Page 107 of Lethal Danger

Freddie would probably use the west exit out of the lot, since that was closest to where he had parked.

Hawthorne took the shortest route to catch the vendor at that exit. Hopefully.

As he reached the west exit, he strained to see past other cars slowing to get in line.

A light blue sedan caught his eye. Two cars ahead.

“Thank you, Lord.” He let out a breath as he pulled into the row of vehicles waiting for cross traffic on the street to clear.

He kept his attention fixed on Freddie’s car as the blue sedan reached the front of the line, then turned onto the street.

Hawthorne tapped the steering wheel, his pulse picking up speed. The traffic could stop him from tailing Freddie if the car in front of him didn’t turn soon.

The next car pulled out, and Hawthorne drove forward, braking for a truck passing by on the road.

The brakes slipped again. Great. He was probably going to have to take the car to a garage and have it looked at. Brake pads must be getting worn down. He had driven it nearly across the country to get to the Twin Cities.

He accelerated hard as soon as the truck passed and darted out onto the road. Freddie shouldn’t be too far ahead.

He pressed the gas pedal harder than he technically should for the speed limit. But if Freddie were guilty of sabotaging the fair, Hawthorne could learn a lot by following him. Who knew what the man would do if he didn’t think he was being watched? Maybe he’d pick up more supplies for his next sabotage attempt.

Light blue caught the corner of Hawthorne’s eye in the lane to his right. Only a few cars between them. Perfect. Hawthorne could hold his position, but then he might not be able to turn quickly if Freddie did.

Sure enough, Freddie slowed at a green light ahead, his right blinker flashing.

Hawthorne jerked to look over his shoulder and darted in between two cars to fit into the right lane.

He pressed the brakes to slow for the turn.

The car didn’t slow.

He pushed the brake pedal harder.

Nothing.

Freddie turned off onto the cross street.

The car in front of Hawthorne darted through the intersection just as the light turned red.

But Hawthorne didn’t stop.

He couldn’t. His brakes were gone.

Thirty

Hawthorne darted around a car slowing in front of him as his muscle memory took over, implementing techniques learned in his Marine tactical driver training.

His gaze pushed ahead, spotting vehicles and obstacles that he needed to avoid.

The gas pedal could be as useful as brakes in some situations.

Like now, when he was about to crash into the back of a minivan.

He hit the gas and swerved into the oncoming lane, then sped back into the right lane in front of the minivan.

He took his right foot off the gas and used his left foot to pump the brakes hard, several times.

There. The dual braking system started to respond, giving him a weaker brake from half the system.

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