title: Badge of Betrayal: The Devastating True Story of a Rogue Cop Turned Murderer
author:  Joe Cantlupe 
description: Cara Knott was the archetypal All-American girl: at the age of 20, she was blonde, beautiful and in love. Craig Peyer was a by-the-book California Highway Patrol cop. After pulling Cara off a highway on the day after Christmas, 1986, Peyer murdered her. The resulting investigation, arrest and two trials (the first ended in a hung jury, the second in a conviction)p. 198 made headlines throughout the country. In their first book, the authors, reporters for the San Diego Union, portray Cara as almost too nice to be true, detail the criminal investigation and the trial machinations extensively, and reveal the innermost thoughts of the victim's family. But Peyer remains a mystery man; the authors fail to present any motive for the murder. Peyer had many times previously pulled young women off the road to a secluded spot, but why he killed Cara is never learned. Marjorie Huntington, a probation officer who interviewed Peyer, claimed he was bored and offers simply that "their fates became intermeshed," but that is far from the closure most readers would like. Photos not seen by PW. <br />Copyright 1991 Reed Business Information, Inc.
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  ![Cover](images/cover.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## Crossroads
  
  
    
  
  
  ### Jeanne C. Stein
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## Jeanne C. Stein
  
  
  ## CROSSROADS
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  _For the support of my family and friends, I thank you._
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  _For Phil — these last two books are as much yours as mine._
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## CHAPTER 1
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  **I** T’S NEVER A GOOD THING WHEN YOU’RE AWAKENED
  
  
  from a deep sleep by someone pounding on the front door.
  
  
  It’s worse when you stumble downstairs and see it’s a cop.
  
  
  A cop you recognize.
  
  
  My first impulse is to creep back upstairs and pretend I’m not home. But I
  know this cop. He’s probably already gone around back and checked the garage.
  Both my Jag and the Ford Crown Vic I use for work are parked inside. He knows
  I’m home.
  
  
  Crap.
  
  
  I pul open the door.
  
  
  “Detective Harris. What a surprise.”
  
  
  For a pain-in-the-ass cop, he’s not bad looking. Five-ten—
  
  
  probably one hundred eighty pounds. Dark hair touched at the temples with
  gray. Square jaw, seriou