Her Last Breath - Debt Collector 9 (A Jack Winchester Thriller)

by Jon Mills

  “Oh, you should have seen his face. It was priceless.”

  Dale’s face lit up. “The way he hit the ground. I thought he was a goner.”

  Aaron frowned as he looked out the back window at the headlights cutting through the night. “Pick it up, he’s gaining on us.”

  “I’m going as fast as I can,” Billy yelled.

  He tapped the back of his seat. “Well, go faster.”

  “I’m telling you, Aaron, that was a dumb move. We already have enough to deal with and now you want to rile this stranger up.”

  “Screw him, he fucked with the wrong guy.”

  Aaron brought the window down and leaned out. “Keep it steady,” he shouted as they swerved a little before he took aim with the revolver and unloaded two rounds in rapid succession at the car behind before slipping back inside. “Can you believe this guy? Who in their right mind chases after someone shoots at them?”

  “I told you, man.”

  “Ah shut up,” Aaron growled.

  As they burst out onto Highway 39, Billy hung a right swerving into oncoming traffic. A large truck with monster wheels was heading in their direction. Dale yelled, “Watch out. Shit!”

  Billy veered to the right, and the truck tried to avoid hitting them. While they narrowly escaped being squashed beneath its monster wheels, a parked Mini wasn’t as fortunate. The truck soared over the back of it, squashing it like an ant. The truck roared on to its final destination — a phone line.

  Meanwhile, in the back, Aaron was loving every second. He fished into his pocket, pulled out a small baggie of coke, took a pinch and snorted it up his right nostril, then the left. Just a quick pick-me-up before he looked back at the devastation the truck had caused. It had taken down the phone line. Sparks were flying, and the occupants were hurrying away from what was likely to be one hell of an explosion.

  “Fuck. He’s still coming!” he yelled noticing the Shelby. “Veer on to 8th Street, head down 8th Avenue and back onto 9th.” Billy didn’t question it. He plowed his foot into the accelerator and roared past multiple parked cars, slamming the shifter into the next gear. Aaron returned to laughing. It was partly because he hadn’t had this much fun in ages, but it also was a nervous habit. There was a motorbike up ahead, and a compact car. With parked cars on either side, there was no way they were going to be able to get through so Billy eased off the gas.

  Aaron leaned forward gripping his seat.

  “What the hell are you doing?”

  “What do you expect me to do?”

  “Go through them.”

  “But...”

  “You heard me.”

  Billy knew not to argue, he plowed into the back of the bike sending the rider soaring through the air and landing on the hood of a parked car. The bike was destroyed. In the process, Billy lost control of the vehicle and it hit the left and right bumpers of the parked cars in front of it, knocking them forward. It took everything he had not to cause that vehicle to spin. Aaron jerked back in his seat feeling every knock. Metal crunched and sparks flew as the sedan blew through two more cars like bowling pins.

  Somehow he managed to keep it going.

  Aaron twisted in his seat expecting to see the pursuing vehicle stopped, but it wasn’t. He just kept coming. The Shelby slalomed through the wake of dented cars and accelerated after them.

  As they burst out onto 9th Street, they flew past a parked cruiser. The deputy was outside his vehicle speaking to someone when the sedan took off his wing mirror. He scrambled into his cruiser, hit the siren and lit up the night with his cherry top lights.

  Like a kid viewing a theater screen, Aaron gazed out the back window and watched as the cruiser went to veer out only to be sideswiped into a spin by the Shelby. “Holy shit! Now we’re talking.” He roared with laughter. “Hell, yeah!”

  The cruiser didn’t take long to correct itself before charging after the Shelby and sedan.

  Fifty yards farther down the street, Aaron noticed traffic blocking up the road on 10th Street.

  “Is there a fair in town or something? What the hell?”

  It was very rare to see the roads clogged up at any time of the year except Christmas but this was after nine o’clock at night. Most of the streets should have been deserted barring a few vehicles.

  “Go up onto the sidewalk.”

  “What?”

  “That’s the only way we are getting out of this.”

  He kept turning his head back and forth. No sooner had he said that to Billy than all of them jerked forward. “Asshole!”

  Twisting he saw the Shelby had rammed into the back of the sedan. This time Aaron aimed the revolver at the back window and fired several times causing it to shatter. Then the gun clicked. He fished into his pocket for more ammo and was about to reload it when they were struck again, this time it nearly caused Billy to lose control.

  “Get on the sidewalk,” he yelled again. The sedan shot over the edge and screeched back and forth between the walls of buildings and parked vehicles until he eased off the gas to take the corner.

  “Don’t ease…”

  Before he could say it the Shelby smashed into the back as they tried to take the corner, knocking the sedan into a spin. The vehicle slammed into traffic. Glass exploded, metal crunched and sparks ignited like sparklers.

  Everything happened in a split second. A truck hit the front end of Jack’s vehicle after he plowed into the sedan and he found himself knocked sideways across the street, colliding with a wall. A horn could be heard blaring away as the world came back into view. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been out — minutes, seconds? But he was aware of warm blood trickling down the side of his face. He reached over and pushed out of the vehicle, the door groaned, bent and twisted by the impact. There was a ringing in his ears that he couldn’t seem to shake. On his hands and knees, he could hear people yelling. The first thing he remembered was the brown sedan. As he rose to his feet, his eyes scanned the chaotic scene. Vehicles were lined up, farther up the road were red and blue lights flashing. A roadblock?

  He winced and reached up to touch his forehead. Right then, he saw the sedan as it started pulling out from the aftermath of wrecked cars. He blinked hard, willing his mind to snap into focus. Turning, he staggered back to his vehicle, reached inside and over to the glove compartment. It was already open; his Glock was on the floor. He scooped it up and hurried out of the car, heading for the brown vehicle when….

  “Police! Drop the gun and get on the ground now.”

  Off to his left two officers came into view, both had handguns trained on him.

  “I said now!”

  Jack froze, he knew that common sense had to prevail in that moment, though everything in him wanted to turn and shoot. Slowly but surely he lowered to the ground and before he knew it they were on top of him, digging their knees into his back and pummeling his legs into position. With his head turned sideways all he could do was lay there watching as the brown sedan peeled away.

  The drive to the station was short as it was located on 10th Avenue not far from where the collision had occurred. Along the way, Jack saw multiple police cars, many of which were State Police. There had to have been six, maybe eight cruisers blocking the road and officers were stopping vehicles and shining their flashlights inside.

  Something big was going on.

  The cruiser parked out front. A few lights shone down providing light to the smooth, wet tarmac and sidewalk. Even at night, the building looked ugly. Brown brick, dismal and uninviting, just the way they liked it. Nothing about it was new or tidy except for the surrounding landscape. Under the light of the moon, everything looked refreshed by the downpour.

  The one deputy got out and headed in while the other remained in the front seat. A minute or two later, two more officers appeared, though these were State Police, dressed in green. One of them opened the rear door.

  “Time to go,” he said leaning in and helping him out.

  The other officers wer
e scanning the area as if expecting trouble.

  “Look, you’ve got the wrong guy, my vehicle was vandalized by three men in a brown sedan. That’s the only reason I was after them. The officer on scene will be able to tell you that.”

  They ignored him and pushed him forward. The handcuffs were tight. The evening was humid. Ahead were five steps that led up to two double doors. Above it engraved in concrete were the words: Pocahontas County Sheriff Department. The deputy pulled a door open. It hissed a little. The state cop pushed Jack in and the door closed.

  Inside, the air conditioning provided much-needed relief from the humid air. The floors, walls, and ceilings were white with wood moldings. It reminded Jack of an old schoolhouse. Fluorescent lights lit up the place, with one of them flicking on and off. One of the officers spoke to another behind glass, and he buzzed them in.

  Shoved forward, Jack was led to a desk while one of the deputies left him with two female state troopers. The department was buzzing with activity. Phones were ringing off the hook while the front desk clerk punched keys at his computer.

  “Wait here.”

  Jack was forced into a seat. He shivered a little. Though it was warm outside, he was drenched to the bone from the rain, and the air conditioning wasn’t helping. When the officer returned he had him stand against a wall while he was patted down and the contents of his pockets were removed. There wasn’t much on him. His cell phone, a few receipts, the napkin Meghan had given him and some loose change. The rest was in the car. He was told to remove his shoes, chains, watch and anything else that was loose. It was procedure, they didn’t want him trying to hang or choke himself. All his personal belongings were put into a plastic bag and placed inside a large brown envelope. The deputy scribbled on it and handed it off to a woman dressed in office clothes.

  “Take a seat.”

  Besides one officer, sitting off to the side, no one else kept an eye on him. It wasn’t like he could escape. The office was crawling with cops. He saw a few suits. Someone mentioned FBI. Five more minutes passed before two deputies were discussing whether his prints were in the system.

  “Let me save you some work. They are.”

  “Figured as much.”

  Right then the buzzer on the door went off and none other than Deputy Larson walked in.

  He shook his head and crossed the room after speaking to an officer who pointed towards Jack. “Why am I not surprised to see you again? You know you’re a hard man to track down.” He pulled up a rolling chair and sat down in front of him. “Breaking and entering into a home, a brawl in a bar and now a high-speed chase through my town? Not to mention open carry of a handgun.”

  “What can I say? I’m innocent.”

  “Everyone is. You are in a whole heap of trouble, Mr. Winchester.”

  Jack leaned forward. “Like I told the other officers. You have the wrong guy. My vehicle was vandalized, and the assailant took off in a brown sedan with two other men. I gave chase but—”

  “You get a look at these men?”

  He frowned. “No. It was dark, and they were wearing masks.”

  Larson tapped his fingers against the desk and squinted.

  “If you don’t believe me, speak with the officer who attempted to give chase when his side mirror was taken off by the sedan. Hell, there is probably still some brown paint residue left behind.”

  “Which officer?”

  “How the hell should I know? I was on my face before I could get a word in edgeways.”

  “And the men in the sedan?”

  “They drove away. Great police work, deputy. First class!” Jack leaned back in his seat and sighed.

  Larson gave him a blank stare before telling one of the other officers to process him. He rose from his seat.

  “That’s it? You’re throwing me in a cell?”

  “We are holding you while we complete this investigation.”

  Jack scoffed. “Tell me, deputy. All those State Police out there aren’t here for the hell of it. You’ve found something, haven’t you? Who is it? Is it Jenna?”

  He looked as if he was going to speak. His lips parted and then closed again, before nodding to the officer who hauled Jack up and began strong-arming him away. He remained fixed on Larson.

  “Who is it, Larson?” he bellowed.

  Larson waved him off. “I’ll be back to speak with you later.”

  “I need to speak to you now.”

  “Later.”

  Shoved through a door and led down a series of steps, Jack was fuming. Everything about the situation was spiraling out of control. There was no chance in hell they were going to let him walk now, not after this. On the way down to a holding cell, Jack didn’t bother protesting. His words would have only fallen on deaf ears. Cops were used to it. Fighting back, whether that was in word or action, would have been a dumb move. As far as he saw it, it was a situation that could be resolved with a little bit of time. Problem was, time wasn’t on his side. If the abducted women had lived for three days before their bodies were placed into the rivers, that meant Jenna’s time had nearly run out. She’d gone missing the night he’d arrived, and he’d already been in Marlinton two days.

  As he was led on, a door opened up to the right and in walked Deputy Rigby. He passed by casting Jack a serious look.

  “Ethan, Larson wants to speak to you,” said the deputy that had a firm grip on Winchester.

  “He’s back?”

  “Yeah.”

  Rigby gave a nod and went to turn when Jack spoke. “Officer Ethan Rigby?”

  “Yes?”

  Jack shook his head and cast his eyes at the floor. He recalled the name mentioned by Karl Fraser. Rigby walked over to him, his eyes narrowing the closer he got. He wagged his finger in front of his face. “I remember you. You were brought in only a day ago — the guy who broke into the apartment. That’s right.” He scoffed. “Back here again. They never learn,” he said to the other deputy before walking away.

  He was tossed into a cell and the heavy steel door clanged behind him before a key was turned. The cell wasn’t much to look at, just a run-of-the-mill holding cell; a chrome toilet, sink and a hard bed. They didn’t want him getting too comfortable. Jack exhaled and slumped down on the bed. Who knew how long he would be in there before a lawyer showed up, if they even bothered to call one. Outside the door, he could hear phones ringing, keyboard keys being tapped and the swell of conversation. Now and then, he’d hear another man in a cell farther down slam fists against the door and demand to be let out.

  He lay back and put his hands behind his head. It didn’t matter how many times he saw the inside of a cell, he never got used to it. It was empty, cramped and capable of breaking down the hardest of men.

  He sighed.

  This was going to be a long night.

  Chapter 26

  It was his description of the vehicle that piqued his attention. Billy Irving drove a brown sedan. Larson had stopped him on numerous occasions for speeding around town. He had the thing pimped out with an LED under-glow light, and his entire trunk was full of speakers that let out a heavy bass beat. When he was cruising the neighborhood, he could be heard long before anyone laid eyes on that sorry excuse for a human being.

  He ran his hand over the busted-up cruiser that belonged to Deputy Hodgkins. It was just about to be towed away. Someone was going to have to pay the thousands of dollars in damage. The department’s budget was already tight, and they’d had one other cruiser that got banged up a few months back when Wallace lost control of it on the way to an incident. The boys were still ribbing him over that. Larson felt sorry for Hodgkins as he was the one that was liable to get pulled into the office on this. He’d joined the department a few months after Larson did and was still in his first year of probation.

  Hodgkins made his way over to him after being checked out by a medic.

  “How are you feeling?”

  He ran a hand around the back of his neck. “I’ve got a bit of whip
lash but beyond that, I’m good.”

  “So you want to tell me how the brown sedan managed to get away?”

  Hodgkins let out a heavy sigh. “Aargh, it was chaotic, Sam. Both vehicles crashed ahead of me into multiple vehicles, by the time I hopped out the one guy had a firearm in his hand. My main concern was for the safety of civilians. When I looked over to the sedan, the occupants didn’t look like they were going anywhere. I figured we’d cuff Winchester and then the backup would haul them out of the vehicle, but when I looked back, they were gone. Sorry, man.”

  “It’s not me you have to answer to, it’s the chief.”

  He tossed his arms up. “What was I supposed to do with all our guys helping State Police at the checkpoints? They came out of nowhere, sideswiped the cruiser and took off at a high rate of speed. I did the best I could under the circumstances.”

  Larson rested a hand on his shoulder. “I know.” He looked over to where Winchester’s Shelby was. “Was he pursuing the brown sedan?”

  “Yeah, I caught sight of him just before he busted into me.”

  “The damage to his windshield. Was that there before or after he collided with the truck?”

  “Before.”

  So he was telling the truth. Larson wandered over to where a State Police officer was gathering together Jacks belongings from the vehicle.

  “You mind if I take a look at that?”

  “Knock yourself out. In fact, you can take it.”

  He handed him a duffel bag and Larson carried it back to his cruiser. With gloves on, he fished through it and pulled out a cellphone then powered it on. At first, he thought it was Winchester’s, but upon closer inspection, he was able to determine it was hers. An image of Jenna Whitmore and her family came up on the screen. What are you doing with her phone? He pulled out the external hard drive, hooked it up to the laptop in his cruiser and accessed it. His eyebrows arched as he browsed through folder after folder of images, videos, and audio. These were folks he’d seen around town, some that held prominent positions in the community. He shook his head. He knew the situation with escorts was bad but he had no idea the kind of people that were using their services. It was another world, a dark underbelly full of lost individuals. He knew that much of it was fueled by drug use and that the flow of drugs into the town was coming from the Gance brothers, but he had yet to prove that. With Merle in custody and Aaron soon to be locked up, perhaps it wouldn’t matter. With them off the streets, their source would have to seek out a new dealer. He clicked through on a few more photos before unplugging. Right now he needed to speak with Winchester.