Page 94 of Last Seen Alive
“Son of a freaking…” She clenched her teeth, angry about leaving her house wide open, and the broken window, the murdered rosebush. “Hope he got some thorns up his ass!” she mumbled. God, she loved that rosebush. She wasn’t a gardener, but it had been there from the time she and Kevin had bought the place.
“I’d say he’s got at least two.” Trent was swerving through the streets, following the perp’s every move.
She called in for backup. “Get close. Let’s get his plate. Hey, you didn’t get it, did you?”
“Would have been a good idea, but I was distracted when I heard your window break, saw a chair flying out, with a guy following it.”
Another shiver of rage ran through her. “He went right to Zoe’s room. What was he going to do to her?” She gripped at the dash as Trent took another corner.
“As long as he stays in town— Ah, shit.” Trent gestured ahead of him. “He’s getting on the highway.”
She called in to dispatch to let them know about the silver Toyota Camry heading north on Interstate 95. “We’re in a black Jeep Wrangler. License…?”
Trent rattled it off as he tore after the Camry.
Sirens roared from behind them, and the officer riding shotgun was waving his arm, signaling for Trent to pull over. “Someone with the state police needs to know what’s going on,” he said through clenched teeth.
“I’m working on it.” Amanda ran through what was going on with the PWCPD dispatcher to pass along to the state police. What felt like forever later, the state police pulled away, leaving Trent’s Jeep in its dust. “Are you kidding me? Get this thing moving!”
“Foot is flat to the floor.”
“We’re standing still. Shit.” She slapped the dash.
Trent weaved through traffic that was lighter this time of night than it would have been midday, but she was cringing with every near miss.
“Are you intentionally riding people’s asses before pulling out?” She was typically a good passenger. She let Trent chauffeur her around all the time, but the speed and the lane changes were causing that steak and corn to churn in her gut.
“I’m doing my best here.”
She couldn’t even see the tail end of the sedan. How the heck was it pulling away? The guy had to have retrofitted the thing—it would explain the growl when he’d pulled away on her street. Camry’s didn’t typically sound that way or have that much pep.
“I can’t see him at all,” Trent lamented.
“Me either.” Amanda’s phone rang, and she answered.
“What the hell is going on?” It was Graves, and she was pissed. She must have heard about their predicament from dispatch. No one could say the rumor mill worked slow at the PWCPD.
“I was going to call. It’s just—”
“Talk to me this minute.”
“Right there!” Amanda pointed wildly. The Camry was pulling off the highway. It must have been hiding among the other vehicles on the road, and that’s why she’d lost sight of it. “I’ve gotta go.” She ended the call and dropped her phone in the console. It rang almost immediately.
“You should probably get that.”
“Not doing it. Just catch that guy.” If she could manifest him into custody this instant, she would. Instead they just kept moving.
Trent took Exit 1, as the Camry had. This route merged onto US-1 North, taking them into the heart of Washington. People and traffic would be everywhere.
Wow, Washington had come fast at the speed they were going. Forty-five minutes in the blink of an eye.
“Shit.” She finally picked up her phone and accepted the call from Graves. She filled her in, then said, “Make sure that the Metro PD know we’re incoming. We just got onto US-1 North into Washington.”
“Steele, this is—”
“Please, just do it. I’m quite sure this man killed Claireandtampered with Rita Flynn’s car. He just broke into my home.” She swallowed roughly as she recalled him skulking into Zoe’s room.
Graves swore several colorful adjectives, then hung up.
