If I Should Die_ A Novel of Suspense - Allison Brennan [4]
But that meant the arsonist had to slow as well. The chase might end when one of them ran out of gas—Sean hoped it was the other guy.
A sharp bend in the path nearly sent Sean down the mountainside fifty feet. His back wheels spun off the edge. He was losing ground and almost jumped from the ATV to save his life when the front wheels caught traction and he lurched forward.
The quad stalled, and he took a moment to breathe. He wouldn’t do anyone any good if he ended up dead.
In the sudden silence, Sean heard the other rider, much closer than he thought. He saw that the path peaked only twenty yards away; the arsonist sounded like he was right on the other side.
Sean restarted the ATV and cautiously drove up the steep, narrow path until the grade evened out. He then saw the man in black, picking up speed on the downhill slope. He doubled his speed, but the guy was increasing the distance between them. He noticed Sean and added speed. Because he wore a helmet, Sean couldn’t see his face; he was skinny and not too tall, and his neck was pale. A short, skinny white guy would fit any number of people in the town. Sean needed to catch him.
The arsonist veered east, away from the ledge, and picked up speed as he sailed through the trees. Sean followed suit. Rocks and fallen trees from the recent winter littered the landscape. The guy was still increasing the distance between them, and when he topped a hill he disappeared from view.
Sean reached the peak and saw the other rider far in the distance, halfway across the clearing, on an old logging road or mining road. Spruce Lake had been a successful mining town for over a hundred years, up until the midseventies. If this was a mining road, they were closer to the main highway than Sean had thought.
Sean used all the power in the Raptor to fly down the packed dirt and rock road. The arsonist glanced back, but his face was hidden by the helmet’s face shield. Sean was definitely getting closer. He’d have to maneuver the guy into a canyon or trap him somehow, or hope that Tim had called the sheriff and a helicopter was on its way. Wishful thinking—even if they had a chopper in Canton, it couldn’t get here this fast.
He’d have to wing it. The arsonist was zigzagging to either side of the wide space, looking for an escape; Sean now had the advantage: with both his skill and the Raptor’s power in open space, he closed the distance between them to fifteen feet.
The other rider headed toward an obscured path. But he was slowing down and messing with the dash. The guy jerked forward and his wheels caught in a rut. He released the throttle and jerked again, nearly hitting a tree. Panicked, he overcompensated and turned one-eighty, facing Sean.
Sean rode straight toward him, hoping to force him back to the trees where he could block his escape route. Sean was bigger, stronger, and—he hoped—faster.
The other quad’s engine was sputtering and a faint whiff of oil told Sean it had a leak. He wouldn’t be getting far. Sean went full throttle until he was only feet away, spun into a controlled stop, and leapt from his quad toward the man in black.
Sean tossed his helmet and sprinted toward the guy. The quad stalled out, and Sean tackled him as he tried to run. He head-butted Sean with his helmet before jumping up, his helmet falling to the ground. Sean stood and drew his weapon in one motion, standing cautiously only feet from the arsonist.
He was practically a kid. Sean was surprised that he was so young—he might have been eighteen, but Sean suspected younger. Clean-cut, sandy blond hair, and pale blue eyes that looked both angry and scared shitless. He reminded Sean of himself when he was a teenager, shortly after his parents died. He’d been wild, angry,