Forever Man (32 page)

Webber eyed Kevin warily. “Um…name’s Webber. Friend of your dad’s.”

“You—you can…” stammered Jack, dumbfounded.

Kevin frowned up at his dad. “Do you know him?”

Jack hesitated, then nodded. “Yes, he’s my friend.
Our
friend. He’s here to help us.”

Kevin held his father’s gaze for a few moments. Breaking eye contact, he turned and pointed a finger at Webber. It seemed such an insignificant gesture, but the blood drained from Webber’s face. The man stepped around the unconscious girl’s body, placed the couch between him and Kevin.

For the first time since Jack had known him, there was fear in the Webber’s eyes.

Kevin kept his finger pointed at Webber. “Did you hurt her?”

“Jack,” Webber said anxiously. “Talk to your son. Keep him there. Remember our deal. You help me with Kevin, I help you later.”

Jack frowned, his eyes traveling between Kevin and Webber. What was going on here?

Kevin was panting now, his right hand clenched into a fist.

“You h-hurt her.”

Webber put his hands up, palms out. “Hey, come on. That was an accident. She’ll be fine. Really. Point is, I’m not going to hurt
you
. So why don’t you be a good boy and stay right where you are?”

Kevin took a defiant step forward.

“There’s s-something d-different about you. S-something I f-f-feel.” He shook his head. “I d-don’t think I like y-you.”

“Jack,” Webber called out. “What did I say? Keep him away from me.”

“Kevin,” Jack said, putting as much parental authority into his voice as he could. “Come here, son.”

Kevin jerked his head around to look at his dad. He was blinking now. His right fist hammered his thigh over and over. “B-but you d-d-don’t—”

“Yes,” Jack said gently. “I do.” Then he smiled and held out his arms.

Jack watched as Kevin’s expression changed; his sense of
being there
faded like water into parched earth. A tremor ran through his son’s body, hard enough to make his clothes flutter. Then Kevin’s awareness returned. His son looked at him once more.

“I t-trust y-you, Dad. And l-l-love y-you. B-but….” Kevin paused, his brow coming together in a frown. Then his eyes widened in horror. He began to shake his head violently. “N-n-no, n-not you. N-n-not y-you!”

“Kevin? Son, what’s the matter?”

“I-I-I-I-I—” Kevin spluttered. And he was gone.

Watching his son’s efforts almost broke Jack’s heart. He still had his arms out, and Kevin rushed into his embrace. His son’s eyes roamed in the room, fixing on everything except the one thing Jack wanted them to.

Him.

Holding Kevin close to his chest, he stared at Webber. “What the hell was that?”

Webber shook his head. “It’s not something I was expecting.” He looked around the house, as if he was just now remembering where he was. “Shit, we gotta get out of here. Come on, Jack. We need to leave
now
.”

Wrapping one arm under Kevin’s thin legs, Jack lifted his son up into his arms. He walked over to the couch, grabbed his son’s jacket, threw it over the boy. Looking down, he nodded toward Bridgette.

“What about the girl?”

Webber shook his head again. “Leave her. No time. We’re out of here.” He bolted for the door and threw it open.

Jack ran after him. Kevin squirmed in his arms, reached up with one hand and raced a finger lightly over Jack’s chest. At some point known only to his son, the finger stopped and tapped on his breastbone.

“Fickle-fek,” Kevin said in his silly, sing-song voice.

Hurrying after Webber, Jack shot a curious look at Kevin, wondering where the boy had ever heard the creature’s name.

*   *   *

Izzy told Gene to turn right. He jerked the wheel around, but the Explorer was going too fast. Once again, its back end began to swerve, the tires spinning in the snow.

Muttering a curse under his breath, Gene struggled for a few moments, tapping the brakes and turning into the slide. When he’d finally pulled them out of it, he asked, “How much farther?”

“Just up ahead,” answered Izzy.

“Third house on the left past the intersection,” added Katie from the back seat.

About half a block from the intersection, Izzy saw the door to Katie’s house open. Webber came hurrying out, followed by Jack Sallinen with Kevin in his arms. They were headed toward the Silverado parked in the driveway.

“There they are. Gene, once we get past the intersection, pull over. I’ll deal with them. Everyone stays in the car. These guys are armed. I don’t want anyone else getting hurt.”

Owens and Katie voiced agreement. Gene nodded. Then his eyes darted left and he swore. Izzy leaned forward to look out the window.

An old, snow-covered Chevy Impala was rapidly approaching the intersection from the west. Someone had tried to scrape snow from the windshield, but the storm had thrown more at it. Its narrow wipers beat back-and-forth, attempting to make a clear spot so the driver could see.

“Too fast,” Gene muttered. He gripped the steering wheel until his knuckles were white. “He’s coming too fast.”

Izzy didn’t have a choice. She hit a switch on the Explorer’s dashboard. Bar light on the roof came alive, flashing blue and red.

The Impala’s brake lights lit, but it didn’t stop. Rather, it began to coast forward on the slick pavement.

Farther down the road, Webber spun around. He stared at them for a moment, then climbed into the Silverado.

“Gene,” Izzy said. “We can’t lose them now.” I can’t lose the only lead to my daughter.

The Impala continued to glide into the intersection. The driver wasn’t even trying to pump the brakes.

“Okay,” Gene called out. “Everybody hang on.” He hit the gas. The SUV surged ahead, the engine roaring as he tried to accelerate past the Impala. But the tires couldn’t get enough traction in the loose snow. They weren’t building up enough speed. They weren’t going to get by in time.

Whatever the other driver was doing, it must have been every wrong thing they taught you to avoid in driver’s education. The Impala’s front wheels turned, and its back end started to swing around toward the Explorer.

Gene swore and mashed down on the accelerator, trying to pull past the oncoming car. And still the Impala came toward them, the gap between them closing rapidly.

The Impala’s driver must have seen that it wasn’t going to work. In a last-ditch effort to avoid a collision, he jerked the wheel around while simultaneously hitting the brakes. The Explorer slid in the same direction as the Impala. Like two boxers circling one another in a ring, the cars’ momentum carried the SUV away from and around the approaching Impala. For a brief moment, Izzy’s hopes soared as she thought Gene had done it, that he’d managed to avoid a collision.

Then the Impala hit them. Its back bumper slammed into the Explorer’s front quarter panel in a crunch of plastic and metal. The impact shoved the SUV sideways. Izzy’s seatbelt bit into her chest as she was thrown against the door. In the back, Katie slid into Bart; the old man managed to wrap his arms around her shoulders, keeping her from tumbling onto the floorboard. In addition to his seatbelt, Gene’s grip on the steering wheel helped keep him from being jostled about. The SUV continued to spin until it hit a curb, where it finally jerked to a stop.

Izzy was out of the SUV within seconds. The Silverado was almost clear of the driveway. She drew her gun and aimed. She needed to stop them, but she had to be careful. Kevin was in the cab.

She fired. The bullet plowed into the truck’s rear fender. Webber didn’t slow down. The Silverado continued into the street.

She squeezed off another shot. Then another. The Glock bucked in her hands. The rounds slammed into truck’s body, punching large holes into the metal.

That got Webber’s attention. He stopped. A door opened and Denny Cain jumped out. He was holding the hunting rifle she’d seen yesterday. Izzy dove to one side as Denny took aim and fired. Snow erupted inches from where she’d been standing. She fired from the ground. The shot went wild. Again. The second ricocheted off the Silverado’s roof next to Denny’s head.

The man ducked. Then he brought the rifle up, his aim tracking away from Izzy—

—and toward the Explorer.

“No,” Izzy shouted, firing. The shot went wide.

Denny paused for a moment, and then he fired. The rifle’s report seemed to echo in Izzy’s ears.

Because of the spin, the Explorer’s back end was facing Denny. His shot blasted through the rear window. Right at where Katie and Owens were sitting.

Izzy scrambled to her feet as Denny jumped back into the Silverado. The truck sped off down the street.

They had gotten away. 

Choking back her frustration, Izzy hurried over to the Explorer. She yanked the rear door open.

At first she thought Owens and Katie had both been hit. The old man covered the smaller girl. Then Owens stirred and sat up. Beneath him, Katie looked up at Izzy. She smiled weakly.

Izzy breathed a sigh of relief. “For a second there—”

“Izzy,” Owens said. He was looking toward the driver’s seat.

Turning, she saw Gene slumped to one side, his seat belt keeping him from falling over. From where she stood, he didn’t look hurt. But he wasn’t moving.

She opened his door. Reaching in, she grabbed his shoulders and pulled him upright.

Her hand came away wet with blood.

Izzy ignored the blood on her hand and gently turned Gene’s head.

The owner of the Lula had been very fortunate. Denny’s shot had grazed the side of his head near his temple. Had the round hit just a bit lower, he’d have lost his ear; had it hit more directly, he’d be dead. As it was, the skin had been split, and he was bleeding down the side of his face.

“There’s a first-aid kit in the trunk,” she told Owens.

Gene began to stir as the passenger door opened, and Bart Owens slid in the seat with the first-aid kit in his hand.

“I’ll take care of Gene,” he said, opening up the kit and pulling out some gauze pads. “Someone should see to Katie’s friend.”

Katie started to get out of the car, but Izzy stopped her. “I’ll go check on Brittany. But you can do something. Go see if the driver of the other car is all right. If he is, tell him it’s okay to go. Right now, I’ve got more things to worry about than a bad driver.”

Katie jumped out of the SUV and headed over to the Impala.

“I’ll be right back,” Izzy told Owens. Then she hurried to Katie’s house.

In the living room, she found Brittany Parsons sitting on the floor, groggy, shaken, but alive. She had a nasty lump on the back of her head, but otherwise she appeared to be fine. After reassuring the girl that they would do everything to find Kevin, Izzy radioed in for a patrolman to come and take Brittany’s statement, and then afterward, drive her home.

Back outside the house, she saw that the Impala had already left. Katie was making her way back to the Explorer. Izzy hurried to catch up.

Snow had piled up on the SUV already, covering the windows and blowing into the open space where the rear window used to be. It also began filling in the tracks she’d made walking over to Katie’s house.

When she reached the Explorer, Izzy checked on Gene. Owens had finished wrapping a bandage around the dressing, covering Gene’s wounds. She breathed a sigh of relief when Gene turned to look at her.

“And I thought my back hurt.” He blinked hard and took a deep breath. “It feels like a bunch of kids played kick-the-can with my head.”

Owens said, “The wound was shallow. Stitches would probably be a good idea, but other than his headache, I can’t find anything else wrong with him.” He gave Gene a wry smile. “You should be dead, you know.”

Gene chuckled. Izzy remembered that Gene had said the exact same words to Owens only a few hours ago.

“So you’re a doctor, too?” she asked Owens.

“Medic, remember? Couple of World Wars ago. I learned a lot.”

Katie had slid into the back seat. “Brittany?”

“A little frazzled, that’s all,” Izzy replied. The news was met with looks of relief.

Gene sat up a little straighter. “What happened with Kevin?”

“They got away,” said Izzy, spitting out the words like they were broken teeth. “But I don’t intend on letting them get far. Gene, do you think you could move to the passenger’s side?”

“Hell, yes,” Gene said and exited the SUV. “Let’s go get ‘em.”

Izzy’s gaze slid over to Katie, then Owens. “I’m still worried—”

“I am
not
staying behind,” Katie interjected. “These guys killed my mother. That gives me the right to be here.”

“I’ll keep my eye on her,” Owens said. “They’ll have to kill me to get to her.”

Izzy wanted to argue the point, but she was running out of time. She climbed into the Explorer. Grabbing the mic hanging from the police radio, she updated the APB for Webber’s Chevy Silverado: it had three bullet holes in the left rear body of the car. And they now had a hostage.

Next she had her dispatcher send out notices to Marquette’s airport and the area bus terminals with the descriptions of all four individuals.

“Maybe we’ll get lucky,” she said as she hung up the mic. “Somebody might see them.”

Izzy straightened out the SUV and headed in the direction the Silverado had gone. With the rear window missing, it was getting colder inside the Explorer. She kept the heat cranked up to high. The snow appeared to be easing up—the only thing going in their favor.

Traffic here had been minimal. She could see the Silverado’s tracks turning left on Baker Street. She followed them. The next stop was Asher.

Now that they had Kevin, Webber and Jack would be headed out of town. A left on Asher would take them northwest toward the airport in Marquette and then on to Wisconsin. Right would lead southeast to the two bridges that provided ways out of the Upper.

She rolled to a stop. Being the main road through town, traffic here was heavier. And the road had been plowed.

She pounded the steering wheel with her fist. There were no tracks. She couldn’t tell which way Webber had turned.