Cynthia turned left, heading toward Route 250. "Sounded like he was heading this way."
"Don't you think he'll make a big circle and come back?"
"Yeah, I do. Right under my nose. . . . Jeez, what a dumb thing to do." She shook her head.
"He hasn't shown the best judgment lately."
Mrs. Murphy settled in Harry's lap while Tucker sat between the humans.
As they reached Route 250, they noticed a lumber truck pulling off to the right side of the road. Cynthia slowed, putting on her flashers. "Stay here." She stepped out. Harry watched as the driver spoke to her and pointed toward the west. A few choice words escaped his tobacco-stained lips. Coop dashed back to the car.
She hit the accelerator and the sirens.
"Trouble?"
"Yep."
Other cars pulled off to the right as Cynthia's car screeched down Route 250 to the base of Afton Mountain. Then they started the climb to the summit, some 1850 feet.
"You think he got on Sixty-four?"
"Yeah. A great big four-lane highway. He's gonna bury the speedometer."
"Shit, Cooper, he's going to bury himself."
"That thought has occurred to me."
Mrs. Murphy leaned over Harry and said to Tucker, "Fasten your seat belt."
"Yeah," the dog replied, wishing there were seat belts made for animals.
Cynthia hurtled past the Howard Johnson's at the top of the mountain, turning left, then turning right to get onto Interstate 64. Vehicles jerked to the right as best they could but in some places on the entrance ramp the shoulder was inadequate. She swerved to avoid the cars.
The Rockfish Valley left behind was supplanted by the Shenandoah Valley. There was a glimpse of Waynesboro off to the right as they got onto I 64.
Remnants of fall foliage blurred. Cynthia negotiated the large sweeping curves on top of the Blue Ridge Mountains.
"What if he took the Skyline Drive?" Harry asked.
"I'm going to have to call in the state police and Augusta County's police, too. Damn!"
"He asked for it," Harry replied sensibly.
"Yes, he did." Cooper called the dispatcher, gave her location, and requested assistance as well as help on the Skyline Drive.
"Doesn't compute." Mrs. Murphy snuggled as Harry held her in the curves.
"That he stole the car?"
"That he did it right in front of them. He wants to get caught." Her eyes widened as they hung another curve. "He's in on it, or he knows something."
"Then why steal a car in front of Coop?" Tucker asked the obvious question.
"That's what I mean—something doesn't compute," Murphy replied.
Up ahead they caught sight of Sean. Cynthia checked her speedometer. She was hitting ninety, and this was not the safest stretch of road in the state of Virginia.
She slowed a bit. "He's not only going to hurt himself, he's going to hurt someone else." She clicked on the black two-way radio button. "Subject in sight. Just past Ninety-nine on the guardrail." She repeated a number posted on a small metal sign. "Damn, he's going one hundred." She shook her head.
As good as the BMW was, Sean was not accustomed to driving a high-performance machine in challenging circumstances. The blue flashing lights behind him didn't scare him as much as the blue flashing lights he saw in the near distance, coming from the opposite direction. He took his eyes off the road for a split second, but a split second at 100 miles an hour is a fraction too long. He spun out, steered hard in the other direction, and did a 360, blasting through the guardrail and taking the metal with him as he soared over the ravine.
"Oh, my God!" Harry exclaimed.
Cynthia screeched to a stop. The BMW seemed airborne for an eternity, then finally crashed deep into the mountain laurels below.
Both Cynthia and Harry were out of the squad car when it stopped. Mrs. Murphy and Tucker could run down the mountainside much better than the two humans could as they stumbled, rolled, and got up again.
"We've got to get him before the car blows up!" Mrs. Murphy shouted to the corgi, who realized the situation also.
The BMW had landed upside down. The animals reached it, and Tucker tried to open the door by standing on her hind legs.
"Impossible."
The tiger raced around the car, hoping windows would have been smashed to bits on the other side.
Harry and Cooper, both covered in mud, scratched, and torn, reached the car. Cooper opened the door. Sean was held in place upside down by the safety belt. She reached in and clicked the belt. Both she and Harry dragged him out.
"Haul," Cynthia commanded.
Harry grabbed his left arm, Cynthia his right, and Tucker grabbed the back of his collar. They struggled and strained but managed to get the unconscious, bloodied boy fifty yards up the mountainside. Mrs. Murphy scampered ahead.
The BMW made a definite clicking sound and then boom, the beautiful machine was engulfed in flames.
The two women sat for a moment, holding Sean so he wouldn't slide back down. Mrs. Murphy walked ahead, searching for the easiest path up. Tucker, panting, sat for a moment, too.
They heard more sirens and a voice at the lip of the ravine.
Tucker barked. "We're down here!"
Harry, still holding Sean, turned around to see rescue workers scrambling down to help. She felt for the vein in his neck; a faint pulse rippled underneath her fingertips. "He's alive."
Mrs. Murphy said under her breath, "For how long?"
46
The cherry wood in the fireplace crackled, releasing the heavy aroma of the wood. Tucker, asleep in front of the fire, occasionally chattered, dreaming of squirrels.
Mrs. Murphy curled up in Harry's lap as she sat on the sofa while Pewter sprawled over Fair's bigger lap in the other wing chair. Exhausted from the trauma as well as the climb back up the deep ravine, Harry pulled the worn afghan around her legs, her feet resting on a hassock.
Fair broke the stillness. "I know Rick told you not to reveal Sean's condition, but you can tell me."
"Fair, the sheriff has put a guard in his hospital room. And to tell the truth, I don't know his condition."
"He was mixed up in whatever is going on over at St. Elizabeth's?"
"I guess he is." She leaned her head against a needlepoint pillow. "In your teens you think you know everything. Your parents are out of it. You're invincible. Especially Sean, the football star. I wonder how he got mixed up in this mess, and I wonder what's really behind it."
"I heard April was released from jail today, and she didn't want to leave," Fair remarked. "She must know what's going on, too."
"That's so strange. She doesn't look like a criminal, does she?"
"I always thought she was in love with Roscoe and that he used her," Fair said.
"Slept with her?"
"I don't know. Maybe"—he thought a moment—"but more than that, he used her. She jumped through all his hoops. April was one of the reasons that St. E's ran so smoothly. Sure as hell wasn't Roscoe. His talents rested in directions other than details." He rose and tossed another log on the fire. "He ever offer you candy?"
"Every time he saw me."
"Never offered me catnip," Pewter grumbled.
"Mom's got that look on her face. She's having a brainstorm." Tucker closely observed Harry.
"Humans are fundamentally irrational. They use what precious rationality they have justifying their irrational behavior. A brainstorm is an excuse not to be logical," Pewter said.
"i4men." Murphy laughed.
Harry tickled Murphy's ears. "Aren't we verbal?"
"I can recite entire passages from Macbeth, if you'd care to hear it. 'Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow creeps—' "
"Show-off." Pewter swished her tail once. "Quoting Shakespeare is no harder than quoting 'Katie went to Haiti looking for a thrill.' '
"Cole Porter." Mrs. Murphy sang the rest of the song with Pewter.
"What's going on with these two?" Harry laughed.