their bodies, please call me. They deserve a proper funeral.”

“That’s very thoughtful. Especially after all this time.”

“It’s the only thing left. I can’t do anything else for them now.”

“Thank you for taking the time to meet with me. I’m sure talking about this wasn’t easy.”

“I wish I could’ve been more helpful,” she said.

“On the contrary. You were very helpful.”

Mrs. Koep looked confused. When you didn’t elaborate, she sighed. “Alright then. Is that everything?”

“Yes. Zach can walk you to your car.”

You watched from the doorway of the shed as the pair walked down the ellipse shaped path towards the tabernacle and the parking lot beyond it. When they were far enough away, you took out your phone and dialed Annabeth Greene.

She answered on the fourth ring.

“Hey, how’s it going? Have you made any progress on your case? The one with the cousins?”

“That’s why I’m calling. Do you remember running Li Wei and Julia’s DNA samples?”

“Of course I do. It’s the most interesting thing I’ve cracked in months.”

“What about Zoe’s?”

“The little girl?” Annabeth asked.

“Yeah.”

“I thought I already sent you an analysis of her DNA.”

“You did, but I was wondering if there would be any way to identify her father?”

Annabeth sucked in a long breath. “Ugh. Look, I can try, but I’m not optimistic. A lot of genetic libraries have closed the loop holes that allowed us to use ancestry DNA to identify suspects for law enforcement.”

“I’m not law enforcement.”

“You’re as bad as Lloyd.”

“Can you do it?”

“If I loosen my definition of ethics,” Annabeth said.

“You’re the best. I owe you.”

“Uh-uh. Lloyd owes me. It’s going to be something good, too. Expensive. You tell him that.”

“Will do.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

In a semi-private alcove within the vast common room of Fairfax Fields Assisted Living facility, Lloyd faced down his prime suspect. Tate Corbin didn’t look eighty-three. His face was wrinkled but his posture was impeccable. Also, he seemed to be made of Teflon, because nothing stuck to him. It wasn’t charm that formed the protective coating that resisted Lloyd’s best interrogation tactics. Just the opposite - the Teflon shield surrounding Corbin was constructed of impertinence.

None of his usual tricks were working, and that pissed Lloyd off. He was good at two things in the interrogation room: getting a rise out of someone and building a sense of despair that made them unravel. Corbin was immune to both tactics.

First, there was no getting a rise out of Corbin. The man existed in a perpetual state of annoyance; the only dependent variable was the subject of his ire. Second, Lloyd didn’t have any actual evidence and therefore wasn’t equipped to build a sense of despair.

He wished he’d brought you along. If he had, he probably wouldn’t be sitting here listening to Corbin monologue about his various hatreds. Mr. Corbin hated scarlet macaws, because his neighbor had one and it wouldn’t shut up. He hated New Jersey and their subpar roads that were always under construction.

Trying to forge a connection, Lloyd empathized with that sentiment and inadvertently triggered a cascade of grievances.

The architecture of FedEx Field was hideous and the Washington Commanders had been on the downhill slide ever since they’d let Kirk Cousins sign with the Vikings. Tate claimed to despise Roger Goodell, Jerry Jones, and the entire NFL organization. And he loathed the football commentators on TV, too. They didn’t know shit about football. He preferred to watch the games on mute these days. Lloyd really, really didn’t want to agree with Tate Corbin… but he was right about a lot of things, especially the Commanders letting Kirk Cousins go. However, he wisely kept his agreement to himself and sat back, waiting for Corbin to run out of steam.

There was a rant against the commissioner of baseball, which didn’t have enough context for Lloyd to figure out whether Corbin hated the office or the individual who currently occupied it. Without a segue, the topic shifted to how social media addictions were the younger generation’s smoking. As much as he hated social media, Tate also had plenty to say about the mass media, and he didn’t hesitate to bend Lloyd’s ear about it.

Tate had been talking for almost ten minutes straight before Lloyd found an opening to put the conversation back on track.

“I hate dogwood trees,” Corbin said.

“You had a disagreement with Shun Nguyen about a dogwood tree, didn’t you?”

“Eh?”

“Dogwood trees,” Lloyd repeated, louder.

Corbin turned up the volume on his hearing aides. “Yeah, I did. That damn tree was growing over the fence and he wouldn’t trim it! Claimed he didn’t have the time!”

“We need to talk about his girlfriend’s death.”

Tate turned his head. His eyes shifted to the window. Uncharacteristically, he didn’t offer a comment.

“I’m here to talk about Julia’s death and the missing women,” Lloyd said.

“Always back to that, huh?”

“The investigation has been re-opened.”

“It’s old news. What’s there to talk about?” Corbin asked.

“You were convinced that Shun Nguyen killed Julia, is that right?”

“Damn right. They were always scrapping. I told her straight out that he’d kill her someday, but she didn’t listen.”

“Were you familiar with any of Dr. Nguyen’s other victims?”

Tate’s initial chattiness had waned. He shrugged. “The whole town heard about them. Heck, most of the country did.”

“Tell me about it.”

Mr. Corbin ran his tongue around his teeth. An expression of disgust, like he’d just bitten into something rotten, flashed across his features. The silence lengthened between them and Lloyd decided to prod.

“Did you know Stacey Moore?”

“Her grandfather and I golfed at the same course. We never played together or anything, but we’d see each other at the bar sometimes. I suppose you already know Maya Sutton interned for my accountant.”

“Why do you say that?”

“You’ve done your homework. Everything I’ve told you was in the files, so you tell me - what’s the point of this? What are you getting at?”

Lloyd uncrossed his legs and leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees.

“In 2002 you claimed you saw a man walking across Nguyen's lawn on the night Julia went missing. I think you were lying.”

Tate straightened, his scowl darkening. “Lying about what?”

“You didn’t see a man. You made it up.”

“Why would I do that?”

“To throw the police off your scent.”

Realization dawned, and then Tate chuckled. “You think I’m the killer?”

“You hated Shun and Julia.”

“And the others?”

“You’re not much of a people person, Mr. Corbin. That can be very frustrating. You couldn’t join them, you couldn’t beat them, so what does that leave? You kill them.”

“That’s pretty twisted logic,” Tate said.

“Six women are still missing and we have the bodies of three others, so yeah. The whole thing is pretty twisted.”

“I’m not much of a people person, Mr. Hansen, but I’m not a killer.”

“Can you prove that?”

Tate snorted. “Actually, I can. You see, you’re not the first person to accuse me.”

Lloyd raised an eyebrow. “Who?”

“Peter Shaw, a reporter out of D.C. - obnoxious bastard.”

“So I’ve heard.”

“He tried to accuse me of being the killer in a story for some hipster magazine ten years ago. The editor called before they ran the story, trying to verify the facts.”

“What facts?”

“About my whereabouts during the times those other women went missing. Stacey Moore was the first, in June of ‘99. A few months later Maya Sutton disappeared. The next summer it happened again. Two more victims.”

“Do you remember their names?” Lloyd asked.

“Peyton Quirk and Kayla Ballesta.”

“They disappeared in the summer, too?”

Lloyd knew the answers to the questions he was asking, but he wanted to see if Tate did.

“Peyton disappeared in July and Kayla went missing during the first week of September.”

Lloyd pretended to make a note on his pad.

Tate continued down the list. “He took Lucy Lund in May 2001. Stephanie Young went missing in September.”

“You’re very familiar with the case, Mr. Corbin.”

“Of course I am. I was at Nguyen’s trial every single day, both times. Which is why I was able to track down the tickets and photos from my summer vacations in 1999 and 2001. There are three ex-merchant marines, guys I served with in the sixties, who can vouch for me. We’ve done a biennial fishing trip in Maine for the last thirty years.”

“Their names?” Lloyd asked.

He took them down, along with the phone numbers the old man rattled off from memory.

“You’re grasping at straws if you think I’m your guy,” Corbin said.

Lloyd had a sinking feeling he’d just grasped at said straws and they’d slid through his fingers. He clicked his pen and sat back, studying Tate carefully.

His body language was open and relaxed. He didn’t seem rattled by Lloyd’s prodding, which made him think the man was being honest. Of course he would check with the merchant marines to be certain but Lloyd suspected his alibi would check out. It was a shame Peter Shaw didn’t share information from his unpublished articles, because it would’ve saved Lloyd a trip.

“I didn’t lie, you know. I saw someone walking across Nguyen’s yard that night,” Tate said.

Lloyd noticed the way Tate’s left hand shifted to cover his right wrist when he said ‘someone.’

It was a subtle gesture of self-protection, the kind of thing you or Zach would be able to discern the meaning of. He couldn’t read the emotions on Tate’s face. Discomfort? Fear? Or was he gloating over some withheld piece of information? Being caught out of his depth was irritating. Lloyd switched tactics, dropping the confrontational strategy.

Corbin had a propensity to interject whenever he felt something was being misconstrued, so Lloyd phrased his next words as a statement instead of a question.

“You saw someone that night and recognized them.”

“No, I didn’t. I mean, I didn’t recognize them for sure. Not at the time.”

“But later, you figured out who it was,” Lloyd said.

“It was just a guess.”

“A name?”

Mr. Corbin adjusted the leg of his trousers, smoothing out a crease. “Guess isn’t really the appropriate word. Maybe you’d call it a… hypothesis?”

Lloyd wanted to grab Tate by the collar of his polo shirt and shake the answer out of him. Instead, he smiled, trying to school his features into a neutral expression.

“About a month afterwards, I had an epiphany, of sorts and the puzzle pieces just snapped together. There was a neighbor boy. He was college age but still lived with his parents. A big, strapping kid, just like the figure I saw.”

“Why do you think it was him?” Lloyd asked.

“I woke up that night because their dog was barking. I got up to see what was going on, but by the time I reached the window the dog had shut up.”

“Which house did these neighbors live in?”

“The one adjacent to Nguyen’s property.”

“Left or right?”

“Right,” Tate said.

Lloyd jotted down a note. “Anything else?”

“Like I said, I wasn’t sure if it was the kid or not. But he fit the general description of the person I’d seen, and that dog didn’t bark much. I figure that’s why the dog started barking - he’d smelled his owner.”

“Was he coming or going from the house?”

“Assuming it was him, he would’ve been returning to his house.”

“By cutting through Nguyen’s yard?”

“His parents had a security camera pointed at the front door,” Tate said. “I asked his father about their setup after things went down. I was thinking of getting myself a security system and he told me they only had the one camera for the front door.”

“And?” Lloyd prompted.

“Given the camera at the front door, he would’ve had to sneak in through the back. Nguyen’s yard wasn’t fenced. The easiest path would have been to cut through Nguyen’s front yard, go around the back of their house, and jump the fence into the next yard.”

“You never mentioned this to the police,” Lloyd said.

“Dealing with ‘em left a bad taste in my mouth. They’re idiots, the whole lot. Look at who they’ve got locked up now! One of their own evidence clerks! While I happen to think they’ve got the wrong man, I'm sure glad that fellow is off the streets.”

“Yeah?”

Corbin’s face scrunched. “With Leo McKenzie in the slammer Harmony’s DUI rate is about to go into free fall, if you catch my drift.”

“You didn’t think it mattered if you said anything or not.”

Tate grunted in acknowledgement.

“You seem to have this whole case figured out,” Lloyd said.

That earned him a smile. The old man leaned in, lowering his voice. “Want to know what else I think?”

Lloyd mimicked the posture, inclining his head.

“I’ve got a theory about why they never found any remains.”

“Really?”

“Copper Ridge Quarry.”

“I’m not familiar,” Lloyd said.

“It’s an abandoned mine, closed down in the 60s. Toxic waste. Acidic runoff. That’s where the bodies went.”

This interview was burning up more leads than it was generating. Perhaps he didn’t need to check out Corbin’s alibi after all, Lloyd realized. Tate definitely wasn’t their guy. The coroner’s findings on Julia and Li Wei pointed towards the other end of the pH spectrum, away from acid.

Even so, he played along, raising an eyebrow. “Acid.”

“It’s so strong it’s off the pH scale, into the negative numbers.”

“Interesting.”

“It’s more than interesting. Acid dissolves everything. No bodies, no evidence. Take my word for it - look into Copper Ridge Quarry and you’ll find your killer.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Next - Chapter XXIV

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Masterlist

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Tag List:

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[askvectorprime]

Dear, Vector Prime.

Sideswipe, who was supposed to have died in the battle on Earth in IDWSG, has come back to life as new body with partner. Could you tell us what happened to him?

Dear Sideswipe Searcher,

Fresh from their victory over Megatron, the maniacal Optimus Prime and his army of Autobots rampaged across the planet, looting whatever resources they could find and funneling them into the construction of an Ark II that would take them home to Cybertron. Their rampage was thorough; within a matter of months, the victorious Autobots had obliterated most major population centers and crushed the remnants of the world’s various armed forces—as they launched the Ark, Prime gave the order to salt the earth by having Blaster hack into the planet’s various defense systems and authorize the indiscriminate launch of hundreds of intercontinental ballistic missiles.

Many weeks later, Megatron awoke, seemingly the last sentient being on Earth. As the critically damaged Decepticon limped through the graveyard that had once been Los Angeles, he discovered that the Autobots had simply left their dead and dying to rust where’d they’d fallen. Megatron was instinctually repulsed by the notion of desecrating the dead, but realized that he needed repairs—and that the bodies of his former friends and enemies might be the only way to source Cybertronian parts until he could make it offworld. As Megatron lifted the body of one such downed Autobot, whispering a brief apology for what he was about to do, he suddenly found a pair of hands wrapped around his neck! As it turned out, Sideswipe had also survived the battle of Los Angeles, but had been abandoned by his comrades and left to die—even his spark-brother Sunstreaker had turned his back on his critically wounded sibling, with a parting sneer that Sideswipe had always been the ugly one.

Initially, Sideswipe wanted nothing more than to return to Cybertron and exact brutal revenge on everyone who’d abandoned him; in his current condition he could barely stand, let alone fight his way across millions of miles of interplanetary space back to Cybertron. After salvaging whatever they could from the battlefield to patch themselves up, the pair decamped to the nearby city of San Francisco, where they established a base camp on the burned out remains of the Golden Gate Bridge. Not long after, they discovered a Cybertronian Decepticon warship and the prone body of a tiny stasis-locked Decepticon named Whisper. It didn’t take much energon to jump-start Whisper’s systems, and the three set about slowly repairing the downed warship over a period of many months. As they worked, Megatron and Sideswipe had a long time to reflect on their past mistakes and come to some kind of understanding—in time, even Sideswipe’s once-legendary bloodlust faded into a resolute determination to atone for his past misdeeds.

However, when the time came to finally launch the ship, Sideswipe made a shocking discovery—a small group of human survivors had established a small village on the outskirts of the city. It quickly became clear that they would not survive on their own—they would need access to Cybertronian technology and someone with the knowledge of how to properly use it. That night, by the feeble light of the human’s campfire, Sideswipe told Megatron that he should go on without them, and wished him luck in his mission to rebuild the Decepticons.  Touched by the gesture, Megatron bade his new friend farewell—but not without first declaring him an honorary Decepticon. 

The next morning, as Sideswipe leaned back on the cracked asphalt of the Golden Gate Bridge and watched as Megatron’s jury-rigged vessel lifted into the air, he took a moment to carve a new insignia on his chest, beneath the ugly gash that now ran through his old Autobot symbol… then turned back to the pale, haggard humans who looked to him as their new leader and protector, and set to work.

[allmoshnobrain]

𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐫

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

part 22 of ? | masterpost

word count: 3319 | ao3 link | fic's playlist

All the hugs, the laughter, the comfort, the advice. The way his blue eyes were always locked onto mine. Maybe I should've caught on sooner. It's not like it was some big secret, especially since Dave got the boot from the band. But somehow, I clung to the hope that I was wrong. That the bond between us was stronger than any attraction he might have. That he wouldn't risk doing something that could change it forever. Something irreversible.  Something like a kiss.

✦ summary: An unexpected action by James confuses Nore's feelings and changes their friendship beyond repair.

✦ on this chapter: dave mustaine x female!oc, james hetfield x female! oc, oc is cliff's cousin, +18, language, slice of life, angst, love triangle, drinking, smoking, recreational drug use, kissing

✦ a/n: I'm back earlier this time! This part was a lot easier to write because I confess it has been living rent free in my head for a while lol Hope you guys like it, feedbacks are welcome and motivate me a lot!

✧ Don't wanna touch you, but you're under my skin / I wanna taste you but your lips are venomous poison ✧

The trip back to Los Angeles was pretty quiet as I got lost in my own thoughts. Still trying to wrap my head around my mom's offer and all the baggage it brought, my mind was racing, keeping pace with the dark night scenery outside the window.

"You're awfully quiet," Dave remarked, jolting me back to reality. I glanced at him; he was focused on the road, but looked a bit bothered by my silence.

"My bad," I murmured. "It's just... a lot to take in at once."

"No need to apologize," he said, a small smile playing on his lips. He casually took one hand off the wheel, placing it on my thigh, his thumb tracing gentle circles on my skin. I rested my hand on his, leaning back into the seat. He furrowed his brow, the usual sign of concentration, and his hand left mine to shift gears; I smiled faintly, appreciating how good he looked when he was focused. "How are you doing?"

"Me?" I questioned, and he nodded with a grunt. I sighed. "I guess I'm okay. My family is complicated, but it's nothing I'm not used to."

"Your dad seemed nice," he smiled, stealing a quick glance at me. I chuckled softly.

"Yeah, he's... easier to deal with. Now, my mom..."

"She's... interesting," he commented, and I laughed softly, catching on that he was being polite. We were almost home now; Dave stopped the car at a red light and turned to face me, gazing into my eyes.

"She's a pain in the ass, that's what she is," I said, and he burst into laughter. "Always acting like she's better than everyone. She always... always makes me feel like I'm hard to love," I concluded with a sigh.

"Hey," he lifted my chin with his fingers, making me meet his serious and focused gaze. I felt my face warm as he leaned in, planting a gentle kiss on my lips before pulling away. He whispered into my ear, "That's not true... It's very easy to love you."

The rest of September passed by like a hurricane. A few days after visiting my parents, we threw a small birthday party for Dave with our closest LA friends. To spice things up, there was a mini jam session where Dave, David, and a couple of other friends belted out some fresh tunes they'd cooked up. They had no vocalist yet, but I was blown away by the raw power and intensity of Dave's new compositions anyway. When he strummed those chords, it felt like a surge of electricity took over the whole place. Everything about him cranked up a notch; it was downright impossible to peel my eyes away, even for a second.

October rolled in, and with the streets all decked out for Halloween, I received an invite that temporarily shoved aside my worries about my mom's deal. Leanne's birthday was just around the corner, and she was throwing a bash for the upcoming weekend at Joe's place. Word was it would be a wild one. I hit up San Francisco on Saturday morning, thinking I was kinda early, but his place was already buzzing with people, tunes, and drinks.

"Nore! You made it!" Leanne beamed when she spotted me.

"Hey, Lea. Happy birthday." I grinned, handing over the gift I brought—some records from bands I knew she liked.

"Oh, you brought me a present, thank you!" she squealed, hugging me. I chuckled, giving her a squeeze back. She pulled away with a grin. "Hey, Cliff and the others are by the pool. I'm heading there soon, but if you wanna roll in before..."

"Oh, I'll track 'em down. Got a spot to stash this?" I pointed to the backpack on my back and the helmet from my bike.

I cruised to the backyard after Lea helped me stash my gear in Joe's room. Didn't have to play detective to find my friends; Cliff, Lars, James, and Kirk were deep in conversation by the pool, dead set on pouring vodka from a bottle into little plastic shot cups.

"Hey, that's not fair!" Lars yelped as I strolled up. "James, you snagged way more than the rest of us."

"Why don’t you pour it yourself, then?" James shot him a look, lifting an eyebrow. I grinned.

"Can't believe you dudes didn't save a drop for me," I teased, making them all look up at once.

"Nore!" Lars shouted, all pumped. I threw out a quick hi to the guys before zeroing in on Cliff.

"So, did Dave give you the green light to be here?" he quipped with a smirk. I huffed, rolling my eyes.

"He doesn't need to give me the green light for anything, Cliff," I muttered, and he chuckled before yanking me into a hug.

"Good to see you, Nore. Hey, what's that there?" Cliff pointed to the bag hanging from my arm.

"Oh, about that... Can I chat with you for a sec?" I asked in a hushed tone. Cliff raised an eyebrow, looking intrigued, but gave a nod. We strolled away, finding a quieter spot in the backyard. He pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, expertly fishing out a joint and lighting it, shielding the flame from the gentle morning breeze with his hands.

"So, spill. What's the scoop?" he asked, and I sighed before handing him the bag. He opened it, furrowing his brow at the sight of the Metallica record. "Wow. Is the album this bad?"

"It’s awesome ," I said, then sighed. "But... Cliff, Dave got really bent out of shape when he saw this. I just figured... maybe you could hold onto the record for me for a bit. I don't want him getting worked up about it..."

"Nore. This isn't right," Cliff stated, his voice firm. I lifted my eyes, locking onto his gaze, and could tell he wasn't very happy with what I'd just said. "You can't do this. You're giving up on living because of him. First, you move to be with him, and we hardly see each other anymore. Now this?"

"You don't get it, Cliff. Please," I pleaded. "I don't want to fight. Not with you guys, not with him."

"Is he giving you grief because of us?" Cliff raised an eyebrow. I sighed, dropping my gaze, but didn't say anything. "Nore." Cliff held my chin, forcing me to meet his eyes. "I can hang onto this for you if you really want. But you gotta tell me you know he's not your responsibility."

"Cliff..."

"Remember what I said when you two started dating?" he cut me off. "If he messes with you, I got your back. Cool?"

"Okay," I murmured, giving a small smile. "Thanks."

"Anything for my fave cousin," he grinned, and I chuckled softly. "Come on, let's get back to the shindig."

Back in the mix with Kirk, Lars, and James, we found the vodka bottle now half-gone, abandoned at James' feet while they all helped themselves to some beers.

"I'm gonna stash this and track down Lea. Back in a sec," Cliff announced, waving the bag with my record. I gave a nod, turning my focus back to the guys.

"Hey, Nore!" James hollered, a grin spreading across his face the moment he spotted me. "There's no way you're sober. You used to be a champ at this drinking thing."

"James, it's ten in the morning," I laughed, and he scoffed, passing the beer he had to Lars and grabbing the vodka bottle from the ground. He popped it open, strolling over and throwing a hand on my shoulder with a grin.

"Don't tell me you're thinking of laying off the booze."

"Of course not," I shot back, raising an eyebrow challengingly. He, along with Lars and Kirk, burst into laughter.

"You gotta taste this vodka. Lars swiped it straight from his old man's stash," Kirk chimed in.

"Yeah, it's awful," Lars laughed, then hiccupped. I rolled my eyes with a smile. I knew my friends turned into total goofballs when they hit the bottle, but watching it unfold while I was stone-cold sober was a whole different trip.

"Come on, open up," James slurred, his words dragging, gripping my chin in his hand.

"James!" I exclaimed, caught off guard, releasing a nervous laugh as I tried to back away. James grumbled, his hand sliding from my chin to rest at the base of my neck, the rough palm pressing against my collarbone. I could feel my skin heating up, my face suddenly flushing. "What happened to the shot glasses?"

"We polished off the drinks and chucked 'em. Come on, you want this or not? Open up."

I scoffed but played along, letting him pour a bit of vodka straight into my mouth. James grinned, his gaze fixed on my lips as I swallowed. He swiped away a droplet that had slid down to my chin with his finger.

"Good girl," he teased, a mischievous smile on his lips as he locked eyes with me. "See? Wasn't that hard."

"Shut up, Hetfield," I shot back, giving him a playful shove, my face heating up even more. He huffed, made a face at me, then strolled off toward the drink coolers without a backward glance.

"Hey! That's my vodka!" Lars protested angrily, before trailing after James. "Get back here, damn it, I haven't finished drinking!"

I watched them go, an uneasy feeling creeping into the depths of my chest. Why did it suddenly feel like maybe I shouldn't have shown up? These were my friends, right? So why did everything seem more complicated than it should be?

"They get really happy when you’re here," Kirk observed. I blinked, surprised by his words. He shot me a smile, but his eyes seemed intrigued.

"What do you mean?" I asked, and he shrugged.

"Just that you can tell they really like you."

I ended up talking to Kirk for a few minutes, both of us getting a good laugh watching Lars and James from a distance. Lars was on a mission to reclaim his vodka bottle, while James danced around him with ease. Kirk turned out to be a really cool guy; laid-back and easy to chat with. Eventually, Cliff and Leanne joined us, hauling in a crate of beers that we gladly shared among the four of us.

When the beer stash ran dry, I volunteered to restock. I cruised to the kitchen, where I found James slouched at the table, his head buried in his arms, the vodka bottle now empty and cast aside at his feet.

"Ah, there you are," he mumbled, his voice slurred, and his eyes a bit blurry as he caught sight of me.

"Are you okay?" I questioned, a tad concerned by his condition. He shrugged. "Do you want some water?"

He grumbled, and I interpreted it as a "yes." Scouting around the cabinets, I found a glass and filled it with water. James promptly downed it, grimacing, his eyes blinking and honing in on my face.

"And you? Don't you need a bit of water too?"

"I'm fine," I furrowed my brow, even though I felt a bit lightheaded from the amount of beer I'd drank. "I just came to snag more beer for us. You should join. By the way, where's Lars?"

"In the bathroom," James grumbled, then he hoisted himself up, clutching the back of the chair for balance. I placed a hand on his back, trying to assist. He scowled. "You said you came to get more beer?"

"Yeah, any idea where it is?"

He pointed to the corner of the kitchen, where some cases of beer were stacked near the stove. I grabbed one of the packs, tossing it onto the table. James nabbed one of the beers, popping it open.

"James, maybe you should take a breather," I suggested, and he snorted.

"Why?" he asked, staring at me with a furrowed brow, his blue eyes defiant. "I've been waiting for weeks to see you, and now that you're here, you don't even want to be near me. At least drinking makes it a little more fun for me."

I blinked, my mouth opening in surprise as I tried to process what James had just said. It's not like I was angry, annoyed or avoiding James at all, but the worry about Dave and my parents reappearing in my life made it a bit harder to enjoy myself this time. However, for James to think that had anything to do with him? That wasn't right.

"This has nothing to do with you," I uttered in a low voice. He approached, his brow furrowed, placing the open beer on the table. "I don't want you to think..."

"Think what? That you're done being my friend?" he took another step closer, and I backed up, hitting the cold wall. He rested one hand on the wall, leaning down so his face was at the same level as mine. My heart squeezed seeing the anguish in his eyes. "Since you moved to Los Angeles, we hardly see each other anymore. You not into me anymore?"

"Don't say that," I whispered, my voice trembling, my eyes filling with tears hearing the bitterness in his voice. As complicated as things were, the last thing I wanted was for my friends to think I didn't want to be with them. "James, this isn't fair..."

And then he kissed me. 

Maybe I should have seen it coming. Perhaps I should've picked up on the closeness and tension that had been steadily building between us since the day he first laid eyes on me. All the hugs, the laughter, the comfort, the advice. The way his blue eyes were always locked onto mine. Maybe I should've caught on sooner. It's not like it was some big secret, especially since Dave got the boot from the band. But somehow, I clung to the hope that I was wrong. That the bond between us was stronger than any attraction he might have. That he wouldn't risk doing something that could change it forever. Something irreversible. 

Something like a kiss.

Instead, there he was, his body pinning mine against the wall, his hands cradling my face, his lips moving against mine with a desperate hunger I never thought I'd find in his arms. For a moment, all I could feel was him —his scent, his body, his kiss. But my blissful confusion lasted no more than a few seconds before it was replaced by panic: this wasn't right. This shouldn't be happening. We were friends. I had a boyfriend.

I shoved my hands against his chest, giving him a solid push. He pulled back abruptly, his blue eyes showing a hint of sobriety as he took in my state—my face all red, breath coming quick as my heart raced, and my stomach filled with a million butterflies. For a beat, it was just us, his eyes glued to mine in a mix of confusion and ecstasy, before anger started bubbling up in my chest, ready to explode. I shook my head, in disbelief, and stormed out of the kitchen in a burst of rage that seemed to leave him bewildered.

I sprinted past Cliff, Leanne, and Kirk, barely registering the surprised looks they shot my way as I bolted to the front of the house. I plopped down on the curb, my breath coming quick, almost in a state of panic as I desperately searched my pockets for my pack of cigarettes and lighter. When I finally found them, it was useless; my hands were shaking so much, my breath all over the place as I tried to hold back tears, that I just couldn't light my cigarette.

"Nore? Shit, what happened?" I heard Cliff ask. I looked up to see that he had followed me and was standing beside me, staring at me with a confused expression on his face.

"Cliff..." I began, my voice shaking. He settled beside me, taking my hand in his, gripping it firmly while his eyes scanned my face, genuine concern etched on his features. "Cliff, James..."

"Did you guys have a fight?" he asked, furrowing his brow. I sniffled, shaking my head.

"Cliff, he kissed me," I murmured, suddenly feeling like I was 15 again, talking to Cliff on the phone about some boy from school who had broken my heart. His eyes widened at my words, his incredulous expression slowly being replaced by one of anger.

"And why are you crying like this? Did he force you? I'll beat the crap out of him..." he growled, letting go of my hand and starting to stand up.

"Cliff, no!" I exclaimed, tugging him by the hand. He looked at me, confused. "He didn't force me. It just happened out of nowhere. I just... Cliff, I have Dave. I never thought James..."

"You didn't know he liked you? Nore, that was kind of obvious," he interrupted, and I groaned in frustration.

"It's not that! Cliff, I don't know what I'm going to do. I don't want him to think... I just wanted to be friends with him. Why do things have to be so complicated?" I asked, my eyes filling with tears again. Cliff stared at me for a moment before sitting back down beside me with a sigh. He pulled me close into a hug, and I rested my head on his shoulder.

"First, let's go back to the party, and I'll get you some water, okay? We can talk to James later if we need to. But knowing him... If you left like that, I doubt he'll want to talk about it."

Cliff was more right than I thought; when we got back to the party, James was nowhere to be found. I tried to cheer up, especially for Leanne and Cliff, but it was useless. I spent the rest of the day worried about James, wondering where he might be, and if I had hurt him beyond repair.

When the party wrapped up, Cliff, Leanne, and I hopped into a taxi to Leanne's house. I had left my motorcycle in Joe's garage and planned to swing by the next day to grab it before heading back to Los Angeles. I tried to perk up as Leanne and Cliff enthusiastically decided what to order for dinner, but not even a hot shower was enough to lift my spirits; I was more intoxicated than I wanted, concerned about my friend, and trying to ignore how the feeling of his lips on mine kept replaying in my head every five minutes, which basically made me want to die.

"You don't need to worry about him. He'll show up," Cliff assured me later, after we had finished off the pizza Lea had ordered for dinner. The news was playing on the TV, and I could hear the water running in the bathroom as Lea took a shower, but I wasn't really paying attention to any of those things. "I mean, he could already be home... I tried calling, but I think Lars and Kirk must have passed out as soon as they got there."

"What am I gonna do, Cliff?" I asked, softly. I was totally lost. Now that all the lines in my friendship with James had blown up in my face, I didn't know what to do — and I didn’t want to deal with any of it. There was already too much on my mind. But I couldn't just pretend it didn't happen, either.

Cliff didn't say anything; in fact, I don't think he knew what to say. Instead, he grabbed my hand and pulled me in for a tight hug. I sighed, shutting my eyes, trying to soak up that brief moment of calm. Wishing it could magically wipe away the ache in my heart — even though I knew it couldn't.

[fellow-travelers-fic-recs]

Fellow Travelers Fic Recs | Current WIPs: April 2024

Active WIPs with most recent updates posted in the past month featuring awkward hospital room conversations, a hospital room meet-cranky, and hospital whump... I'm sensing a theme, here. More fake-ish dating, Mama Fuller wisdom, Professor Hawk, a couple road trips, some time travel and a few modern AU's. There really is something for everyone!

Happy reading!

✨ Be sure to show the authors some love and appreciation with kudos and comments on the fics you enjoyed!

🌺 Remember Our Love - Remember Me by Larnee💠[G, 638] Tim Laughlin - the love of Hawkins life is gone. Hawk struggles to move forward until someone unexpected shows up at his doorstep. Tim has never left Hawk, not now, not ever.

🌼 Chances Are by @bluebellsinburbank | ConsumingLove [G, 3K] After a family Thanksgiving, Estelle and Hawk talk. Then she meets Tim.

🌺 I Know I’ve Never Lived Before by @bluebellsinburbank | ConsumingLove [G, 3K] Wherein Hawk completely accidentally and through no fault of his own intentionally ends up dating the man he's sleeping with.

🌼 Within The Heart of Me by drabbleswabbles💠 [NR, 3K] Lucy goes to the hospital to talk to Tim. When she arrives, Hawk is already there.

Otherwise known as, a prompt fill that wanders a bit off the mark, but is close enough in spirit to give credit where credit is due as far as inspiration goes.

🌺 Darkness Before the Dawn by @beyondxmeasure | Cyantific [NR, 350] It’s June 1944, following the US offensive against the German-led Caesar line that tore through a small squad of the 141st Regiment, killing two men and wounding others, along with Sergeant Hawkins Fuller. Following the blast of the Nazi’s K5 railway gun, he underwent surgery to repair sustained shrapnel damage and is now recovering in the Army’s 32nd Evac Hospital. In the bed next to him lies Corporal Marcus Gaines from the 85th Infantry Division, also wounded in action.

Or, the story of how Hawk and Marcus met.

🌼 A Disaster Beyond Measure by drabbleswabbles💠 [NR, 23K] Hawkins Fuller is a campaign manager with a PR disaster on his hands. The solution involves pretending to date none other than Timothy Laughlin.

Featuring: unrealistic portrayals of the life and job of a campaign manager for the sake of the fake dating trope.

🌺 Who Are You (who am I?) by Anonymous [G, 2K] AU- Hawk fails his security clearance after Tim goes to the army and Senator Smith locks him in a mental hospital where he is lobotomised

Or, Tim receives a letter from Mary saying Hawk needs him.

🌼Too old to play (and too young to mess around) by @bejeweledmp3 | ninav [M, 61K] Kimberly Fuller goes on a two-week vacation to San Francisco, in which she: drinks excessive amounts of tea, gets betrayed, cries more than she should, eats donuts, and seeks out truth with the help of a man she only knows from a presentation card; not necessarily in that order.

But mostly, she finds her father in every least expected place. And learns to make her peace with what that means.

🌺Sands of Time (Turn Backwards) by @brouill3r | brouiller [NR, 22K] 1987 Hawkins Fuller is full of regrets for the life he's lived, though Tim once told him he regrets nothing. Hawk so wishes he could say the same.

In the still night air of a hotel room, clutching a cracked paperweight to his chest like it's carved of the finest gold, Hawk gets his wish.

Or, a time-travel fix-it fic that nobody asked for.

🌼 Is it over now? by @satelarry | satelarry [M, 43K] Seeing the love of your life walk away without being able to tell him that you love him has to be one of the worst situations a person can go through. But Hawk decided to fulfill Tim's request, knowing it will be the last. What happens when he wakes up, 18 years before, with the knowledge of what's going to happen if he makes the same decisions? Does the ending always stay the same?

Or, the Time Travel AU in which the only thing ruining Hawk's plan is Tim's stubbornness.

🌺 Again, only better by @madsmeetsmisha | madsmeetsmisha [M, 17K] Hawk had no idea what was really going on here. All he knew was that he was back in 1954 and a completely distraught Tim was standing outside his door. And he also knew that he certainly wouldn't make the same mistake twice.

🌼 🪴His great consuming lovage* 🪴 by @carnivalrow | nightfall_in_winter [T, 2K] Tim's potted plant has a story to tell...

🌺 We'll be on the road like Jack Kerouac by @jesterlesbian | captainquint [M, 4K] He tried to think of what Tim would do or say. The man who had only spoken to his son a handful of times over one weekend in 1968, but had seemed to understand him far better than Hawk ever had.

The business card felt like it was burning a hole in his pocket.

An idea burst to life in Hawk’s mind. This was an emergency if he’d ever seen one.

“What would you say to coming with me to San Francisco?”

Or, Hawk and Jackson go on a cross-country road trip to San Francisco.

🌼 Educate Me by @fullerthanskippy | fullerthanskippy [E, 13K]  A Hawk x Tim AU in which the timelines jump from 2012-2014 to present day 2024. When present day Tim receives an invitation to the 10-year reunion of his Georgetown graduating class, he is filled with both hope and dread that he will run into one particular professor.

One man who was the through-line of his two years in grad school. The man who taught him more than he could have ever learned in the classroom.

When Tim is re-acquainted with Professor Hawkins Fuller, he immediately flashes back to 12 years prior, when he first encountered the man that he had no idea would be the greatest love and loss of his life.

Or, tons of garbage filthy smut sprinkled in between pining, angst, and fluff. Contains explicit material including but not limited to the likes of top!hawk, bottom!tim, top!tim, bottom!hawk, dom!hawk, sub!tim, bratty!tim, and much, much more. Enjoy!

🌺 I Sing the Body Electric by telescape8💠 [M, 28K] Modern AU. It all starts on Election Night 2016. Tim falls hard. Hawk falls harder.

💠Authors: if your tumblr (or other socials) isn’t linked, and you'd like it to be, let me know and I'll be happy to add it! Or, if you’re linked already and would prefer not to be, please contact me to remove it.

[pb-dot]

Past/Current/Next Tag

Don't think I've seen this tag yet, well, before @dyrewrites tagged me in it at any rate.

Rules: Write about three WIPs, past is a WIP you stopped working on/finished; current is a WIP you're currently working on; next is a WIP you want to write

I tag: @bard-coded @lordfenric-writes @stesierra aaaaaand @cat-esper

Past

There'll probably be more work to do on it as I move toward publishing, but for now my work at The Clockwork Boy is done. TCB is a Clockpunk Queer Romance story about Love, Belonging and Revolution. The story follows Jake, a gearcrafter journeyman in a city stuck in a peculiar anarcho-capitalist stasis. Jake's tedious yet stressful life is upended as he (quite literally) runs into 13, a former assassin with a clockwork-powered body who seeks desperate sanctuary from the pursuit of his former employers.

Jake and 13 flee, both from the clockwork assassins and from the local brute squads, until they find themselves under the auspices of a worker's coop known as The Northwest. Their new allies prove vital shelter and help as Jake works to repair 13's clockwork body, but the heat it attracts to the organization has the two questioning whether they need to flee while they can or rise up to fight for their new friends.

A snippet:

“I suppose we should turn in for the night,” Jake said after a while. “I’ve got some gears I’d like to try carving tomorrow, and if you’re not doing anything else, I’d love to see if they fit the way they’re supposed to.” 13 yawned. “That does sound like a good idea.” “Oh, I got loads of those,” “Oh yeah, like?” 13 asked, a slight teasing note in his voice. “For one, I once got the idea to throw away my shitty job and terrible apartment to go chasing after this clockwork cutie. Best career decision I’ve ever made if you ask me.”

Current

My current tormentor obsession maddening descent WIP is a Queer Horror story about Art, Obsession, Madness, and Love. Our protagonist is an obsessive San Francisco art critic by the name of Oscar Skerry. Oscar's obsession centers on the works of one Tomasz Gildebrant, a reclusive artist whose bleak, rough paintings go for exorbitant prices due to their sheer cult appeal. As Oscar follows up on the thread of the urban legend known as Gildebrant Psychosis, how the paintings can provoke behavior in certain viewers that is either disturbingly violent or merely extremely odd, Oscar finds himself invited to Gildebrant's home. Warning bells should ring, but Oscar pays them no heed and wastes no time traveling to the secluded spot in the Carpathian Alps where he meets the artist he sometimes sees in his dreams. Tomasz seems almost too gregarious and welcoming at first, hardly the dark soul Oscar expected at all, but the things that don't quite add up keep piling on. Gildebrant lives alone, so who owns all the shoes that litter his entryway, why does every door in the house lock automatically at midnight, and why does Oscar keep dreaming about colors that don't exist?

This and much more will be revealed in His Impossible Brushstrokes, a standalone novel that asks you to consider what would happen in the opening of Dracula if the titular character and his victim Jonathan Harker fell in love, or if the master the Beast from Beauty and The Beast served was entirely less comprehensible than a magical rose.

Snippet:

At one point that night, I had fallen asleep. I couldn’t be certain it had happened before the gray hours of morning, but I had fallen asleep and I had slept. I knew this because I woke up, which traditionally required one to be asleep at some point. My body was stiff after the strenuous hike the day before, my brain was foggy from the jetlag, and my heart was certainly feeling in need of some sort of maintenance on account of the situation being somewhat confusing. That did, however not change that I was alive, I was in the home of who I considered to be the premier artist of our time, and he seemed genuinely happy to have me here. Granted, he also had some hair-trigger mood changes I’d need to work around and I had conflicting emotions about the whole setup.

In a way, none of this was entirely unexpected, I told myself. Gildebrant considering himself a fan of mine threw me quite a bit, but it was a nice sort of surprise so I wasn’t going to complain about that. The question, however, remained. How were I to proceed. Did I, strictly speaking, have a plan? In a way, I did not. I had wanted to meet Gildebrant, but I had assumed it’d take a long time, that I’d have a lot of time to figure out how to act, what to ask about, and ask for. Then there was the question of Gildebrant’s occasional brusqueness meant I had to be careful.

Some care, I decided as I sat up in bed and scooted my legs off the side of the bed, was perhaps called for. Gildebrant seemed quite comfortable with my company as long as the topic of his art wasn’t brought up, although I would concede that my sample size was rather limited. For now, it would be smart to keep things personal, develop some sort of baseline. If nothing else, it’d allow me to chart out the waters a little, figure out what it was that made this odd artist tick. I could work my way into the more academically valuable stuff later, and if not, securing some autobiographical details would certainly be something I could use in my works. I certainly wasn’t going to bring up xenosemiotics anytime soon, that seemed foolhardy in light of last night.

Next

I haven't yet decided on what my next project should be, but I do have some strong candidates. The Clockwork Guardian, the sequel to The Clockwork Boy, is on there for sure, but I may postpone that if my efforts to publish go nowhere. I also feel like writing more horror, so the socially conscious folk horror Draugr (working title) or the horror-fantasy Monsters, Slayers (working title) might also be good alternatives. I also have a bureaucracy-fairytale procedural with the title Department of Troll Affairs that I might pull the trigger on.

My strongest candidate, though, is the "30s-punk" deconstructionist postapocalyptic fantasy novel The Town Called After. It's about a group of people that, as kids, went on adventures in faraway magical realms. Now, 20 years later they're all adults, and finding themselves longing for the simplicity and potential of those magical adventures. One should, however, be careful what one wishes for, as our heroes find themselves pulled back into the magical realms, only to be told they are all destroyed.

Something incomprehensible shattered the magical realms and the few survivors have bandied together to create the city of After, a ramshackle town and community from salvaged parts of their old world. These survivors now plead for the help of these, the heroes of their legends. Our protagonists seize the task in the hope of reclaiming their lost glory, but find that things aren't as simple as they remember. Politics and corruption suffuse every level of this fledgling society, and crime born both of desperation and greed intertwine and intermingle in a way that makes it nearly impossible to separate one from the other. In addition to these moral qualms and finding out what being a hero even means in such times of toil and hardship, our heroes must uncover the truth of the calamity that shattered the worlds, lest this new home share their fate.

[silverkeylocksmith]

Unlocking solutions, one lock at a time.

We take pride in offering top-notch locksmith solutions tailored to meet the diverse needs of our customers. Our team of licensed and certified locksmiths is committed to providing exceptional service, whether you're facing an emergency lockout situation, need a lock repaired or replaced, or are looking to upgrade your security system.

[somadental]

Understanding TMJ Disorders: Symptoms, Causes, and Treatment in San Francisco

Temporomandibular joint (TMJ) disorders can significantly impact one's quality of life, causing discomfort and affecting daily activities such as eating and speaking. In San Francisco, individuals seeking relief from TMJ disorders can benefit from understanding the symptoms, causes, and available treatments. This comprehensive guide explores these aspects, shedding light on effective solutions for those experiencing TMJ-related discomfort.

What are TMJ Disorders?

TMJ disorders refer to a group of conditions affecting the temporomandibular joint, which connects the jawbone to the skull. These disorders can manifest as pain, stiffness, or dysfunction in the jaw joint and surrounding muscles. Common symptoms include:

Jaw pain or tenderness

Difficulty chewing or discomfort while chewing

Clicking, popping, or grating sounds in the jaw joint

Locking of the jaw joint

Facial pain or discomfort

Headaches or earaches

Causes of TMJ Disorders:

TMJ disorders can have various causes, including:

Trauma or injury to the jaw joint

Teeth grinding or clenching (bruxism)

Arthritis affecting the TMJ

Misalignment of the jaw or teeth

Stress or anxiety, leading to jaw clenching

Identifying the underlying cause is crucial for determining the most effective treatment approach.

TMJ Treatment Options in San Francisco:

Individuals in San Francisco seeking TMJ treatment have access to a range of options tailored to their specific needs. These may include:

Conservative measures such as lifestyle modifications, stress management techniques, and jaw exercises.

Dental interventions such as oral splints or mouthguards to alleviate pressure on the jaw joint and prevent teeth grinding.

Physical therapy to improve jaw mobility and reduce muscle tension.

Medications such as muscle relaxants, pain relievers, or anti-inflammatories to alleviate TMJ-related pain and discomfort.

In some cases, surgical interventions may be necessary to repair or realign the jaw joint.

Finding a Dentist in San Francisco for TMJ Treatment:

When seeking TMJ treatment in San Francisco, finding the right dentist is essential. Consider the following factors while considering a dentist near in San Franscisco:

Experience and expertise in diagnosing and treating TMJ disorders.

A comprehensive approach to TMJ management, incorporating both conservative and advanced treatment options.

Positive patient reviews and testimonials highlighting successful outcomes.

Convenient location and accessibility for regular appointments and follow-ups.

By choosing a reputable dentist specializing in TMJ disorders, individuals can receive personalized care to effectively address their symptoms and improve their quality of life.

"Unlocking Relief: Your Path to TMJ Treatment in San Francisco"

TMJ disorders can significantly impact daily life, but effective treatment options are available for individuals in San Francisco seeking relief. By understanding the symptoms, causes, and treatment options for TMJ disorders, individuals can take proactive steps towards managing their condition and restoring comfort and functionality to their jaw joint. With the guidance of a skilled dentist specializing in TMJ treatment, individuals can embark on a journey towards improved oral health and overall well-being.

In conclusion, whether you're experiencing jaw pain or seeking TMJ treatment in San Francisco, understanding the factors contributing to TMJ disorders and accessing appropriate care are essential for achieving relief and restoring optimal jaw function.

To arrange a consultation with [Dr.Nigel Suarez], please call us at (415) 964-4683 if you have any worries or inquiries about TMJ treatment in San Francisco or visit https://shorturl.at/xzJX8. Our team's commitment is to give you the best possible care and direction for your oral health.

[sebeth]

All-Star Squadron #9 (Revised 1/21/24)

All-Star Squadron #9 by Roy Thomas, Adrian Gonzales, and Jerry Ordway.

Warning, Spoilers Ahead…

“Should Old Acquaintance Be Destroyed…”

Liberty Belle, Johnny Quick, Hawkgirl, Commander Steel, Atom, Robotman, Firebrand, and the Shining Knight share a New Year’s Eve toast with FDR and Winston Churchill.

Sir Justin toasts Churchill: “I would salute Winston Churchill – the Prime Minister of a beleaguered and embattled Britain.  Aye, verily, from my liege King Arthur’s day to this, there be no man more worthy of knighthood, and of merrie England’s gratitude.  In sooth, sir, you are Britain – in this which you yourself named its finest hour!”

I forgot to mention it last issue but Sir Justin had a last name created for him. He is known as Justin Arthur in the modern time.

FDR has arranged for Hawkgirl to receive a phone call from Hawkman at midnight.

Firebrand’s brother, Rod, still hasn’t recovered enough to be sent stateside from Pearl Harbor.

The Atom, as Private Al Pratt, will return to his tank corps training in Virginia.

The All-Stars ask Steel to continue his story – what happened after he and two British commandos landed behind Nazi lined in Poland. The first part of his origin story was in All-Star Squadron #8 which I recapped in an earlier post.

Steel relates Antoni, Ludeck, and he landed near Konigsberg in East Prussia. The trio are soon ambushed by German forces, led by “Ein Schlachter”, the Butcher.  Steel’s comrades are killed and he is captured.

Steel, stripped of his costume, awakens in a concentration camp.  Steel speaks to a few of the camp’s prisoners and attempts to escape but is quickly re-captured.  Steel’s antics capture the camp scientists’ attention and they discover his enhancements.

The scientist recalls a medical conference in Munich where Gilbert Giles (Steel’s creator) discussed the possibility of the enhancements. One of Steel’s captors refer to him as an “uber-soldat” which translates to super-soldier. A nice reference since the creators of Steel intended for the character to be an homage to Captain America’s World War II adventures.

Steel makes yet another escape attempt and once again fails. A prisoner grabs a bottle of acid and throws it at the Butcher causing a massive facial disfigurement. Steel falls into unconsciousness.

Steel finishes his tale by informing the All-Stars that’s the last moment he remembers.  He has no idea how he ended up in Ottawa in time to save Winston Churchill.

Elsewhere in Washington D.C., Baron Blitzkrieg gloats about his upcoming victory. The Baron reveals he was “the Butcher”.  The German doctors were able to save his eyesight after the acid attack but his face was beyond repair.  He was used as a guinea pig and the experiments allowed him to “siphon off the mind’s vast energies – giving him full control, for brief periods, of his body’s resources…he could be super-strong or amazingly swift…even soar like a bird!”

The Baron reveals he created Steel’s amnesia and installed an order to assassinate Churchill when he hears the words “now begins the age of chaos”.  The Baron sent Steel to Ottawa to stop “the Black Assassin” and gain the confidence of the All-Stars, FDR, and Churchill.  Kung, however, was a wild card.

Midnight strikes and Hawkman and Hawkgirl are chatting on the phone.  Hawkman is stationed near San Francisco.

The Hawks’ call is interrupted by an individual asking for Steel.  Steel answers the phone.  FDR wonders how anyone would even know Steel was at the White House.  An immediately suspicious Liberty Belle orders Johnny Quick to remove FDR and Churchill from the room.  FDR agrees: “I’ve found Liberty Belle’s instincts to be almost flawless.”

Steel pursues the fleeing Johnny Quick, FDR, and Churchill.

“Good Gravy” – I love the old-fashioned comic book expressions.

Steel locks the doors behind him but it takes the Shining Knight and Robotman a whopping one second to destroy the doors.

The remaining All-Stars catch up with the brawling Steel and Johnny Quick. Johnny’s faster but Steel hits harder – the advantage of having steel-lined bones.

Firebrand surrounds FDR and Churchill in a ring of fire to prevent Steel from reaching the leaders.

The Shining Knight cautions his teammates: “No – wait, all! Truly, he is enchanted somehow! We must needs find the key that will release him from the spell!”

Sir Justin continues to be my favorite All-Star – observant, compassionate, a true knight.

Robotman confronts Steel in a “Man of Steel” fight.  Unfortunately, Superman doesn’t drop in to make it a three-way fight for the title.

Firebrand throws a ball of fire at Steel’s face causing Baron Blitzkrieg to recoil in emotional trauma and destroying the psychic link to Steel.

Steel, dazed and confused, has no idea what’s going on.

Robotman offers to check out Steel’s infrastructure for any surprises.

Johnny Quick and Liberty Belle, along with the Shining Knight and Firebrand, share their first kiss.

Baron Blitzkrieg, big bad Nazi villain, whimpers for Zwerg, his faithful sidekick: “Zwerg…Zwerg! Help me, Zwerg…don’t leave me…it’s…so dark in here…can’t see!  Please – turn on the lights! Promise me, Zwerg…promise me I will see again!”

Zwerg assures the Baron: “I promise, Herr Baron.  You shall see again – and on that day, we’ll strike like lightning in the night, you and I, and smash the Allies, and their hated All-Star Squadron, for all time!”

Sorry, Baron, I can’t muster any sympathy for you – not only are you a Nazi, but you were also in charge of a concentration camp. I hope Firebrand throws a fireball at your face every time she encounters you!

[lelocksmithservices]

Swift Solutions: Your Trusted Local Locksmith San Francisco

In today’s hustle and bustle life, keeping the homes safe and secure is imperative. Many working professionals can’t always live at home, and they should use the right and secured lock system at their homes for their security: locks secure cabinets, rooms, buildings, and other storage safes. Getting services from  Local Locksmith San Francisco is crucial by contacting  the right experts to make robust locks. The locksmiths should be fully insured and licensed when you are seeking services from a locksmith in your local area. 

More details you can get in this article to know more about how you can get into good contact with locksmiths, whether it is about finding Auto Locksmith San Francisco, a Mobile Locksmith In San Francisco or any local one. The security system installation can be done wisely with the help of professional locksmiths. They can make the right solution to your troubles if you are facing such in addressing lock issues. 

Meet an experienced Auto Locksmith San Francisco

Whenever you find yourself locked out of your vehicle and don’t have any rescue, you can contact skilled locksmiths who will address your issues. Getting the best services related to resolving and repairing the locks, installing locks, and any assistance will be needed to get reliable solutions from experts. The experts use cutting-edge technology to address all types of car lock repair and meet the best automotive locksmith needs at the required time. 

Efficiency and professionalism are needed whenever there are requirements for any lock resolving issue, whether of your car lock, safe lock or house lock. Whenever you have lost your keys, you will get direct assistance from professionals or experienced technicians who use the latest tools and technology to handle such issues. But finding them can be a daunting task, but it is possible. 

In case of contacting and needing the automotive locksmith assistance in emergency is possible. There are also Local Locksmith San Francisco to whom you can choose for resolving your home locks issues. Finding reputed and credible sources for locksmiths can be difficult, but searching for them is crucial. 

The local locksmiths don’t charge much as they are excellent at providing the best customer service. Also, in the case of installing home security systems, broken key extraction, and car lockouts, specialised locksmiths can help. So, make your homes completely secure by prioritizing the security system installation at homes conveniently with the locksmiths professionals. 

Conclusion: Your Security, Our Priority

In the ever-evolving landscape of San Francisco, there are numerous locksmiths. Still, when unexpected challenges arise, the best helper is a trio of local, mobile and auto locksmiths. The lock professionals can help unlock a stress-free time and life in such situations. Keep the numbers of Local Locksmith San Francisco handy so that at times of need, you can directly contact them for your better convenience. 

Get in touch with the right locksmiths as we are and handover your troubling situation to us to resolve it with our best help in no time, whether it is home lock, safe lock, car lock or any other issue.

L.E Locksmith Services 1728 Union st ste 102, San Francisco CA 94123 (415) 993-3427

[easylocksmith247sf]

5 Reasons Why You Might Need a Car Key Replacement San Francisco:

Summary:

Losing or damaging your car keys can be a frustrating experience, especially in San Francisco where a reliable mode of transportation is crucial. Easy Locksmith 247, based in San Francisco, CA, understands the importance of a functioning car key and offers car key replacement services to alleviate your worries. In this blog summary, we explore five reasons why you might need our service for Car Key Replacement San Francisco. Whether you've lost your keys, they've been stolen, or they've stopped working, Easy Locksmith 247 has the expertise to get you back on the road quickly and efficiently. Don't let a missing or malfunctioning key hold you back—trust Easy Locksmith 247 for all types of Car Key Replacement San Francisco.

Lost or Stolen Keys:

Misplacing or having your car keys stolen is an unfortunate situation. Easy Locksmith 247 specializes in creating precise Car Key Replacement San Francisco, ensuring you can regain access to your vehicle quickly and securely. Their experienced technicians are equipped with advanced tools to cut and program keys for a wide range of car makes and models.

Broken Keys:

Keys can break due to various reasons, such as wear and tear or accidental damage. When faced with a broken car key, Easy Locksmith 247 can swiftly provide you with a reliable Locksmith Services San Francisco. Their expertise lies in crafting durable keys that will stand the test of time.

Malfunctioning Transponder Keys:

Transponder keys are becoming increasingly common in modern vehicles as an added security measure. If your transponder key is malfunctioning or no longer functioning at all, Easy Locksmith 247 can create a new key with the proper programming to ensure compatibility with your vehicle's security system.

Damaged or Non-functional Remote Key Fobs:

Remote key fobs offer convenient access to your vehicle, but they can become damaged or stop working over time. If you're struggling with a faulty remote key fob, Easy Locksmith 247 can provide a quick Car Key Replacement San Francisco that will seamlessly integrate with your car's locking and alarm system, restoring convenience and peace of mind.

Spare Key Duplication:

Having a spare key is always a wise decision. Easy Locksmith 247 can duplicate your existing car keys, ensuring you have a backup in case of emergencies. Their skilled professionals use cutting-edge technology to create duplicate keys that are indistinguishable from the original, ensuring a perfect fit and functionality.

Don't let a car key mishap disrupt your day. Contact Easy Locksmith 247 in San Francisco, CA, for all your car key replacement and Lock Repair San Francisco. Trust their expertise, reliability, and dedication to getting you back on the road quickly and safely. Reach out to them today and experience the convenience and peace of mind that comes with their exceptional Locksmith Services San Francisco.

Conclusion:

When it comes to Car Key Replacement San Francisco, Easy Locksmith 247 stands out as the go-to solution. Their commitment to excellent customer service, fast response times, and competitive pricing sets them apart from the competition. Whether you've lost your keys, need a broken key replaced, or require a spare key duplication, their skilled technicians are ready to assist you.

Easy Locksmith 247 65 Santa Rosa Ave, Unit 2. San Francisco, CA 94044 (415) 229-7918

[neighborhoodlocksmithsf]

Importance of Emergency Locksmith Services

Emergencies can happen at any time. At the time you will find yourself locked out of your home can be one of the most tough situations. This is where emergency locksmith services play an important role in providing effective solutions. With their expertise and quick response times, they help mitigate the anxiety that comes with lock-related crises.

Quick Response

One of the common scenarios of emergency services is a house lockout. If you return to your home after a while, you can’t get in because your keys are lost. In such moments, having access to a reliable locksmith who can respond swiftly is important.

Emergency locksmiths are available 24/7. You won’t have to wait long for help during the night. Their quick response helps you regain access and reduces stress and anxiety. It allows you to return to your routine quickly.

Security

Emergency locksmith services provide various solutions for lockouts. They can check your home’s security needs, recommending upgrades such as smart locks. In theft cases, they can rekey your locks to ensure former keys no longer work. It gives you extra protection.

Many emergency locksmiths provide lock repair services to fix any damaged locks. This approach to security helps homeowners feel more secure in their living environments.

Affordable Services

Cost is one of the important issues during emergencies. You have to choose affordable locksmith services in San Francisco can help reduce the financial issue. Many locksmiths provide affordable prices.

You can receive high-quality service without hidden fees. Some locksmiths may provide special discounts. 

Final Thoughts

The importance of emergency locksmith services cannot be magnified. They provide necessary support in important situations like house lockouts and provide various services to enhance your home’s security. By choosing an affordable locksmith service, you can ensure you are well-prepared for any unexpected lock-related issues. Emergency locksmiths are invaluable to maintain the safety and security of your home.

[jerryslockkeys]

Jerry's Lock & key

URL:

Keywords:

Smart Locks Service, Residential Locksmith, Residential Lock Service, Rekey Lock Service, Mailbox Installation Service, Lock Repair, Lock Installation, Lock Change, Locksmith San Francisco, Key Extraction Services , Key Duplication Service, Locksmith

Description:

JERRY'S LOCKSMITH Your Trusted Locksmith Experts Do you need reliable locksmith services to safeguard your home, business, or vehicle? Look no further than Jerry’s Lock & Key! With years of experience and a reputation for excellence, we are your go-to locksmith company dedicated to providing top-notch solutions tailored to your needs.

Full Address:

1680 Herault Pl Unit C

St. Louis, MO

63125

Phone:

314-936-3515

Business Email

lockkeyjerrys@gmail.com

Operating Hours:

Monday to Friday 6 AM–9 PM Saturday Closed Sunday 6 AM–9 PM

Social Media Links:

[neighborhoodllocksmithsf]

Neighborhood Locksmith SF - Locksmith South San Francisco

URL:

Keywords:

Smart Locks Service, Residential Locksmith, Residential Lock Service, Rekey Lock Service, Mailbox Installation Service, Lock Repair, Lock Installation, Lock Change, Locksmith San Francisco, Key Extraction Services , Key Duplication Service, Locksmith

Full Address:

313 Hazelwood Dr

South San Francisco, CA

94080

Phone:

415-881-3721

Description Long:

Who Are We? Neighborhood Locksmith SF has been in the locksmithing industry for years and is a skill passed down 4 generations, even before we built our current place. Throughout the years, we have dedicated our time and committed our energy, life, and heart to deliver impeccable customer service with high-quality work. We began from a humble background, and our passion enabled us to stay abreast of the current happenings in the industry. Today we have a team that feels like a family pursuing the same dream, vision, and mission as the founders. San Francisco is home to us, and we understand the complexity of getting a good locksmith. With that said, we have continued to improve ourselves as changes occur. As your local locksmith, we take pride in seeing our clients smile after a job well done. This has pushed us to pursue consistency and satisfaction before anything else. You are the reason why we are in business and have remained so for so long. For more information, call (415) 881-3721. Why Choose Us? And why not choose us? We are capable, have the right team, tools, and techniques for any locksmith job. We understand what our clients need, and, in other circumstances, we educate them so that they do not make a mistake but are wholly aware of the process. We work with high-quality lock and key brands; we will not specifically single out one that checks all the boxes for us. When we need a job done, our product choice is based on what is good for it. With decades of service, installation, repairs, replacement, and maintenance, our clients know that our credibility is intact. We can work with any type of lock, from old fashion to the latest brands, because we never stop learning. We have a unique emergency system, and our reputation is outstanding, second to none in the San Francisco area and surroundings. Finally, we are insured, bonded, and accredited by several state and federal bodies and have an excellent review on Google My Business from people you know within the neighborhood. Need a locksmith? Or have locksmith questions for us? Call us now, and we will answer or come to you.

Business Email:

neighborhoodlocksmithsf@gmail.com

Operating Hours:

Open 24 hours

Video URL:

Social Media Links:

https://www.linkedin.com/in/neighborhood-locksmith-sf-42aa31227

[themonkeylocksmiths]

Why Commercial Lock Change Is Necessary

Commercial lock change is necessary for many reasons. First, it helps keep your business secure. If you have old or faulty locks, they may not be able to keep intruders out. This could put your property, your employees, and your customers at risk.

Second, commercial lock change can help prevent unauthorized access. If you have former employees or tenants who still have keys, changing the locks can ensure that only authorized individuals have access to your business.

Third, commercial lock change can be necessary if you have experienced a security breach. If someone has broken into your business, they may have compromised the integrity of your locks. Changing the locks can give you peace of mind and help prevent future breaches.

Finally, commercial locks change in San Francisco can be a good investment in the long run. Upgrading to high-quality locks can improve your security and prevent the need for frequent repairs or replacements. Commercial lock change is an important aspect of maintaining a secure and safe business environment.

A commercial locksmith is a professional who specializes in working with commercial locks. They can help you with a variety of services, including lock changes and repairs.

Lock changes: If you need to change your locks for any reason (such as after an employee leaves or a break-in), a commercial locksmith can help. They can install new locks quickly and efficiently, ensuring that your property is secure.

Lock repairs: If your locks are not working properly (such as if they are sticking or difficult to turn), a commercial locksmith can repair them. They can also replace any parts that are worn or broken.

If you want to keep your business safe and secure, it's important to work with a commercial locksmith. They have the expertise and experience needed to keep your locks in top condition and provide other security solutions to protect your property.