The Trouble With Murder (31 page)

“The trace is complete. I’ve got
you. I’m tracking you through GPS now, in real time.”

“Excellent. How about some
directions?”

“No problem.”

A round of gunfire rang out. I
dropped the mic and ducked down as several bullets whizzed over my head,
putting a few new holes in the windshield. Immediately, water poured in,
running down the glass into the recesses of the dash. Fortunately, it wasn’t my
car. Otherwise, I’d have been pissed.

“Zoe! Are you there? That sounded
like more gunfire.”

I couldn’t answer her and keep the
Tahoe on the road.

I flipped back to 4H and felt the
tires grip the road with more surety. When the gunfire had stopped, I chanced
raising my head, ready to duck again. No more shots rang out. I could see the
cars were close, on my tail, but the drivers had stopped shooting. For the
moment.

“Zoe! Come in, Zoe!”

“I’m still here,” I said.

“Good grief, you scared me half to
death. There will be a crossroad coming up in about four hundred yards. You’ll
want to make a left.”

“Copy that. Where am I?”

“Up near Walden. Three hundred
yards now, Zoe.”

I strained to see through the wall
of water. It was useless; I couldn’t see enough to differentiate a crossroad
ahead.

“A hundred and fifty yards, Zoe.
And good news.”

“I could use some.”

“I’ve got Ellmann on the line.”

“How close am I? I don’t see a road.”

The dark landscape stretched out in
front of me in waves of hills, the entire area covered in evergreens, but I
could distinguish no road. The rain was too heavy now to make out anything but
large, looming shapes.

“Fifty yards,” Rita answered, her
voice steady and even.

“Count it down, please.”

“Forty, thirty-five, thirty . . .”

I knew I should be slowing down,
but the best I could do was let off the gas. I could see no differentiation
between the road Rita was directing me to and the rest of the dark, wet
surroundings.

“Fifteen, ten, nine,” she recited.

My heart hammered. I decided to
turn even if I couldn’t see the road. Seemed like I had less to lose that way.
And the Tahoe was an SUV, with an off-road package; that’s what it was for.

“Five, four, three . . .”

I reached for the four-wheel drive
controls, and the wipers swiped past. I caught the briefest glance before the
water was a wall against the glass again. And I saw it. There! The dark outline
of a road.

“Two, one, now.”

I flipped the control to 4H and
pulled the wheel to the left. As it had each time before, the SUV gripped the
road and shot forward, though I could tell the rain was taking its toll on the
dirt road. Behind me, others slid, but none lost control. I grabbed up the mic.

“Okay, now where?”

“It’ll be a couple miles on this
road.”

“What’s Ellmann have to say?”

I thought there was the slightest
hesitation.

“He was upset to hear about the
gunshots and bumper cars.”

“That’s a nice way of saying he’s
pissed.”

“Yes. Turns out they were headed
your way all along.”

“Where are they now?”

“On the other side of Walden. I’m
hoping you meet in the middle.”

Another round of gunshots rang out,
just to remind me how dire my situation was. I was extremely fortunate none of
the bullets so far had put a tire out or hit the gas tank and barbequed me. I
wasn’t sure how long that would last. I kept my head down until the shots let
up.

“I’m not sure I have that long,” I said.

“I’ve notified all units in the
surrounding area. No one is very close, and the rain isn’t helping, but I’ve
got everyone and their brother headed your way. Hang in there.”

I roared ahead, almost blind from
the downpour, along an unfamiliar, indistinguishable road in the middle of
nowhere, and I tried to keep my spirits up. I was sure things could be worse,
but I didn’t know how. Of course, I’d learned my lessons about wishing, so I
didn’t spend any time wondering just how much worse they could get. I didn’t
want to find out.

More shots rang out, and I ducked.
I couldn’t help the tears in my eyes. It was probably the fatigue. Or the exhaustion.
I mean, I can handle stress. And I had survived worse than this. But I was just
so tired. I was sure that was it.

When the shots stopped, I grabbed
the mic.

“Is there any way to put me in
touch with Ellmann directly?” I asked Rita.

“Zoe, is everything okay? You don’t
sound so good.”

“I’ll be fine. What about my
question?”

There was a beat of silence. “Give
me a minute.”

It was a long minute. There were
two more episodes of shooting, two skids, one near loss of control, and one
more bumper-kiss from the guy right behind me. The driver’s side mirror
erupted, the glass shattering and falling away, although the unit itself
remained affixed to the car. The rear quarter-panel window on the driver’s side
was also shattered. Several more holes adorned the windshield. Rain poured in
from all sides. And the heater, even at full blast, could no longer adequately
combat the cold wind blowing through the drafty car. Too much more of this
shooting crap and the windshield would be toast. When that happened, I’d have a
hard time continuing on; it would be damn near impossible to see through a river
pouring into the front seat.

“Rita!” I cried into the mic.
“Rita! How far to the next turn?”

A few more bullets whizzed by, and
I groaned in frustration, smacking my hand on the steering wheel.

“Aaahhh! Stop
shooting
!” I
snatched at the mic. “Rita! Damnit, come in!”

“Zoe! I’m here. I’m sorry, I’m
here.”

I blinked away the tears, and they
streaked down my cheeks like little ice cubes.

“Where am I going?”

“It’s a little over a mile before
you reach the next road. I’ve been talking to Ellmann. He’s going to switch to
the civilian frequency we’re using. I’m trying to work it out on this end,
because he and Koepke will be out of touch with dispatch once they do that.”

“They’ll still have you, right?”

“Yes, but that eliminates a lot of
the fail-safes we use. It requires a bit of adjusting.”

I sighed. “I just need to talk to
him. I’m sorry.”

“Please, as if I could stop him.”

I couldn’t help but chuckle.

I hit the button for the mic as
another round of bullets peppered the car. I dropped the mic in my lap and
ducked down, trying to keep the car steady.

“Zoe, let me hear from you.”

It was Ellmann. His voice was tight
with worry. I knew he’d heard the gunshots.

I had to wait until the gunfire
ceased. With each second that ticked by in radio silence, I knew Ellmann’s
anxiety was ratcheting up a notch. Mine wasn’t anxiety anymore. It was despair.
I was feeling the effects of the blood loss and fighting off constant nausea
and dizziness now. I wasn’t sure how much longer it would be until I passed
out.

When the shooting stopped, I picked
up the mic.

“I’m here,” I said. I didn’t have
to add, “for now.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yes. I’m sure I need to explain
some things.”

“Right now, I’m not interested in
that. You don’t sound okay.”

“And you sound scared.”

“That’s because I am.”

“Me too,” I confessed.

It had been a very long time since
I’d been truly scared, had felt the type of fear that grows out of the deepest
part of your being and spreads its icy-cold substance through your body like a
cancer. Before I got mixed up in this case, it had been thirteen years, six
months, two weeks, and two days. I remembered it well. And that was what I felt
now, oozing through me. It had reached the base of my spine, wrapped itself
around, and slithered upward. It made my hair stand on end.

_______________

“Zoe?” Rita still sounded calm and collected. I was very
grateful it had been her who had taken my call. “You’re turn is coming up. Make
a right in about five hundred yards. Want me to count it down?”

“I’ll let you know. If you don’t
hear from me, assume the answer is yes.”

I didn’t have to see Ellmann’s face
to know the look it held at my words. I was glad he didn’t say anything. I was
already having enough trouble.

When a person is faced with the
very real chance of death, they suddenly see all the things they should have
done, should have said, should have appreciated, should have celebrated. I saw
all those now, and then some. I could think of every situation in which I
should have been nicer, more patient, more understanding, more loving. I could
hear all the words I should have said to my family, my friends, my coworkers,
complete strangers. All the things I’d taken for granted, all the times I’d
pushed too far, come too close, given up too soon. All of it. I saw all of it.

Blinking away tears, I keyed up the
mic.

“Rita, I just want to say, I’m
really glad you answered my call.”

There was a beat of silence.

“Oh, honey,” she said. “I’m glad,
too. Unless you’re giving up. That would seriously piss me off.”

I chuckled, then sniffed back
tears.

“Ellmann,” I said. I could no
longer keep the tears from my voice.

“Zoe, don’t,” he said sharply,
before I could continue. “Don’t even think about it.”

“But if there isn’t another
chance—”

I stopped and released the mic key,
unable to even form the words.

“No,” he insisted. There was
something in his voice I’d never heard before, something I didn’t like, didn’t
want to name. He was trying to hide it, but wasn’t quite pulling it off. “No
way. You have something to say to me, you say it in person.”

It sounded good, and the idea appealed
to me, but I felt the fight seeping out of me. Probably in direct proportion to
the blood running out of my shoulder.

Keeping one eye on the last
remaining mirror, I searched for the road I was supposed to take up ahead.
Mostly all I saw was rain and darkness. I hadn’t seen any homes, any cars that
weren’t chasing me, or any street signs. I was about to ask Rita to count it
down when there was more gunfire.

As if reading my mind, her voice
came over the radio.

“Three hundred yards.”

It was impossible now for me to
steer with my left arm, the damage to my shoulder finally taking its toll. I
scrunched down in the seat, keeping my head out of the line of fire as best I
could while still being able to reach the wheel with my right hand. I drove
with little more guidance than a glance here and a glance there.

“Two hundred yards.”

I swerved to avoid at least some of
the bullets. I could hear them hitting the exterior.

“One hundred yards.”

They had to be running low on ammo
by now. How long until they exhausted their supply?

“Fifty yards.”

I bobbed my head up after a long
pause in the gunfire and looked over the road. In the rain, visibility was
twenty feet at best. If I’d had more energy or more sense, I would have been
more worried about my situation and the potential outcome. Instead, I was
focused on nothing more than the next task: get to the turn.

“Forty yards, thirty-five . . .”

I put my effort into keeping the
car on the road and not much else. Straining to see through the wet onslaught did
nothing but suck energy I didn’t have to spare. And I felt my brain struggling
to keep up now. Planning ahead was becoming difficult. It was much easier to
simply follow the directions at hand.

“Fifteen, ten, nine, eight . . .”

More gunshots rang out, and I slipped
down in the seat. Two bullet holes appeared in the windshield directly in my
line of sight, having zinged over my head, so close I’d felt them pass.

“Five, four, three . . .”

I’d reached the turn.

I touched the brake while switching
to 4L, then, on Rita’s count, I pulled the wheel to the right. Cutting the
corner a little short, I felt the tires on the passenger side roll off the
pavement briefly then bounce back onto it. I switched to 4H and hit the gas.

The spray of bullets had hit the
passenger side of the Tahoe directly during the turn, shattering two more
windows.

“Zoe?”

Ellmann’s voice was calling me. But
I was still hunkered down in the seat, trying to keep away from the bullets. I
didn’t have a hand to answer him. I felt the mic on my lap, but I couldn’t let
go of the wheel. I tried to reach for it with my left hand.

“Zoe, answer me.”

I couldn’t make my arm move, but my
fingers were still working. I pulled the baggy sweatshirt to the left, until my
fingers found the mic.

“Rita, is the car still moving?”
Ellmann asked. His voice was so strained I hardly recognized it.

I hit the button on the mic, but
realized Rita had hit hers at the same time. I released mine and heard the last
part of her transmission.

“—moving toward your position.”

“I only got half of that,” he said,
more hopeful. “Someone keyed you out. Zoe? Tell me you did that.”

“Yes,” I called as a bullet tore
through the headrest of the passenger seat and pierced the windshield. “Bad
timing. Sorry.”

“I hear gunshots.”

“Yes. The little bastards won’t
stop shooting!” I cried, more out of frustration than anything else. I was
really,
really
tired of gunshots.

“Rita, where is she? How far away?”

“There was a lot of interference
with the cell connection, and we lost it. Last known position was approximately
ten miles from you.”

“Where am I supposed to turn?” I
asked.

“You don’t worry about that,” Rita
said. “I’ll reroute everyone else to meet you on this road.”

“Hurry,” I said over a soundtrack
of gunfire.

When there was a break in the shooting,
I sat up, though the effort was enough to cause unconsciousness to dance at the
periphery of my mind. I could see a structure through the trees on the left: a
house. As I flew forward, I saw another house on the right.

The more populated area led me to
believe I was closer to town, and hopefully closer to Ellmann, Koepke, and
their backup. I heard Rita and Ellmann on the radio chattering in official cop
tones, using cop phrases, and I realized it was coming to me through a fog.

With the more-frequent dwellings
was more light. As I passed beneath a streetlight at the end of a long
driveway, I caught a glimpse of my arm. The blood had soaked through the
sweatshirt to my elbow, the material hanging heavily on that side.

I didn’t know how long I’d been on
this road, but it felt like forever. The battle to keep myself from passing out
was a losing one, I knew. I flew by another house on the left, visible through
the trees, as the others were. A ways down the road, I made out a clearing in
the trees on the right. Through the rain, I could see a cabin sitting in the
clearing with lights on in the windows. I also saw, too late, the road curve
around to the left.

I was going too fast. I reached for
the switch at the same time the bullets started flying again. I managed to get
it to 4L, but I lost control. I touched the brakes and tried to direct the
Tahoe to the left, but one of those bullets finally hit the tire, which had,
statistically speaking, only been a matter of time. The tire blew as the SUV
was rounding to the left. The combination caused the tire to lift off the
ground and push the Tahoe over, off the road.