Seconds to Live(48)

“How many kids does she have?”

“Three girls.” Who seemed to be coping better than their mother was.

“That’s tough.” Lance straightened and nodded toward the building. “Do you see that? There’s a person in front of the school office.”

Stella’s eyes pierced the shadow under the roof overhang. Something shifted. A faint orange light glowed brighter and then faded. “Gotta love smokers. Let’s see if he goes inside when he’s finished with his cigarette.”

Instead, he lit another. Stella gave him another ten minutes, but he didn’t move.

She reached for her door handle. “Let’s go have a talk with him.”

“Give me five minutes to circle around behind him in case he decides to bolt.” Lance opened his car door and slipped out into the dark, shutting his door gently. He disappeared into the shadows alongside the church buildings.

Stella checked her watch. When five minutes had passed, she started the engine and drove down the street, passing the suspect and making a U-turn. She pulled to the curb just as he lit another match. Under the hood of a sweat jacket, the flare highlighted sharp cheekbones over a gaunt face and scruffy beard.

Stella spotted Lance twenty feet away, hugging the side of the building. Flashlight in hand, she got out of the car and approached the loiterer. “Excuse me, sir. I’d like to talk to you for a minute.”

The man startled. He backed up two steps. Behind him, Lance’s shoe scraped on the pavement. The suspect’s head swiveled and he bolted straight between them, tearing off across the street directly into the path of a minivan. A horn blared. The van bumped his legs as he slid to a stop. He spun, slapping the van’s hood with both palms, and scrambling around the vehicle.

“Stop! Police!” Lance sprinted after him.

Stella was right behind them. The suspect hit the back edge of the parking lot and made a sharp left, skidding into an alley. Lance’s shoes slid on a patch of loose sand as he followed. He cursed and went down on one knee. Lunging to his feet, he ran, limping, toward the corner.

Stella gained ground on Lance, passing him and rounding the brick building. She spotted the suspect in the light of a streetlamp at the other end of the alley and willed her legs to move faster. Her thighs and lungs burned as she cranked up her speed. The suspect slowed, glancing over his shoulder.

She wanted to yell “stop” again but saved her breath for running. The suspect’s strides shortened, and he cut right and disappeared. Stella slowed, her hand hovering near her sidearm as she emerged from the alley into the next street.

Where is he?

She waited, listening, as her pulse thundered in her ears. A movement to her left startled her. Crouching, she flattened herself against the bricks.

The suspect bolted from a dark patch next to a Dumpster, and adrenaline sent Stella’s heart rate into hyperdrive as she went after him. He skidded around another corner with Stella right on his heels. She was close enough to hear his labored breathing over her own.

Stella made the turn into the rear yard of an auto body shop. A six-feet-tall chain-link fence blocked the rear exit. The suspect ran between rows of cars and leaped for the fence.

“Oh, no you don’t.” She closed in, grabbing him by the leg of his jeans. The baggy pants slid down until the waistband encircled his thighs.

Afraid his pants would slide right off and he’d slip away, Stella shifted her grip to his ankles and pulled hard. He fell off the fence onto his back, taking her to the ground with him, right into a pile of garbage. The fall knocked the wind from her lungs. Stella gasped for air.

He tried to scramble to his feet, but the jeans around his knees tripped him. He fell face-first onto the pavement.

Stella flipped onto her belly, got a leg under her body, and launched herself forward. “Get back here.”

He rolled and swung a wild haymaker at Stella’s head. She ducked, but the blow glanced off her jaw. Bright spots flashed in her vision.

She shook her head to clear it as a backhand flew at her face. She blocked the strike with two open palms and grabbed his wrist. Pressing the bone of her forearm into the hollow of his elbow, she arm-barred him to the ground.

He wriggled. “You bitch.”

Placing a knee on his spine to pin him to the ground, she wrestled his hands behind his back and cuffed him. A pat down for weapons yielded a wallet, a pack of cigarettes, matches, a small knife, and an oval medallion on a chain.

She collapsed onto the ground next to him and sucked in oxygen.

Lance limped into the alley. “Are you all right?”

Huffing, Stella nodded, rubbing her jaw. “You?”

“Fine.” But his face was lined with pain. “Just took a wrong step back there.”