Page 199 of The Woman Left Behind

“In foot pursuit,” Rus’s voice panted.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Harry chanted, slammed the cruiser in reverse and hightailed out.

He turned on his lights and siren, and on a screech of tires, he tore down the street.

“Alley, behind the cinema,” Sean was saying. “Headed east.”

Harry turned right at the end of the street, grabbed the mic of his radio and pushed the button.

“Do not shoot,” he commanded. “I want him subdued and brought in.”

“Copy that,” Rus said.

“Copy,” Sean said.

“Copy,” Wade said.

He had four more copies before he ordered, “Shut down Main. I want our civilians inside with doors locked.”

He heard dispatch sending out the call to units to fulfill his order as he swung a left off Main and then another quick left down the back alley.

And there he was, a block and a half ahead.

Karl Abernathy.

Harry could see he was leaking blood at his shoulder, but that’s all he took in when Abernathy cut down a side alley and Harry lost sight.

Rus and Sean were in foot pursuit half a block away. Harry raced down the back alley and into the side one just as Abernathy darted out of it.

Harry made the end, he could hear other sirens, and he saw Wade tearing across the street.

He also saw Abernathy doing the same.

Harry threw the cruiser into park, powered down and shot out of it just as Abernathy ducked into Kimmy’s shop.

“Shit, shit, shit,” he bit out as he sprinted across the road, all traffic had stopped, cruisers were angling, deputies were everywhere.

A gun blast came from Kimmy’s shop.

Shit!

Harry raced up the sidewalk, unclipping and unholstering his weapon, just as Abernathy reeled out of Kimmy’s shop.

He saw Harry, raised his gun and shot wild.

People screamed.

“Down!” Harry yelled, his command mingling with the same one from Rus, Sean and Wade. “Everyone down!”

Abernathy had turned to run from Harry, but he stopped dead as Pete, Polly’s husband, and the owner of the Double D, came out of the diner, the butt of a shotgun to his shoulder, his eye squinted at the sight, the barrel aimed at Abernathy.

Harry raised his own gun and slowed to a creeping gait, ordering, “Karl, drop your weapon and put your hands behind your head.”

Harry could see the wet stains on the back of his dark sweater, many of them, clustered around his left shoulder.

Buckshot.

Allen did get him.

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