"I don't need anything fancy. I just want everybody together."

He had promised her one good evening.

Now the cake was lying beside a highway.

Haskell looked down.

No apology.

No embarrassment.

Instead he said, "We'll deal with that later."

Terrence stared at the ruined cake.

Then he looked at Haskell.

"Are you finished?"

"No."

Haskell returned to the truck.

Terrence lowered his eyes for a moment.

He could feel anger rising in his chest.

But anger was exactly what Haskell appeared to want.

A raised voice.

A sudden movement.

An excuse to transform an unjustified situation into something else.

Terrence had spent too many years around investigations not to recognize the pattern.

So he stood still.

He breathed slowly.

And he waited.

Because Terrence Cole had a secret Officer Haskell couldn't possibly know.

The pickup truck wasn't the most important thing being examined on that roadside.

Officer Haskell was.

CHAPTER 5 — WHY TERRENCE STAYED QUIET

Terrence had worked for the federal government for twelve years.

Not in the way people imagined from television.

There were no dramatic car chases every week.

No secret tunnels.

No constant gunfights.

Most of his job involved patience.

Documents.

Interviews.

Financial records.

Surveillance reports.

Patterns that seemed meaningless until someone connected them.

Terrence was a supervisory special agent assigned to a federal public-corruption task force.

And for the previous seven months, his team had been reviewing allegations connected to law enforcement agencies across three counties.

Most officers had nothing to do with the investigation.

The inquiry centered on a small number of individuals suspected of using traffic enforcement as cover for illegal seizures and falsified reports.

One name had appeared repeatedly.

Daniel Haskell.

But suspicion wasn't proof.

And Terrence hadn't been driving down County Road 16 as part of an operation.

That was the strangest part.

He truly had been going to his mother's birthday party.

His work credentials were inside a small leather holder in his overnight bag because he had returned from a federal office that morning.

He had no intention of identifying himself as an agent unless absolutely necessary.

In fact, doing so could complicate everything.

So Terrence watched.

Haskell searched.

Mills stood nearby.

The other officers said little.

Twenty more minutes passed.

Nothing illegal appeared.

Haskell's confidence began to crack.

He checked beneath the floor mats again.

Then the spare tire compartment.

Then inside the toolbox for a second time.

Terrence could see frustration building.

Haskell had expected to find something.

That was becoming obvious.

Finally, Mills approached him.

"Sergeant, we've gone through everything."

Haskell looked toward Terrence.

"Not everything."

He walked toward the pile of belongings.

Terrence's clothes were on the pavement.

His mother's gift was still wrapped, though one corner had been crushed.

Birthday decorations were scattered around it.

A family photograph had fallen from his backpack.