by Alex Ander
Trees zoomed by on both sides. Up ahead, the leaves came together to create an overarching umbrella with darkness beneath.
Driving into the shadows, Faith stole a peek at her mirrors.
The truck barreled down on her again.
Still moving at a downward angle, she veered right, around another gradual bend, then saw a quarter mile of roadway ahead of her. “All right, you son-of-a,” finishing the curse in her mind, she pressed her right foot to the floor. “You want to play? Let’s play.” She gained separation, let off the accelerator, then coasted as far right as she could.
Lined up with the lead car, the Ram ate up the pavement.
Grasping the steering wheel tighter, gently laying her right foot on the brake pedal, she kept one eye on the open road ahead and one on the rearview mirror.
The truck accelerated.
Seeing the image of the Ram’s front grille grow bigger in the mirror then drop out of the frame, Faith swerved into the oncoming lane and applied steady, firm pressure to the brakes while keeping the frontend square with the road.
The Dodge zoomed by the rental, its left quarter panel scraping across the Hyundai’s right-front door and fender, sheering off the side mirror and pushing the foreign car left in the process.
Faith countered with a right/left twitch of the wheel.
The small car came back into the middle of the road.
The right-front tire exploded.
Her foot on the brake pedal, she yanked the wheel back and forth.
The vehicle obeyed before starting a counterclockwise spin, traveling sideways down the road, then slipping off the concrete and onto the left shoulder.
Now moving backwards, she noticed the pines out the right-rear window approaching while she envisioned the apron giving way to the steep drop-off she had noticed earlier. “Oh sh—” Faith pressed the red button on the seatbelt latch while pulling on her door handle.
Stones pinged off the undercarriage.
Tires growled over gravel.
She pushed open the door and rolled left.
Its rotational forces diminishing, the vehicle glided over a bed of pine needles.
The corner of the open door grazed her leather jacket.
She tucked her arms in close and barrel-rolled down the hill.
The Elantra banged off a tree trunk, spun right, and cruised straight ahead. Hitting a stump, the dented sedan went into an out-of-control tumble through the woods, bouncing off tree trunks and flattening shrubs before ending up against a thick oak, rocking back and forth on its crushed roof.
*******
Having slammed into a stand of trees on the right side of the road, his truck stalling, the driver had cranked the starter for a full minute. Letting up, he cast a glance toward the spot where his prey had gone off the pavement. Coming back to his dashboard, he turned the ignition again.
The motor groaned then turned over.
He punched the gas pedal twice.
The motor revved.
Dropping the transmission into four-wheel-drive, he backed up the 4X4 then eased it onto the roadway, stopping along the shoulder on the other side a hundred feet later. He scooted right and craned his neck to peer through the trees.
The Hyundai’s front wheels were still spinning.
Squinting, he tried to locate a body inside the wreck before his eyes scanned the trail of destruction leading back up the hill.
Thirty seconds passed.
“Screw it.” He resumed his spot behind the wheel and lowered the column-mounted gearshift into ‘drive’. “She has to be—” gazing through the windshield, he froze in place, his peripheral vision seeing movement out of the corner of his left eye.
*******
Having climbed the incline on the truck’s five o’clock, then darting behind the tailgate, Faith now stood ten feet from the driver’s door, a stainless-steel 1911-style Colt 45 in both hands and aimed at Overalls, the man who had been assisting Hammerstein. “How about you show me those hands?”
Facing her, Overalls spied the woman in a dirtied and torn leather jacket with pine needles and dried leaves clinging to her blonde locks, only half of which were still secured in a mid-rise ponytail. The other half lay over the left side of her chest. “Easy, lady.” He raised his left hand, turned toward the windshield, and shot a quick peek at the seat beside him.
“That’s one...now the other.”
“I just need to,” he dipped his forehead toward the gearshift, “put it in,” then stole another glance at the passenger seat, “park first.”
“Show me your hands!”
He ran the transmission to ‘P’ and came back to her while lifting his right hand a tad higher. “I’m just going to turn off...”
Noticing his right hand disappear again...
“...the engine.”
Faith clenched her 1911, lowered her stance, and leaned forward. “This is your last warn—”
Overalls whipped his head to the right and laid out flat across the bench seat.
Seeing him drop out of sight, the on-loan Seattle detective opened fire while sidestepping left to get off the ‘X’ and out of the line of return fire.
Six 230-grain 45 ACP bullets blew holes in sheet metal.
Screaming, Overalls rose to an upright position. His face twisted in pain, he leaned out of the open window and thrust out the pistol in his left hand.
Working the Colt’s trigger, the gun’s firing pin igniting pistol primers, Faith continued moving left.
One bullet released from its brass case, exited the barrel, and struck the criminal’s left shoulder.
A second shattered his same side collar bone.
A third penetrated the windshield and lodged in his chest.
The Colt’s slide locked open.
Feeling the 1911’s weight having shifted rearward, the twenty-eight-year-old Mahoney woman reached for a spare magazine. A half a heartbeat later, she heard her father’s voice in her head from fifteen years earlier during a family outing to the shooting range...
Move, Faith. Move. Don’t stand still while reloading. And keep your head up and your eyes downrange.
Her eyes never straying from Overalls, Faith shuffled to her left.
He fired.
A bullet whizzed by the right side of her face.
She rammed home a fresh eight-rounder and reversed course, taking long strides to her right.
Overalls fired again, his shot missing wide to her left.
She thumbed the slidelock lever, came up on target, and let loose with a three-round volley.
Three projectiles made two more holes in the glass, one plated bullet burrowing into Overalls’ nose and brain, shutting off the assailant’s central nervous system.
The dead man’s chin fell to his chest. His arms sagged, the left one hanging outside the vehicle.
The pistol he had held clattered to the pavement.
Faith came alongside the vehicle and kicked the weapon under the truck. She studied the massive hole in the deceased man’s face for a few pulses. Now certain that he was no longer a threat, she lowered her gun to forty-five degrees and stood taller. Turning her head toward the spot where she had done her ‘dance’ a moment ago, she lifted one corner of her mouth. Thanks, Dad. She dug out her mobile phone and tapped the screen. I guess I WAS listening to you all those years ago.
In her ear: “Nine-one-one. What’s your emergency?”
“This is Detective Faith Mahoney of the Seattle Police Department requesting assistance on...”
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Chapter 26
I Thought I Told You...
9:36 A.M.
The police cruiser stopped in front of the gap between the two sections of split-rail fencing. Both front doors flew open. A man and a woman strode up the sloping terrain heading straight for a man working a shovel.
The man in a cowboy hat, jeans, and a flannel shirt looked up from his work. “I thought I told you to
get the hell off my—”
Faith drew her weapon and held it at a forty-five-degree angle out in front of her. “Drop the shovel.”
“Are you out of your mind?” Hammerstein eyed the officer on Faith’s eight o’clock. “What’s this all about, Officer Timmons?”
Timmons laid his right hand on the butt of his service pistol. “Until we can get this all sorted out, Mr. Hammerstein, just do what she says.”
“All of what sorted out?”
Faith raised her pistol to twenty-two degrees. “Drop the shovel and turn around...now.”
The man in the cowboy hat huffed before letting the digging implement fall to the ground.
“Turn around, put your hands on your head, and kneel down.”
“I think I’m allowed to know why I’m being arrested.”
“One way or another, sir, you will get on the ground. And I’m so amped up on adrenaline right now that you really don’t want me taking you to the ground.”
Timmons raised an eyebrow at the woman on his two o’clock.
Hammerstein complied with the orders.
Faith wrenched the man’s arms behind his back, affixed handcuffs to his wrists, and escorted him to the police cruiser’s front bumper before patting the man’s front jean pockets. “Am I going to find anything sharp inside...knives, needles?”
“Pocket knife on the left. It’s closed.”
She emptied the contents of his pockets onto the cruiser’s hood then ushered him toward the rear of the vehicle.
The patrol officer stood near an open left-rear door.
Faith put her left hand on Hammerstein’s head and applied downward pressure. “Get in.”
“Why am,” contorting his body, “I,” he grunted, “being arrested?” before sticking his right foot inside and lowering himself into the seat.
“At the moment, you’re not. You’re only being detained,” she paused, “on suspicion of conspiring to murder a federal agent.” She slammed the door in his face then went to investigate his belongings.
A few minutes later, after having gone over Hammerstein’s things, Faith opened the left-rear door and crossed her arms over her chest. “Tell me why your man in the overalls just tried to kill me.”
The cuffed man frowned. “Dexter? Dexter tried to kill you? That doesn’t sound like something he would do. Where is he? Is he okay?” He gave her a quick down-and-up. “Are you okay?”
“As you can see, I’m fine. Your man,” she paused, “not so much.”
Hammerstein’s eyes grew bigger. “What happened?”
She huffed. “As if you don’t know. He pulled a gun on me, but...”
“Oh my—”
“...I was more accurate than he was.”
“So,” a beat, “he’s dead then?”
Faith nodded once.
“That’s too bad, but again...”
She noticed something change behind his eyes.
“...how does this involve me?”
“I think you sent him to kill me.”
“Is that so?”
She noted a twinkle in his eye.
“Got any proof of that?” Seeing the muscles at the back of her jaw bulging, he shook his head. “I didn’t think so.” A moment passed. “You’ve got nothing to arrest me on Marshal Mahoney.”
“Maybe not, but I can still hold you while I dig up something.” She slammed the door then brought up the number to her sister’s burner phone.
*******
THREE MINUTES LATER...
9:53 A.M.
SPOKANE, WASHINGTON
One hand pressed to her forehead, the other holding her cell, her mouth hanging open, Devlin shook her head at Randall. “And you’re sure you’re okay, Faith? Have you been checked out by a doctor?”
“I’m fine...really. There’s no need for doctors. Look, that’s not why I called. I’m holding Hammerstein for now, but if we can’t get him on something, I’ll have to let him walk.”
Randall: “The bastard’s henchman tried to run you off the road. Actually, he did run you off the road. That has to count for something.”
“Sorry, Noah. Without proof, it’s Hammerstein’s word against a dead guy’s word. And the old man knows it, too. As soon as I told him his hired hand was dead, he got this look on his face. I’m sure I won’t be getting anything out of him anytime soon.”
Standing in Duke Hammer’s living room, an image coming to him of Faith having to bail out of her car before getting shot at, Randall made a fist and turned around, his eyes looking for something to punch.
“Have you two had any luck?”
Devlin filled her lungs and sighed. “We’ve searched this place three times over...and nothing. But without knowing what we’re actually looking for, we could be staring right at it and not know it. We were just getting ready for a fourth inspection when you called.”
*******
REDDING, CALIFORNIA
Her butt leaning against the grille of the police cruiser, Faith pushed off and made a one-eighty to stare at Hammerstein’s possessions again, her focus falling on the man’s cell phone. She picked it up, touched the screen, and frowned. Password protected. “Stay close to your phone, Jess. I’ll call you back in fifteen.”
“All right.”
Faith clicked off, set her mobile on the hood, and retrieved her eyeglasses from a jacket pocket before unfolding the temples, donning the eyewear, and trying the usual lazy-man passwords, such as 0000 and 1234, on Hammerstein’s phone. When those failed, she glanced over her shoulder at the numbers near the home’s front door then pivoted back to try them, cursing under her breath when they proved unfruitful.
Officer Timmons: “What do you want to do with,” the man in blue gestured, “him?”
She held up a forefinger, “One second,” then turned to stare at where she and the homeowner had conversed prior to the incident on the mountain road. Scratching her cheek, she went over the exchange in her mind.
A few minutes later, she chewed on her lower lip. Then he sent me packing after I tried to extend my condolen— Faith spun to spy Hammerstein in the backseat of the cruiser. Whipping her head toward the shovel on the ground, she envisioned him holding it.
Faith: “I thought she died in a car accident.”
Hammerstein: “She did. Two years ago. Got behind the wheel on a rainy night after having too many beers. Drove off the side of the mountain...” He hung his head and stared at his boots for a good twenty seconds. “As long as I live,” he faltered, “I will never forget that night. It’s a date that’s burned into my brain.”
Faith stared at Hammerstein. It’s a date that’s burned into my brain. She snatched her phone and made a call.
Three rings later, a female voice: “Deputy Director Thorn.”
“Mariss—” Faith caught herself, “Deputy Director, this is Detective Mahoney. I’m sorry to have to ask you this, but is there any way you could get something from my computer? Sorry. I mean the one I’m borrowing...in that conference room you set up for me.”
“What am I looking for exactly?”
“I’m sorry to trouble you.”
“It’s no trouble at all. I’m sort of in between phone calls, anyway. Give me a minute while I head to that room.”
Faith rubbed her forehead. “Thank you. I really appreciate this.”
“Since I’ve got you on the line, tell me something. Is your time with us going well?”
“Um, yeah. It’s been fun working with my sister. And I think I’ve been somewhat helpful, too.”
“I have no doubts about that. Listen. Jessica and I have clear lines established. She handles all things relating to her team, and I take care of logistics and any behind-the-scenes issues that may arise.”
Faith nodded. “That’s what she’s told me, too.”
“I know she’s asked you to join us on a full-time basis.”
The detective smiled. “Yes. A few times, in fact.”
“Well, if I may throw my two cents
in, I think you’d make a fantastic addition to this team. I’d love having you working for me.”
“Thank you, Deputy Director. I appreciate your vote of confidence. But I’m torn. I love what I do in Seattle, solving crimes, catching bad guys, being in the action. I’m not sure I could handle being stuck behind a computer all day.”
“Stuck behind a computer all day, you say?”
“That’s right, ma’am.”
A short pause.
“Funny. I’m sitting in your chair right now, and I’m not seeing you anywhere near your computer.”
Faith chuckled at the insinuation. “Yes. I’m currently in the field, but,” she hesitated, “I’m not sure how long that would last if I were working for you and Jess on a permanent basis.”
“Well, it’s your call, but just know that I wouldn’t interfere. Whatever you and Jessica work out would be fine with me.” A tick. “Now what do you need me to do? I’m staring at your computer’s home screen.”
“I need the date that William Hammerstein’s wife was killed.” Faith relayed the necessary steps to guide Thorn to the information.
Thorn: “Looks like she died in a car accident two years ago...April 9th.”
“April ninth. April ninth. Oh-four-oh-nine. Got it. Thank you for your help, Deputy Director.”
“You’re welcome. And think about your sister’s offer. As I said, I’d love to have you on the team.”
“Thank you. And I will.” Faith ended the call, exchanged phones, hers for Hammerstein’s, and punched in 0-4-0-9.
‘Wrong Pin’ showed on the screen.
She pecked out the year the accident occurred.
‘Wrong Pin.’
Faith typed ‘4-9’ and the last two digits of the year of the tragic incident.
The phone’s home screen popped up.
Beaming, she scrolled through the text messaging app looking for a thread associated with Duke Hammer.
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Chapter 27
Cabin
10:13 A.M.
SPOKANE, WASHINGTON
Faith: “Business contacts, friends, one thread to his son Duke, which I’ve already gone over the entire thread and there’s nothing out of the ordinary,” a beat, “and a couple phone numbers with no names attached to them.”