Chapter 1 - Amanda
The uniform doesn't fit right. It never does when you're shaped like me.
All curves where there should be sharp lines, soft where there should be hard. I tug at the belt riding up over my stomach as I walk into the Blackwater Falls Police Department for my second week on the job, trying to ignore how the fabric pulls tight across my hips.
"Morning, Collins," Sergeant Morrison calls from behind the front desk, barely looking up from his computer.
"Morning, Sergeant." I force brightness into my voice, even though exhaustion weighs on every syllable.
I collapsed on my couch last night still in uniform, too tired to even make it to bed. Some days I wonder what the hell I was thinking when I chose this career.
Then I remember my parents lying in that hospital, bruised and broken, while the responding officers shrugged and said there wasn't much they could do. No witnesses. No camera footage. Just two more victims in a city that had stopped caring.
That's why I'm here. That's why I put on this uniform every morning, even when it doesn't fit, even when I'm so tired I can barely stand. I promised myself I'd be different. I'd help people. I'd fight the injustices that others ignored.
"You're riding with Officer Hayes today," Morrison continues, still not meeting my eyes. "He's out back."
Officer David Hayes. Mid-forties, twenty years on the force, the kind of cop who thinks his badge gives him the right to do whatever he wants. I've only been here a week, but I'vealready heard the whispers. The complaints that disappeared. The women who requested transfers.
"Actually, Sergeant, I was hoping I could—"
"Hayes is waiting, Collins." Morrison finally looks at me, and there's something in his expression that makes my protest die in my throat. A warning. A test. "Don't keep him waiting on your second week."
I nod and head toward the back exit. This is fine. It's just a patrol shift. I can handle this.
Blackwater Falls is smaller than where I grew up, quieter. I moved here a few weeks ago hoping for a fresh start, a place where I could actually make a difference instead of drowning in the bureaucracy and corruption of a bigger city.
So far, I know almost nothing about this town. The main street with its mix of old Victorian houses and newer shops. The diner where I've been getting breakfast. The small apartment I'm renting that still has unpacked boxes on every corner.
Officer Hayes leans against the patrol car, arms crossed, sunglasses hiding his eyes even though we're in the shade. He's tall, broad-shouldered, with the kind of build that's going soft around the middle. His uniform is immaculate, boots polished to a shine.
"Collins." He looks me up and down slowly, and I feel every extra pound, every curve that doesn't belong on a cop. "Ready for your first real patrol?"
"Yes, sir." I keep my voice steady, professional.
He smirks. "You don't have to call me sir. We're partners today." The way he says partners makes my skin crawl. "You drive."
I slide into the driver's seat, adjusting the mirrors and the seat position. Hayes gets in beside me, spreading his legs wide so hisknee almost touches mine in the confined space. I shift slightly away and start the engine.
"Head toward the east side," he instructs. "We'll do a sweep through the industrial area first."
I pull out of the lot and onto Main Street. He smells like cologne and coffee, and he's sitting too close. I focus on the road. This is what I trained for. This is what I'm good at.
"So, Collins," Hayes says as we drive past the last of the shops toward the more run-down part of town. "What brings a pretty girl like you to Blackwater Falls?"
A pretty girl like me. I grit my teeth. "Fresh start. Wanted to work in a smaller department."
"Yeah?" He shifts in his seat, angling toward me. "Running from something?"
"No." The word comes out sharper than I intended. "Just looking for something different."
He chuckles. "Well, you'll find different here alright. We do things our own way in Blackwater Falls. None of that big-city red tape bullshit."
I don't respond, keeping my eyes on the road as we enter the industrial district. Abandoned warehouses line the street, their windows broken, their walls covered in graffiti. A few are still operational. I can see trucks parked outside, loading docks busy with workers.
"You know about the Savage Riders?" Hayes asks.
"The what?"
