Crush - Alan Jacobson [147]
“Sounds like he’s a couple miles back,” Dixon said. “Tell him we’re passing Ehlers.”
“We’re—”
“I heard,” Brix said. “I’ll be there soon.”
Vail ended the call, shoved the phone back into Dixon’s pocket—and that’s when she realized her partner was wearing the bare minimum: gym shorts and shirt, no bra, and tennis shoes without socks. But she had her sidearm strapped to her shoulder and her phone holder clipped to the shorts’ waistband. It looked bizarre—and downright geeky—but who the hell cared?
Vail caught a sign on the left—Bale Grist Mill State Park—and realized the area was becoming more rural as they drove down 29.
Dixon tightened her grip on the wheel. “He’s speeding up, I think he realizes we’re behind him.”
“Where’s your cube?”
“In here,” she said, banging her right elbow on the large armrest.
Dixon lifted her arm and Vail reached into the deep receptacle. She pulled out the device, flipped the switch, and the blinding light filled the interior and reflected off the windshield. It made them both recoil.
“Jesus—”
“Shit, sorry about that.” Vail rolled down the window and set the magnetic base on the roof.
“Two-way’s in the glove box. Tell dispatch we’ve got a code 33. Give our twenty.”
Vail located the radio, then saw something that brought a smile to her face: her Glock. Missed you, big fella.
She keyed the two-way and followed Dixon’s instructions. “ . . . Code 33, stolen silver Nissan SUV headed—”
“North.”
“North on Highway 29.” She lowered the radio. “Get us closer, let me grab the tag.”
Dixon pressed the accelerator, the engine roared louder and the vehicle closed on Mayfield’s SUV.
“Roger,” the dispatcher responded. “Code 33 on primary. All non-emergency traffic go to red channel.”
Vail leaned forward and squinted. “I see a five. X-ray, Tom, Robert—” Vail moved the radio back to her lips. “License on the stolen Nissan. California plate. Five X-ray Tom Robert.”
Mayfield swerved left to avoid a motorcyclist, who leaned right, onto the shoulder.
Dixon gave the man extra room and cut back into the lane. “I hate high-speed chases. Too fucking dangerous.”
The headlights caught a large sign up ahead and off to the right. Vail pointed. “What do you say we forget the chase and go see Old Faithful spew her wrath?”
Dixon veered right around a stray cat. Vail grabbed the dashboard with her left hand, then set the radio between her thighs when Dixon slammed on the brakes and yelled out—
“What the fuck!”
A cruiser, light bar flashing, was approaching from the opposite direction. Dixon’s car dovetailed, her rear end flying right while she coaxed the front end left, back into pursuit of Mayfield.
“Mayfield saw the cruiser, turned left,” Dixon said. “Right into the Castillo del Deseo.”
“The what?”
“Castle of Desire,” Dixon said. “A dozen years to build. Looks and feels like a real Spanish castle.” She accelerated up the inclined cement drive, the taillights of Mayfield’s SUV still barely visible around the bend. She sped past the seedling evergreens, then crested the hill. Ahead, in the darkness, was a large, dramatically lit brick structure.
Vail craned her neck to take in the enormity of the approaching complex. “Robby said he went to a castle a few days ago. Wish I could’ve seen it with him. Just a guess . . . but this won’t be nearly as fun.”
Dixon swung the vehicle in behind Mayfield’s parked Nissan. “Let’s go.”
“Where?”
Dixon nodded ahead, toward the castle. “You’re gonna get your wish.”
FIFTY-SIX
Weapons drawn, Vail and Dixon rushed out of their car and approached the Nissan from behind, beneath window level. The headlights from Dixon’s car lit them up like precious jewels against black velvet. They moved up alongside the SUV and pulled open the doors. The dome light was disabled, but there was enough brightness from Dixon’s headlights to check the interior.
“Clear,” Vail said.
“Clear,” Dixon repeated.
They looked out into the darkness.
Vail spotted him first. “There!” She threw out a hand to the left of the