A flashing siren in the dead of night. A smirk on the face of an officer who thinks his badge is a license to terrorize.
He pulled her over for driving a luxury car in the wrong neighborhood, threw her in handcuffs, and planted a bag of narcotics in her trunk just to teach her a lesson.
He thought she was just another voiceless victim he could crush for his own amusement.
He didn't know she was Emma Grace, his new precinct captain. And at dawn, his entire life is going to be dismantled. The rain was coming down in sheets, turning the asphalt of Route 114 into a slick black mirror. Emma Grace gripped the leather steering wheel of her 2024 Mercedes-Benz S-Class, the rhythmic thud of the windshield wipers, the only sound in the quiet cabin.
She was exhausted. It had been a grueling 72 hours of packing, moving, and finalizing her transfer from the bustling, high-stakes environment of the Chicago Police Department's Internal Affairs Division to the sleepy yet notoriously corrupt Oak Haven Police Department in District 9. She had been specifically head-hunted by the mayor and the chief of police to clean house.
Oak Haven had a reputation. It was a boy club, a precinct bleeding money through civil rights lawsuits and running rampant with officers who believed they were above the law. Emma was driving into town a day early, dressed in a simple unbranded gray hoodie, faded blue jeans and sneakers. Her hair was pulled back into a messy bun.
She looked nothing like the highly decorated 20-year veteran of the force who had systematically dismantled three organized crime rings and put six dirty cops behind bars. Tonight she just looked like a tired black woman driving a very expensive car through a predominantly white affluent suburb. And to Officer Travis Holt, that was a crime in itself.
Travis sat in his cruiser, tucked away behind a billboard near the county line, nursing a lukewarm coffee. He was a 12-year veteran of District 9, a man who had survived three separate brutality complaints, simply because the Union reps and his old school sergeants always made the paperwork disappear. Travis viewed Oak Haven as his personal kingdom. When the sleek black Mercedes cruised past him, doing exactly the speed limit, his eyes narrowed.
He ran the plates out of state, registered to a Grace. "Look at this," Travis muttered to his rookie partner, Ben Collins, who was nervously tapping his fingers on his knee. "Out-of-state plates, high-end tint. You think she bought that with honest money, Benny?"
"She's doing 45 in a 45," Ben said hesitantly. "Maybe we just let it go." "We don't let anything go in my town," Travis sneered, throwing the cruiser into drive and flipping on the lights and sirens. "Let's see what kind of attitude she's got."
Inside the Mercedes, Emma saw the red and blue lights pierce the darkness in her rearview mirror. She sighed, a deep, weary sound. She checked her speedometer. She was perfect.
She checked her blinkers as she safely pulled onto the muddy shoulder of the road, putting the car in park and turning on the interior dome light. As a cop, she knew exactly what to do. Hands at 10 and two on the steering wheel, visible, no sudden movements. In her rearview mirror, she watched the officer approach.
Travis Holt walked with a swagger, his hand resting casually on the butt of his service weapon. The rain battered his uniform, but he didn't seem to care. He stopped at her window and tapped hard on the glass with his heavy metal flashlight. Emma rolled down the window.