Pursuit

by Gene Hackman

  Revolution. What if that third letter in the ring was an R? That would make it DAR, a society of women who were accepted in a special organization only after proving a direct bloodline link to the American Revolution. Like Garthwait said, his grandmother had been an ancestor. Daughters of the American Revolution. Okay, Dick Tracy. What now?

  She wondered about the link between the Preston girl and the Garthwait kid. The reverend’s daughter takes the ring from her mother’s jewelry case and splits. Somehow she meets up with a bad dude who takes the ring. And probably more than that. The creepy bastard can’t wear the ring, so he strings it around his neck. The Preston girl rips it off while trying to save her life. Makes sense.

  Something caught her eye. A dark grey Ford F-150 pickup truck eased in behind her. Not exactly tailgating but just a bit too close. She slowed, not wanting to deal with the guy. She assumed it was a guy—she couldn’t tell—a baseball cap and sunglasses completing a dark silhouette. She waved him on. Instead, he dropped back. She dismissed the person as just one more in a legion of bizarre drivers.

  She passed through what was not a town or even a community but merely a wide place in the road. A general store, an abandoned gas station, and a couple grain elevators.

  After slowing through the burg and then at a Thank You for Visiting sign, she accelerated back to sixty-five in the fifty-five. A cop should have some privileges. Tired of a political hack ranting about the disillusionment of America, Julie reached down to lower the radio volume as the sound of a loud, straining engine came up next to her. The driver, as he pulled even, ducked his head.

  She eased up on the gas, gripping the wheel as the pickup stayed next to her, and then started to move past. When almost clear, the truck cut in front of her, crashing into her left-side front fender. Julie’s car jerked violently to the right. She fought the wheel, trying to correct back to the left. The right rear wheel of her vehicle caught the gravel verge and began to lose traction.

  She wrestled her Charger back onto the pavement, stomping the brakes, only to have the wheels lock up. A fleeting thought of a defensive driving course flashed to mind, but in the moment, she forgot everything. The pickup continued to slam against her left side.

  A concrete abutment appeared to the side of her. The impact snapped the front of the car back toward the right and up and over the three-foot-high buttress. The car spun 180 degrees toward where she started and then plunged, cocked to one side, into the deep culvert bordering the road.

  The world turned upside down. Quick-cut movie images of bending steel and shattering glass. Dirt, papers, cups, and food wrappers whirled in a cyclone of confusion. Her head bounced hard against the door post and then rocketed back the other way. She slammed against the center console, her arms flopping hard against the right-side dashboard.

  A suspension in near silence as her car went airborne, and then everything was repeated. She tried to grip the passenger-side seat belt, but the loose webbing flapped at her. The car slowed, spun onto its nose, and then the noise stopped. Dazed, Julie felt the car rock gently onto its back. Her seat belt tightened; she was suspended upside down. Water from the culvert rushed into the ceiling of the car. It settled, finding its level. She tilted her head slightly to keep her nose and mouth free of the drainage.

  Someone wearing pants, the legs had gotten wet, appeared where the windshield should have been. She tried pulling on the clasp of the seat belt with both hands and called for help. The legs moved. A head with a grey cap and dark glasses appeared at her side where the window used to be. Julie reached out toward the apparition and faded into a world of gauzy white clouds.

  Voices came to Julie. One of them sounded like her mother.

  “I don’t think there’s anything we can do.”

  “She has to be dead.” Another voice, a man’s.

  Then a warbling unrelenting siren. More “Step back!” “Stand aside!” commands.

  Julie wanted to push away from the confusion. She struggled to come from a far-off place, feeling cold water and a light continuing to brighten. She felt a force against her neck. Someone was trying to get her to do something; what was it?

  “Let me through. Stand aside. Jules, it’s Todd. Can you hear me?”

  She tried to push away the fog; this had to be someone she knew.

  “You’ll be out soon.” To protect her face, Todd placed a blanket over Julie’s head. “Hold on, okay? Just hold on.”

  There began a repetitive whirring, like a motor scooter. A giant yellow claw danced before her eyes, then once again a terrible wrenching, metal being stretched and bent. A hand slipped to her neck along with the reassuring strong grip of her partner.

  “He did it on purpose, his pant legs, wet. He turned his head and laughed.” She came off delirious, but at least it was a sign she was alive.

  Todd cradled her neck as the jaws of life continued to stretch the window opening. “Who? Who did it on purpose?”

  Julie felt herself once again on the roller coaster, her stomach reaching up into her chest, her head pounding full of blood. “A grinning bastard in a dark grey pickup did it.”

  Someone ran a hand along the inside of her right armpit. “Can you feel that? Does it hurt?”

  Several voices went back and forth in the room. “She’s in what we call a fugue state—not conscious but not in a coma.”

  “When will she recover; come out of it?”

  Julie knew that voice, someone close, a person she loved. She wanted to respond.

  “Mom? Ma, open your eyes. It’s Cheryl.”

  “In school. Why aren’t you—”

  “Mrs. Worth, I’m Dr. Jacob. How are you feeling?”

  “Cheryl?”

  “She’s right here.”

  Julie felt her daughter’s arms around her neck.

  “I love you, Mom, you okay?”

  Julie wanted to see her daughter. She forced her eyes open and tried to smile. Cheryl’s face was close to hers. She saw a hand caressing her daughter’s cheek. A faraway voice echoed as if coming from a cavern.

  “She’ll be fine. It will take time and rest.”

  That seemed like a good idea to Julie. She slipped away, feeling only a slight dampness on her hand that held her daughter’s cheek.

  “Mrs. Worth. Wake up.”

  “What?”

  “You were having a bad dream. Heard you all the way down at the nurse’s station. Do you need anything? Something for pain?”

  “Okay, but no, I mean I’m not in pain. It was just a—”

  “I’ll change that damp pillowcase. You’re perspiring a great deal.”

  “Maybe a glass of water. How long have I been sleeping? Have I been here awhile?”

  The woman checked the chart at the end of the bed. “Says here you were admitted day before yesterday, so about thirty-six hours, give or take a few.”

  “Thank you. What’s your name again, please?”

  The nurse came closer to the bed and pushed her badge pinned to her chest. “Mary Ann. If you need anything, buzz me.” She waited while Julie drank her water and then slipped out of the private room.

  On her nightstand, the clock flashed three thirty. She dreamt of loud noises pounding in her ear, a dizzy roller-coaster ride, and a sharp pain under her ribs. A man with wet pants and a grin. Julie pulled her legs to the edge of the bed and tried to stand, her left leg bandaged in the same place where she had been sprayed with a shotgun. No real pain, just a dull ache. Her left arm and shoulder similarly swathed in white dressing.

  A little rocky, she made her way to the bathroom. When she turned on the light, the image in the mirror above the sink startled her. A welt on her left cheekbone darkened her eye and the bridge of her nose. A bandage around her head kept a bulging compress above her ear in place. She was alive, if nothing else. Shuffling back to bed, she stopped at the window. Her room seemed to be at least five stories up. A bright neon hotel sign was to the east. Beyond, blinking lights of an all-night Walgreens.
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br />   Again, the image of a man came to her, defying a reaction. “Shoot me,” he said. Her days had been so affected by guns, living each day strapped to a three-pound metal death piece. It had become her ambivalent life.

  Hey, Sarge. Did I wake you?” Todd looked freshly scrubbed, his white shirt set off by a slim reddish tie. His hair, a modified brush cut.

  “Nah, I’ve been awake off and on since three. What’s up, Mr. Military?”

  “Military? Please, those days are over. How you feeling?”

  “Pretty good. Slept a lot in the last few days. In and out.” Mostly out. Julie used the remote control to raise herself to a seated position. “Thanks for coming by. What you been doing?”

  “Checking on that pickup truck.” Todd pulled a chair up close to the bed.

  Julie wracked her brain for a connection.

  “We recovered it parked behind an all-night gas station on Central. All messed up on the right side, with paint from your Charger.”

  She tried faking it until she could catch up. “Was it—”

  “Yeah, stolen. No prints. Belonged to a kid who worked in a body shop.”

  “Did he check out?”

  “You have no idea what I’m talking about, do you?” Todd walked over to the window.

  Julie tried to put things together. A sketchy recollection of a truck, a guy.

  “You were forced off the road and—”

  “Wait, wait. I got it.” She sat up in her bed as Todd came back to the chair. “Some clown followed me, then pushed and forced me into a ditch or something, right?”

  Todd seemed amused. “Yeah, go on.”

  “You’re a prick, you know that? We were going on a case, in separate cars.”

  Todd held up his hand. “We were going to lunch, in separate cars.”

  Now she had it. The guy in the pickup followed her.

  “The kid who owned the truck had a perfect alibi.” Todd’s voice soothed her. “He was on a flight from Chicago, parked in the airport lot, it all checked out. He put his parking stub in his overhead visor, typical—”

  “The guy tried to kill me, Todd.”

  “How do you figure?”

  “He came up too close behind me. When I signaled him by, he dropped back instead.”

  “Wonder why?”

  “That bastard, ’cause we were coming up on that little farming burg. Ah, what the heck’s the name.” She’d gone blank again. “He waited until I sped up. I drifted off, thinking about lunch or something.”

  “Did you recognize him? Maybe some guy we busted holding a grudge, disgruntled con, anything?”

  Julie’s memory played tricks on her. She didn’t know if she should mention the face in the window. And was there a gun? “Who was the first one there?”

  “People were standing around looking at your car. There was an EMT guy, but I would say I was the first one down next to you in your vehicle.”

  Julie thought about the man with the baseball cap. “You see anything around the car, like wet footprints?”

  “Nah, it was all torn up. Mud, glass.”

  She still saw his image in her rearview mirror. “He came down and looked into, I think, the side window. That water from the ditch soaked his trousers. Did you hold my head out of the water?”

  Todd nodded. “Yes.”

  “I was somewhat cockheaded trying to keep my nose above water, but he looked at me and grinned.” She sighed, looking at all the dressings on her. “We need a good sketch artist.”

  “How much longer are you going to be in here?”

  “Not long, I hope.”

  “I’m going to bring that fellow—you know, the fat one that works for the county. You guys see if you can come up with an image. You sure about this being deliberate?”

  “Positive.”

  “I’ll be back with him later today.” Todd got up to leave. “Glad you’re back among the living.” He shuffled out as if there were more he wanted to say.

  Todd was a good man. Too young for serious consideration, but still a heck of a guy.

  A day nurse stage whispered from the door. “You have a visitor. It’s after hours, but I’ll bend the rules. Plus, he looks important. Keep it short, okay?”

  Captain Walker appeared in the doorway. “How’s our budding race car driver doing?”

  “I’ll let you know in a week or so,” Julie said, smiling. “No broken bones, slight concussion, a few scrapes. Aggravated my leg again. Nothing too serious. Thanks for dropping by, Captain.”

  “Can’t stay long, I came up yesterday morning, but you were out cold.” He removed his hat. “I’ve got a couple people checking your past cases. Devlin told me both of you discussed whether this scumbag driver might have been a guy you had arrested. Did the sketch artist come up with anything?”

  Julie shrugged. “We got an image of a guy in a cap and dark glasses with a shit-eating grin. Looks like a couple dozen guys I see every day.”

  Walker took a couple paces across the room and then back. “We find this guy, there’s gonna be some serious ass kicking. You need anything? Magazines, books, chocolates?”

  “Thank you. No, sir.” The man’s caring touched Julie. “The doctor says I’ll be going home day after tomorrow. Maybe take a couple days, if that’s all right?”

  He settled in closer to the bed and put his hand on her shoulder. “Take whatever you need.” He paused. “Damn, girl. What am I going to have to do, put a chain on you?” Walker smiled. “I’ve got a trooper sitting outside your door until we can get clear on all this BS.”

  “Do you think that’s necessary?”

  “I think that I’m not going to have my people threatened or run off the road while doing their jobs, is what I think. His name is Davis. He’ll be replaced at 0600, and so forth and so on, until you’re discharged. We’ll see how it goes after that.” He then left, pulling his hat down hard across his forehead.

  Julie made her way to the window. A minute later, Captain Walker emerged from beneath the overhang at the hospital entrance. He looked distracted as he crossed the parking lot. At one point, he stopped as if he’d forgotten something but then continued on to his car. A big, tough guy; bright and sensitive but always the solid policeman. Her dad had been a similar man, having died way too soon.

  She slept well, awakening only once in the night. A brief flash about something to do with the evidence room bothered her. She dismissed it and went back to sleep, thinking that her life as a cop had recently become more exciting than she would have wished for.

  After lunch, Cheryl and Julie’s friend Billie came to visit. Her daughter brought news of school, boys, bullies, and a recruiting drive for cheerleaders. “Wearing scanty pants and tight stuff on top is so much crap. I’d much rather just wear a sign saying ‘Available for sex. Apply within.’ ”

  Julie tut-tutted a few times over Cheryl’s free speech, but her daughter’s indomitable free spirit always buoyed her.

  Cheryl had been staying with Billie since the accident. Billie, an accountant, helped navigate the intricacies of Julie’s divorce and became good buddies when they discovered they’d dated some of the same losers in high school. Billie went through a similar manner of uncoupling. Still annoyed with her own ex, she relished helping Julie and her attorney map out her divorce settlement.

  “Do you mind, Willie, if Cher stays with you a bit longer?”

  Wilhelmina had gotten used to Julie’s nicknames for her. “Mind? Are you kidding? I wake up in the middle of the night having dreamt of cooking and cleaning up after darlin’ Cher baby.” She waved her chubby fingers at Cheryl and then let out a huge laugh. “Really, all kidding aside, not a prob. Right, baby doll?”

  Cheryl imitated an infant and waddled across the room toward Billie. “Cherwee wants her Aunt Billwee to make her fave-fave pasta with sausage for sup-sup.” She put her thumb in her mouth.

  “Oh, now I know why she likes staying with you.” Julie smiled. “You fall for all that baby-talk crap. So, what
’s going on with your latest? What’s his name again?”

  “My latest? I haven’t a clue as to what you are speaking of, madam.” Billie adapted a prim manner. “But it might be, of course, my Diet Constant. A lifestyle I’ve chosen to keep my figure within the boundaries of human decency.”

  Cheryl quieted her giggles, hand over mouth.

  “Why, just today a woman at the market asked if I knew where the sugar-free colas were kept. I took that as a compliment. A number of people stood about, and she could have asked anyone, yet she approached me.” She fluttered her hand in front of her face as if she were having the vapors. “But if you’re speaking of Jackass Johnnie, or Johnson, as he liked to be called, he beat it out of town after borrowing two hundred bucks from me.”

  Julie breathed a heavy theatrical sigh. “Ah, piss, Willie, where do you get these dudes?”

  “The internet.”

  “You’re joking.”

  “Yeah, I am. I met Jackass Johnnie at a gym I was trying out. One of those free workout deals. He said he was a masseur—yeah, right. Anyhow, Cher and I will be great. Don’t worry about a thing, rocket woman. You just get well.”

  Julie marveled at her friend’s humor. “If Cher misbehaves, call nine-one-one.”

  “Mom.” Cheryl extended the last m to make the word last an eternity.

  “What? I have to have your word that you’ll behave. Word?”

  “Yes. Word, Mom, word.”

  “Love you, kiddo.”

  The day had passed quickly, and Julie never missed feeling bliss when spending time with Cheryl. She loved her to distraction.

  Twilight set in as she nestled into the chair by the window and gazed out at Downtown Saint Louis. She knew her pursuit of the truck driver would be consuming, and the cold cases would just have to wait. She smiled at the captain’s admonishment of putting a chain on her. Chain. Why was that familiar? The chain was important because—the chain from the ring that Beverly Preston had found, the one she saw in the woman’s hand, where was it?