The older woman in front of Jim surprised him by keeping pace with the suspect’s car just in front of her, feeling guilty about profiling her when they had first started out of town.
Her right turn signal now blinking, she turned into the entrance to a farm that sat off the main road.
Jim now lay exposed. It won’t take long before he becomes aware I’m here. He decided to ease his truck back another couple hundred feet hoping to not spook the suspect.
Jim estimated 500 feet separated him from the suspect’s car as he turned into a bend in the road. He slowed his truck to the recommended speed for the turn, completing the turn in time to see the suspect’s car already entering the next set of curves. Jim sped up to close the distance in the straightaway. Approaching the next bend, he down clutched to ease his truck into the turn before coming out to yet another straightaway. His view was unobstructed for ½ a mile or so in the straightaway, but he could no longer see the suspect’s car in front of him. He did happen to notice a dirt road to his right and a cloud of dust enveloping a vehicle as it negotiated its way down the backwoods road. Jim wasn’t positive it was the suspect’s car, but he could always return if he didn’t locate the suspect up ahead.
After two miles of high-speed driving, Jim’s truck exited the state game lands and came upon another yet another straightaway, this one providing an unobstructed view for several miles. The suspect’s was car nowhere to be seen.
Jim realized he had made a terrible mistake, performing a quick 360-degree turn. He reached 65 miles per hour in the turns, 95 in the straight-away, using both sides of the road as if it were his own personal race circuit. Luckily for him, there were no cars driving in the opposite direction or he would have surely been killed.
Reaching the dirt road in a matter of minutes, Jim’s truck barreled down the road at 50 miles per hour, plunging into every pothole on the game lands fire road. This bastard is not going to get away from me that easy. Jim looked for any signs of a dust cloud that would announce his suspect’s presence, with the heavy canopy of pine trees providing him no help. He slowed his truck down to a more manageable speed, not wanting to wrap his truck around a tree. No use getting killed in some traffic accident. He also didn’t want to drive into an ambush that may lie around any of the roads numerous turns.
The thrill of the chase made think back to a refresher course he had taken at the Police Academy several weeks before. His instructor taught him a new technique for chasing criminals in the forested areas; at least it was new to the city cops. Stop and listen. Stop your car and listen. Jim realized it was so simple, almost too simple. He stopped his truck, turning the engine off, leaning out his window.
In the distance, he could hear the distinctive sounds of a car struggling to extract itself from what was probably a hole from the whirling sound its tires were making. Jim knew the sound was close-by due to him hearing a few choice curse words being thrown about.
He was close — real close by the sound of the cars struggle. Jim decided it would be best to pursue on foot the rest of the way. He could have the element of surprise on the suspect. He removed his trusty 38 from the seat beside him, sticking it into his pants waistband before exiting the truck.
The whirling noise had stopped. Evidently the driver had given up. Good, they would both be on foot. Jim quickened his pace, staying to the side of the road, seeking some type of security in the massive pine trees that lined both sides of the road.
As he came around a bend, the road opened up. The further he walked, the wider the road seemed to become. After walking around yet another bend, it opened up to reveal an immense lake. Now he realized why the sound of the car was so close. The car lay only 100 yards in front of him parked along the water’s edge. Its driver’s side door was thrown wide open, its rear tire evidently still stuck in the mud and the car leaning to one side. Just as I suspected.
Jim proceeded to within fifty feet of the car. A lake was now off to his right as he scanned the woods for any sign of the suspect before pressing forward. Jim eased his weapons safety off while slowly walking towards the suspect’s car, weapon facing the front, held securely by both hands in a typical police fashion. Jim moved across the ground carefully as he closed the remaining distance to the cars bumper.
Jim crouched behind the car knowing full well that the cars aluminum frame wouldn’t stand a chance of stopping a bullet, only hindering its forward progress. He decided the best course of action would be to charge the passenger side door — firing as he went.
Jim had a fully loaded weapon plus a few spare bullets in his pocket in case they were needed. No time to return to town and drag the local police into this mess. It was up to him.
This would be his first chance to fire his weapon in the line of duty. Ten years and he never had to fire his weapon.
Jim started his count down, mentally preparing himself for the suspect to return fire: three, two…
Peter knew it wouldn’t take long until the man realized his rookie mistake and doubled back to the dirt road. This is precisely what Peter had hoped would happen. The difference of a few precious minutes could make or break his plan. His impromptu plan allowed ample time to spring a simple trap on the unsuspecting policeman or FBI agent.
From the relative safety of his position in the tree line, Peter could see his prey standing no more than ten meters in front of him. The man appeared ready to charge the vehicle. Exactly what Peter expected, the gung-ho American cowboy type of officer who would not wait for backup. What a fool! Peter purposely left his driver’s side door ajar to raise some suspicion in the officer’s mind. This would be enough to distract him and possibly expend some of his ammunition. This would leave him with less to fight with and then Peter could choose to pick him off at his leisure.
Peter held the 9mm firmly in his hands, secretly wishing for a silencer to cap the noise when he fired. You never know if a hunter or hiker would happen upon the scene. Then again, it really didn’t matter because the agent would probably fire his weapon when charging his abandoned vehicle.
Peter leaned against one of the abundant pine trees, using one of its branches that happened to be positioned chest high to support for his weapon. Looking through the guns sight, he realized he could shoot him dead from where he stood. But then again, the chance existed that he could also miss or wound him giving away his position and enabling the officer to return fire.
He would allow Allah to choose the moment.
Jim sprung up from behind the car, running to the passenger side where he promptly shot three bullets into the cars empty backseat. Satisfied, he moved on to the front seat and emptied his weapon into what appeared to be a body wrapped in a blanket lying across the seat.
The whole event transpired in a matter of seconds.
Jim held his empty weapon in the prone position before leaning into the car, closely peering at the blanket. Not wanting to take any chances, he kicked the heavy woolen blanket off what looked to be a body, only to have it reveal six, large tree logs underneath.
Jim stepped away from the car. The suspect was probably watching him right now. He reached for additional bullets in his pocket, able to locate three amongst his change. He ejected the spent cartridges only to hear a twig snap somewhere to the left of him. He turned slowly to come see his prey emerge from the forest.