Did you notice my daughter’s picture? Yep, she is here.
Hi, I am the daughter of the author. What am I doing here? I have a place here. In fact two places. What are they? This is a mystery series. You either have to figure it out or wait until it is reveled.
Lonnie pulled to the side of the road and waited for the cop car to catch up to him. He had a small hope it might be after someone else. It might pass him by. Leaving him shaken but still a free man.
No such luck.
Lonnie looked in his rearview mirror. The cop car pulled up behind him. The driver spoke into his radio. Sat. Waited. Did nothing.
Lonnie became more nervous by the minute. He knew the cop was waiting for backup. Somehow he had expected the cop to come up to him, tell him to get out of the car and lean up against the side of it. He expected to be frisked and put in the back of the squad car, taken down to the police station and booked.
None of that happened.
Nothing happened.
Again Lonnie looked in his rearview mirror at the cop sitting behind the wheel behind him. The cop did not move.
Lonnie began to fidget. He began to tap his finger on the steering wheel. He began to think. He began to tap his foot. He began to count the charges against him.
Car theft. He knew that. They knew that. There were drugs in the car. He knew that. They did not. But they would do a search and find them. Not as if he did anything special to hide them. Like an idiot he somehow assumed he would never get caught.
Lonnie began to rock back and forth. His eyes became fixed on the rearview mirror. On the cop sitting in the car behind him. The cop doing nothing. Nothing.
There were guns in the car. He knew that. They did not. Or did they? Was the cop behind him waiting for a damn swat team who would surround him, just waiting for him to make one single slip so they could blow him to hell?
What if the CIA was on to him? Would they use regular cops to catch him so they could take over?
Of course they would. They would stop at nothing. They killed Cody, didn’t they? They weren’t going to arrest him. They were going to kill him. And he was being stupid enough to sit here in the car and wait for them to do it.
Lonnie couldn’t take the suspense any more. He started the car. The cop in the car behind him looked up. Lonnie jammed the car into reverse. Floored the gas. The car snapped into motion with a jerk, as though it were a football being kicked toward a field goal. The tires spun. They took hold. Grabbed traction. The cop in the car behind him did not have time to start his car when the car Lonnie was driving slammed into it doing zero to sixty in one and one half seconds.
Not only did the trunk of Lonnie’s car do serious damage to the front end of the cop car, it swerved the nose of the cop car well over into the ditch on the side of the road.
Launching into drive Lonnie pressed full on the gas, tires spun and slid raising black burned rubber smoke, before shooting down the road in front of him. For the space of three miles he thought he was free. Then he heard sirens coming from in front of him.
If he were spotted they would give chase.
He had to disappear.
Lonnie aimed the car between two big trees. Killed the lights. Kept on going. The police car screamed down the road beside him. The car Lonnie was driving was scraped and scratched, but still managed to lumber out onto the road.
He no sooner did so than another cop car came toward him. This one did not have sirens wailing so he was not aware of it until it pulled around the corner towards him. The cop car shot out of a horseshoe turn. Straight passed him. As Lonnie entered the turn the cop car was spinning around to come back after him.
In panic Lonnie rounded the turn. He had to slow down. No choice. The cop would have to slow down too or go off the road.
Lonnie went back into the woods between the trees again. Remembered to douse his lights. The cop car turned on his sirens and flashed behind Lonnie. Then Lonnie lurched out onto asphalt again. Turned left.
Then he realised. He was headed back the way he had come.
By then it was too late. He was passing the car he had ruined, and another cop car beside it. They both stared at him as he passed. Soon he had sirens behind him.
Once again he made his own road into the woods. Kept going this time until he found a dirt road. It more or less paralleled the regular road, and headed him back toward the safe house.
If the CIA were after him there was only one possible out. That was to get ahold of that CIA agent and get to the bottom of this before the CIA got to him. It was a scary idea, but if he took the time he could convince himself he could do it. If he needed some fortification he had some mind sharpening drugs right on board. All he needed was a few minutes to get them inside.
He made the decision.
Now he knew what he was going to do.
That was when he heard the helicopter overhead.
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