Chapter 1
Highway patrol officer Peter Bradley was on routine patrol on the back roads outside of Cedar Creek, California. The surrounding landscape was barren desert with almost no traffic on the highway, even in the middle of the day. He was reaching for the sunglasses stuck under his visor when he noticed something moving in the ditch up ahead.
Assuming it was an injured animal that had crawled into the ditch to die after being struck by a vehicle; he pulled over to the edge of the road and stopped. He stepped out of his cruiser and dropped his right hand to rest on the butt of his revolver as he prepared to put the poor creature out of its misery.
As he approached the side of the ditch, he was startled to find not a wounded animal as he had expected, but the huddled figure of a man. At the sound of his approach, the man's head jerked up, a look of absolute terror in his eyes. Long, matted, dark hair fell to his shoulders, and his swollen and battered face was peppered with open cuts and bruises.
Dry, split lips pulled back in something that resembled a snarl as Peter cautiously held out his left hand in a soothing gesture towards the obviously injured man.
"Hey, there…It's okay. I'm not going to hurt you. My name's Peter. What's yours?"
Instead of answering, the man actually growled and tried to crawl backwards, away from Peter's outstretched hand. That was when Peter noticed the torn, tattered clothing covered with dirt and blood stains. It was apparent that the man needed medical care. Peter momentarily debated whether he should call for an ambulance or put the man into the squad car and drive him almost thirty miles to the nearest hospital. Because he couldn't determine the extent of the man's injuries, Peter decided to drive rather than wait for an ambulance to reach them.
"Just let me put you in the car," he coaxed. "I'm a police officer. You're safe now. I'm not going to hurt you. I just want to help."
The words only seemed to agitate the man more. He began to whine, a high pitched whine that turned into a scream.
Instinctively, Peter reached out and grabbed the man's left wrist, intending to help him to his feet. As injured as the man looked, Peter certainly didn't expect a sudden lunge to his feet and an attack.
The sudden attack forced Peter back a few steps, the momentum sending the injured man falling into Peter's arms. Peter quickly wrapped his arms around him to restrain him even as the other man struggled in his embrace, kicking and actually snapping his teeth at him. Although he hated to do it, Peter quickly cuffed the other man's hands to protect both of them from any further harm.
He managed to get the man to the cruiser and into the back seat. He closed the rear door, which could only be opened from the outside, and paused for a second to catch his breath.
In the rear seat, the injured man continued to whimper, but he had stopped screaming. He had curled up into fetal position on the seat and was kicking his bare feet against the locked back door.
Sliding back under the wheel, Peter reached for the mike and pressed the transmit button.
"Dispatch, this is Ocean 12. Notify St. James that I am on my way there with a possible mentally disturbed person with unidentified injuries."
"Ten four, Ocean 12," Dispatch replied.
Peter replaced the mike and turned on the engine. Making a u-turn in the middle of the road, he headed for the hospital as quickly as he could, wondering what the story was for the man in his back seat.