Doug watched the surgical footage through hollow, sleepless eyes, every frame a verdict. This was on him. Not bad luck. Not timing. Him. He’d chosen convenience over caution, and someone else had paid the price. The thought turned in him like a blade. He’d built his life on do unto others, and in a single reckless decision, he’d violated it.

  His throat tightened. He would make this right, whatever it cost. He spoke quietly to his AVA.

  “Navi, kill the feed, please,” he said with a weary voice. The past days had been a whirlwind, far more intense than anything he’d done in years. He was still deeply involved at WannabeWayneTech, especially their latest gaming project, but he hadn’t worked sixteen hour days in a long time. That wasn’t the company’s philosophy. He sank heavily into his ‘thinkin’ chair and reviewed the last three days in his mind.

  The short ride from the accident site had been the start of the whirlwind as he gathered data and fired off calls and messages to members of his staff. After the detective had dropped him off at the driveway and left for a private conversation with the Judge, the action continued.

  Doug found his wife, Marie, in the kitchen with their house assistant, James, making lemon blueberry scones. The aroma was tantalizing, but his stomach churned at the thought of food.

  He took his wife in his arms and broke down wordlessly. This hit him harder than anything in a long time. She asked repeatedly what was wrong, then led him to the living room, nodding at James to continue with a smile.

  Sitting down, Doug told her everything. Marie’s expression moved through anger, grief, and cold assessment before settling into quiet resolve. She held his hand, knowing he was already punishing himself more than the law ever could.

  “We’ll get through this together,” she said softly. “Call Ian. Fill him in. Then go clean up and wait in your project room.” Fifteen minutes later, Olan knocked. Mrs. McNeill met him in the kitchen, offering coffee and fresh scones to break his fast. He accepted the coffee and declined the food.

  “Cream and sugar?” she asked.

  “Just cream,” he replied. She vanished briefly and returned with a steaming mug, handing it over with grace. Her kind eyes caught his attention. He sipped the coffee and followed her down a long hallway, James bringing up the rear with a covered tray.

  “I sent Doug upstairs to clean up,” Mrs. McNeill explained, “He’ll meet you in his project room, that’s where we’re headed now, if that’s alright?”

  Olan smiled sadly. “It’s fine. The judge has finished and is ready to give the ruling.”

  Entering the room, they found Doug finishing a holocall with a dark-haired, thin-faced man who looked furious. Olan caught the sharp words: “Well, this one’s on you, I told you that fucking car was a bad idea.” The call ended abruptly.

  Doug turned, motioned to a seat, and James set down the tray, uncovering scones, honey butter, cheeses, hard boiled eggs, and a carafe of coffee with all the accoutrements.

  “Thank you, James,” Doug said, patting the man’s arm. To Olan’s surprise, James hugged Doug tightly, and the embrace was returned.

  “I knew that damned car was bad news,” James echoed, stepping back to hold Doug’s shoulders. “But we’ll get through this, as one, as always.” Turning, he nodded at Olan and Mrs. McNeill, then left, closing the door behind him.

  Olan’s respect for Doug deepened. ‘Maybe this guy is as real as they say. Or maybe they’re lovers,’ he mused, sipping coffee. ‘Anything’s possible with these tech trillionaires.’

  “Doug, the judge is ready to issue the ruling. It’s been recorded, no deliberation required. Your statement was accepted, and the evidence is clear. I’m here as the officer of record to witness it. You may request a different officer if you wish,” Olan said, settling into the offered chair.

  ‘Right next to the damn scones,’ he noted privately, helping himself to one slathered with honey butter, along with some cheese and eggs. He was never one to refuse food.

  Stolen novel; please report.

  Mrs. McNeill smiled at Olan, pleased by his acceptance of the food. Taking a sip of her own coffee, she said, “No, Detective Doughty, I believe Doug and I would like you to be the witness. Before the judgment, will you sit with us?”

  “I believe I can,” Olan replied, glancing at his HUD and realizing he was officially off duty. Soon he could go home, rest, and catch basketball highlights in his recliner.

  “Doug, come sit with us, have coffee and food, you don’t think well on an empty stomach,” Marie called to her pacing husband, holding out a fresh cup. He shook his head at first but she held his gaze for a long second that said, do as I ask, now…

  He walked back, taking the coffee and absently caressing her hand as he took the steaming mug and a scone. He ate the pastry in four bites and took a long draft off his coffee.

  “That’s better,” Doug said turning to Olan. “I think it’s time, Detect…”

  “Olan, please,” Olan interrupted with a smile and a raised coffee cup. “We’ve broken, well, scones together. You’ve shown yourself hospitable and kind.”

  Doug nodded. “Okay, Olan. Let’s see the judge’s ruling. Marie and I are as ready as we can be. Ian is concerned as well, he was on the call when you arrived. Sorry if that was against the rules. I had to inform him since it could affect the company.”

  “Fair enough. There are procedures to follow, but calling your business partner is not against them. As co-owner, he has a right to know.” Olan spoke to his AVA. “Kennith, please bring up the file on Douglas Daniel McNeill.”

  “I require access to the nearest holo display,” came Kennith’s reply.

  “Navi, give Detective Doughty’s AVA access to the holo, please,” Doug added.

  “Access granted,” the detective’s AVA said, and a nearby holo display flickered to life over a glowing table. The face shown was altered to hide identity, and the judge’s voice began the sentence. All three watched intently, Doug and Marie’s eyes wide with shock, Olan leaning back with a satisfied smile.

  “But I…” Doug started. “I don’t understand. I deserve more! This feels like leniency feels like because I am who I am I’m getting a pat on the hand…” He sputtered, face contorting with anger at the thought and frustration. “I could have killed that girl, taken a life. I don’t get it. Detect… damn, Olan, can you explain?”

  “Doug,” Olan said, setting down his coffee, “I’ve collared a lot of bad people in my time. My intuition and master’s in criminal psychology give me insight. While we drove here, I watched you mobilize everything for this girl.” He paused and took a sip.

  “You and Marie took full responsibility for her surgery and recovery, bringing in one of the world's top medical teams, outfitting the building on your campus and providing all the equipment. You took care of her financial debt, purchased her home in her name, and once you found out she worked for a company you own, you set her up with a fixed salary and title for life.”

  He paused again, standing and pacing. “In my forty years as an officer, I’ve never seen anyone go this far for an accident victim, pull down this many resources, dedicate this much energy in such a short period of time. Once I shared this with the judge, they agreed. You’ve already done more than any sentence could impose on you for the crime.”

  He paused and leveled a hard stare at Doug. “If she had died you’d be on your way to a Correctional Facility for twenty years or more, but she didn’t and any fine, levy or charitable forfeitures we could have leveled wouldn't come close to what you’ve already spent and will spend in the future.” He sighed and relaxed his eyes. “Ok, let’s do the next part.”

  He waved Doug to his feet. “Douglas Daniel McNeill, you have heard the Court of the Northern Territories’ judgment. Do you understand the sentence and agree to uphold it?”

  “I understand and will uphold the law to the fullest and beyond,” Doug answered, still in shock.

  The Shelby was to be taken away, not destroyed, but preserved in the auto history museum in New York. Shelby girl, you will live on, he thought, with a small, sad smile.

  He was sentenced to house arrest for one year and tracked for five. He could continue working, as his house was on the company campus and fines to cover the costs of Public Safety and emergency services.

  “Well then,” Mrs. McNeill said, “that was unexpected. Detective, sorry, Olan, what happens next?” She stood and walked to the window, watching a bird soar over the lake.

  “Now I call the Board of Corrections to arrange tracking and explain house arrest rules. From there, progress will be monitored on the young lady…” He stopped as Doug raised a hand.

  “Mavis. Miss Mavis Hudson, please. ‘Young lady’ makes her sound like a thing, not a person. Names matter to me.”

  “Done, and for the record, I agree.” Olan replied, “oh yes, where was I?” at which Doug smiled, remembering an old game from the early part of 2000’s that made the ‘surge. “Yes, progress will be monitored on Miss Hudson’s treatment and recovery. This monitoring will continue for the stated twenty five years or until the time that she refuses your assistance. There is more, but let's all the legal girls and guys work that out.”

  “Doug, in all my years, I’ve never met anyone like you. You live up to the honor of the namesake in your company,” Olan said, reaching to shake Doug’s hand.

  “Namesake?” Doug asked. “Oh, you mean Wayne! I wouldn’t have guessed you were a comic fan.” Doug laughed warmly as they shook hands.

  “Never judge a mag by its cover,” Olan winked. “The surge rekindled my love of comics from my youth. Though I’m more of a Man of Steel fan.” He stepped back, reached for the door. His AVA had summoned a car, the HUD countdown was near zero.

  “But, Olan,” Doug called, frowning sadly as Olan turned, “He’s an alien!”

  “HA!” was the last sound as the door shut behind the detective.