“This is Bronco, Mama,” he’d replied. “He’s my service dog.”
She’d looked up at him, clearly perplexed that he had called her Mama. “Why do you need a service dog, young man?” she’d asked.
A spasm of pain had crossed Tyler’s face. “I lost my foot in an operation overseas. Bronco fetches things for me so I don’t have to get them myself.”
“Well, isn’t that nice,” she remarked. “You were a soldier?” she asked.
“I was a SEAL, Mama. But I can’t be one anymore.”
His words were clearly a call for comfort. His father had stretched out a hand and squeezed his knees.
His mother studied him as if trying to place him. “Well, whenever you get hurt, you just get back up, brush yourself off, and keep on going.”
This must have been something she’d said to him in the past because tears welled into Tyler’s eyes, and it was all he could do to contain them.
But a wound inside him had healed during that visit. And now Katie was looking for the perfect bird-feeder to place outside his mother’s sitting room window so she had something to look at. She selected one with a pole that Tyler could drive into the ground and a gismo on the pole to confound squirrels. Paying for her purchase at the register, she made her way back to her car.
The dark cumulus clouds piling up on the horizon promised an afternoon thunderstorm that would bring in a cool front. Katie had just laid her purchases in her trunk when she sensed someone coming up behind her. She turned just as a stranger seized her arm in a cruel grip. The cold gray eyes of a man in his sixties bore into hers. In his other hand, he held a knife, the blade of which threatened to gouge her abdomen.
“Where is it?” he snarled, assaulting her with foul breath. “Where’s the money you took from me?”
This had to be Dale Roberts, her stalker. “I don’t have your money,” she protested, speaking through stiff lips as the shock of being held at knifepoint registered.
“Where is it?” he snarled.
“I have no idea. Someone probably found it before I bought the house. It wasn’t there when I renovated. Please, leave me alone,” she dared to add. “You’ve done enough damage.”
His grip only tightened. “Oh, I don’t think so. You took my money and I expect it back. Get in the car,” he exhorted, hauling her toward the passenger seat and stuffing her in it.
For a moment Katie thought he meant to drive her car, but then he told her to climb through to the driver’s seat. Taking her place, he shut them both in.
“Drive!” he added, threatening her with the knife.
“Where—where are we going?” Katie stammered, fumbling to insert the key she still clutched into the ignition. Then she backed out of the parking space, her coordination impaired by fear.
“To the drive-thru at your bank. I want all the money in your accounts.”
She tugged the shifter into drive and made her way to the road, scarcely aware of the other cars around her. “There’s not very much in there,” she protested. “It cost me three hundred dollars to replace the glass in my door, which you broke—twice.”
“Just shut up and drive,” he hissed.
Her bank stood virtually across the street. Katie lurched into the road then merged into the right lane. She was turning into the bank when she glimpsed Tyler’s Crown Victoria heading in her direction in the oncoming traffic. Tyler!
Desperate to catch his eye, she took her foot off the gas. She could see Bronco riding in his back seat. Tyler’s gaze alighted on her Honda and his face lit up. He lifted a hand to salute her only to lower it again when he spotted the man in the car with her. Katie’s heart thudded painfully as she turned into the bank’s parking lot. Could Tyler guess by the look on her face what was happening?
As she guided her car under the awning into the drive-thru, a torrent of rain began to pelt the area around them.
“Hurry up,” Roberts demanded.
Katie glanced down at the blade in his hand. It looked to be at least five inches long.
Scarcely able to think, she riffled through her wallet looking for her bank card and ID. Then she lowered her window and reached for the cylinder to put them inside, only to find that she hadn’t pulled up closely enough. “I have to open my door to reach it,” she said, looking for the man’s permission.
“Back up and get closer,” he ordered.
She glanced in the rear view mirror. “I can’t. There’s already someone behind me.”
“Fine. But don’t try anything stupid.” He gave her impetus to obey him by sticking the point of the knife against her ribs.
Katie swallowed hard, eased her car door open, slid over to put one foot down on the ground. She seized the cylinder. It took her quaking fingers several seconds to get it open. She dropped the cards inside, put the cylinder back into the tube and sent it flying into the bank. A second later, the teller’s pleasant face appeared on the video monitor welcoming her to the bank. “How can I help you today, Miss Crowley?” she asked.
“Uh, yes, I need all the money in my checking and savings,” Katie told her in a shaky voice.
“All of it?” The teller looked concerned. “You’re required to keep a minimum balance of two hundred in your savings.”
Katie cast a pleading glance at Roberts, but his only answer was to prick her side with the tip of his blade. Katie hissed with discomfort as the point sliced into her skin. Couldn’t the teller see by her stricken expression that she was acting under duress?
She didn’t want give to Roberts what little she had left in her savings. But her life and her well-being mattered far more. “Then I guess I have to close my savings account,” Katie answered. “I really need all of it.”
The woman studied her for a troubled moment. “All right, then,” the woman finally agreed. “Just a minute.”
Katie’s door remained cracked. Her left foot still touched the ground outside of the SUV. What if the money wasn’t enough to satisfy Roberts? After all, the sum total was probably a far cry from the amount he’d hidden. Hadn’t Uncle Bill said that twenty thousand dollars of the money he’d stolen had never been recovered? What if Roberts decided to abduct her in order to ransom her for the remaining balance? She had to get away before the idea crossed his mind.
A layer of cold sweat settled on her skin as she waited for just the right moment to make her move. Her pounding heart rocked her entire body. The drum of rain spattering the lot around her masked the sound of her ragged breaths. For once, she was glad that Goldie wasn’t with her. With her pups due any day now, Katie hadn’t wanted to risk bringing her along. Roberts didn’t look like a man who loved animals.
The rumble of the cylinder in the tube was Katie’s cue to act. Get ready. She waited for the money to drop into the slot and the plastic window to slide up. Then, shifting all of her weight onto her left foot and pretending to reach for the money, she kept right on going. In her haste, she tripped over the cement island, scraping her palms against a brick pillar as she caught herself.
The man’s bellow of outrage galvanized her, flooding her with a fresh dose of adrenaline that lent her speed. She fled from her vehicle running straight into the rain and then into the air-conditioned bank, startling the employees.
“Quick!” she cried. All three of them looked at her like she’d lost her mind. “Someone call the police. The man in my car is taking all my money. He forced me at knifepoint to withdraw everything!”
A woman at the desk snatched up her phone. Katie whirled around to peer outside. The sight of Tyler’s Crown Vic easing around the building brought a cry of relief to her lips.
Whoever the man was with Katie, he was now seated at the wheel and getting money in the drive-thru. Where the hell had she gone? Tyler had known instantly by the look on her face that she’d been in trouble. That certainty had tightened his chest and spurred him into action.
He slowed to a stop, scanning the area for any sign of her. Suddenly, there she was, materializing i
n his driver’s side mirror as she dashed toward his car through the deluge. She popped open his passenger door and dove inside, her face as white as a sheet, her entire body drenched.
“Katie, what’s—?”
“He’s taken all my money,” she relayed with gunfire urgency.
“Who?” His gaze swung automatically to her Honda as it started pulling away.
“Dale Roberts, the man who broke into my house looking for the money. He grabbed me in the parking lot across the street.”
Tyler veered into the lane that was closed in order to get around the car blocking their way. Bronco staggered in the back seat. “Are you okay?” he asked, raking Katie for any sign of harm. “Did he hurt you?”
“I’m fine,” she said, groping for her seatbelt. “I told the people in the bank to call the police, but I should call my uncle directly.”
Tyler gripped the wheel harder. “Tell him I’m not letting this bastard out of my sight.”
The bastard in question had turned right out of the parking lot and was speeding toward the intersection where the light was turning yellow. Tyler gunned his engine trying to avoid getting stopped by the red light. Fortunately, the Honda merged right, avoiding the light. Tyler chased after it. Pounding rain blurred the image of the SUV as it flew up the road before them.
“Oh,” Katie exclaimed. “I don’t have my phone with me. My purse is back in my car.”
“Here, use mine.” He teased his iPhone from his front pocket, telling her the password as he handed it to her. With one ear, he listened to Katie relay to her uncle what happened.
“We’re on 208 South, chasing him now,” she added, “headed toward the highway. He’s going really fast.”
So was Tyler. He glanced at his speedometer, surprised to find that they were doing over seventy miles per hour on a winding, hilly road. But the downpour had eased into a light drizzle.
Roberts had to know by now that he was being followed. He continued to drive at a break-neck pace. Sheets of water sprayed from his tires as he barreled through the deepening puddles. Trees and deep ditches flashed by Tyler’s peripheral vision.
It’s not worth forfeiting our lives to get this guy. The realization had him easing his foot off the accelerator. It also made him realize he was looking forward to the future.
“What are you doing?” Katie asked. “He’s getting away.”
“He won’t get far,” Tyler assured her. “Your uncle will have the state police waiting by the interstate. Besides,” he shot her an unguarded look of affection, “I’m not taking chances with your life.”
She sent him a searching look.
“I’m falling for you, Katie Crowley. I hope you realize that.”
Maybe it wasn’t the right time for a love-confession, but the tremulous smile she sent him and the riot of color that banished the pallor from her cheeks made it worthwhile.
“You’re falling for me?” she asked, clearly forgetting that they were caught up in the middle of a high-speed chase.
“Is there something wrong with that?” Belated uncertainty pricked him.
“Not at all,” she said with enough gusto to ease his worries. “I’m just…Well, you know I’ve always been crazy about you.”
“Don’t know what I did to deserve that,” he drawled. The situation ahead of him wrested his attention forward. “Oh, shit.” His gaze locked on the Honda as it hydroplaned across a sheet of water. The back end of the vehicle skated sideways, and suddenly the whole thing started to flip.
Katie screamed in horror as her SUV rolled three hundred and sixty degrees, slammed sidelong into a ditch and came to a crashing, shuddering halt as it struck a wall of tree trunks. Finally, it came to rest on all four tires.
Unfazed by the sudden violence—he had seen far worse—Tyler threw an arm across Katie’s chest as he slowed to a halt half a football field away. Bronco plowed into the back of the front seat. With a glance into the rearview mirror, Tyler swiftly backed his Crown Vic off the pavement and onto a utility road. “We’re okay,” he said, gripping her arm reassuringly. “Listen, there are flares in the trunk. Break them all open and place them on the road. Make sure you put one at the top of the hill.”
“Where are you going?” she cried. Bronco, in tune to her distress, whined and paced the rear seat.
“I’m going to get your money back.” And see if the man’s still alive, he added to himself.
“Be careful!” she called after him.
He started down the hill toward the accident, wincing with each step. A glance back saw Katie bent over, head inside his trunk looking for the flares. She had left her door open. Suddenly, Bronco bolted out of it, chasing after him. Tyler stopped and pointed at the car. “No,” he said, “go back!”
The dog stopped on the side of the road. Katie looked up and called him.
“Just get the flares,” Tyler called. “Don’t worry about the dog.” He turned toward the Honda again, and that was when he saw the man—white envelope in hand—pushing out of the crumpled driver’s side. A scarlet stain streaked one side of the man’s face, suggesting he had hit his head. With a sneer of determination, Roberts clutched the money envelope to his chest with one arm. The other, obviously broken, hung uselessly from his shoulder as he took off running, straight into the woods across from the SUV.
“Fuck,” Tyler raged, going after him.
If walking in his current prosthesis was painful, then running brought exquisite agony. But he’d trained for situations just like this. He knew in his mind that he was faster—at least he used to be. Ignoring the pinching that hindered his chase, he lengthened his stride.
Roberts was an old man and injured at that. I’ve got this, Tyler thought, but the man was managing to put distance between them. Furthermore, his pea-green shirt blended with the lush foliage, making it hard for Tyler to keep him in his line of sight. At times, the sound of him crashing through the undergrowth was all that kept Tyler on course and, even then, the wail of sirens as the police arrived at the crash site muffled the man’s escape.
Suddenly, a body of dark fur brushed past Tyler, startling him. Bronco, too, was giving chase, no doubt thinking this was just another game.
“Bronco!” Tyler reproached, but the dog ignored him, dodging trees with dexterity that Tyler could only envy. He huffed after the animal, breathing in the scent of pine, bark, and leafy debris. He had just crested an incline when the crashing ahead of him turned into a rash of swearwords and frightened pleas.
Hopping on one foot to give his battered left ankle a break, Tyler approached a scene that made him throw his head back and laugh—the first full-throated laugh he’d issued in months.
Bronco stood atop Dale Roberts, pinning him to the ground with his forelegs and licking his ears. The man was obviously terrified the dog was going to make a meal of him.
“Stay, Bronco,” Tyler ordered, throwing up the signal Katie had taught him to use. Bronco performed the task unfailingly. Not until he was close enough to put his own shoe on the man’s back did he release the dog. “Do what I say,” he warned Roberts, “or my dog will tear your throat out.”
The man babbled incoherently. With nothing to bind the man’s wrists with, Tyler bit his fingers into pressure points on his left shoulder. “Stand up,” he ordered.
Roberts groaned with pain, but he nonetheless complied, dropping the envelope stuffed with money in the process.
“Bronco, pick it up,” Tyler said as he twisted the man’s good arm behind his back. The other was already completely useless. The dog delivered the envelope gently into Tyler’s outstretched hand, and he stuck it in his pocket. “Turn around and walk back to the road,” he ordered the felon, using the voice he reserved for enemy combatants.
Returning to the road on his miserable piece-of-shit prosthesis was the hard part of bringing back the perpetrator. Fortunately, Tyler ran into Sheriff Crowley and two deputies who’d waded into the woods looking for them. They took Roberts off his hands, cuffed
him and read him his rights before they tramped back to the crash site. It was all Tyler could do to keep up with them, concealing his limp and holding his head high.
The sight of Katie waiting, her anxious expression transforming into a smile of relief as she caught sight of him, beat back a portion of his agony. She rushed into the woods, hugging him and putting a shoulder under his arm. He leaned his weight on her, grateful for her keen intuition—for the hope she’d given back to him through her love and the gift of Bronco.
“Son, you did good,” Sheriff Crowley said, as his deputy stuffed Roberts into a squad car. “He might well have gotten away from us if you hadn’t stopped him.”
“Honestly, it wasn’t me,” Tyler had to admit. “Bronco’s the one who stopped him. He had him pinned to the ground, crying like a baby.”
Bill Crowley cut the dog a considering look. “Well-behaved, too,” he observed noting how Bronco had come to sit at Tyler’s feet. “Say, you wouldn’t be interested in working on the force, would you?”
The offer caught Tyler off guard. “Well, I’ve got a slight disability,” he protested, wondering how the man had overlooked it.
“Aw, hell,” said the man. “You can still run faster than I can with this gut.” He jiggled his pot belly. “And maybe we could train your dog to be a K-9 cop, too.”
“He’s highly trainable,” Katie inserted, lifting her eyes to gauge Tyler’s response.
Tyler thought about it. Why not? Being a cop wasn’t as glamorous or critical as being a SEAL, but he could still use plenty of the skills he’d worked so hard to master, and he could still protect American citizens, even if they all lived right here in his own hometown. “Thank you,” he said. “I’m going to seriously consider it.”
“You do that, son.” The sheriff clapped him on the back.
“Oh,” Tyler added, remembering the envelope in his pocket and pulling it out. “I guess you’ll need this for evidence? This is the money he took.”
Look Again: A Novella (Echo Platoon Book 1) Page 6
