as Kylie spotted Des’s cruiser she’d shoved Joanie, age sixty-one, roughly to the floor and escaped out the door. Joanie, who’d known Kylie for the girl’s entire life, suffered a dislocated elbow.
Des climbed out of her cruiser and motioned Kylie to get out of her Honda. “Come on, Kylie, let’s talk this out!”
Kylie floored it, the Honda’s wheels spinning and spinning. She was absolutely determined to rabbit on Des.
“Kylie, stop this, will you?”
No use. Kylie’s wheels caught hold and she went skidding out of the lot onto Big Branch heading way too fast in the direction of Old Boston Post Road. Des considered letting her go. Simply putting out a BOLO alert. She had Kylie’s license plate number. Knew where the girl lived. But she was concerned. Kylie was so panicky that she might crash into somebody. And so, reluctantly, Des took off after her, hoping that the reality of seeing flashing lights in her rearview mirror would jolt some sense into the little fool.
It was the most pathetic high-speed chase Des had ever been involved in. Not that it qualified as a high- speed chase, since neither of them could do more than twenty in the dense snow. And Des wasn’t even trying to gain ground. She didn’t want to make Kylie drive faster in these blizzard conditions. Just wanted her to know that it was pointless to keep going and that she ought to do the sane, adult thing and pull over.
Good luck with that.
At the intersection with Old Boston Post Road Kylie ran the red light, which ranked as the least of her worries right now, and attempted a sharp left turn. Instead, she made a full 360-degree doughnut in the deep snow before she came to a complete stop right in the middle of the intersection. Thankfully, there were no other cars around. Des came to a halt twenty feet away and gestured for Kylie to get out of the Honda.
And good luck with that.
Kylie floored it again and went slip-sliding her way north on Old Boston Post Road in the direction of Uncas Lake. Again, Des thought about leaving her be. But the girl presented a clear danger to herself and others. Des couldn’t just let her go.
The Post Road had been plowed within the past few minutes. Or at least a single lane had. Kylie powered her Honda all of the way up to thirty as she headed north in the center of the plowed lane. Des continued to give her plenty of room, praying that they didn’t encounter any oncoming traffic. As she went past the turnoff for Frederick Lane Kylie caught up with the town’s big orange plow truck and began to overtake it. Reality alert: Only a total nutso tries to pass a snowplow in the middle of a blizzard. Kylie Champlain had gone total nutso. Actually veered around the plow truck and started to pass it. Until, that is, she practically drove head-on into the oncoming Dodge Ram that was inching its way down the Post Road. The Dodge Ram had to slam into a snowbank to avoid her as Kylie hit her brakes and spun out in the middle of the road. The plow truck driver had no chance to stop. Roared right on past her-missing her Honda by no more than six inches. Des brought her cruiser to a stop as Kylie sat there behind the wheel, eyes bulging with fright. The Dodge Ram’s driver climbed out, waving his arms and cursing.
Des got out of her cruiser. “Please stop this, Kylie! Someone’s going to get hurt!”
The girl was busy reaching for something now. Rolling down her window and throwing something out of the window into the road-the Ugg boots that she’d stolen.
“That’s a good start, Kylie! Now why don’t
But the little fool floored it again. Skidded around Des and started her way back down Old Boston Post Road in the direction they’d just come from. Des made sure that the Ram’s driver was unhurt and had a working cell phone. Then she tossed the damned Ugg boots in her cruiser and took off after Kylie.
Now she had her siren on. Now she was pissed.
Back down at the intersection with Big Branch, Kylie tried to make a right turn and spun out again-only this time she caromed hard off of a Lexus that was waiting at the stoplight. But Kylie didn’t stop, wouldn’t stop. Just revved her engine until her wheels caught hold and slid her way back toward the shopping district, picking up speed as she went along. She was going way too fast when she arrived at the intersection where Big Branch dead-ended at Route 156. Directly across from the stoplight sat an old wood-framed house that had been converted into commercial office suites.
Now the girl had a choice to make. If she turned right she’d be heading north alongside the Connecticut River toward Dorset’s bucolic farm country. If she turned left she’d be on her way down to the beach.
Left. She decided to go left.
She never made it.
Her Honda went into an uncontrolled spin and barreled head-on into the ground-floor suite of the office building. The sound of the crash was like a bomb going off in the snowy quiet.
Des radioed for emergency backup, then jumped out and ran to the Honda, which had hit the wooden building so hard that it ripped through the exterior
Kylie’s door had popped open and her air bag had deployed. “My ankle!” she howled in pain. “My ankle!”
“Just try to relax and breathe, Kylie. Help is on its way.”
“I’m sorry, Trooper Des! I’m so sorry!”
“It’s okay. You’re going to be okay.”
“No, I’m not! My mom’s gonna
“Just keep breathing in and out, okay? I’ll be right back.”
“Don’t leave me!”
“I’m not. I’m right here, I promise.”
Des rushed inside the building. The ground floor front office belonged to Josie Cantro. The life coach’s office door was locked but the frame had been knocked off-kilter by the crash, as if an earthquake had struck. Des shoved the door open with her shoulder and found, well, what she found was Josie groping around on the floor next to the office sofa for her jeans. Josie was naked. So was Casey Zander, who’d been getting busy with Josie on the sofa before Kylie and her Honda had so rudely interrupted them. Josie’s camisole and panties were on the floor next to her jeans-ripped to shreds. Her left eye was swollen half-shut. She looked as if she’d been punched. Looked plenty dazed, too. So did Casey, whose forehead was bleeding. Fallen ceiling tiles were everywhere. Apparently, one of them had hit Casey, who was someone Des could happily have gone her entire life without ever seeing naked. Paulette’s son didn’t seem to be constructed out of muscle, bone or sinew. Just jiggly, moon-white blubber. He reminded Des of one of those grubs she sometimes dug up in the garden and had to squash.
She stood there in stunned silence, listening to the old building creak and groan around her. Steam hissed from the Honda’s blown radiator. The baseboard heating pipes had ruptured and water was streaming from them onto the floor. Sheetrock powder wafted down from up above. Off in the distance, she could hear the sirens of the emergency responders.
“I–I thought the roof had collapsed,” Josie stammered finally. “From the weight of so much snow.”
“It may just do that. You’re not safe in here. Get your clothes on and get out of here.”
Neither of them moved. Just stared at her, blown away.
“Listen to me, if you folks don’t get your clothes on
Josie nodded her head, blinking.
“Good. Now hurry up and get out. I have to search the rest of the building.” Des darted back out into the hall. Josie’s downstairs neighbor, a seamstress who did alterations and tailoring, was closed due to the storm. So were the accountant and home computer consultant upstairs. Josie and Casey were the only ones in the building. They were dressed by the time Des made it back down. Josie was rummaging through her desk drawers.
“Josie, what do you think you’re doing?”
“I have to collect my files,” she explained, her swollen eye twitching.
“No way. Not until the building inspector says it’s okay. Let’s go!”
The Jewett girls and two of Dorset’s fire trucks had already made it to the scene. The volunteer firemen were attempting to extract Kylie Champlain from behind the wheel of her car. But Kylie was so freaked out that she was fighting them. Madge had to subdue her with an injection before they could wrestle her out of the car and stabilize her ankle. It was a bad break. Des could see bone sticking out of skin.
The rest of the men were preparing to search the building. Des assured them it was unoccupied. She also ordered them to stay out of Josie’s office-which, as of right now, she was regarding as a potential crime scene.
