2
Travers said, ‘Well, that’s it, Sheriff. That’s why I resigned. I couldn’t send Iris’s mother to the gas chamber and that’s what it would have meant. But now she’s dead… it’s different. I can go after Calvin.’
The sheriff drove in silence for some moments. His mind, still slightly stunned by what Travers had told him, slowly considered what to do. Finally, he said, ‘Yeah… well, this is between you and me, Ken, but if it got out, you could be in trouble. I’d do my best for you, but you’ve stuck your neck out for an accessory rap.’
‘Don’t I know it,’ Travers said. ‘I’ll have to take a chance on it. Hey! Stop! This guy may have seen them.’
There was a patrol officer on a motorcycle coming towards them. As the sheriff pulled up and waved, the officer swung his machine alongside the car.
‘We’re looking for a white Mercury,’ Travers said. ‘Mr. Easton was driving. Has it passed you?’
‘Yeah,’ the officer said. ‘Passed me about ten minutes ago on the Merlin Bay road.’
‘Merlin Bay?’
‘That’s it.’
‘Thanks.’
As the sheriff engaged gear, Travers said, ‘There’s a road block three miles ahead. He’s probably using Easton to get him through. That means he’s trying to get out with the payroll.’
The sheriff grunted and shoved the gas pedal to the boards.
Four minutes later, they pulled up at the road block. The two officers said the Mercury had gone through ten minutes ago.
‘Went through like a bat out of hell,’ one of them said, scowling. ‘Mr. Easton looked like he was ill. As soon as the pole was up, he charged through without saying a word to us. What gives?’
‘Could be trouble,’ the sheriff said. ‘Let us through, Jack. We’re in a hurry.’
Shrugging, the patrol officer signalled to his buddy to pull up the pole.
Travers said, ‘Let me drive, will you, Sheriff? I know this car better than you do.’
‘What you’re trying to say,’ the sheriff said, his voice frosty, ‘is you think you can drive faster than I can. Well, son, I don’t agree.’
With that, he trod on the gas pedal and sent the car roaring down the highway until it built up a speed of a shuddering eighty miles an hour.
‘Take it easy!’ Travers bawled above the roar of the engine, ‘you’ll break the poor old girl’s back!’
The sheriff grinned stiffly and kept up the speed. They had gone some miles when Travers suddenly shouted, ‘Slow up! Look at that!’
The sheriff braked.
‘Look at what?’ he asked, staring ahead.
‘To your right. Look at that dust settling. A car’s been up there recently. It’s the short cut to the Bellmore airfield,’ Travers said. ‘It’s my bet they’ve turned off there.’
The sheriff pulled up and leaned out of the window. He surveyed the faint cloud of dust that was slowly settling on the dirt road and he nodded.
‘Could be you’re right. Shall we try it?’
‘Yeah, but take it slow.’
Five minutes later they reached the forest: a minute later they saw the wreck of the Mercury. The sheriff pulled up.
‘Don’t rush it,’ Travers said sharply. ‘Look, you stay here. I’ll check. This guy’s dangerous.’
‘What do you mean… I stay here! I’m the sheriff, aren’t I? Give me my gun!’
‘I’m handling this. I want the reward,’ Travers said and forced a grin. He pulled out the sheriff’s gun from his trousers’ band and got out. ‘Anything happen to me, you get the boys up here.’
He walked slowly towards the wrecked car. As he got closer he could see the lid of the boot was open. Then he saw a huddled figure sprawled over the steering wheel. He moved closer, his gun raised. He looked to right and then to left, then signalled to the sheriff.
