Chapter 1 - The Badge Under the Streetlight“Police.”
The word landed harder than a gunshot.
Tyler’s hand was still extended toward Caleb Morgan.
“Keys. Now.”
But Tyler was no longer looking at the keys.
He was staring at the black leather credential wallet in Caleb’s left hand.
A metal shield.
Photo identification.
Caleb’s face.
Brooke Dalton’s smile vanished.
Jace took one slow step backward.
Caleb remained seated on the black cruiser, one boot planted firmly on the pavement.
The motorcycle engine was off.
The small American flag behind the passenger seat moved gently in the cold Ohio wind.
“Step away from the motorcycle.”
Nobody moved.
Caleb’s voice remained calm.
That frightened Brooke more than shouting would have.
Tyler recovered first.
“Wait.”
He looked at Caleb.
“You’re a cop?”
Caleb shifted his eyes toward Brooke.
“And you picked the wrong guy to rob.”
Brooke went pale.
Then red-and-blue light reflected across the pavement.
All three turned toward it.
Jace panicked.
“Cops!”
He ran.
Tyler released the handlebar and sprinted toward the trees.
Brooke froze for half a second.
Then she ran too.
Caleb was already moving.
“Stop!”
Jace disappeared between two parked vehicles.
Tyler vaulted a low guardrail.
Brooke made it only twenty feet before her boot slipped on loose gravel.
She hit the ground hard on one knee.
Caleb reached her seconds later.
“Hands where I can see them.”
She rolled over.
“I didn’t do anything!”
“Hands.”
“I was just walking!”
“Brooke.”
She froze.
Caleb stared down at her.
“You already gave me your name.”
The color drained from her face.
Sirens approached rapidly.
Brooke slowly raised both hands.
“You don’t understand.”
“Then you’ll have time to explain.”
A Franklin County sheriff’s cruiser stopped behind Caleb’s motorcycle.
Another vehicle followed.
Two deputies emerged.
Caleb identified himself.
“Detective Caleb Morgan. Columbus Violent Crime Task Force.”
Brooke’s eyes widened.
Detective.
Not patrol.
Not off duty and passing by.
A detective.
One deputy secured Brooke.
The other asked Caleb, “Where are the other two?”
“North through the trees. Dark hoodies. One male approximately six feet, one slightly shorter.”
The deputy radioed the description.
Brooke stared at Caleb while she was handcuffed.
“You set us up.”
Caleb looked at her.
“No.”
“You knew.”
“I stopped because I thought a woman was stranded.”
“That’s a lie.”
Caleb glanced toward his motorcycle.
“What makes you think that?”
“You’re a detective riding around at night on a bike like that?”
Caleb’s expression remained unreadable.
Brooke had accidentally said too much.
She realized it.
Caleb did too.
“A bike like what?”
Silence.
“Brooke.”
She looked away.
Caleb crouched slightly so their eyes were level.
“You didn’t choose me because I stopped.”
Brooke said nothing.
“You were waiting for this motorcycle.”
Her jaw tightened.
A deputy looked toward Caleb.
“You think they targeted you?”
“I think they targeted the bike.”
Brooke laughed nervously.
“Everybody likes motorcycles.”
Caleb looked at her.
“Not everybody knows when one is coming.”
Silence.
The deputy searched Brooke.
Wallet.
Cheap prepaid phone.
Pocketknife.
No firearm.
Then another deputy called from farther down the road.
“We got one!”
Tyler emerged from the trees in handcuffs.
Mud covered his jeans.
His confidence was gone.
He saw Brooke.
Then Caleb.
“Man, this is bull—”
Caleb interrupted.
“Where’s Jace?”
Tyler’s face changed.
“I don’t know anybody named Jace.”
Brooke closed her eyes.
Caleb almost smiled.
“You might want to coordinate your lies before you use each other’s names.”
Tyler looked at Brooke.
“You said his name?”
“No.”
Caleb said, “You did.”
Tyler went silent.
The deputies separated them.
Caleb walked back toward the motorcycle.
One mirror had been twisted slightly when Tyler grabbed the handlebar.
Otherwise the bike was untouched.
He checked the small American flag.
Still secure.
Then something beneath the rear fender caught his attention.
A tiny red light.
Caleb frowned.
He crouched.
Attached beneath the frame was a small magnetic device.
Not part of the motorcycle.
He pulled on a glove.
“Deputy.”
One officer approached.
“What?”
Caleb pointed.
“Don’t touch it.”
The deputy leaned closer.
“Tracker?”
“Looks like one.”
Brooke turned sharply from twenty feet away.
Caleb noticed.
So did the deputy.
The tracker changed everything.
This was no random roadside robbery.
Someone had known where Caleb’s motorcycle was.
Someone had followed it.
Maybe for hours.
Maybe longer.
Caleb looked toward Brooke.
“Who put that on my bike?”
Her face was suddenly empty.
“I don’t know.”
“You reacted.”
“I’m cold.”
Caleb stood.
“Who put it there?”
She stared at him.
Then whispered:
“You really don’t know?”
Caleb’s expression tightened.
“Know what?”
Brooke looked terrified now.
Not fake terrified.
Real.
She glanced toward the dark road as if expecting someone else.
May you like
Then back at Caleb.
“That tracker isn’t ours.”
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