for him. He poured a cup and went outside to retrieve the morning paper, delaying facing her a moment more.
“Dale,” she hollered from the doorway.
He had thought a baby might help “the problem,” though he’d always known his job was the real issue.
Dale had always been a cop and always would be. And he was a damn good one at that. What he found more difficult was being a good husband and father.
When he came back into the house, she was waiting. Without making eye contact with her, he picked up Sammie and gave him a hug and kiss before settling his son back into his highchair.
Betty’s mouth turned down in a pout. “I’m serious. This is important.”
“Okay, okay. What is it?”
“I think that?”
His beeper went off.
“Don’t take it,” Betty said, her voice rising.
Ignoring her, he checked the number. “I have to, honey.”
He picked up the phone and dialed the number. He listened for a long moment and then hung up. Grabbing his jacket and holster, he threw Betty an apologetic look. “Sorry, I gotta go. Jimmy’s on his way. I promise we’ll talk tonight when I get home. Love you.”
He kissed her on the cheek and ran down the hall.
“I won’t be here when you get back.”
His backbone stiffened. Her words stopped him, frozen, his hand still on the doorknob. His insides tightened. He turned around. Betty stood right behind him now, an intense gaze in her eyes. The ambush was premeditated and even though he was a gifted investigator, he had never seen it coming.
“What do you mean?”
“You know what I mean, Dale. This isn’t coming out of the blue.”
A car horn honked.
He glanced toward the door and then back to his wife. “Damn it. Let’s talk about this tonight.”
She slid a white envelope out of her housecoat pocket. “Here. Like usual, I knew you wouldn’t have
“Don’t do this, Betty.”
“This is a long time coming. We both know it. It’s all there.” She pointed to the letter in his hand. “Read it whenever you want. But you’re not changing my mind.”
“What about Sammie?”
“He’s coming with me.”
A gloomy silence ensued. He hoped the silence would tempt her to say more, but she didn’t. His throat was dry, as if he’d just drunk a glass of desert sand. Unsure of his next move, he knew what he should do, but didn’t have the words.
Betty’s anger was warranted, but he was caught off guard nonetheless. She was right. This was overdue.
He took her hand. “Please, Betty. Just stay. I’ll make it right.” His voice lacked conviction and he knew it.
The horn honked again.
Betty sighed. “Just go. I know that’s where you’d rather be anyway.”
He moved in a trance-like state.
“What the hell took so long?” his long-time partner asked as Dale slid into the passenger seat. “Did Betty want to have one of her
Dale still didn’t say anything. Grief consumed him. He felt the bulge in his inside breast pocket, where Betty’s note was lodged.
“What the hell’s wrong with you?”
“Just drive, Jimmy.”
His partner pulled the car out of the driveway.
“What do we have?” Dale asked, still dazed.
“David called it in—a possible match to the Black Orchid case. The boys have him in a silver-and-black ‘69 Camaro on Highway 15.”
Dale felt the adrenaline start pumping.
The Black Orchid case involved six prostitutes killed within a three-week span. The killer had brutalized and sexually assaulted his victims. As of now, the only real lead was a local tattoo parlor owner.
Dale unholstered his weapon and checked the clip.
“How do you like your new Kimber Custom Stainless?” Jimmy asked.
“I love it. Better than that old revolver you still carry.”
Jimmy smiled. “Smith & Wesson, baby. But that’s my alternate duty weapon. I have a semi-automatic for my primary handgun, just like the department says we
“That’s true of everything until the first time it lets you down.” Dale thought of the talk he’d just had with Betty. “This isn’t the Wild West, Jimmy. I know they allow us to choose our own firearm, as long as they’re standard factory production, but you need to upgrade, man. An allowance is issued each year to replace our equipment.”
“Hey, it’s been approved by the Firearms Training and Tactical Unit and qualified quarterly.”
Dale laughed at his old-school partner.
“There they are,” Jimmy said, pointing to a row of black and whites following a Camaro. “Hang on.”
With the red-and-blue dome lights rotating on top of the cruiser, he pressed the gas pedal to the floor and they edged to the front of the pack, avoiding the dense morning traffic. Dale saw that the sheriff and FBI had vehicles in the chase too.
Without warning the Camaro veered off the Las Vegas freeway, taking West Flamingo Avenue and heading toward Spring Valley.
Jimmy cursed. “Where’s he going?”
“Turn here. We can cut him off at Palms Casino.”
They took a sharp left and sped down Hotel Rio Drive, breaking off from the pack, the sound of sirens fading.
Dale rubbed his face, trying to recall the shortcut. “Go here.” He pointed.
“Got it!”
Dale picked up the car radio. “Angela, I need the 592 blocked off at South Valley Boulevard heading east.”
As the hotel came into view, Jimmy had the accelerator to the floor. “Come on, you bastard,” he muttered.
Dale grabbed the dashboard. “Let’s not play chicken with this guy.”
The Camaro came to a screeching halt.
Jimmy braked and brought the cruiser face-to-face with the Camaro. The three black and whites had parked behind it, barricading the highway.
Dale let out a grunt. “We got him. Let’s go.”
The smell of burnt rubber filled the dry Nevada air.
Dale drew his gun and aimed at the Camaro’s driver-side window as he approached with caution. He could see the shadow of a man through the tinted windshield.
The engine revved.
“Get out of the car,” he ordered. “We have you surrounded.”
Without warning, the Camaro took off, heading straight toward them.
Dale and Jimmy opened fire. Bullets ricocheted off the grill and shattered the windshield. Dale aimed low, taking out the front passenger tire. The car flipped into a tailspin, end-over-end. They hit the ground as the car continued to roll, landing roof-to-roof on top of their own cruiser.
