"What in the world?" Wren stared through the taxi's tinted window, his eyes wide. "That gate is massive."

"Sure is. Know the people living here?"

Wren glanced at the taxi driver. "Sort of. What do I owe?"

"Thirty-two, even."

Wren grimaced as he dug his wallet out of his back, jean pocket. He handed the money to the driver. When greed flashed in the driver's eyes, Wren had a distinct feeling he'd been over-charged for the transportation.

"Need me to wait for you?" the driver asked. He looked hopeful. Wren shook his head, offered quick thanks, and stepped from the taxi. After tugging his suitcase from the floorboard, he slammed the door shut and signaled the driver off with a wave.

Wren faced his new future. A valley lay before him, a paved driveway winding through its lush, green pasture before it shot up a steep hill. Nestled on top of that hill, a metal gate raised high, bars straight and narrow but twisted in an intricate design at its top.

He popped the suitcase's handle up and began to drag it along the driveway's black pavement. Nature surrounded him, and he soaked it in. Nearly dusk, the sky was colored with splashes of pink, gold and red, producing a gorgeous display from the setting sun. Birds chirped happy tunes from their perches in a lone oak tree standing majestic the valley's middle.

He inhaled the fresh air. Not what I expected at all.

Finally, he stood before the metal gates. He stared, jaw agape as he took in the Victorian-type mansion. Its magnificence was displayed by the walls; they reached the entire breadth of the hill's top. Marble pillars lined a front porch, reached by rows of cement steps. The driveway that Wren stood on continued beneath the gates and looped around a sparkling fountain that sprayed water high into the air; falling droplets of water collected in a round base.

A sweet scent reached his nose. Honeysuckle, maybe? Shrubs and bushes lined the driveway and the mansion's front.

Finally, he tore his gaze from the sight and studied the guard shack that sat on his right. He left his suitcase, walked to the metal structure. The door appeared to be a thick slab of steel, and he wondered if anyone inside would even hear his knock. He raised a fist, but the door swung open before his knuckles made contact.

A young man stood in the open space. Wren guessed him to be in his early twenties. With buzzed brown hair, sun glasses covering his eyes, and a stern expression, the guard didn't appear to be someone Wren would ever want to tangle with. He was tall, lanky, but fit. Wren saw it in the set of his shoulders, in the thickness of his chest.

Wren stared at him and swallowed hard. Before he could say anything, however, a wide grin destroyed the guard's serious demeanor. Then, in one quick swipe, the guard removed his sunglasses revealing playful, brown eyes. Wren almost laughed from pure relief.

"You must be Wren Adams!" The guard's jovial voiced echoed off the shack's walls, and he offered his hand toward Wren. Wren took it, baffled at the swift change of personality. "I was just teasing with the sunglasses. Thought it might make me look fierce or something. First impressions, you know?" Wren's arm was vigorously pumped.

"Well, you did look fierce," Wren said.

The guard laughed "Ignore me. I enjoy picking on people. Mr. Kingsley has mentioned you many times. It's good to finally put a face with a name."

Wren grinned. "It's Good to meet you too. Your name...?"

"Edward. I have the second shift guard duty, so you'll see me a lot, probably."

"Second Shift?"

"Yep. I work from noon to midnight, and Bates, the other security guard works from midnight to noon. We had a third part-timer, but he was fired not too long ago. Not that you wanted that extra info." He signaled Wren inside. "Like to see how this all works?"

"Sure." Wren never made it past the doorway. Edward stopped him with a light hand on his chest. His eyes narrowed.

"You are the one in charge of Miss Kingsley, right?"

"Correct."

"Got some identity?"

"Oh, right." Wren retrieved his wallet and handed Edward his social security card and driver's license. Edward studied the two cards, then nodded, satisfied.

Wren followed him inside the guard shack and was met with what he'd expected. "You have quite the setup here."

"Yeah, this space works pretty well for us. I need you to sign in for me, and then I'll give you the grand tour. We're expected to sign in and out as we come and go. Record book sits right over here." Edward walked over to a stainless steel desk; it was cluttered with random papers, but he pulled a hard binder from the mess as if it was meant to be there. He flipped it open and handed a pen to Wren. "It's pretty self explanatory. Just write the date and time on the lines indicated."

Wren filled out the information, then slapped the binder shut. He let his gaze wonder to the screens scattered around the room and noted how different sections of the grounds were monitored.

Edward must have noticed his perusal and said, "We monitor everything from this tiny room. This computer here,"—he motioned to a smaller screen off to the side—"monitors Leah's bedroom window. That tiny screen inside of the bigger screen is her door. We know when she enters and leaves."

Wren felt taken aback. "Why would you monitor her window?" Or her door for that matter, but he didn't ask that.

Edward's grin faltered, and he scratched his head, appearing to Wren very sheepish. "Leah, uh, enjoys escaping the mansion through various ways." He hastened to add, "She keeps heavy curtains on the window though, so unless she opens them, we can't see in her room or anything."

"She enjoys escaping through windows?" Wren blinked, confused. Edward chuckled.

"She kind of, sort of, has a bad habit of running away. I don't think your time here will be idle. Let's just say that."

Wren absorbed this new information. "But... why?"

"Why, what?"

"Why does she run away? I mean, the girl obviously has everything. What's there to run from?"

Edward struggled to find an answer. Finally, he said, "Mr. Kingsley is a bit overprotective, and our Leah doesn't appreciate it. Imagine a baby bird wanting to take wing and fly, but the daddy bird says she's not ready to leave the nest... even though she is outgrowing it. Does that kind of explain the situation?"

"In other words, I've got a rebel child on my hands."

"Yep. About what it amounts to."

"Yeah, well, that's great." Wren's sarcastic tone earned another chuckle from Edward.

"Aw, she's not that bad. She's actually a really great kid. Just a little immature at times. Be prepared for some resistance, but given time, I think she'll warm up to you."

"She'll have to. I need this job, and I'm not leaving until Mr. Kingsley returns and says I'm done."

"I wish you all the best then."

Wren heard sincerity in Edward's tone.

###