Split Black /#Wattys 2021

Chapter Twenty-three

John turned and hit the double doors running, shouting, "Police officer! Stop!" Little and Green pounded out behind him. As they reached the curb, Marian Jasper-Smilley blew past them in her car. Her navy-blue Honda Civic looked a million years old.

Green slid behind the wheel of the patrol unit. John and Mike opened their doors and dove in.

"Green, don't lose her!" Mike yelled.

The patrol unit backed out with a jolt, slamming John forward. Then Green threw it into gear and squealed out of the lot. "Buckle up, gentlemen!" he shouted, pulling the lights and siren on.

The long, curving drive blocked the Civic from view almost all the way to the road. Smilley came into view just long enough for them to catch a flash of tail lights as she turned left.

"She's headed for the interstate," said Mike. Green slowed and turned left behind her. Smilley flew down the little two-lane road. Green floored it.

"Backup!" said John.

Green got on the radio, notifying Ashland PD and the state police. "We'll stop her at the next interchange."

Marian was no stunt driver. Every bump and curve slung her into the oncoming lane. Their patrol unit squealed and left rubber. At the hamlet a county sheriff's unit slipped into the chase, but too late. He fell into the lane behind Green, Mike, and John.

They gained on Marian until they were right behind her. Green yelled over the horn. "Marion Jasper-Smilley! Pull over! I repeat, pull over now!"

For answer Marian hit the accelerator and shot onto I-95 into a fortuitous hole in traffic. A semi pulling a trailer full of new cars bore down on her, slamming on his brakes and blaring his horn. They lost the county patrol unit, but John could see the lights of a state police unit weaving through traffic behind them.

Behind Green the lane was full. Traffic behind them had no time to change lanes. Cars slowed and put their signal lights on, but Green lost precious seconds trying to get off the ramp. He pulled onto 95 behind a full-size white van and another semi in the middle lane. John leaned forward, straining to see. The little blue Civic was nowhere.

Green pulled onto the right shoulder to get around the white van. John and Mike strained forward, scanning the traffic ahead. John wished he had X-ray vision.

Mike pointed. "Up there. Ahead of the green Smart Car."

Green hit the gas and dove left, then left again. A pickup juked left to avoid rear-ending them, to blaring horns in the left-hand lane. Maybe it was better that Ashland had insisted on driving after all.

They could all see Marian clearly now, straddling two lanes with a cell phone pasted to her ear. She swerved to the right. Traffic split both behind her and ahead of her as if she were radioactive. The driver to her right—blue Mustang—got off onto the shoulder, blasted his horn, and shook his fist.

The Ashland exit zoomed up to meet them. Two state police cars flanked the highway beyond it. John spied an Ashland patrol car waiting by the 95 off ramp.

Marian glanced over her shoulder. Mike said, "She's gonna—"

Green glanced behind them. "Hang on!" He hit the brakes, diving for the off ramp right behind Marian, with just enough space between them and traffic in the right lane. They rolled onto the ramp behind her, Green slamming on the brakes to avoid rear-ending her.