Chapter 1 - The Badge That Made Marla Stop SmilingMarla thought the hard part was already over.
The woman on the motorcycle had stopped.
She had believed the pregnancy.
She had believed the pain.
And most importantly—
she had followed Marla exactly where Marla wanted her to go.
The road outside Tucson was nearly black.
No houses.
No businesses.
Only desert stretching beyond the narrow beam of Dana Mercer’s motorcycle headlight.
Dana slowed.
“This is where your sister is?”
Marla tightened both hands around Dana’s jacket.
“Just ahead.”
Dana said nothing.
Five minutes earlier, Marla had been doubled over beside the road, clutching an enormous pregnant stomach.
“Please!”
She had cried.
“My sister’s up ahead. My phone died. I think something’s wrong with the baby.”
Dana had nearly called an ambulance.
Marla refused.
“My sister’s a nurse.”
That should have bothered Dana more than it did.
Instead, she handed Marla her spare helmet and let her climb onto the motorcycle.
Now there was no sister.
Dana could feel it.
The road narrowed.
Marla suddenly tapped her shoulder.
“Here.”
Dana stopped.
The engine continued rumbling beneath them.
Then four men stepped out of the darkness.
Dana’s hands remained on the handlebars.
Marla climbed off.
And changed.
The frightened woman disappeared.
She stood straight.
No pain.
No panic.
No trembling.
She reached under her shirt.
Dana watched as Marla loosened something strapped around her waist.
A large fake pregnancy belly dropped into her hands.
Marla threw it onto the dirt.
“Thanks for bringing the bike all the way out here.”
One of the men laughed.
He was broad-shouldered, maybe forty, with a scar cutting across his left eyebrow.
Another man stood slightly behind him.
Two younger men moved toward the road.
Dana counted them.
Four.
Plus Marla.
The scarred man held out his hand.
“Keys.”
Dana turned off the motorcycle.
Silence fell over the desert.
Marla smiled.
“You heard him.”
Dana slowly removed her helmet.
Short dark hair fell loose around her face.
She looked at each person.
Not quickly.
Not nervously.
The scarred man’s confidence shifted slightly.
Dana opened her jacket.
Marla’s smile widened.
“You reaching for something stupid?”
Dana reached inside.
Removed a small leather wallet.
Opened it.
A police badge caught the motorcycle headlight.
Nobody moved.
Marla’s smile vanished.
The youngest man whispered:
“Oh, hell.”
Dana looked at him.
Then at the others.
“My name is Detective Dana Mercer.”
Scarface stared at the badge.
“You’re off duty.”
Dana almost smiled.
“That doesn’t make the badge decorative.”
Marla stepped backward.
For the first time that night, her fear looked real.
The man beside Scarface cursed.
“Boyd, you said she was alone.”
Dana registered the name.
Boyd.
Good.
Boyd looked toward the road.
Dana noticed the calculation.
Distance.
Darkness.
Possibilities.
She didn’t pretend the badge magically protected her.
Five people could still make very bad decisions.
So she kept her voice level.
“Nobody needs to make tonight worse.”
Marla stared at Dana.
“What happens if we walk?”
Dana answered:
“You already know that isn’t how this works.”
Boyd laughed once.
“You think we’re going to stand here waiting?”
“No.”
Dana’s eyes moved toward the faint glow of headlights appearing far behind them.
“I think you’re going to decide whether you want the officers coming up that road to meet five people standing still or five people doing something they’ll regret.”
Everyone turned.
Marla’s face drained.
Boyd looked at Dana.
“You called someone?”
Dana didn’t answer.
She had sent her location twenty minutes earlier.
Not because she knew Marla was lying.
Because Dana had been a police officer long enough to know that when a frightened stranger changed directions twice and insisted on avoiding emergency services, somebody should know where you were.
It had been precaution.
Now it was salvation.
The youngest man stepped away.
“I’m done.”
Boyd grabbed his shirt.
“Eli.”
“Get off me.”
“Shut up.”
Dana watched them.
The headlights grew brighter.
Then Boyd made his choice.
He shoved Eli toward Dana and ran into the desert.
“Boyd!”
Marla shouted.
Another man followed him.
The remaining two froze.
Dana did not chase.
She was off duty, alone, and responsible for not turning a robbery into something worse.
Seconds later, the first patrol vehicle appeared.
Then another.
Officers ordered everyone to remain where they were.
Marla sank to her knees.
The fake pregnancy belly lay ten feet away.
Ridiculous now.
Almost pathetic.
Dana walked toward her motorcycle.
Then she noticed something near Boyd’s abandoned backpack.
A silver chain.
Partially buried in the dirt.
She crouched.
One of the officers called:
“Dana, don’t touch anything.”
“I’m not.”
Her eyes remained on the pendant.
Small.
Oval.
A blue stone in the center.
Dana knew it.
Not personally.
From a photograph she had looked at more than fifty times.
A missing-person bulletin.
Twenty-six-year-old Nora Bell had disappeared four months earlier outside Tucson.
Her sister had given police one specific detail.
Nora always wore a silver pendant her father had given her before he died.
Blue stone.
Oval setting.
Dana slowly stood.
“What is it?”
Officer Ramirez asked.
Dana pointed.
“Photograph that before anyone moves the bag.”
Ramirez looked.
Then back at her.
“You recognize it?”
Dana’s chest tightened.
“I think I do.”
Marla heard.
Her head snapped up.
Dana saw the reaction.
Not confusion.
Recognition.
Marla immediately looked away.
Dana walked toward her.
“Nora Bell.”
Marla said nothing.
Dana crouched a few feet away.
“You know that name.”
“No.”
“You reacted.”
“I’m scared.”
“Of me?”
Marla stared at the dirt.
Dana lowered her voice.
“Nora disappeared four months ago.”
Nothing.
“She was driving home after visiting her mother.”
Still nothing.
“Her last phone call was to her sister.”
Marla closed her eyes.
Dana continued:
“She said she had stopped because a pregnant woman needed help.”
Marla’s face collapsed.
Dana felt cold move through her.
The fake pregnancy had not been invented tonight.
This had happened before.
Dana looked toward the silver necklace on the ground.
Then back at Marla.
“Where is Nora?”
Marla whispered:
“I don’t know.”
Dana didn’t believe her.
Then Marla said something that made Dana forget the motorcycle completely.
“You should stop asking.”
Dana stared.
“Why?”
Marla finally looked up.
“Because Boyd doesn’t scare me.”
Her voice trembled.
“The man Boyd works for does.”
May you like
And somewhere beyond the edge of the police lights—
Boyd Rake was still running.
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