The Widow's Husband

by William Coleman

  Chapter 88

  (Catching Up)

  Sarah took the same corner she had seen the van and Detective Smalls take. She scanned traffic and saw neither one. Frustrated she drove faster snapping her head from side to side to look down streets as she passed. Nothing. They had vanished.

  She was considering giving up when she caught a glimpse of flashing lights. The detective’s car was racing up the on ramp to Highway Sixty-five. She turned toward the lights and the ramp. She ignored other cars, their horns blaring as she gained speed and cut across two lanes of traffic. Hitting the bottom of the ramp sparks flew from underneath her car. By the time she merged onto the highway the needle on her speedometer was pointing at eighty.

  Detective Smalls’ car was already more than a mile ahead of her. She pushed down, encouraging her car to give her all it had. A loud whine came from under her hood. Sarah paid it no mind. She kept her eyes on the road and the flashing lights in the distance.

  She had no plan. She couldn’t shoot Allan in front of the detective. For that reason she wasn't sure why she was still in pursuit. She knew she should turn around and go home; wait for another opportunity. She couldn't bring herself to give up. Allan, the only person who could take away her freedom, was out there somewhere. She could not let him get away. She could not lose this opportunity. She would just have to come up with a plan once she caught up.

  All she needed was a minute, maybe even less than that. Drive up. Pull the trigger two or three times. Drive away. That was it. She couldn’t do it if she didn’t know where he was. So, she drove like she had never driven before, chasing a police car down the highway while others moved out of their way. The cars that pulled off the road for the detective’s sirens were re-entering the highway by the time Sarah reached them. She drove to the far left on the inside shoulder, flying past unsuspecting drivers.

  Expressions ranging from fear to anger went unseen as she kept her eyes riveted ahead of her. She was gaining on the detective, her speedometer now well past the 100 mph mark. She could not see the van and wondered if Smalls could see it. It did not matter though. She was positive he would lead her to Allan.

  From the left-hand shoulder she saw Smalls exit the highway less than a quarter mile ahead of her. She pulled her car onto and across the highway just in time to make the exit. Another car on the exit near the bottom of the ramp forced Sarah to stand on the brake. Her tires protested the sudden change and she slid to the right. Her car came to a stop only a few feet from the family sedan full of wide-eyed children. She took no time to consider what could have happened.

  She stomped down on the accelerator again steering around the sedan and toward the lights and sirens of Detective Smalls' car. They were headed east now, toward Airport Road. Sarah still could not see the van. For the first time, she wondered if Smalls was following the van at all.

  Chapter 89

  (The Bridge)

  County Sheriff’s vehicles raced from the east to the intersection just north of the Airport to set up the roadblock. They arrived almost two full minutes late. They never saw the three speeding vehicles pass to the south. The one sheriff’s deputy coming north on Airport Road saw the van only seconds before it was on him. He steered to avoid the oncoming vehicle and tried in vain to recover control of his vehicle. The car rolled three times before coming to a rest on its roof in the ditch. Dave did not slow to check on the deputy. He called the accident in and continued pursuit.

  At the airport, security set up its own roadblock to prevent the fugitive from entering the crowded parking area. They were sitting in their cars at the entrance, talking as the van sped by. They were still slack jawed as Dave’s car followed by Henry’s truck passed as well.

  Peter drove south watching side roads for cars that would reach the intersection the same time he would. The car and truck behind him never slowed and he wondered how much gas they had. He had filled the van before going to the jail. Always prepared for anything, he never let a minor detail slip past him. Still he hadn’t expected to be followed. His best chance in the open country was for the other drivers to lose control and crash or to simply run out of gas before he did.

  The road stretched ahead of him forever and he began to consider how to execute his alternate plan. Turn to face his pursuers and end this chase once and for all. If he couldn’t find a better way soon, he would have to do just that. A plane roared overhead and Peter took an opportunity to glance back at his passenger who had moved out of view of the mirror. His prisoner was up against the passenger seat. The man's hands were underneath holding on to what Peter guessed would be the tracking that allowed the seat to adjust front to back. The large man had a sudden urge to change the seat's position and catch the man's fingers in the tracking just for a laugh, but that would have to wait.

  In the distance he could see a structure rising above the tree line. It was an old-fashioned bridge. He knew the type. Had driven over hundreds of them. He decided it was time for the alternate plan. He would cross the bridge, stop the van and use the vehicle as a shield. He would shoot his pursuers, his prisoner, and be on his way. It was a maneuver he had done before and was sure he could do again.

  The van’s tires left the smooth pavement of the highway and hit the cracked concrete that made up the surface of the bridge. Peter had to slow down to keep the van from bouncing into the rails. He watched in his side view mirrors as the car and truck followed him onto the bridge. It would all be over for them soon. Looking up to prepare his sliding stop, he realized there was another car at the far end of the bridge. A large sedan blocked both lanes. Peter was trapped.

  He slammed on the brakes and slid to a halt several yards from Philip’s car. Pulling his gun out of his belt, he checked the chamber. He heard his pursuers breaking hard. Caught between them, his plan would not change. It just became more difficult. He would finish this here. They would all die or he would. He would not be captured in this town.

  He stepped out of the van and fired at the driver of the car that had chased him all this way. Dave ducked out of sight just as the bullet pierced the windshield. A second shot shattered the driver’s side glass of the truck. Henry was already scrambling out of the cab. Peter rounded the van and fired two quick shots at the man standing next to the car there. Philip dove and rolled and returned two shots of his own. A shot hit the hood of the van and Peter turned to return a shot at Dave. He dropped and spun and fired at Philip again. The detective rolled away and disappeared behind his car.

  A blast sounded and the van’s windshield exploded, spraying Peter with glass. He spun again and fired at Henry. The old rancher staggered back holding his chest, dropping out of sight. Shots came at him from both sides now as the detectives fired two shots each. Peter felt a burn in his right thigh. Another bullet tore through his left ear. These men were better than he was expecting them to be. He was no longer positive he would be able to take them all down. With that possibility, he knew there was only one thing to do; he would finish the business that had brought him there. He would help his sister.

  He firing shots in both directions, he made his way to the side of the van and threw open the door. A bullet strike his left side causing him to stagger.. In the van, Bolder lay flat with his eyes wide with fear. Peter raised his gun to his target’s head. Dave did not have a clear shot. Philip was reloading as fast as he could. Henry was down. A shot rang out.

  Allan closed his eyes when he saw the muzzle of the gun and winced when he heard the shot. He felt nothing. He thought it would hurt more. He thought it would be louder. He thought he would stop thinking. He opened his eyes and saw daylight where his attacker had been standing.

  Philip was running forward finishing his reload as he came. Dave came around the van shouting for the man to drop his weapon. The man who had taken Allan prisoner was lying on the ground with his eyes fixed skyward. Beyond them Allan could see the small figure of a woman. He squinted in the sunlight and saw her clearly. Sarah was still holding the gun in her
hands.

  Dave saw the man posed no threat and ran to Sarah, taking the weapon from her shaking hands. She fell into his massive shoulder and he wrapped his arms around her.

  “Are you hurt?” Philip asked Allan.

  Allan shook his head. Reaching out for the detective’s hand for help, he shrank from pain. His hands were still bleeding. Philip looked them over and told him to stay where he was. The detective ran back to where Henry had fallen while Dave led Sarah to Philip’s car and opened the back door so she could sit. A bullet had pierced the door and struck the firebox where it rested on the seat inside. The lid was thrown open. While Sarah composed herself, Dave glanced at the contents of the box. A moment later he was guiding Sarah to his own car.

  “How’s the old man?” he asked as they passed his partner.

  “He’ll make it,” Philip answered. “He’s a tough one. Took it in the shoulder.”

  “What about him?” Dave nodded in the direction of the van.

  “Bolder?” Philip said. “He’s okay. Just cuts on his hands.”

  “Well, if you have things under control,” Dave said. “I’m going to take Mrs. Tuttle in for questioning.”

  “I suppose,” Philip said hesitantly. “Call an ambulance for me would you?”

  “Sure thing partner,” Dave said. He put Sarah in the back of his car and climbed into the driver’s seat. Careful not to hit Henry he backed all the way off the bridge and turned north.

  Allan walked to where Henry was and knelt next to the rancher.

  “You okay?” Allan asked.

  “Never better,” Henry tried to smile.

  “Hold here,” Philip ordered.

  Allan pushed his bloody hand to the cloth Philip was using to stop Henry’s shoulder from bleeding. The detective warned him about running away and walked back to his car for a first aid kit. He reached for the kit and saw the contents of the firebox on his seat. On top was a newspaper clipping.

  The headline read: Boy Orphaned by Car Accident. The story that followed gave a brief account of a car accident that claimed the lives of James and Elizabeth Tuttle. They were survived by their son Allan Tuttle. The young boy was pictured next to the article holding hands with his grandfather, Jack Bolder. Philip stared at the familiar eyes of the boy who grew to become an author and took his grandfather’s name as his pen name.

  Philip turned and watched Dave’s car racing north. The detective turned east at the next crossroad. It was not the way to the station.

  THE END