The Rincon property was up on a hill. It had been home to a 1920s starlet, who created an oasis amidst the orange groves and lemon orchards in the valley. The property was unique in that it was walled, secluded from the outside world; a world that over the many decades had deteriorated into crime, anger, and mania.
“A rehab joint here? Under the California sun? No being cooped up in a locked building. Speaking of coop, did you want me to take this chair out to the chicken coop? Yup, and sit on it when you get it out there. There are 2 signs on the wall out there I want you to read. It basically means we might be in for a surprise!”