~~~~~
Whiteside kept the car moving as fast as he dared on unfamiliar roads in the dark. He wasn’t sure what to think about the lack of other police cars joining the pursuit. When the red and blue lights were no longer in his rearview mirror, he frantically searched the side mirrors for confirmation and eventually lowered the driver window. He looked up in the sky and attentively listened for the unmistakable thumping of helicopter blades swirling through the blackness. He continued in this fashion for several miles and then killed his lights and slowed the car’s speed to under the speed limit. His ears registered nothing more than the sound of his own tires rushing over the blacktop. All he saw from behind was darkness. Where did Schwartz go? What kind of trick was he trying to pull?
As his eyes adjusted to the night without headlights, he pulled the car off the road into a wide gravel driveway that lead up to a cattle gate that sat near the top of a hill. This was pastureland and there were few trees to obstruct his vision. He hopped out of the car, straining his eyes back toward the east, but saw no signs of any other cars, let alone police vehicles, heading his direction. The night swallowed any noise into its darkness like a hungry beast with an insatiable appetite. Just as he thought it couldn’t get any quieter, his cell phone’s ringer pierced the overwhelming silence. Still feeling uneasy and uncertain of what just transpired, he reached into the car and pulled out the phone. Staring into the eastbound blackness, he hesitantly answered.
“Hello,” he muttered in a low voice.
“You’re welcome.”
The Bernie Factor Page 31
