Chapter 1 - Blood on the Steering Wheel
The rain was slamming against the windshield so hard the wipers couldn't keep up, turning the neon lights of Route 9 into red and blue streaks across the dark.
Detective Mark Miller wiped the fog off the driver’s side window with his sleeve, his hand shaking just enough to make the ring on his left finger click against the glass. Next to him, Sam was staring at her phone, her thumb twitching over a missed call from her mom.
"Mark," she said softly. Her voice barely cut through the sound of the storm. "He’s still alive."
Mark hit the brakes, hard. The sedan hydroplaned three feet across the slick asphalt before slamming to a stop right behind the yellow crime scene tape.
A silver Ford Taurus sat half-buried in the ditch, its engine still sputtering smoke. Through the cracked driver-side window, Mayor Robert Vance was slumped over the steering wheel, a dark, heavy stain blooming across his white Oxford shirt.
"Get the kit," Mark grunted, opening his door.
"Wait," Sam called out, reaching for his jacket. "Mark, look at the trunk."
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Mark stopped, his boots sinking two inches into the freezing mud. The trunk lid wasn't latching. It was bouncing slightly with the wind, open just half an inch. And sticking out from the gap was a strip of bright pink fabric—the exact shade of the jacket Mark’s daughter had worn when she left for school that morning.
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