The Choice

The Choice-Chapter Four

Black Friday. The worst shopping day of the world. At least in my opinion. I'm a Cyber Monday Shopper. I don't do Black Friday. I stumbled into the kitchen around eight. I did not sleep well as my dreams were filled with erotic thoughts about the man who slept in my bed.

My parents were making breakfast, and my brothers were crowded around the kitchen table. Luke and Jacob were reading the newspaper, Mark was on a call, and Paul was texting.

Throughout my childhood, both of my parents had demanding jobs. They employed a live in housekeeper who took care of the house and usually made sure dinner was on the table in the evenings. Growing up, Mom had a medical office in a little town nearby the ranch that made it so she could be home every night. She did one day a week at the hospital.

It wasn't until I was in my senior year in high school that she finally bought into the hospital and my parents got an apartment in the city. They were there when I graduated but at that point, with their five children grown, it was time to concentrate on their own careers.

Through it all, I have vivid memories of just such a scene as this morning. Weekends and Holidays were always the housekeepers time off, and my parents shared the tasks of cooking and cleaning together. A thought floated through my mind as I greeted everyone and took a seat at the table. I want a relationship like that.

I picked up the sports section of the paper and caught up on the scores. A few minutes later, Mom and Dad put platters of food on the table, and joined us. Papers and phones were put down, and we all dug into the pancakes, bacon, sausage, and eggs.

"Was that call what I think it was?" Dad asked Mark.

Mark swallowed the mouthful of sausage he had just stuffed in his mouth, and nodded. "Yeah, it was the Captain. They finished up the investigation at the sight. They found some tire tracks, and footprints in the mud, but they don't know who they belong to."

"Any word about the equipment that was damaged." Dad asked.

The rest of us were listening avidly to this exchange, as we want the information as much as Dad did.

"They recovered part of the video. For some reason, the last plate that Tony ran was at seven pm. It couldn't have been the attackers." Mark answered.

"Wouldn't he have called it in if the computer wasn't working?" I asked between bites of scrambled egg.

Mark nodded, "He called in that he was stopping a red pick up, and gave the license plate. There is already a BOLO out."

"A red pick up?" I asked. My mind was racing through all the traffic I had encountered through my drive. The only red pick up I can remember is the one at the gas station, the one that those jerks who sprayed me with the red soda were driving.

"Who does the truck belong to?" Dad asked.

"The plates were stolen. We don't know." Mark answered, "Though the Captain agreed to email me the video that they recovered." Mark said.

"We can all look at it after breakfast." Mom said with a definite look of annoyance. She does not like shop talk around the breakfast table.

The conversation turned to sports, and because no two of us at the table rooted for the same team, it got heated. When breakfast was over, and the table and kitchen cleaned. It was time to get down to business.

We went downstairs and Mark logged into his email on the smart TV. We sat around the couches, and watched as the video began. The camera was attached to the dashboard right in front of the windshield, and caught a clear picture of everything in a wide angle in front of the car.