Page 43 of Silent Ritual

The truck groaned to life and began moving, picking up speed as it rumbled down the highway. Sheila jumped into their police cruiser parked nearby. "Get in!" she yelled at Finn.

Finn sprinted to the vehicle while keeping an eye on the truck that was already building speed. As he reached the car and hauled open the door, the truck swerved around a corner out of sight.

"There goes our peaceful day," he said, slamming his door shut as Sheila hit the gas. The police cruiser roared to life, tearing down the dirt road and onto the highway. They were backlit by the rising sun, leaving long shadows on the empty road.

"Keep an eye out," Sheila told Finn, her hands white-knuckled on the wheel. Her eyes were hard, focusing on the route ahead. "He can't have gotten far."

On the horizon, they saw a trail of black smoke. The semi-truck was still in sight, weaving across lanes.

"There!" Finn pointed. "He's heading for the forest route!"

Sheila nodded, pushing the siren button on the dashboard as the wail split the morning calm. The cruiser lurched forward like a hound released from its leash, gaining on the erratically moving truck.

“Hang on,” Sheila warned, her eyes narrowed in concentration as she swerved to avoid an oncoming car. Finn braced himself against the dashboard as they veered onto the forest route.

The narrow two-lane road was a snake of gray asphalt winding through dense woodland, fraught with sharp turns and steep inclines. Stark’s truck lurched around a bend, its back end fishtailing wildly. Sheila cursed under her breath and tightened her grip on the wheel.

You’re not getting away that easily, she thought.

With a twist of the wheel, she threw the cruiser into the bend after Stark's truck. The vehicle squealed in protest as it careened around the corner, stones spitting out from beneath its tires. Finn held on tight, eyes fixed on the disappearing truck.

"There!" he shouted, pointing through the windshield where the truck was skirting dangerously close to the edge of the road, wheels kicking up dust and scattering gravel.

Sheila pressed harder on the gas pedal and felt the car surge forward, the engine growling its approval. They were gaining on him now; every reckless swerve the truck made narrowed their distance.

Just then, a deer bolted out from the underbrush, leaping across the road. Sheila swerved hard to avoid it, her heart pounding as the cruiser skidded dangerously close to the edge of the road.

“Watch out!” Finn yelled, his hand clenching on the dashboard. The back end of the car fishtailed, threatening to send them spinning off the road and into the dense trees.

Sheila wrestled with the wheel and managed to correct their course, her breath coming in ragged gasps. They were still on Stark's tail, but he'd gained some ground during their near miss.

"Damn it," she muttered, pushing harder on the gas pedal, her knuckles pale against the black steering wheel. The cruiser leaped forward, its engine roaring in response.

Ahead, the forest began to thin out, revealing a large clearing, bisected by the looping highway. Stark's truck was barely visible now on the far end of the clearing, just ahead of a road-construction barricade.

"He's running out of road," Finn said through gritted teeth.

Sheila pressed her lips into a thin line as they sped toward the clearing. As they burst into it, she saw with sudden clarity Stark's reckless path. The semi-truck had crashed through the barrier and was now skidding toward the yawning mouth of a partially completed bridge, its far end a tangle of rebar and broken concrete. Stark was running out of options - and fast.

“Hold on,” Sheila barked, wrenching the wheel again, sending the cruiser lurching off the road and onto the uneven construction site. Gravel flew up in a hailstorm around them as they followed Stark's path through the destroyed barricade, their sirens wailing an urgent warning into the morning air.

Stark’s truck was a behemoth swaying dangerously close to the edge of the unfinished bridge, its tires kicking up a cloud of dust as he tried to control

the lumbering vehicle. The morning sun cast long, dancing shadows across the construction site, turning it into a maze of metallic skeletons and deep, treacherous pits.

"Stark's not gonna stop," Finn said. He was looking at the bridge that ended abruptly in a mess of twisted iron and jagged concrete. Below it was a bottomless chasm, the river streaming violently through its depths.

"Then we'll have to make him stop," Sheila said, her voice steely. She pressed down harder on the gas pedal, pushing the cruiser to its limits as they closed in on Stark's truck.

The semi-truck teetered on the edge of the unfinished bridge, its wheels spinning in a frantic attempt to find purchase. Stark, realizing the futility of his escape, threw open the driver’s side door and jumped out just as the truck slid off the edge. The vehicle plummeted into the chasm with a deafening crash, rocks and dust billowing up from the depths below.

Sheila slammed on the brakes as they neared where Stark had fallen. She unbuckled her seatbelt and leaped from the cruiser before it had fully stopped. Finn was at her heels, his pistol drawn and ready.

They found Stark sprawled beside a mound of rubble, his glasses askew and his face pale with terror. He was breathing heavily, his chest rising and falling with each ragged exhale. As Sheila approached, he raised a trembling hand, seemingly trying to ward her off.

"Don't kill me,” he said, gasping for breath. “It wasn’t my idea.”

“What wasn’t your idea?” Sheila asked.

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