CHAPTER 1: A Suitcase on the Yellow Line

The black sedan stopped in the middle of Route 71 with the sun falling behind the desert hills.
Elias Mercer sat in the back seat with both hands around the handle of an old brown suitcase. The leather was cracked, the brass corners dull, the kind of case rich families kept only if it meant something they were afraid to throw away.
Preston Vale opened the door and smiled like a man helping an elder breathe fresh air. His smile was meant for no one, because there were no cameras on that stretch of road.
“Careful, Uncle Elias,” he said. “You always did love dramatic exits.”
Elias looked at the empty highway. Then at Preston’s hand on the suitcase.
He understood too late that this was not a stop. It was a disposal.