The rain had been falling for nearly an hour when Naomi Harper finally turned onto County Road 17.
It was after midnight, and the road was almost completely empty.
Naomi preferred driving at night. There was less traffic, fewer distractions, and usually enough silence for her mind to unwind after a long day at the law firm.
Tonight, however, she was exhausted.
Her black sedan moved steadily through the rain, its headlights cutting two pale tunnels through the darkness. The windshield wipers swept from side to side with mechanical precision.
In the passenger seat sat her husband, Donovan Harper.
He was asleep.
Not lightly asleep, either.
He had spent fourteen hours dealing with a crisis at the Oak Haven Police Department. Three months earlier, Donovan had been appointed police chief after the city council decided that the department needed an outsider.
His reputation was simple.
He believed that a badge was a responsibility, not a privilege.
That philosophy had already made him unpopular with some officers.
Donovan had suspended two officers during his first month. He had reopened several old complaints. He had ordered supervisors to review body-camera footage more carefully. He had also requested an independent audit of the department's internal-affairs procedures.
Some officers respected him.
Others hated him.
Naomi knew that.
She also knew her husband was tired.
Earlier that evening, Donovan had developed a severe migraine. After taking medication, he had fallen asleep almost immediately.
Naomi glanced at him.
"Almost home," she whispered.
Donovan didn't respond.
She smiled faintly and returned her attention to the road.
Then blue and red lights suddenly appeared behind her.
Naomi's hands tightened around the steering wheel.
She checked her speed.
Fifty-five.
The posted limit.
She checked her mirrors.
Nothing unusual.
Still, she calmly activated her turn signal and pulled onto the shoulder.
The patrol car stopped behind her.
For several seconds, nothing happened.
Then the driver's door opened.
A tall police officer stepped into the rain.
Officer Greg Mitchell.
Naomi did not know his name yet.
She only saw the silhouette approaching her vehicle.
He walked slowly.
Too slowly.
There was something deliberate about the way he moved.
Naomi lowered her window.
"Good evening, Officer."
The flashlight immediately entered the car.
The beam struck her face.
"License and registration."
Naomi blinked.
"Certainly."
She reached toward her purse.
"Keep your hands where I can see them."
Naomi stopped.
"They're right here."
"I said keep them visible."
She slowly raised both hands.
The officer moved closer.
"Where are your documents?"
"My purse is on the center console. May I reach for it?"
He stared at her for several seconds.
Then he nodded.
"Slowly."
Naomi retrieved her wallet.
She handed him her license and registration.
Mitchell examined them.
His expression changed.
"Naomi Harper."
"Yes."
"You live in Oak Haven?"
"Yes."
"What do you do?"
"I'm an attorney."
"What kind?"
"Corporate law."
He looked at the expensive sedan.
Then back at her.
"Must be nice."
Naomi didn't answer.
Mitchell walked around the vehicle.
He looked through the windows.
His flashlight passed over Donovan.
The passenger was almost completely hidden beneath a dark coat.
Mitchell apparently assumed he was asleep.
"Do you know why I stopped you?"
"No."
"You crossed the center line."
Naomi frowned.
"I don't believe I did."
"You don't believe?"
"I know where my car was."
Mitchell leaned toward the window.
"Are you arguing with me?"
"No. I'm asking for clarification."
His expression hardened.
"You're very confident."
Naomi had learned long ago that confidence could be dangerous in certain situations.
Especially when the person standing outside the window had a weapon and believed the badge gave him absolute authority.
"I'm simply trying to understand why I was stopped."
Mitchell looked at her license again.
Then he smiled.
It wasn't a friendly smile.
"Step out of the vehicle."
Naomi remained still.
"Why?"
"Because I told you to."
"I'd prefer to understand the reason."