Page 57 of Out of the Shadows
“Don’t confront him,” Rick said. “I read the hit-and-run report, and the truck matches the description, the California plate is a big plus.”
“He’s heading north on 17,” Jack said. “That’s in the direction of Laura Barrett’s house.”
“I’ll call DPS,” Rick said.
In the background, Margo heard Rick calling for assistance over the radio to be on the lookout for a vehicle suspected in a felony hit-and-run Sunday night. He rattled off the plates that Jack had given him and the current location of the driver.
A few seconds later, Margo heard acknowledgment from dispatch, then a minute later dispatch relayed that there was a DPS officer at the Pioneer exit who had been alerted to the suspect’s vehicle.
That wasn’t far—but it was past the exit to Laura’s house.
“Shit,” Jack said, “he’s getting off on the 303.”
And that was the exit before Laura’s.
“Did he see you?” Margo asked.
“I don’t know,” Jack mumbled. “He’s heading west on 303, approximately seventy miles per hour. Now seventy-five.” The speed limit on that stretch was seventy.
Rick relayed the new information to his dispatcher, then told Jack, “Stay back. I’m gaining, do not confront him.”
“How would I do that without lights and sirens?” Jack snapped.
A moment later, Rick said, “DPS are sending two units toward your location.”
Then Jack said, “He’s bolting. Just floored it to ninety.”
“Stand down, Jack,” Rick said.
Jack didn’t respond and Margo saw him pull away from her, speeding to catch up with Aberdeen.
Margo loved her old Wrangler, but the Jeep didn’t like going over eighty. She got up to eighty-three and still Jack was pulling away. As they approached a wide curve, Margo lost sight of him.
She said, “Rick, Jack’s pursuing.”
“I’m not letting him get away,” Jack said. “Aw, shit.”
Margo heard the squealing of tires and rubber and then a crash. “Jack!”
She pushed her Jeep and rounded the curve. She saw Jack stopped in the median. Two cars and a minivan had somehow hit each other, and one was blocking the third lane—particularly dangerous because of the curve behind them.
Jack said, “He sideswiped a car that then swerved and hit two others. Possible injuries. I’m helping. Dammit! He’s gone.”
Rick relayed the accident to dispatch, and Margo ended the call. She pulled her Jeep behind Jack and got out. He and one of the other drivers were pushing the vehicle that was blocking traffic to the side, but it was seriously damaged and they could only get it into the fourth lane, not all the way over. Margo pulled out three flares from her emergency kit and lit them, running back to drop them intermittently at fifty-foot intervals. Then she returned to the accident.
The minivan was full of kids—two of whom were in car seats. The mom was sitting behind the wheel. Margo went to her because Jack and the other driver were still trying to get the third vehicle off the road. That driver appeared to have a head injury.
“Are you okay?” Margo asked the woman in the minivan.
“Yes. That truck—he hit me! And just left!”
“Police are on their way,” Margo said.
“I got his plates,” a teenage boy sitting in the front seat said. He rattled them off. “A California plate.”
“I hate California drivers,” the mother muttered.
The kids all appeared to be uninjured, but Margo told them to stay in the car. She asked the mom, “Is your car drivable?”
