The Widow's Husband

by William Coleman

  “We have two other cars following the van with us,” Philip said.

  “Two others?” Dave asked. “Detectives?”

  “No,” Philip said. “One is a truck being driven by Henry Cutter.”

  “Thought I saw him.” Dave located the truck. The old rancher was between him and Philip. "I thought he was in the hospital. What's he doing here?"

  “Don’t know,” Philip said.

  “Who’s the other one?”

  “Sarah Tuttle.”

  Dave paused. He had been right about her as well. He said, “You sure it’s her?”

  “Positive.”

  “And she’s following the van?”

  “She’s right behind me,” Philip said. “Cutter’s between us.”

  “This is not a good situation,” Dave said. “We can’t afford to lose the van, but we need to lose the others.”

  “I just don’t get it,” Philip said.

  “Don’t get what?”

  “Well,” Philip said. “If I were going to guess I would say Cutter came to give Bolder a ride. I would say he didn’t know Bolder had made other arrangements.”

  “That makes sense,” Dave said. “What’s not to get?”

  “Why is Mrs. Tuttle here?” Philip asked. “And why did the driver of the van have a gun out when he picked up Bolder?”

  “Protection,” Dave said. “Make sure nothing goes wrong.”

  “Maybe,” Philip said. “What about Sarah?”

  “No idea,” Dave said. “If they’re armed up there, this isn’t going to be the best place for her.”

  “Agreed,” Philip said. “What do we do?”

  “Sarah’s behind you?”

  “Yes.”

  “You pull her off,” Dave said. “I’ll stay with the van and keep you informed. After you stop her, you can catch up.”

  “I don’t like leaving you alone pursuing an armed suspect,” Philip said.

  “I won’t do anything until you get back,” Dave said. “They won’t even know I’m here.”

  “What about Cutter?”

  “We’ll deal with him when the time comes,” Dave said. “For now get Sarah out of here.”

  “Okay,” Philip said. “Watch yourself.”

  “I always do,” Dave said.

  Philip slowed and purposely kept his car in front of Sarah’s to force her to slow. Getting her attention, he directed her to pull off to the side of the road. She looked surprised to see him and hesitated before complying. She pulled over straining to watch the van as it drove away. Philip got out of his car, walking back to Sarah’s car. She rolled her window down as he approached. He bent over and looked at her through the opening.

  “Mrs. Tuttle,” he greeted.

  “Detective,” she responded. “Did you need something?”

  “Honestly, I was curious about something,” Philip said. “Why are you following Jack Bolder?”

  “Following?” Sarah said. “What? I wasn’t. I was just . . .”

  “I was there when you arrived,” Philip said. “After Jack got in the van, you fell in behind me when I started following him. So tell me why you’re following him.”

  “I . . . I,” she said, shaken. “I really don’t know.”

  “Well, the man he’s with is armed,” Philip informed her. “If you have some idea of avenging your husband, give it up and go home. This is dangerous. You shouldn’t get involved.”

  “The man with him is armed?” Sarah asked. “Who is he?”

  “We don’t know,” Philip said. “We’re going to find out. Meanwhile, go home and leave the detective work to us.”

  She looked up at Philip and nodded. She would go home. There was no point trying to kill Allan while the police were following him. She wondered who the man driving the van was. Allan was not the type to make friends with armed men. Was he there to help Allan, or did he have other plans for her husband? The need to know suddenly overwhelmed her.

  She turned her car around and watched in her rearview as Detective Philip Smalls returned to his car and sped away in the direction the van and Allan had gone. Did Smalls notice the newspaper in her passenger seat? Did he know she had a gun? If he had known wouldn't he have taken it from her? She looked in her mirror again just as the detective turned a corner and vanished from view. Positive he couldn't see her, she turned around.

  Chapter 83

  (The Chase)

  Henry pulled into traffic just behind the van as it moved away from the jail. Unfortunately, another car forced its way into the small space between his truck and his quarry. The truck was big and he was sitting well above car level. Henry cursed the driver through the roof of his car before deciding it might be better to not be directly behind the van. He had no trouble keeping track of the vehicle with windows tinted so dark there was no seeing in.

  Henry expected the car to turn off or pass the van at some point. Instead it kept pace directly in front of him. He tried passing the car, forced to work his way back into the lane. If the van turned while he was in the wrong lane it would be nearly impossible to keep up. Not without drawing a lot of attention at any rate. So Henry kept his eyes on the black windows over the top of the car.

  The first turn was a sharp angle. The van turned quickly, followed by the car and Henry. It was an intersection residents complained about on a regular basis. The tires on Mrs. Cutter’s truck jumped the curb. Henry fought to get the vehicle back on the road.

  He had watched Jack or Allan, or whatever his name really was, get into the back of that van. Henry did not know who the driver was, only that he was no good. What he intended to find out was whether the man was friend or foe to the man who had been living in his house. At first they looked like old friends catching up on the past. Just before they got in, Henry saw fear in one face and malice in the other. It was enough to convince Henry to pull the Smith and Wesson out of the glove box. He made Mrs. Cutter keep the weapon loaded and ready because you never know what kind of nut you might run into.

  The second turn was completely unexpected. The driver of the van was almost past the turn when he steered hard and fast into it. The van tilted as it turned and had it been top heavy would have definitely flipped. The car in front of Henry took the same turn almost as fast as the van. Henry knew, then, he was not the only one in pursuit. He pulled hard on the wheel and his tires screamed in protest as they skidded across the pavement. The addition of a second person in pursuit added another level of danger. It didn’t really matter to him. Whether the man in the care was with the driver of the van or against him, Henry was not going to give up. If he could take on one thug he could take on two, or three if Allan was one of them.

  After the second turn, the van sped up, swerving in and out of traffic, making dangerous passes and occasionally moving into oncoming traffic lanes. The car matched the van’s speed and followed the same nerve wracking path. Henry lay on his horn and forced other drivers to move off the road in order to give him room. He was not able to match the speed and maneuverability of the two vehicles he followed. Using the truck’s size to intimidate drivers to clear the way kept him from losing them altogether.

  The van side swiped a parked car slowing slightly before continuing. It was obvious the driver knew he was being followed. It was also obvious he did not intend to be caught.

  The road they were on would take them out of town to the south. It was the road leading to the airport and the farm country beyond. If the van reached the county roads it would be able to pick up speed. There was little traffic past the airport and long stretches of straight road. It would be hard to hide a vehicle that size. Henry was used to flying down these roads. The van did not have the weight the truck had. At high speeds, it would be harder to control and could easily wind up in the ditch.

  Henry pulled sharply on the steering wheel, swerving to avoid a car pulling onto the street. He pulled again in the opposite direction to miss an oncoming car. Horns blared, tires screeched. He regained control and accelerate
d to regain lost ground. His face was set in serious determination. Inwardly, he was smiling wildly. He was having the time of his life.

  Chapter 84

  (The Mouse)

  Peter enjoyed watching his prisoner’s head slam against the side of the van’s wall. It made him feel good to know the man was suffering. He was so intent on watching the man he almost missed the car in the side view mirror. The truck behind the car slid around the corner with its tires screeching. Peter cursed and stepped down hard on the accelerator.

  Someone must have seen the gun after all. It was the only explanation. Someone watched him threaten and force a man into the back of the van and called the police. He swerved around a car and cut back into the lane. He checked the side mirrors and saw the car duplicate his maneuver. The driver of the truck raced up behind the slower vehicle with horn blaring. The smaller car moved off the road and the truck gained speed. Peter glanced from side to side at the mirrors. Were these the police? No lights. No sirens. Could they be everyday citizens trying to be good Samaritans?

  Peter came up behind two cars side by side in the road ahead of him, giving him no room to pass. He steered wide into oncoming traffic and cut back just in time to miss a head on collision. More horns pierced the air. The pursuing car was only seconds behind him, again duplicating the same maneuver. This man, Peter knew, was a cop. No everyday citizen would try something like that. The truck driver on the other had relied again on his horn and massive bumper to force his way through the two cars and continue the chase. He was no cop.

  Peter was in the right lane gaining ground on another car in the left lane. The driver of the small import did not see the van or did not realize Peter’s speed and began to change lanes at the last second. Peter slapped his hand on the horn only briefly before gripping the wheel with both hands for more precise steering. No good. The side of the van caught the side of a parked car and the sound of metal rubbing metal echoed in the hollow shell. Peter cursed again as he steered away from the collision and back into traffic. The import slammed on its brakes only barely avoiding the van’s bumper.

  Peter watched his pursuers steer clear of the mess and continue forward. A sign on the side of the road announced the city limits were only five miles away and Peter pushed his foot down to increase his speed even more. There would be no cover outside the city. That was true for the others as well. Peter had been in a number of shoot outs over the years. He had been shot a couple of times. His skill would be an advantage in a gunfight. If it came to it he would turn on them. He was not going to be captured in this God-forsaken town.

  Chapter 85

  (The Cat)

  When the van took the second turn, Dave considered ramming it, spinning it out of control. Too many bystanders and not having a legal reason for doing so changed his mind. Bolder was not technically a fugitive because he was out on bail. Philip reported seeing a gun. If he were wrong it would be impossible to explain using force. Injuring or killing the two men in the van only to discover what Philip really saw was a cell phone could cost him his badge.

  Dave took the corner and followed. The screech of tires drew his eyes to the rearview mirror. He saw Henry’s truck as the rancher regained control. In front of him the van began to pull away. Moving in and out of traffic Dave matched its speed. The driver definitely knew he was being followed. Dave would have to call for backup before someone got hurt. Reaching for the radio, his cell phone rang. In a quick decision he forgot the radio and took the call.

  “Philip?” he said.

  “Where are you?” his partner asked.

  “Southbound Airport Road,” Dave said. “Cutter blew my cover. They’re moving fast. Hold on.”

  Dave dropped the phone to his lap and took hold of the steering wheel with both hands. He steered to follow the van. His engine roared in his ears and his tires moaned beneath him. Back in control he picked up the phone again.

  “You still there?” he said.

  “What happened?” Philip responded.

  “Guy’s getting dangerous,” Dave answered. “Should call for backup. He’ll be out of the city before city police can get here.”

  “What about county?” Philip suggested.

  “Can you call them?” Dave said. “I’m kind of . . .”

  The phone fell from his hand and bounced to the floor. The car slid. Dave spun the wheel, corrected only to slide again. Regaining control, he increased his speed in an effort to close the distance between him and the van. With his eyes on the road ahead, he reached down feeling the floor with his hands until he found the phone, bringing it up to his ear.

  “. . . there?” he heard Philip say.

  “I’m here,” Dave said. “This man is crazy. Tell county to get to the airport and block the road.”

  “They’ll never get there in time,” Philip said.

  “If he gets into the airport, we’ll be putting a lot of people at risk,” Dave said. “Call airport security. Where are you?”

  “Sixty-five south,” Philip said. “I’m going to try to get around him. Airport road, right?”

  “Right,” Dave said. “You thinking what I’m thinking?”

  “Found Allan Tuttle on Airport Road,” Philip said.

  “Right.”

  “Coincidence?” Philip said.

  “Could be,” Dave said. “I don’t really believe in coincidences.”

  “Me either,” Philip said.

  “Crap!” Dave yelled.

  “What?”

  “He just side swiped a car,” Dave said. “Call county. I’ve gotta go.”

  Dave disconnected the call, dropping the phone into his jacket pocket. He swerved to miss a slower car in the road, focusing on staying with the van. Catching a glimpse of a sign as he passed, he learned he was five miles from the city limit. They would soon pass the place where Tuttle's body was found. He couldn't help wondering if that was supposed to be Bolder's fate as well.

  Chapter 86

  (The Ride)

  Allan had no desire to be any closer to his captor than he had to be. As the van gained speed and swerved from side to side, he was tossed about the empty shell. He had to secure himself. Crawling toward the front of the van where he could hold onto the passenger seat, Allan watched the driver closely. To Allan's relief, the man was completely focused on the road. There were no more glances back to watch Allan tumble across the floor of the van.

  Allan held tightly to the bottom of the passenger seat, his legs flailing wildly behind him, sometimes painfully. His knuckles whitened from the strain and his joints ached. He wasn’t sure how long he would be able to hold on.

  The van swerved and Allan felt the metal of the seat's frame cut into his fingers as he tightened his grip. The pain was unbearable and he wanted to let loose, knowing he couldn’t. Blood seeped through his fingers. Tears formed in his eyes as he pushed down the pain.

  The van struck something, a glancing blow that slowed the vehicle a moment. The sound of tearing metal was deafening. Allan closed his eyes and tried to hold on even tighter. His fingers grew numb which concerned him until he realized the numbness actually relieved the pain.

  The ride smoothed out. Still moving at a high rate of speed, the swerves were less severe, no more sharp turns. The driver cursed from time to time and muttered things under his breath. Alan refused to look at the man. He was afraid those eyes would be looking at him.

  Thoughts of Sarah pushed their way into his mind. He wondered what had driven her to hate him so much she would want him dead. He wondered where she was. Did she know what was happening or had she left it up to the man in the van? Did she feel anything at all anymore? Was it possible to completely forget what it was like when they were happy? He wished he could talk to her one more time. It was too much to ask, he knew, too late. Even if he survived his captor’s driving, the man was still going to kill him.

  They hit a bump and the van’s tires left the ground. Coming down the van bounced violently out of control. The driver cu
rsed and spun the wheel from side to side until he regained control. Allan lost his grip and was slammed into the van wall only to start sliding toward the door side. The roar of jet engines filled the van growing louder and louder until finally dissipating into the sky above.

  The jet. The sudden loss of city sounds. They were on Airport Road, outside the city limits. It was almost time. His time was running out.

  Chapter 87

  (The High Road)

  Philip snapped his phone shut and picked up his police radio. Dispatch relayed his requests for backup from the county, a blockade north of the airport and that airport security be advised the pursuit may enter their domain. There was little time to put a blockade together, so Philip continued under the assumption it would not happen.

  Unlike Dave, Philip was driving a car from the motor pool, equipped with lights and sirens. He took advantage and turned them on. Cars pulled over to let him pass and he accelerated. Dave wanted the airport warned. Philip didn’t think the man would go there. From what Philip had observed, the man knew what he was doing. Going to the airport would leave him no options for escape. He would be trapped between airport security and the police with no exit.

  Philip thought the man would look for a place to lay low, maybe an old farmhouse where a van might be hidden, possibly in a barn. His best bet was to lose Dave and hide out. With that in mind Philip raced south on the highway. He would pass the airport exit. He would pass County Road 9. The next exit, Highway Thirty-two, was another twelve miles beyond that. At his present speed he would be there in about ten minutes. He would cut back toward Airport Road. At the intersection of Airport Road and Highway Thirty-two was a bridge spanning Frog Creek. It was an old bridge barely wide enough for two cars to pass. Philip could easily block the bridge with his car. And with any luck he would be there in time to do so.