Sylvia aimed her pen at Zoe. “Get on the horn to those idiots and tell them we’ll take care of dispatching our officers. And that I’m having Pete take this call.”
Grateful that a sixty-eight-year-old fall victim sounded innocuous enough, Zoe dialed the non-emergency number for the 911 command and relayed Sylvia’s orders.
“Vance Base, this is Unit Thirty-Five,” Nate’s voice boomed.
Sylvia keyed the mic. “This is Vance Base.”
“It’s all clear here. Show me as back in service.”
“Roger that, Unit Thirty-Five.” Sylvia glanced at the clock. “Nineteen thirty-four.”
Zoe stood and crossed to the window, sweeping aside the vertical blinds. Outside, the sun appeared to perch on the treetops on the distant hillside. Shadows grew long. If the shooter stuck to his routine of striking as dusk fell, they were fast approaching a dangerous window.
Her cell phone buzzed in her hip pocket. The number on the screen wasn’t familiar. “Hello?”
“Zoe?” The feminine voice sounded weak. Far away.
“Yes?”
“This is Wanda Knox.”
A lump rose in Zoe’s throat. “Is Curtis okay?”
“He’s holding his own. He wants you and Earl to come see him.”
Before Zoe had a chance to reply, the EOC fire tones blasted over the radio.
“Oh. I didn’t realize you were working.” Wanda must have heard them over the phone.
“Yeah.” Zoe tried to focus on Curtis while keeping one ear on the radio. “Um, do you think it can wait until tomorrow morning?” As soon as she said the words, she cringed. Would he still be alive tomorrow?
“That’ll be fine,” Wanda said. “He’s just eager to talk to both of you about something. He wouldn’t tell me what.”
The lump in Zoe’s throat softened. “Tell Curtis we’ll be there first thing.”
The tones repeated, followed by the dispatcher’s voice. “Control to Station Eighteen. Report of a vehicle fire, state game lands, exit one, Route 33. Time out, nineteen thirty-seven.”
“Thanks,” Wanda said. “Whatever’s on his mind seems to be pretty important.”
The phone clicked in her ear. Important? Had Curtis remembered seeing something and she’d just put him off?
“Dear lord,” Sylvia whispered.
Zoe turned to see Sylvia gripping the edge of the desk, all color drained from her face.
The location—exit one, state game lands—sent a chill through Zoe, a chill as bitterly cold as that night last January when she’d responded to the same spot.
Sylvia looked up, meeting Zoe’s gaze. She knew the spot as well and as painfully as Zoe. It was where Sylvia’s son’s body had been found.
But Zoe pushed the memory aside. That was eight months ago. Right now the location carried another reason to freeze her heart. It was lonely. Desolate.
Sylvia drew an audible breath and echoed what Zoe already knew. “This is it.”
Fourteen
The sixty-eight-year-old female with abdominal pains was exactly what she claimed to be. Pete left the ambulance crew in her kitchen taking vitals and headed back to his SUV. Over the radio, Sylvia sounded more on edge than usual.
“Unit Thirty-Two, this is Vance Base.”
“Unit Thirty-Two here.” Kevin’s voice crackled over the radio.
“Respond to a report of a vehicle fire, game lands, route 33 exit one. Station Eighteen is en route.”
Damn it. No wonder Sylvia sounded tense. That exit. Those game lands. Besides the nightmarish memories, it was the perfect location for an ambush. Pete broke into a jog.
“Copy that, Vance Base,” Kevin said. “On my way.”
Pete grabbed the mic clipped to his shoulder. “Vance Base, Unit Thirty-Two, this is Unit Thirty. I’m on my way too. ETA ten minutes. Base, who else do we have in that area?”
“Unit Thirty-One is about six miles out,” Sylvia said.
Seth’s voice cut through the static. “Unit Thirty-One responding. Make my ETA five minutes.”
Pete slid behind the wheel and jammed the gas pedal to the floor. “Base, get the State Police helicopter over the game lands. Call in County too.”
“Already handled.”
Of course it was. Sylvia was an old hand at this.
During the drive to the scene, the radio chatter increased by the minute. The fire department arrived first. They reported a burning four-door sedan about a mile southwest of the exit. There were no bystanders. Following orders, they stayed in their truck.
Pete prayed no innocent victims died in that fire.
Kevin arrived next. Minutes that felt like hours passed before the officer’s next transmission. “I hear an ATV or a dirt bike. Sounds like it’s west of here, heading away from the scene.”
“Where’s the helo?” Pete barked into the mic. He tried to press harder on the accelerator, but his boot was already to the floor.
“State Police report their helicopter is one minute out,” came Sylvia’s reply. “And they have troopers in route along with County.”
By the time Pete roared off the highway and rolled up to the smoldering remains of an older model sedan, the fire crew had knocked down the flames. Dusk was settling in. Clouds in hues of pinks and purples billowed along the treetops to the west. Under different circumstances, he might have taken a moment to enjoy the sunset.
Kevin, his face flushed, approached Pete’s SUV as he climbed out. “I’m sorry, Chief.”
“About what?”
“I should’ve had him.”
“Did you see him?”
Kevin’s shoulder’s sagged. “No.”
Pete surveyed the scene. Firefighters doing their job. Two county officers stringing yellow police tape. “Were there any shots fired?”
“No.”
Pete clipped him on the arm. “Then you have nothing to apologize for. You secured the scene and reported our suspect’s location.” He almost added there were no fatalities, but decided to hold off until the fire crew had a good look inside the car.
“Vance Base to all units,” Sylvia said over the radio. “The State Police pilot reports he’s sighted four ATVs on a game lands trail approximately two miles west of the fire location.”
Pete dove back into his Explorer, pausing to point at Kevin, who appeared ready to bolt for his own car. “Stay here. Keep the scene secured.”
The young officer looked like a teenager who had been grounded the night of the big dance. But he sucked it up and gave a nod. “Yes, sir.”
“Vance Base, this is Unit Thirty responding.” Pete slammed the shifter into drive and punched the accelerator. “Get me better directions.”
Within a minute, every available unit from Vance Township, Monongahela County, Pennsylvania State Police as well as from three other neighboring jurisdictions were closing in on the game lands.
The access roads left much to be desired. Pete hit ruts and rocks harder than he should, jarring his spine. Only his seatbelt and his death grip on the steering wheel kept him from bouncing his head off the roof. He hoped someone ahead of him caught this guy before it got any darker.
Guy. What had Sylvia said? The pilot reported seeing four ATVs? Not one. Four.
“They’re on a double-track trail heading west-southwest,” Sylvia reported. “Approximately a half mile east of Hillman Road.”
Nate’s voice cut in. “This is Unit Thirty-Five. I think I know that spot. There’s a parking area off Hillman that a lot of dirt-bikers use to access the trails. I’m coming up on it now.”
Pete knew the area and was headed straight for it. He grabbed his mic. “Sylvia, get more units there now.” The last thing he wanted was one of his men in a firefight with a stone cold killer. Or killers.
“I’m on scene,” Nate said. “Fou
r pickups in the parking lot. I can hear the ATVs coming and have eyes on the helo.”
“County’s ETA to your location is two minutes,” Sylvia reported.
Damn it. Two minutes could be a lifetime. Pete pushed the Explorer as hard as he dared into a bend. The SUV bucked sideways on the washboard ruts, but managed to hold the road.
“I have eyes on the ATVs,” Nate said. “I count four. Coming right at me.”
Pete muscled the steering wheel one-handed, keying the mic with other. “Sylvia. Where’s his backup?”
“En route,” she responded. “Closest is still a little under two minutes away.”
Pete came out of the turn to be hit full in the face with the setting sun. Blinded, squinting, he tugged the bill of his cap down. Jammed the accelerator to the floor. Through the dust-streaked windshield, he made out a straight stretch. He could make up some time.
“All four ATVs are stopping,” Nate said, his voice tight, edgy.
Pete pictured his officer, weapon drawn, ordering them to stop. So far they were complying. So far.
As he pressed harder on the gas pedal, the front driver’s side of the Explorer dropped. Hurled Pete against his shoulder harness. Then a jolt, pitching him the other way. He wrestled the steering wheel. But the SUV careened on two wheels. Threatened to tip. Slammed back to earth. Hard. And sideways. Pete hit the brakes, but it was too late.
The Explorer nosedived into a ditch next to the road. The immediate stop was accompanied by a sickening metallic crunch and the explosion of the deploying airbag.
Stunned, Pete sat pinned to his seat as the airbag deflated. His Kevlar vest cushioned the impact where the seatbelt grabbed him, but his hips and sides ached from the throttling his duty belt had given him.
Choking on dust, he fought to clear his mind. What the hell just happened?
From the radio, Nate’s voice shouted, “One of them’s rabbiting. He cut across onto the access road, heading east.”
East?
“Unit Thirty-Five to Unit Thirty. Chief. He’s coming your way.”
Pete batted away what was left of the airbag, his senses clearing. He fumbled for and found the mic. “Roger that.”
He released his seatbelt. Hit the button on the center console to release the Remington Model 870 shotgun from the rack between the seats. He tried the door. Hoped it wasn’t too damaged to open and said a silent prayer of thanks when it did. He stepped out of the car. For the moment, he heard nothing of an approaching ATV, so he took a look around.
His Explorer was nosed off the road into a ditch. But what had he hit? He turned. With his back to the sun, he could clearly see the deep gully carved across the road by recent heavy rains. He’d been blinded coming out of the curve and hadn’t noticed it. Hitting the thing at the speed he was going? He’d have broken a spring or an axle for sure. Not that it mattered now.
Damn it.
In the distance, a whining buzz of a million pissed-off bees—or one ATV hightailing it away from law enforcement—grew louder.
Pete took cover behind his vehicle and racked a round of double-zero buckshot. He hated his disadvantage of facing the sun, but in another minute or so, it would drop below the horizon, leaving him and the killer in shadows.
Of course, judging from the sound, the quad was going to beat sunset by a good minute and a half.
Pete braced against the Explorer. Fixed on the stretch of road reaching to the west. And waited. The revving engine grew louder.
The ATV roared into view, rounding the next bend, racing straight at Pete. He raised the shotgun and anchored it against his shoulder.
The rider slammed on the brakes. Tires crunched the gravel as he skidded to a stop. A cloud of dust rose and rolled toward Pete, further obscuring his view.
Pete held his position. Waited. He wanted a good look at this bastard. Silhouetted in the last vestiges of daylight, his face was unidentifiable. But Pete could tell he wore no helmet.
The dust cloud parted. The horizon swallowed the last blip of the sun. At the same moment, the rider hit the gas and spun the quad away from Pete.
But not before Pete got his wish. “Police! Stop!” he bellowed, knowing the guy couldn’t hear him over the engine.
The ATV sped off in another cloud of dust.
Pete lowered his shotgun and grabbed for his mic. “Unit Thirty to all units. Suspect is heading west on the access road.” He hesitated before adding, “Be advised. The suspect is Eli ‘Snake’ Sullivan.”
“You’ll never make it as a police dispatcher.”
Sylvia’s words echoed in Zoe’s ears as she approached the game lands exit ramp. The moment they’d heard Nate report the suspect was headed toward Pete, Zoe had lost focus on everything else. And the tone of Pete’s voice on the radio set off warning bells and whistles in her head.
It felt like hours before he reported the suspect—Snake Sullivan—was headed the other way. And added that Pete’s vehicle was in a ditch.
Sylvia may have acted annoyed about Zoe’s less-than-professional reaction to the news, but it hadn’t taken much prodding for the older woman to hand over her car keys. After years behind the wheel of an ambulance or a three-quarter-ton pickup, Zoe felt like her ass was dragging on the ground in Sylvia’s Escort. But unlike the truck, the car started.
A state trooper flagged her to a stop at the end of the ramp, waving for her to turn left when she was determined to turn right. She lowered the window to a cacophony of songs from night insects.
The trooper, a young woman, stepped toward the car. “Road’s closed, ma’am.”
Ma’am? “I’m with the coroner’s office,” Zoe said, trying to sound official. Ma’am?
The trooper eyed the small white car, and Zoe read her mind. Not a very official-looking vehicle.
“You can radio Chief Adams or anyone from Vance Township PD and confirm it.” She fumbled in her purse for her wallet, coming up with her driver’s license and holding it for the trooper to examine. “Or anyone from the Monongahela County PD too.”
The trooper took the license, excused herself, and walked back to her idling cruiser.
Two minutes later, license back in her wallet, Zoe was headed into the game lands, relieved that whoever responded to the trooper either knew Zoe or accepted her at her word.
The access road was a mess, carved with deep ruts, punctuated with exposed chunks of rock. At one point, the Escort’s undercarriage scraped and she hoped she didn’t end up with yet another repair bill. She rounded a turn and jammed the brakes, stopping before the car dropped into an especially vicious-looking washout. Ahead of her, Pete’s SUV was nose down in the drainage ditch that ran alongside the road. A cruiser from the county PD sat angled with its headlights shining on the debilitated Explorer. A pair of men in uniform—one of them Pete—stood between the two cars. And there wasn’t an ambulance in sight.
A knot of tension Zoe hadn’t realized she carried released from her neck.
Pete was okay.
She didn’t dare attempt to drive Sylvia’s car through the washout. Cutting the engine but leaving the headlights on, Zoe climbed out of the car—a process that felt like climbing out of a hole—and picked her way over the rough terrain.
If the other officer hadn’t been there, she would have launched into Pete’s arms. As it was, she wondered how unprofessional she would appear if she gave him a hug. After all, he’d faced down a killer less than an hour ago. Who would blame her? Yet Pete had an image to uphold.
No. Best save the clinch for later.
“What are you doing here?” he asked. “I thought you were manning the radio with Sylvia.”
“I was.” Zoe caught the curious raised eyebrows of the county officer and decided I was worried about you might also be construed as less than professional. “When we heard you’d wrecked your car, we thought you might need a p
aramedic.”
“We” sounded good. Never mind that she had no idea if Sylvia carried so much as a Band-Aid in her glove box.
A subtle grin tugged one corner of Pete’s mouth. The other officer might be buying her excuse, but Pete wasn’t.
“You okay, Chief?” the officer, suddenly concerned, asked. “Should I call for an ambulance?”
“No, I’m fine. Zoe made the trip out here for nothing.”
The officer appeared relieved. Zoe, on the other hand, wasn’t sure whether to feel relieved or chastised.
Pete clapped the officer on the back. “Make that phone call. I need to talk to this paramedic a moment. And let me know if there are any developments.”
“Will do, Chief.” The officer turned away, keying a number into his cell phone.
Pete rested a hand on the small of Zoe’s back and guided her out of the headlight beams. Wrapped in the illusion of privacy the shadows provided, he pulled her into his arms for a quick embrace. Had the county officer noticed, he might have mistaken it for a friendly hug.
“I made the trip for nothing, huh?” she whispered into Pete’s ear.
He eased her away, but kept his head bent forward and his voice low. “Yeah. I’m glad you did though.”
“Are you okay? I mean really okay?”
“I’m fine. Really.” He grinned, or at least she sensed he grinned in the dark. His voice dropped even lower. “You can give me a complete physical exam later if you aren’t convinced.”
Her cheeks warmed, and she was thankful he couldn’t see the blush. “Could happen.” She cleared her throat. “Have you caught Snake yet?”
Pete straightened. Back to business. “No. But we will.”
“You’re sure it was him?”
“I saw his face. And we caught the guys he was riding with. As soon as Bud Kramer sends one of his trucks out to tow my vehicle in, the officer here will give me a lift back to the station to question them.”
Zoe blew out a breath. “I’m glad you know for sure who did all this, but I’ll be even happier when you lock him up.”
With a Vengeance Page 13
