Chapter 9 - The Chase on Ridge Road
The sharp gunshot echoed through the storm, followed by the violent pop of shredded rubber.
The rear of Julian’s sedan violently fishtailed, tearing through the estate’s brick gatepost with a horrific screech of metal against stone. Bricks exploded into the dark, but the high-powered engine didn't die. Sparks showered from the bare wheel rim as Julian wrestled the car back onto the asphalt and tore down Ridge Road.
Callahan sprinted to his patrol unit. He slammed the door, hit the ignition, threw the car into drive, and floored the gas. The siren wailed into the night, the twin strobes painting the rain-slicked trees in violent flashes of blue and red.
Ridge Road was a treacherous, narrow stretch of two-lane blacktop that wound around the cliffs overlooking Blackwood Gorge. In dry weather, it was dangerous; in a blinding midnight rainstorm with a shredded tire, it was suicide.
Through his wiper blades, Callahan caught glimpses of the sedan’s red taillights careening wildly across both lanes. Julian was driving like a madman, blinded by panic and arrogance.
Callahan keyed his radio, his breath coming in measured, hard gasps. "Dispatch, Unit One. I am in active pursuit of Julian Vance heading west on Ridge Road toward the gorge. Suspect is armed and considered extremely dangerous. I need spike strips at Mile Marker 14!"
"Unit One, be advised," dispatch crackled back, her voice tense. "Deputy Chief Miller is on the line. He ordered you to disengage pursuit immediately. He states you are operating without authorization."
"Tell Miller he can relieve me of duty when I have the cuffs on Vance!" Callahan shouted into the mic, killing the radio.
Miller was on Julian's payroll. Callahan had suspected it for years; now he had proof sitting in the encrypted drive back in the study.
Up ahead, Julian’s car swerved violently to avoid an oncoming logging truck. The truck blasted its air horn, the massive rig jackknifing slightly as Julian brushed past its fender with inches to spare.
The near-miss sent Julian’s sedan spinning out of control.
The car hit an embankment, launched airborne for a terrifying heartbeat, and smashed down across the road, slamming hard against the rusted metal guardrail at the edge of the cliff.
The sedan shuddered to a halt, front bumper crumpled, smoke and steam hissing from the ruptured radiator.
Callahan slammed on his brakes, angling the cruiser across the road to block any escape. He stepped out into the howling wind, weapon raised, using his car door as cover.
"Julian Vance! Step out of the vehicle with your hands where I can see them!"
Silence answered him, save for the hissing steam and the relentless drumming of rain.
Then, the sedan's driver door swung open.
Julian stepped out. But he wasn't surrendering. He held a sleek silver handgun in his right hand, and clutched tightly in his left was Clara’s small leather-bound diary—the physical record of every beating she had endured.
May you like
He stood at the edge of the precipice, the abyss of Blackwood Gorge yawning hundred of feet behind him.
"You think you've won, Callahan?" Julian laughed, blood running from a gash on his forehead. "You think you can drag me into a courtroom?"
