“Jean, hand me my windbreaker, quick.” Nick sighed. “Hold the wheel, Wonder Woman.”
Jean handed Nick his windbreaker while Rachel held the steering wheel. Nick slipped into the jacket and pulled the hood up over his head, cinching it tightly. He reached across Rachel and popped open the glove compartment. Nick extracted the pepper spray and stun gun he had stored there.
“I’ll stop, jump out, and you get your Good Samaritan ass over into the driver’s seat. Keep going no matter what you see and wait for me at least twenty yards past the incident. If it doesn’t turn out well for me, get turned around and head back to Grace and Tim.”
Rachel tensed as Nick stomped on the brake, shifted into park, and leaped out of the car. Rachel exited her side and moved quickly to take his place. It took Rachel only a few seconds to get into the Malibu driver’s seat and shift the car into drive. She watched Nick jog toward the flashing lights. Rachel only caught brief flashes of his windbreaker hood as Nick moved along, staying close to the slow moving line of cars.
Nick saw the faces of mildly interested people gawking ahead, anticipating their soon to be front row seats to a possible tragedy. As he suspected, Nick saw cell-phones held out windows nearer to the fight. He shifted the stun gun to his left hand while positioning the pepper spray nozzle with his right. As he drew nearer, Nick saw the State Highway Patrol officer slip and go down on his back hard. His attacker straddled him with arms cascading closed- fisted blows on the downed officer. Nick noted the guy on top wore only a white t-shirt and jeans. His unkempt dark brown beard and long hair lent a wild aspect to the hulking figure.
Nick heard the mixed grunts and cries of rage, fear, and pending exhaustion, as the life and death struggle played out toward disaster for the patrolman. The bearded attacker stopped his assault and grabbed for the officer’s gun. The patrolman, spitting blood and gasping for breath, tried to cover the man’s access to his holster with both hands. This drew his attacker’s ire in the form of a one-fisted pummeling the officer had no defense for. Nick kept close to the cars, breaking into a run, knocking into arms and cell-phones, as he covered the remaining distance.
The patrolman gave up defense of his weapon, unable to withstand the pounding he was taking to his already shattered face. With a yelp of triumph, the bearded man seized the 9mm automatic, wresting it out of the patrolman’s holster with his left hand as he continued to smash the officer with his right fist. The side of Nick’s booted foot struck with the full power of his running leap into the man’s right ribcage. Rib bones cracked and the attacker shrieked in pain, pitching sideways off the patrolman, the weapon falling from his hand.
Nick followed through his kick, landing over the fallen officer, spraying the still screaming attacker full in the face with pepper spray. With calm, calculated movements, Nick then stunned the convulsing man, blue crackling arcs highlighting his relentless assault, until the man made no sound. Only the man’s heaving chest and jerking limbs gave any indication the attacker still lived. Nick heard cries of shock from the vehicles’ open windows as they passed by. He made sure he kept his face turned away from the people’s cameras. Nick pocketed his pepper spray and picked up the patrolman’s handgun with the sleeve of his windbreaker pulled over his right hand. He leaned over the officer, who had groggily rolled to his left, wheezing and gasping for air. Nick stuck his handgun into the empty holster and helped the patrolman up into a sitting position against his squad car’s rear door. The officer blinked tears and sweat away, his arms hanging at his sides limply.
“I doubt this clown will be moving, but if you’ll allow me, I’ll cuff the prick for you.” Nick looked closely at the officer’s eyes, trying to determine the patrolman’s state of consciousness.
Not in a condition to question his savior, the officer nodded slightly, and turned to allow Nick access to his handcuffs. Nick took them out of the pouch at the patrolman’s belt and went over to flip the bearded man over on his face, dragging the man’s hands behind his back and expertly cuffing him. Nick leaned down and wiped the cuffs with his windbreaker before returning to the patrolman.
“I have to leave. Will you be okay?”
“Tha…thank you…they…they just watched. He had my…gun…I -”
“Easy now,” Nick soothed, holding his hand up in front of the officer’s eyes. “Keep your focus. Did you get this called in?”
“No…I didn’t have time, he -”
“I’ll get it.” Nick noted the officer’s name was Tomlinson. He opened the driver’s side door, reached in with his windbreaker-covered right hand and called in an ‘officer down’ call, naming Tomlinson.
Nick left the driver’s door open and leaned over to Tomlinson again. He saw some clarity returning to the patrolman’s eyes. “Help’s on the way. Want me to kick the sucker on my way by for you?”
In spite of his painful condition, Tomlinson grinned a little, but shook his head slightly.
Nick ran off, ignoring the mixture of cheers and accusations, while he ran for the Malibu parked ahead. He ripped open the passenger door and dived in.
“Go, go, go,” Nick ordered Rachel.
Rachel spun the wheels slightly, kicking up dirt and loose gravel getting onto the road again. In minutes she had the Malibu on the freeway heading East, with Nick watching for possible looky-loos following them from the scene. Nick stripped off the windbreaker. He was drenched in sweat, and leaned back in the seat taking slow, deep breaths while enjoying the blast of cold air from the vents.
“I…I was wrong, Nick.” Rachel gripped the steering wheel stiffly. “That guy was a monster. He’d have killed me…and…I saw all the cameras. If -”
“You were right,” Nick interrupted, thinking of Tomlinson’s smashed face. “You made me do what was right and I don’t often know what’s right anymore. He would’ve killed the cop.”
Suddenly remembering Jean, Nick whipped around in his seat, peering back at the little girl appraisingly. “I don’t suppose you looked away as your Mom drove by, did you?”
“Nope,” Jean replied with a mixture of fear and awe. “Did you kill that guy?”
“No, but he ain’t happy.”
Jean giggled.
“Great.” Nick sighed, turning to the front again. “Another psycho in training.”
Chapter Seven
“Holy crap, Nick, this is yours too?”
Nick chuckled at Rachel’s tone as he drove the Chevy up into the driveway of a two story brownstone with an arched, extended stone patio entranceway. He left the car, ran over to the keypad at the entranceway and then reentered the Malibu. It was nearly three in the morning. They had stopped as infrequently as possible after the incident in Bakersfield and interacted with no one. Nick triggered the garage door with a remote he took out of his glove compartment. A late model black Cadillac Escalade could be seen shining in the lights which came on as the garage door opened. Nick parked the Malibu next to the Cadillac and used his remote to close the garage door. He shut off the engine and leaned back rubbing his eyes.
“Sorry we had to drive straight through like that.”
Rachel glanced back at Jean, whose head rested against a pillow, mouth hanging open in sleep, with Deke across her lap. “It was fine. Those two have been dozing on and off for the last few hours. Do you have this house furnished?”
“Yep. It may be dusty though. I only get out this way a couple times a year. It gets hotter here than in Pleasanton, so other than stopping in to check everything over, I really don’t visit very often. I pay the bills through an on-line PayPal account, so everything’s on and working. Want me to carry Jean in?”
“No, she needs to get ready for bed anyhow,” Rachel replied as they both exited the Chevy. “Do you have a
