Link and Vince paused only long enough to cuff Evans to the leg of a heavy breakfront before they raced down the driveway. Link slid behind the wheel of the chief deputy's car.
"I'll drive. I know all the roads." He switched on the flashing lights and siren as he spun out of the driveway.
Vince fastened his seat belt and reached for the microphone. "Catch the bastard before he hurts my sister. And tell me how to work this damned radio."
Link spotted the sheriff's white car headed west, lights flashing. Vince radioed for State Troopers without mentioning their pursuit was of the sheriff. With help on the way to Watson, Vince kept a running commentary of their chase for the dispatcher.
Vince leaned forward and peered out the windshield. "Don't know why he's not headed for the Interstate. He'd make better time there.”
Link glanced in the rear view mirror. Behind them, rays of sunlight shot across the brightening horizon. Soon the roads would be busy with commuter traffic.
Link said, "What's wrong with him? He's driving crazy. Look at him weaving from side to side of the road."
"Damn. I'll bet Anna's trying to make him crash the car."
"She's as nutty as he is. She could get herself killed."
Vince shook his head. "She must be going crazy with rage. You don't know how much she hates crooked lawmen."
"Yeah? Except for guys like Gary Don, who doesn't?"
"But two cops murdered my dad at our home, and right in front of us. She was twelve at the time."
"Man, that's rough.” Link asked, “Real cops or did they steal the clothes?"
Gary Don skidded around a corner to take the old highway toward the Brazos River.
"Dallas policemen on the take, hired to murder my dad." Vince keyed the radio, but released the button without transmitting.
"They get caught?" Link swerved to miss a pickup.
Vince' voice came flat and grim. "They were taken care of."
Link was closing in on the other car. "We're near the river. Don't know how he plans to get away."
"Maybe he has another car stashed somewhere near."
"Maybe. I think his in-laws live just across the county line." Link worried about that. Gary Don wouldn't show up at his in-laws with a woman in tow. What would he do with Anna?
The old Brazos River iron bridge with arched girders came into view. Parallel, a railroad bridge crossed the river. A hundred feet before the bridges, Gary Don's car rolled to a stop. He bounded out and ran toward the bridge.
As Link's car passed, Gary Don fired two fast shots. The rear window exploded in a shower of glass. Dang, he must’ve had another gun in the car.
Link sped the car and skidded to a stop across the opening of the bridge. Link and Vince flew out of the car, but Gary Don changed course and headed to the railroad. Vince ran to his sister while Link chased Gary Don. Link and the sheriff exchanged more shots, but neither man was hit.
The whistle of a train sounded loud. Behind him Link heard the approach of the westbound freight train. Gary Don climbed up on the iron girders of the bridge and walked from support to support. Link hefted himself up and followed.
Gary Don fired again. A ping sounded near Link’s ear and he felt slivers of metal and paint spray against his face. In a panic, Gary Don fired again.
Link took aim at the sheriff. His foot wobbled on the girder and his shot went wild. Link moved closer. Only ten feet separated them now.
Gary Don leveled his gun at Link and signaled him to drop his gun. Link opened his hand and the revolver fell to the water below. The sheriff aimed at Link's heart and pulled the trigger, but the chamber was empty. He threw the gun at Link and moved away.
The rush of wind from the train almost knocked Link from his perch. The warning whistle sounded again and again.
Both men slowed with fatigue now. Link saw Gary Don's heaving chest and the sweat staining his shirt. He felt close to collapse himself.
He yelled and moved closer, not certain his voice could be heard above the roar of the train even for the few feet separating him from his opponent. "Give it up, Gary Don. You haven't a chance of escape."
"You'll never get me, you sorry motherfucker."
Gary Don crouched to leap for the train as an open freight car rolled past. One hand held onto a support as the other arm stretched forward into thin air. One foot moved out toward the train as he tried to push off the girder with the other.
At the last second he faltered and drew back, as if unsure he could make the leap.
He lost his footing and toppled backward. Link saw the smirk on Gary Don's face turn to shocked surprise, saw his mouth open in horror. Arms flailing, clutching at thin air, his scream was lost in the sound of the train's whistle as he fell to the river below.
Link watched Gary Don hit the shallow water of the river's edge. The body snapped at impact in six inches of water. Gary Don lay still, water lapping gently at his lifeless body. Link sat on the iron bridge rail and clung for his life while a wave of dizziness passed.
In the distance he saw the flashing lights of State Trooper black and whites. When the last car of the train had whooshed past, Link lowered himself to the bridge and trekked back to meet the reinforcements.
Chapter Forty Seven
The scene looked like a bubble light convention. Two highway patrol cars and two sheriff's deputy vehicles skidded to a halt by Gary Don's car. Uniformed officers leaped out and dispersed, half headed toward Link and the others to check out Anna and Vince.
Link recognized one of the state troopers, Ted Harris. He and Harris had worked together before, and Link was relieved to see a familiar face in authority.
The deputies rushed forward, apparently intent on taking Link into custody. Harris stopped them.
"Let's get filled in on what's happened here before we make any decisions," Harris said.
Any adrenaline remaining drained from Link's body. He sagged with fatigue, but staggered to Gary Don's car before he collapsed against a front fender. Days of abuse caught up with him and he didn't know how much longer he could function without rest.
Not long.
Maybe five more seconds.
Leaning his battered limbs onto the metal, he peered through the windshield and gasped at the sight of Anna's face. Her swollen eye already showed signs of turning black and blue and she dabbed a bloodied handkerchief at her swollen lips. He forced his aching muscles to move to the open car door.
"You okay?" he asked.
"Fine." She looked at the blood on the handkerchief. With the other hand she rubbed the side of her head.
"That's quite a goose egg you've got there," Link said. Swelling on the side of her head made him think she had slammed up against the door.
Anna added, "Apparently the sheriff didn't like my driving suggestions."
"I'm grateful he didn't shoot you," Vince told her from where he sat behind the wheel.
She gave a lopsided smile. "Yeah, me too."
* * *
Back at the Justice Center an hour and a half later, Vince and Anna had made their statements and Vince asked to be allowed to leave.
"Really ought to have a doctor look at Anna's head. She might have a concussion," Vince said.
Anna protested, "I'll be fine. I just want to go home, but my car's at that house."
Harris motioned to a deputy. "Take Ms Zimmermann and Mr. Bertolli to get her car."
When Vince and Anna left, Harris turned to Link and asked again, "You recognized the man in the compound as Forsythe?" Before Link could answer, he added, "You're certain?"
Link nodded, then wished he hadn't. The movement increased the pounding in his head. "I'm certain. It was Forsythe, all right. He knew me, too."
He'd already gone through this story what seemed like a hundred times.
Harris nodded. "Martinez identified him by another name, The Ghost. Said he'd been involved in heavy drug smuggling. Drugs in exchange for arms."
That made sense to Link. "I found gu
ns and ammo. Could supply a small army with what they have stashed. Evans have anything to say about it?"
"He got away," Harris answered.
"The hell you say." Link couldn't believe his ears. "We left him cuffed to the damned furniture. How did he get away?"
"Some old lady came and got the key off Buel. He was too weak to resist."
"That'd be Evans's aunt. Lived across the street."
Eddy brought Link a cup of coffee and a donut.
"Thanks." By this time Link’s hands were shaking and he figured he was in shock. He took the coffee, grateful for the caffeine and the liquid.
He asked, "You know if Buel's gonna make it?"
Eddy shook his head. "He never made it through surgery."
"Damn, I hate to hear that," Link said. Buel had saved his life and that of Vince and Anna. Sorry as Link was about the death, he said, "I figure he'd prefer death to doing time. He said Gary Don murdered his son over this drug business."
Link drained his coffee. "Buel said his son was going to be a witness against Gary Don. Said Gary Don killed him and made it look like suicide.”
“He couldn’t say much when we found him, but that’s what he told us.” Harris said.
“Also said you'd been framed," Eddy said.
Then why the hell did he have to keep telling the same damn story over and over when every bone and muscle in his body ached? On top of that, Link was so tired he could hardly focus his eyes.
Procedure.
He gave a resigned sigh and took a bite of the pastry. The donut was stale, but he needed the food’s boost. Someone refilled his cup. The coffee was hot and strong, and he needed that, too.
Harris said, "Heard grieving over the boy's death killed Buel's wife. Too bad."
"Yeah. Didn't have any family left." Eddy leaned against the closest desk.
Link seemed stuck here in replay when what he wanted was to see his son, take a hot shower, and sleep for a week. Make that two weeks.
He had asked for time out to call Gwen. She agreed to let the family know he was okay and to pick up Jason and Coy. And to check on Anna and Vince later.
Reporters from all the media had shown up and been curtly dismissed with a brief statement from Ted Harris, who had assumed command in lieu of a sheriff. Ike Young from the FBI and Hamp Underwood from DEA introduced themselves, surprisingly not disputing Harris' authority in the case. Once again Link launched into the same spiel.
He stopped when Al and Boo were brought in. Al's hair stood on end and he wore no shirt. He was wild-eyed and looked ready to explode. Boo wore overalls with one strap undone and dangling. And fury coloring his face.
"I'll get you yet," Boo snarled to Link as he passed. The look he gave Link would have withered a cactus. After that, other than a growl, Boo refused to speak.
One of the dispatchers walked briskly toward Link. When he was ten feet away, he interrupted, "Phone call for Dixon. Says it's an emergency and he won't talk to anyone else."
At a nod from the interrogating officers, Link took the call. Harris picked up the extension.
"Link? It’s Virgil Lee out at the airport."
"Speak up, I can hardly hear you."
"Can't or they'll hear me. The two men you want are out here and about to take off. They don't know I can hear them."
Link said, "You sure, Virgil Lee? How do you know I want them?"
"They been bragging about framing you and getting' rid of the sheriff and his chief deputy. They're loadin' up a Beachcraft right now. Looks to be a long flight."
To Harris, Link mouthed, "Evans and Forsythe." Into the phone, Link asked, "Can you do something to stall them?"
"They had me check the plane over for 'em and I jimmied it so they won't get far. Won't take but a few seconds for it to explode when they take off."
Harris snapped his fingers to get the attention of the trooper at the next desk. He made a circular motion with his hand indicating he meant to round everyone up. The look on his face said "now."
Link's pains and fatigue faded from his consciousness as a new wave of terror pumped through him. "My God. Virgil Lee, they'll be killed."
"I don't know no other way to stop 'em. They was talking 'bout all they done and they killed lots of people. Tried to kill you and black your name, too."
"I know, but we want them alive. They need to stand trial," Link reasoned.
"Maybe, but both of 'em deserve to die, Link. They's two of the meanest bastards I ever saw."
Unwilling to waste time arguing any longer, Link said, "We'll be right there. They’d as soon shoot you as step around you. You stay out of their way."
"I aim to."
Harris explained to the others, "Evans and Forsythe are about to take a Beachcraft out of the country. It's been rigged to explode on take off. We've got to stop them. They're at the Spencer County Airport now."
"Damn it to hell," said Goddard. "They can see us coming from a mile away out there." He'd been pulling at his hair until he looked like an owl again.
"If we go in a couple of unmarked cars, we might be able to get close," Link suggested.
"We can take mine," Goddard said. “It's got no marking."
"Mine, too," Young volunteered.
Harris barked orders, "Goddard, you drive Dixon, Wells and me in your car. Young, you and Underwood take two of my men in your car. The rest of you follow us as far as the turn off onto Airport Road. Hang back there until I give the signal.”
Sirens blaring, they raced toward the airport, Link in the front seat of the car driven by Goddard. On the way, Harris called a jet helicopter to stand by for pursuit. He also radioed for ambulances and fire trucks.
Link glanced over his shoulder. A line of cars trailed closely to the two lead vehicles. Goddard and Young each turned off his car's siren a couple of miles from the airport. As agreed, when the two front cars turned onto Airport Road, those behind pulled over to await Harris' call.
Airport Road was surfaced in gravel and road base over washboard ridges. Link's body protested every dip and rise. Goddard apparently thought he was Dale Ernhart, Jr. A white dust cloud billowed behind them. No sneaking up on anyone using this road.
The Beachcraft waited on the tarmac. The two men worked nearby, offloading cartons from the pallet of a forklift into the cargo hold of the plane.
Evans turned toward them and dropped the box he carried. He yelled at Forsythe. Both men drew their weapons and ran. Goddard pulled the car to a halt at the side of the hangar, out of sight of the two fugitives. Link and Harris slipped around the corner of the building, followed by the other six men.
"Evans. Forsythe." Harris yelled. "You're under arrest."
"Like hell," Forsythe shouted, firing as he darted behind the wheel of a new Grumman Gulfstream. The shot ricocheted off the side of the metal hangar and whizzed past Link's head.
"Hold your fire," Harris said to the lawmen behind him.
Link flattened himself against the wall. "Let me go in."
"Man, you’re used up. What do you think you can do?" Harris asked.
"That's my cousin in the hangar with those two."
Harris slid a gun from his boot and thrust it at Link. "Don't try to be a hero, Dixon. No way are these two getting away."
"Yeah? That's what I thought about Evans before." Link inched forward, then dashed toward a stack of wooden crates nearby. He heard Harris close behind. Bullets showered around them as they dived for cover.
Link peered over the crate. Virgil Lee held his hands up. Forsythe stood beside him with a gun aimed at Virgil Lee's head.
Harris tried again. "Evans, Forsythe. Half the badges in the state are here or on their way. Give up now while you can."
"Not a chance," Evans shouted. "We'll soon be on that island Gary Don picked out. Too bad he won't be with us."
"You'll never make it," Link called.
Evans asked, "You still around, Dixon? Damn, you never quit, do you?"
"Not until I take you in, Evan
s. You set me up."
Evans said, "Nothin' personal, Dixon. You just fit the bill."
"It's personal now," Link assured him. "You're going down."
"Not this time." Forsythe called, "And where we're headed they don't understand machinery too well. We'll be needing a mechanic, so we're taking this one with us."
Link cried, "No. Leave him here. We'll work something out."
Forsythe nudged Virgil Lee toward the plane.
Evans followed, his gun aimed toward Link and Harris. "Sure you will. I know how you boys work, remember? How long until you send a chopper after us?"
Harris said, "Let the mechanic go. Don't get on the plane or you'll never live to see freedom."
Evans shook his head. "Sorry, boys. Y'all want the mechanic alive, you'll have to let us go."
Link shouted, "Evans, don't get on that plane. It's rigged to explode."
Before Link could explain, Virgil Lee interrupted, "Link, tell Nadine I'm real sorry I hurt her, that I always loved only her. The drink made me crazy. Never meant to cause her pain."
He lowered his hand to put a finger to his lips in a shushing motion. Forsythe poked the barrel of his gun at Virgil Lee's neck.
"Shut up and keep those hands where I can see them," Forsythe ordered.
Link had to try again. "Evans, Forsythe, don't get on that plane. There's something wrong--"
"Nice try, Dixon. We're not that dumb. We've already had it checked out," Evans yelled.
"Keep moving," Forsythe ordered.
"I'm going," Virgil Lee said. "Link, I don't mind. Maybe this is best, what with my liver trouble and all. Make sure Nadine gets the insurance money."
Forsythe whacked Virgil Lee on the side of the head. "I said shut up and keep moving."
Virgil Lee stumbled from the strike, but regained his footing and moved forward. In spite of the blow, Forsythe kept Virgil Lee in front of him as a shield.
They were at the steps to the plane now and Evans went on board and took the pilot's seat. Forsythe went next, tugging on Virgil Lee's collar while he forced him to walk backward up the steps and enter the plane.
Link rushed forward, intent on reaching them before the door closed. "No, not Virgil Lee, no. Stop."
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