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Chapter 1
Sierra’s shoulders relaxed as she turned her car onto the stretch of road winding through Iverson Woods Forest Preserve near Evanston. Street-light free, the dense trees’ blurring shadows flashed past her. Their branches were leafing out, and the emerging leaves fluttered in the wind. She always loved this spooky drive. For some contradictory reason, the darkness, the trees arching into a canopy over Harvey Road, eased the tension in her shoulders after a long day at work. If she looked up, she might even see a few stars between the branches.
She’d left work later than usual, so there were no other cars on this stretch of road. Her partner Alex Conway was out of town, and Sierra had been slammed with work. She had back-to-back appointments tomorrow, so she’d wanted to clear her desk before the busy day.
Sierra was framing her pitch for her first appointment, a client she and Alex had courted, when she noticed the flashing lights of a patrol car behind her. She glanced at her speedometer -- two miles over the limit. Within the margin of error for radar. The cop wasn’t pulling her over for speeding.
What did he want?
As she continued to drive, slowing down, he beeped his siren twice. Definitely a signal to pull over.
Fear shivered over her. Had something happened to Jack? Was that why the police needed to stop her? Her brother was a graduate student at Northwestern, but he was only twenty-two and wasn’t always as careful as he should be. Anxiety gripped her chest, choking off her air.
Swallowing hard, she pulled onto the shoulder, bumping along until she stopped. The Evanston police cruiser pulled in behind her and left the lights flashing. Compounding her worries about Jack, the pulsing red and blue in her rearview mirror made her jittery. Nervous. As if she were a criminal.
The police officer sat in his car as several vehicles roared past them. Finally, when there were no oncoming headlights in either direction, he exited his car. Sierra watched in the mirror as he adjusted his belt. Set his hand on the gun in its holster as he approached the car.
What the hell? Why would he need his gun for a traffic stop?
As he neared the car, she sucked in a deep breath to settle herself. The officer wore an Evanston police uniform, but there was no badge or name tag on his shirt. Frowning, she watched as he stopped outside her window.
She rolled down the window just far enough to speak to him. “What’s the problem, Officer?” She sounded strong. No wavering in her voice, thank God.
“Step out of the car, Ma’am,” he said.
“What?” She stared at him, shocked. “Why do I need to get out of the car?”
“Obey orders, Ma’am. Step out of the car.” His hand tightened on the gun at his hip.
“Where’s your badge and your name tag?” she asked, studying his face. The darkness of the forest preserve and the brim of his hat concealed his features, but she noticed a small scar on the left side of his chin.
“One last time, Ma’am.” He flipped off the restraining strap on his gun. “Get out of the car.”
“Why did you stop me?” she asked. “What was I doing?” she asked.
His jaw clenched. “Step out of the car.”
His voice was heavy with warning, and Sierra pushed the button to roll up her window. Her doors locked automatically when she started the car, so he couldn’t yank it open and drag her out.
Instead of getting out of the car, she pulled out her cell phone. Dialed 911.
“Evanston dispatch. What is your emergency?” a woman said.
“This is Sierra Baker. I’m on Harvey Road in Iverson Woods. An Evanston police officer just pulled me over. He won’t tell me why he stopped me and he ordered me out of the car. But he’s not wearing his badge or his name tag. Can you tell me if you have an officer patrolling this stretch of Harvey?”
The officer next to her car rapped hard on the window, but Sierra didn’t look at him. She focused on her phone and the dispatcher on the other end of the call.
“I’m sending another officer to the scene,” she said. “Keep your doors closed and locked until he gets there. In the meantime, I’ll check to see which officer is patrolling that area.”
Sierra gripped the phone tightly. She glanced at the police officer on the other side of her door and saw that he’d drawn his gun. He was pointing it at her head from the other side of the window.
“Oh, my God,” she breathed, staring at the gun. “He’s pointing his gun at me.”
She turned toward the man and yelled, “I’m not getting out of this car until you show me your badge and name tag.”
“The responding officer is less than two minutes away,” the dispatcher said, her voice calm. Oddly reassuring, even though there was nothing more the woman could do. “She’s running with lights and sirens. You should hear her any minute. Donotget out of the car until she arrives.”
Suddenly the cop outside her car jerked his head to the side. Stared down the road, then swore. She couldn’t hear him, but she had no trouble reading his lips.
