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MidReal Story
The Billionaire Detective's Secret Baby
Scenario:Detective Sam Regan, Case #918, The Strangers Crime
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Sam Regan
He is a detective with the Strangers, California Police Department. He is determined, introspective, and perceptive. He grew up in foster care and was inspired to become a detective by his foster father, an undercover cop. Sam solved his first major case, finding a missing child, which earned him a promotion and a reputation as a brilliant investigator. Despite personal struggles and loss, he remains dedicated to his work, helping victims and bringing perpetrators to justice.
Ben
He is the chief of the Strangers Police Department. He is authoritative, supportive, and pragmatic. As Sam's supervisor, Ben plays a significant role in his career advancement. He appreciates Sam's exceptional investigative skills and offers guidance and encouragement. Although he emphasizes the importance of following procedures, Ben shows appreciation for Sam's dedication and achievements. His leadership fosters a work environment where officers feel valued and motivated to excel in their duties.
Maggie
She is the receptionist at the Strangers Police Department. She is friendly, efficient, and supportive. Maggie interacts with Detective Sam regularly and is often the first person he talks to. She handles inquiries and provides information about cases. Her positive attitude and helpful nature make her an essential part of the department's team. Though not formally recognized as a crucial asset in official documents, Maggie's contributions are valued by Sam and other colleagues.
Case #918: The Strangers Crime
I was born in foster care.
My mother was fifteen when I was conceived and had no idea who my father was.
She was in a program for troubled teens, learning how to become self-sufficient, when she went into labor and had me.
I don’t remember much about her, just the smell of vanilla from her perfume and the sound of her laughter.
I remember my first foster family, though.
The father was an undercover cop working his way up the ranks of a mafia organization.
He’d become friends with the head of the Police Department, Chief Ben, and was allowed to tell his family what he was doing, for safety reasons.
He couldn’t let anyone know where he was really living, and he didn’t want his wife and children to be in danger, so he became a foster parent.
It was perfect.
He could keep an eye on the kids coming in from the streets and train them in surveillance and self-defense.
He taught me how to pick locks, hack computers, and listen in on conversations undetected.
He was the one who inspired me to become a detective.
I knew all my life I wanted to be one.
I knew every step I needed to take to get there.
I never thought I’d actually solve a case before I became a detective, though.
It happened when I was nineteen and still in college.
I settled into my usual study spot in the west wing of the library, which was located in the basement and only accessible by a single stairway.
It was quiet, with tall shelves lining each wall, filled with books on forensic science, criminology, and criminal justice.
The only other people who used this area were students majoring in Criminal Justice, so I never had to worry about being disturbed.
I was sitting at a table in front of a shelf of forensic textbooks, with my back to the aisle.
I had my books and notes spread out on the table in front of me and was pretending to read when I heard two male voices coming from the aisle behind me.
They were speaking softly, but I could make out what they were saying.
They were talking about some kind of payment and how it would be delivered tonight at midnight.
They mentioned something about a "package delivery," but they didn’t say what kind of package. The conversation was cryptic, but it sounded suspicious.
I couldn’t see them from where I was sitting, but I could tell that they were trying to be careful about what they said.
I pulled my phone out of my pocket and set it on the table next to me, pretending to read a text message.
I had an app on my phone that allowed me to record conversations without anyone knowing.
It was an app that I had downloaded for one of my classes, and I had used it before to record lectures.
I opened the app and pressed the record button, then set my phone down on the table and pretended to go back to reading.
The voices continued to talk for a few more minutes, discussing details about the payment and the package delivery.
One of the voices sounded familiar, but I couldn’t quite place it.
It sounded like someone from one of my classes, but I wasn’t sure which one. After a few minutes, they stopped talking and started walking away.
I waited until I could no longer hear their footsteps before I got up and walked over to the aisle where they had been standing.
I looked around, trying to see if there was anyone else nearby, but there wasn’t anyone in sight.
I walked over to the shelf where they had been standing and looked at the books that were there.
There was nothing unusual about them; they were all textbooks on forensic science and criminology. I walked back over to my table and sat down again, pretending to read while I listened for any other sounds in the library.
Crouching down behind the bookshelf, I waited until their footsteps faded before slipping out of the basement and heading up the stairs to the main floor of the library.
I walked over to the entrance and looked out through the glass doors, watching as they walked across campus.
They were headed in the direction of the science building, which was located on the other side of campus.
One of them was taller than the other, and he was wearing a red varsity jacket.
The shorter one was wearing dark clothes and had his head down as he walked.
I followed them from a distance, keeping about thirty feet between us.
I used other students as cover, trying not to be seen as I followed them.
As we approached the science building, I could see that they were heading towards a coffee cart that was set up outside. The taller one stopped at the cart and ordered a coffee while the shorter one stood off to the side, looking around nervously.
I stopped behind a group of students who were standing nearby, pretending to check my phone while I watched them.
The taller one took his coffee and turned around, looking in my direction.
I quickly ducked behind a nearby pillar, holding my breath as he scanned the area.
After a few seconds, he turned back around and started walking again, followed by his companion.
I waited until they were far enough away before I followed them again.
They continued walking across campus, eventually reaching the parking lot where students parked their cars.
As they approached their vehicles, I realized that they were going to split up.
The taller one got into a black Honda Civic while the shorter one got into a blue Toyota Corolla. I quickly decided to follow the taller one since he seemed to be in charge of whatever was going on.
As I slipped into my car and started the engine, I heard a voice from the backseat.
"You know, following people isn't exactly legal without a badge," said a familiar voice.
I turned around to see Chief Ben's daughter, Lily, smirking at me from the shadows.
I grip the steering wheel tighter, keeping three car lengths between us and the black Honda as I try to process what Lily is doing in my backseat.
Through the rearview mirror, I see her sitting casually, legs crossed, scrolling through her phone like this is perfectly normal.
The Honda takes a right onto Maple Street, and I follow.
I check my mirrors for the blue Corolla, but it's long gone.
"You didn't answer my question," I press, navigating a yellow light.
Lily finally looks up, tucking a strand of dark hair behind her ear.
"Dad mentioned you were working on something interesting. Thought I'd see for myself."
"Does he know you're here?" I ask, glancing at her reflection.
She shrugs, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Not exactly, but he did say to keep an eye on you."
I raise an eyebrow, trying to focus on the road. "And what exactly are you planning to do if things get dangerous?"
The black Honda takes a left onto Main Street, leading us through downtown Strangers.
The neon lights of the bars and clubs reflect off the wet pavement, casting a colorful glow over the dark streets.
Lily keeps quiet now, her earlier casualness replaced by a focused attention on the car ahead.
I keep three car lengths between us, switching lanes only when necessary to avoid being seen.
The Honda slows as we reach the warehouse district, its brake lights flickering like fireflies in the darkness.
I slow too, my heart pounding in my chest.
The driver pulls into a narrow alley between two warehouses, and I park across the street, killing the engine but leaving the key in the ignition.
Through the windshield, I watch as he gets out of the car and unlocks a metal side door.
With the Honda parked in the alley, I reach for my glove compartment, keeping my eyes fixed on the metal door.
Lily leans forward between the seats, her breath fogging the glass.
"Stay low and quiet," I tell her, my voice barely above a whisper.
The sodium lights overhead cast long shadows across the wet pavement, making it hard to see clearly.
In the distance, a train horn blows, echoing through the night air.
My hands shake slightly as I fumble with the glove compartment latch.
I've followed suspects before, but never with a passenger, let alone the chief's daughter.
Lily leans back, her voice steady. "I can handle myself, you know. Dad taught me a few things."
I glance at her, surprised by the confidence in her tone. "This isn't a game, Lily. If something goes wrong, I need you to stay put."
She meets my gaze with unwavering eyes. "And if something goes right, you'll need backup."
I grip my phone tightly, double-checking that the recording app is still running.
The warehouse looms ahead, its metal walls gleaming under the sodium lights.
Lily follows close behind despite my whispered protests, her footsteps surprisingly quiet on the wet pavement.
We pause at the alley's entrance, pressing against the cold brick wall.
The Honda sits empty, its engine ticking as it cools.
Water drips from a rusted gutter overhead, each drop echoing in the narrow space.
I peer around the corner toward the metal door, now shut tight.
A security camera above it swivels slowly, forcing us to time our movements carefully.
Lily whispers, "I've got a way to loop the camera feed for a few minutes."
I look at her skeptically, "How do you even know how to do that?"
She smirks, pulling a small device from her pocket. "Dad's not the only one with secrets."
I watch as she works her device, the blue screen reflecting off her focused face.
She mutters something about IP addresses and packet sniffing while her fingers fly across the screen.
Finally, she gives me a thumbs up.
We crouch-walk to the door, my shoes scraping against the concrete.
The metal handle feels cold and slick in my grip.
I test it - locked.
Reaching into my jacket, I pull out my lock pick set, a gift from my foster father years ago.
My hands tremble slightly as I insert the tension wrench, remembering his lessons on how to feel for the pins inside the lock.
One by one, they click into place while Lily keeps watch, her breath visible in the cold night air.
She whispers, "You really think this is the best way to find out what he's up to?"
I nod, focusing on the lock. "It's the only lead we've got, and we can't let him slip away again."
Lily glances over her shoulder, her voice barely audible. "Just promise me we'll get out of here if things go south."
The lock finally gives under my picks with a soft click.
I ease the heavy metal door open just enough for us to squeeze through, wincing at the slight creak of hinges.
Lily follows close behind as we step into the warehouse's shadowy interior.
The air inside hits my nose with a musty chemical smell.
Dim security lights cast long shadows between towering metal shelves stacked with crates.
Our footsteps echo slightly on the concrete floor despite our careful movements.
I pull out my phone to record, scanning the area for any sign of the Honda driver.
Through gaps in the shelving, I spot a light source deeper in the warehouse where voices murmur.
Lily tugs at my sleeve, her voice tense. "What if they're armed?"
I swallow hard, keeping my eyes on the light. "Then we stay hidden and gather what we can."
She nods, determination in her eyes. "And if we get caught?"
I lead her between the metal shelves, keeping my back against the cold steel as we inch closer to the voices.
The security lights create a maze of shadows we use for cover.
My phone continues recording in my trembling hand while cardboard boxes and plastic-wrapped pallets tower above us.
Twenty feet ahead, fluorescent light spills around a corner where two men argue in hushed tones.
I recognize the tall suspect's voice from the coffee cart.
When Lily steps forward, her shoe scuffs the concrete.
The voices stop.
We freeze, hearts pounding, as footsteps approach our hiding spot.