A minute later, the wail of sirens filled the air. Ryker craned his neck, trying to locate the source of the sound. Highways were under the control of the Wisconsin State Patrol and he hoped they’d arrive soon.
“There!” Duncan must have been on the lookout for them, too. He gestured to the side-view mirror. “They’re about three miles back, but coming up from behind.”
“The police will save us, right?” Aaron asked.
“For sure.” Ryker smiled at the little boy, then peered back over his shoulder. He still couldn’t see the police from this angle. But he did notice the black SUV abruptly slow down and veer into the right lane. “Hey, I think Blake-Moore is giving up the chase.”
“I hope so.” Marc’s voice was calmer now. “Can you make out the license plate?”
Ryker narrowed his gaze, trying to see the letters and numbers. It wasn’t easy since they were going so fast and the SUV was slowing down. “Frank, Oscar, Tom...” He sighed. “I can’t see the rest. They’re exiting the highway.”
“Call dispatch. Let them know what we have on the license plate so far,” Marc said.
Duncan spoke into the phone again as Marc gently slowed his speed. Within seconds, the police car came up behind them.
Marc pulled over to the shoulder and stopped the car. He peeled his fingers from the steering wheel, but kept his hands visible after pulling out his badge and lowering the driver’s-side window.
“FBI Special Agent Marc Callahan,” he said as the state patrol officer approached. He opened his badge so the trooper could look at it more closely.
“And I’m with the Milwaukee PD, Officer Duncan O’Hare,” Duncan added. “I made the 911 call.”
“I saw the dent in your rear bumper and just heard the first three letters of the license plate number come through over the radio.” The state patrol officer bent forward to look into the back seat of the vehicle. “Who are you?”
“Former army Sergeant Ryker Tillman,” he introduced himself, using his military background, rather than his security-consulting business. “And this is Olivia and Aaron.” He purposefully left off their last names.
“Hi, Mr. Police man.” Aaron’s initial fright after being hit by the SUV seemed to have faded under the novelty of having the police arrive.
“Hi.” The patrol officer flashed a quick smile.
“As you can see, Olivia is pregnant and having contractions,” Ryker continued. “We need to get her to the closest hospital as soon as possible.”
“Contractions?” The patrol officer appeared taken aback by the news. “Hey, no one mentioned a pregnant woman and a kid.”
“My fault,” Duncan said, although Ryker knew he’d omitted the details about Olivia and Aaron on purpose. “I was just so worried we’d crash. Thanks for getting here so quickly.”
The patrolman looked at Marc who had replaced his badge in his pocket. “Are you working a case? Is that why you were targeted?”
“I am on a case, yes, and this incident may be related.” Marc shrugged. “I have a call in to the FBI office in Madison. I’d like to discuss this with them first, before I give you additional details.”
The patrol officer frowned. “The attempt to run you off the road happened in my jurisdiction.”
“I know, and I very much appreciate your quick response.” Marc’s smile was strained. “I’m happy to give you more information as soon as I run it through official channels. You know how the upper brass is. They always have to be in charge. They act like those of us with boots on the ground can’t make a decision, which is bull.”
“True that.” The patrol officer must have appreciated Marc’s honesty, as he nodded and handed over a business card. “Okay, Agent Callahan. I’ll expect to hear from you soon. In the meantime, we have a BOLO out on the black SUV with a partial plate of Frank, Oscar, Tom.” The guy hesitated, then added, “You want a police escort to the hospital?”
“I think we’re okay, but if you’d put the word out to the other patrol officers, I’d appreciate it.”
“Will do.” He tipped his hat.
“Thanks again.” Marc rolled up his window and waited for the trooper to return to his squad car before easing their SUV back onto the interstate.
“Where to? Do we need to go to the Madison FBI office?” Ryker could tell Olivia was still experiencing contractions.
“No, the hospital.” Marc met his gaze in the rearview mirror. “I want Olivia to be seen by a doctor ASAP.”
“Me, too.” He took Olivia’s hand in his. “You’ll go to the ER, won’t you?”
“Yes.” The way she readily went along with the plan only emphasized the seriousness of the situation. Olivia would never agree to be seen unless she was truly concerned about her condition.
About the baby’s condition.
Ryker listened to her deep, rhythmic breathing, hoping, praying that this was nothing more than Braxton-Hicks brought on by stress. Being rear-ended by the Blake-Moore SUV could have made the contractions worse, right?
Maybe now that they were safe, at least for the moment, the contractions would stop.
Olivia’s hand tightened over his, killing his feeble hope. The tightness corresponded with whatever new contraction she was experiencing. Her grip remained tight around his hand until the pain eased.
Oh yeah, there was no doubt about it.
Olivia was in labor.
He closed his eyes on a wave of despair, knowing he’d almost failed in his mission to keep her, Aaron and the baby safe.
The contractions were a good ten minutes apart, but strong enough to steal her breath.
“Where’s the closest hospital?” Ryker asked.
“Not any hospital,” she protested. She shifted in her seat, trying to get into a more comfortable position. “I want to go to the teaching hospital where my original OB works.”
She sensed Ryker’s impatience. “It’s too far away.”
“I have time—the contractions aren’t that close. Besides, if this baby is coming early I want to be in the best hospital with the best neonatal intensive care unit.” She gritted her teeth as her abdomen
