Chapter 2 - The Fourth PersonBrooke refused to speak in the patrol car.
At the station, she changed.
Not dramatically.
Something subtler.
She stopped acting like a frightened young woman caught in a robbery.
She became guarded.
Calculating.
Caleb watched her through interview-room glass.
Tyler was in another room.
Jace remained missing.
The tracker sat in an evidence bag.
A technician had already confirmed it was active.
The device had transmitted Caleb’s location less than three minutes before the attempted robbery.
Lieutenant Mark Ellison entered.
“You’re supposed to be off tonight.”
Caleb looked at him.
“I was.”
“You just happened to ride into a robbery crew?”
“Apparently.”
Ellison glanced through the glass.
“That’s Brooke Dalton?”
“You know her?”
“No. Name came back clean.”
“Too clean?”
“Maybe.”
Caleb folded his arms.
“Tracker wasn’t theirs.”
Ellison raised an eyebrow.
“That’s what she says.”
“She reacted before I asked.”
“Could be acting.”
“It wasn’t.”
Ellison knew Caleb long enough not to argue immediately.
“What’s your theory?”
“They were expecting a motorcycle.”
“Yours?”
“Possibly.”
“And somebody else tracked it.”
“Yes.”
Ellison stared at him.
“That would mean two groups were watching the same bike.”
“Or one group with people who don’t know each other.”
Ellison nodded slowly.
“Go talk to her.”
Caleb entered.
Brooke sat with both hands on the table.
No handcuffs now.
She looked at him.
“Where’s Tyler?”
“Not your concern.”
“Jace?”
“Still missing.”
She looked toward the mirror.
“He’ll run.”
“Probably.”
“He won’t come back for me.”
Caleb pulled out a chair.
“You expected him to?”
“No.”
“Then why ask?”
Brooke didn’t answer.
Caleb placed a photograph of the tracker on the table.
“You said it wasn’t yours.”
“It isn’t.”
“Tyler’s?”
“No.”
“Jace’s?”
“No.”
“Then whose?”
“I don’t know.”
Caleb leaned back.
“Bad answer.”
“It’s the truth.”
“You picked an isolated stretch of road.”
“Yes.”
“You had two men waiting.”
“Yes.”
“You got onto my motorcycle.”
“Yes.”
“You planned to steal it.”
Brooke hesitated.
“Yes.”
The admission surprised him.
“Why tell the truth now?”
“Because that part doesn’t matter anymore.”
Caleb’s eyes narrowed.
“What matters?”
“The tracker.”
“Why?”
Brooke stared at the photograph.
“We usually pick riders after they stop.”
“Usually?”
Her face tightened.
Caleb caught it.
“How many?”
“I’m not saying.”
“How many motorcycles?”
“I’m not saying.”
“So this isn’t your first robbery.”
Silence.
Caleb continued.
“You stand on a quiet road pretending to need help.”
Brooke looked away.
“A rider stops.”
No response.
“You evaluate the motorcycle.”
Silence.
“You direct him toward Tyler and Jace.”
Brooke finally said, “Sometimes.”
“Then they take the bike.”
“Yes.”
“What happens to the rider?”
Her eyes shifted.
“Nothing.”
“That isn’t believable.”
“We don’t hurt people unless they fight.”
Caleb’s jaw tightened.
“That sentence isn’t helping you.”
Brooke looked at him.
“You think I’m the dangerous one?”
“You helped lure people into ambushes.”
“I didn’t say I was good.”
“Then tell me who is.”
She laughed once.
“No one.”
Caleb placed another photograph down.
A recent stolen Harley-Davidson recovered stripped in a warehouse.
Brooke stared.
“You recognize it?”
“No.”
“Owner was hospitalized.”
Her expression changed slightly.
“Broken jaw. Three ribs. Concussion.”
“I wasn’t there.”
“Does that make you feel better?”
“No.”
Caleb studied her.
“You said you usually choose riders after they stop.”
“Yes.”
“But tonight?”
She said nothing.
“You were already waiting.”
Brooke swallowed.
“Tyler got a message.”
“From whom?”
“He wouldn’t tell me.”
“What did it say?”
“A motorcycle would come down that road around eleven.”
Caleb went still.
“What description?”
“Black cruiser. Small American flag.”
Silence.
“Anything else?”
Brooke hesitated.
“Single male rider.”
Caleb felt cold.
“Did the message name me?”
“No.”
“You sure?”
“Yes.”
“What number?”
“Burner.”
“Do you have the message?”
“No. Tyler does.”
Caleb stood.
Brooke suddenly said, “Detective.”
He stopped.
“If somebody tracked your bike…”
Caleb looked at her.
“…they knew you’d be there.”
“Yes.”
“And they sent us.”
“Maybe.”
She shook her head.
“No.”
“What?”
“They sent Tyler.”
Caleb frowned.
“What’s the difference?”
Brooke looked frightened.
“Tyler only calls me when he already has a buyer.”
Caleb sat back down.
“What buyer?”
“For the motorcycle.”
Her voice dropped.
“The bike was sold before you ever stopped for me.”
Caleb stared.
“To whom?”
Brooke whispered:
“That’s the problem.”
May you like
A pause.
“Tyler never knew their names.”
Related Stories
