Before He Takes

She looked to the back tire and saw several large shards of it sticking through. She glanced back down the road and could see no signs of anything. But that meant nothing because the moon was mostly hidden behind the treetops and it was dark as hell out.

She went to the trunk, already knowing that anything she found would be pointless. Even if there was a spare back there, she needed two.

Furious and a bit scared, she slammed the trunk, not even bothering to check. She grabbed her phone and, feeling like an idiot, scrambled up onto the back of the car. She held her phone up, hoping for just a single bar of service.

Nothing.

Don’t freak out, she thought. Yes, you’re in the middle of nowhere. But someone will come by eventually. All roads lead somewhere, right?

Unable to believe the way this weekend had gone, she got back in her car, where the heater was still doing its work. She angled her rearview mirror so she’d see any headlights approaching from behind and then looked ahead to keep an eye out for any coming straight ahead.

As she ruminated on the failed book signing, the small publicity mix-up, and her most recent trouble of having two blown tires on the side of the road, she saw headlights approaching from ahead. She’d only been waiting for about seven minutes, so she counted herself lucky.

She cracked her door open, providing the overhead light to join the already blinking hazards lights. She stepped out and stayed close to the car, flagging down the approaching truck. She was instantly relieved when she saw that it was slowing down. It veered over into her lane and parked nose to nose with her. The driver switched on his hazards and then stepped out.

“Hey there,” said the forty-something man who stepped out of the truck.

“Hey,” Delores said. She sized him up, still too pissed at the situation to be cautious of a random stranger who had pulled over so late at night to help her.

“Car trouble?” he asked.

“Tons of it,” Delores said, gesturing to her tires. “Two blown tires at once. Can you believe it?”

“Oh, that’s terrible,” he said. “Have you called Triple A or a garage or anything?”

“No service,” she said. She almost added I’m not exactly from around here but then decided not to.

“Well, you can use mine,” he said. “I usually get at least two bars out here.”

He stepped forward, reaching into his pocket for his phone.

Only it was not a phone he pulled out. She was actually very confused at what she was seeing. It made no sense. She couldn’t figure out what it was and—

Suddenly, it was coming at her face, very quickly. A split second before she was struck, she saw the shape and shine of what he had slipped over his fingers.

Brass knuckles.

She heard the sound of them striking her forehead, felt a flash of pain, and then a moment later her knees buckled, and she felt herself collapsing onto the hard road. The last thing she was aware of was the man reaching down for her almost caringly, his headlights shining in her eyes, before the world went black.

CHAPTER ONE

Mackenzie White stood beneath a black umbrella and watched the casket get lowered into the ground as the rain picked up to a steady downpour. The weeping of those in attendance was nearly drowned out by the raindrops on the cemetery grounds and the nearby tombstones.

She watched with a pang of sadness as her old partner spent his last moments among the world of the living.

The casket inched into the grave on the steel runners it had been sitting on during the service while those closest to Bryers stood by. Most of the procession had scattered after the pastor’s final words, but those closest to him remained.

Mackenzie stood to the side, two rows over. It occurred to her that although she and Bryers had put their lives in each other’s hands on several occasions, she really had not known him all that well. This was proven by the fact that she had no idea who the people that had stayed back to watch him lowered into the ground were. There was a man who looked to be in his thirties and two women, huddled together under the black tarp, having one last moment with him.

As Mackenzie turned away, she noticed an older woman standing another row back, holding her own umbrella. She was dressed in all black and looked quite pretty standing in the rain. Her hair was completely gray, pulled back in a bun, but she looked young somehow. Mackenzie gave her a nod as she headed past her.

“Did you know Jimmy?” the woman asked her all of a sudden.

Jimmy?

It took her a while to realize that the woman was talking about Bryers. Mackenzie had only ever heard his first name one or two times. He’d always just been Bryers to her.

Maybe we weren’t as close as I thought.

“I did,” Mackenzie said. “We worked together. How about you?”

“Ex-wife,” she said. With a shaky sigh, she added: “He was such a good man.”

Ex-wife? God, I really didn’t know him. But in the back of her head, she could recall a conversation during one of their long car rides where he had mentioned having been married in the past.

“Yes, he was,” Mackenzie said.

She wanted to tell the woman about the times Bryers had guided her in her career and even saved her life. But she figured there was a reason the woman had distanced herself rather than join the three huddled figures under the tarp.

“Were you close to him?” the ex asked.

I thought I was, Mackenzie said, looking back to the graveside with regret. Her answer was simpler, though. “Not very.”

She then turned away from the woman with a grieved smile and headed for her car. She thought about Bryers…his dry smile, the way he rarely laughed but when he did it was nearly explosive. She then thought of what work might be like now. Sure, it was selfish, but she couldn’t help but wonder how her working environment would be changed now that her partner and the man who had essentially taken her under his wing was dead. Would she get a new partner? Would her position change and have her sitting behind a desk or on some lousy beat with no real purpose?

God, stop thinking about yourself, she thought.

The rain continued to pelt down on the umbrella. It was so deafening that Mackenzie almost didn’t hear her phone ringing in her coat pocket.

She fumbled it out of her pocket as she unlocked her car door, stowed the umbrella away, and stepped inside out of the rain.

“This is White.”

“White, it’s McGrath. Are you at the graveside service?”

“Leaving just now,” she said.

“I truly am sorry about Bryers. He was a good man. A damned fine agent, too.”

“Yeah, he was,” Mackenzie said.

But when she peered back through the rain to the graveside, she felt like she hadn’t really known Bryers at all.

“I hate to interrupt, but I need you back here. Come by my office, would you?”

She felt her heart skip a beat. It sounded serious.

“What is it?” she asked.