Cut to the Bone(7)

“Good morning, sir,” Luerchen said, dipping his head to the driver’s level. “Do you know why I pulled you over-”

Blam!

Luerchen fell back screaming as the .40-caliber hollow-point tore away his jaw. Blood and teeth spattered into his eyes, blinding him. His left hand clawed for the Mayday button on his radio. His right fumbled with his safety holster, trying desperately to free his gun.

The Executioner jumped out of the Subaru, leveled the shiny barrel.

Blam! Blam! Blam!

Luerchen collapsed with a single, strangled huff.

The Executioner waited till blood quit flowing, then kicked the cop in the right temple, making sure he wasn’t faking.

The snapped neck said no.

He ran to the cruiser, slid into the hard, grimy seat. Found the switch that controlled the roof lights. Toggled it.

Siren whooped.

Untoggled, tried another.

The flashing stopped.

He put the cruiser in gear and backed it next to the splayed feet. Plucked handcuffs from the stretched-out gun-belt around the cop’s belly. Snapped one cuff around the left ankle, the other to the cruiser’s tow ball.

Taking care to not drip sweat on anything, he climbed back inside and stomped the gas, dragging the cop into the trees. In the rearview, he saw the head bounce-bounce-bounce off rocks and roots. It reminded him of those World’s Funniest Videos. He smiled.

Then he braked, threw it in Park, and ran to his Subaru, finger on the trigger just in case.

Not necessary.

He returned the Sig to his waistband and drove out of Seager Park. Made sure he used his turn signal. Got back on Plank Road and continued his escape.





11:35 p.m.

“Enough already,” Emily groaned, shooing the paramedics who’d been poking, prodding, and painting her scrapes antiseptic-purple. “I gotta get dressed.”

“Before CSI bags our clothes as evidence,” Marty agreed. He grasped his waist towel with one hand, offered Emily the other.

She grabbed his fingers and pulled herself to her feet. The movement shook up her vision like a snow globe. She blinked a dozen times to clear it, then began walking toward the spa, planting one foot firmly before lifting the next. She’d feel silly tripping in front of the Fire Department.

“Wait up!”

Emily turned to see a blonde in a black-and-white. It was Lieutenant Annabelle Bates, commander of the Naperville Police SWAT team and Emily’s closest girlfriend.

They stopped to let her catch up.

“We were serving a warrant when we heard the officer down,” Annie said, eyes dusting Emily for injuries. “We just got back. Are you all right?”

“A little banged up,” Emily said. “But nothing broken.”

Annie whistled her relief. “I understand we found the car.”

“Patrol spotted it a few minutes ago,” Emily said. “In that medical mall on Sherman. We know it’s the killer’s because Marty and I shot it.”

“For what little good that did,” Marty grumbled. “Canine units are searching, but I’m betting he stashed an escape vehicle and took off.” A dirt fog erupted as he scratched his mud-crusted forearm. “Unfortunately, nobody at the mall saw anything.”

“Security cameras?” Annie asked.

“Only inside,” Emily said. “Guarding the drugs and equipment. None point at the lot.”

“We’re never that lucky,” Annie said. She squeezed Emily’s arm, her petite features tight with concern. “Are you sure you’re all right, hon? Branch said you got run over.”

“Well, sort of,” Emily said. She explained.

“She jumped right up and chased the bastard,” Marty added. “Might have caught him, too, except for the charley horse.”

Annie’s eyes dropped to Emily’s calf. “Again?”

Emily nodded, disgusted the two-year-old injury was still getting the best of her.

“Well, you’re standing now,” Annie said. “Took half the day to do that last time your calf went nuts. Progress.”

“Enough that I can be useful here,” Emily agreed.

Annie’s face twisted. “You don’t think you’re working this case, do you?”

“Of course I am,” Emily said. “I’m a detective.”

“You’re a witness,” Annie pointed out. “A participant. You’re involved.”

“I tried to apprehend a murder suspect. That’s the extent of my so-called participation,” Emily argued. “I’m not a witness. I didn’t see the killing. I only heard the screams.”

“It’s true,” Marty said. “We’re only ear-witnesses.”

Annie still looked dubious.

“It’s like back at the station,” Emily said, grasping for another straw. “First detective to answer the phone gets the case. I was first detective here.”