“Jack!” Casey shoulder-charged through the front door once she heard the gunshots. “Jack!”
I looked up. Robbie had run out the back door. It was swinging open. Casey sprang into the room, gun drawn, and head bandaged.
“Casey.” I gripped my leg, checking for blood. There wasn’t much pain, but I wondered if that was because of my dazed head. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m here to save your butt, apparently.” She had her gun pointed at the back door, which was left swinging open by Robbie as he fled. “You hit?”
I took my hand away from my thigh. There was blood, but not a lot of it. I pulled at my jeans and looked at the wound. It was only a graze. “Nothing a small bandage couldn’t fix. The shot only scraped my thigh.”
“Then what are you waiting for?” Casey kept her gun focused on the back door. “Stop feeling sorry for yourself and start running after him.”
I stood and the pressure on the leg hurt a little, but it was nothing major.
“He’s the killer, Casey, and he’s armed,” I said and began to check the back door. I peered out and checked the surroundings, spotting Robbie’s shadow climbing over the waist high fence. I signaled to Casey behind me. “Robbie!” I called out. “It’s over.”
He didn’t stop to look back, racing down the street.
I signaled to Casey that it was time to go, and she came out with her weapon pointing straight. When she saw the coast was clear, Casey charged forward, leaping over the fence first and I followed.
Before Casey could fire a shot, or even call his name again, Robbie McAdams was in the front seat of his sedan, roaring out of the parking spot on the side of the road.
“My truck,” I yelled to Casey as the car raced past us. Within seconds, I was in the driver’s seat of my truck, with Casey in the passenger seat. Fueled by adrenaline, I screeched the tires of the truck after Robbie.
“Mind filling me in?” Casey yelled as she gripped the door.
“Jeffery Stone was Robbie’s stepfather. Stone raped Robbie as a child and got away with it in court.” I threw the truck around corner after corner, in pursuit of the serial killer. “Waltz, Hudson, and Fittler were all part of the defense team that got Stone off the charges. They were all his targets. This was all a personal vendetta.”
“DiMarco?”
“Not involved. Robbie runs the website, ‘D-TAL,’ and DiMarco uploads the videos. DiMarco doesn’t even know Robbie.”
“He was after justice,” Casey said as she was thrown around the car. “You should let him go, Jack. Let the cops deal with it.”
“I won’t let him get away. Not after he attacked you.” I gripped the steering wheel and yanked the truck out of the street and onto the four-lane main road. “And if he gets away now, we’ll never see him again. His plan was to disappear into the wilds of Alaska as soon as Fittler was killed.”
Robbie’s sedan was four cars in front. I floored the truck to make up the distance. The speedometer moved past 75 miles an hour. Robbie must’ve seen me closing in and took the next turn, screeching in front of another vehicle. I followed.
“Slow down, Jack!” Casey gripped the edge of her seat. “Don’t lose it!”
“Hold on.” I gritted my teeth as I yanked the steering wheel. “And buckle up.”
I thundered my truck past the traffic on the off-ramp, and flew across the next intersection, speeding through the red light. The traffic crossing the intersection broke hard, their horns howling through the night air. One car clipped the back of my truck, but I didn’t stop. I thundered the truck harder, faster, dropped it back another gear.
Robbie was barely fifty yards away from us. His sedan weaved through the traffic on the main road. I followed, determined to catch him.
“He killed them all, Casey.” I grunted. “For revenge.”
“Where’s your weapon?”
“He took it,” I said. “There’s another one in the glove compartment.”
Casey leaned forward while being thrown around in the fast moving truck, and opened the latch. She removed the gun, checked to make sure it was loaded, and then passed it across to me.
I put the gun in my holster, and then dropped the truck back another gear, roaring through the gears with aggression. The sedan turned sharply onto a side street. I gripped the handbrake, yanked the steering wheel, and followed. My truck slid across the road, almost out of control, until the tires gripped and raced forward. The speed bump in front of us did little to slow us down.
Lights flashed past. Cars pulled out of the way. Robbie was closer now.
Robbie’s driving was erratic. I could see that he was reaching across to the other side of the car, trying to reload his gun at the same time. He was inches away from crashing numerous times.
I closed the gap again, flooring the accelerator, thundering past cars on both sides of the road. I got close to his sedan and clipped the back corner of the car. Robbie’s vehicle slid and weaved, until he regained control. Robbie wasn’t stopping, and nor was I.
“Jack!” Casey yelled as we narrowly missed a pole. “Watch out!”
I ignored her. Robbie was the target. We sped through the streets, building after building zipping past us. I passed cars with disregard for safety, full of anger. I planted my foot on the accelerator, almost pushing it through the floor. I gripped the steering wheel tight. My vision was focused. Casey continued shouting at me, but it was white noise to me now. With my foot on the floor, with no margin for error, I tested my truck and my driving ability. My body was thrown side to side, slamming against the door, as
