Chapter 15
Carson’s mind raced, calculating options.
The dark sedan was three cars back, maintaining distance. Professional. Patient. Eugene had learned from his mistakes—no more rash attacks, no more giving Carson time to react.
This time, he was hunting smart.
“Carson?” Nora’s voice was tight with fear. She’d seen his expression, understood something was wrong.
“Put your seatbelt on.” He kept his voice calm, authoritative. “And hold on.”
“What—”
Carson cut the wheel hard, taking a sudden exit off the highway. Tires squealed. Horns blared. The sedan followed, no longer trying to be subtle.
“He’s following us,” Nora said, her hand braced against the dashboard.
“I know.” Carson floored the accelerator, his truck surging forward. “Call 911. Tell them officer in pursuit, suspect wanted for escape and attempted murder. Give them our location.”
Nora fumbled for Carson’s phone with shaking hands. She dialed, her voice surprisingly steady as she reported their situation.
Carson took another sharp turn, then another, trying to lose the sedan in the residential streets. But Eugene stayed on them, closer now, aggressive.
“Units are responding,” Nora relayed. “Five minutes out.”
Five minutes. An eternity in a car chase.
The sedan rammed them from behind. Nora screamed. Carson fought to keep control, the truck fishtailing before he corrected.
“He’s trying to run us off the road,” Carson said, his voice tight. “I need to find somewhere public. Somewhere with witnesses.”
He made a decision and turned toward downtown Blackridge—busier streets, more traffic, more cops nearby. Harder for Eugene to make a move without being seen.
The sedan followed, relentless.
Carson’s phone—still on speaker in Nora’s hands—crackled. Finn’s voice, “Carson, where are you? Dispatch says you’re in pursuit.”
“Fifth and Main, heading south,” Carson reported, weaving through traffic. “Eugene’s vehicle is a dark-blue sedan, license plate—” He rattled off the numbers he’d memorized from his mirror. “He’s armed and dangerous. Do not let him get away.”
“Units converging on your location,” Finn said. “Two minutes. Can you hold out?”
“Working on it.”
The sedan rammed them again, harder this time. The truck’s rear window shattered. Nora ducked instinctively, glass raining over the backseat.
Carson’s tactical mind kicked into overdrive. Two minutes until backup arrived. He needed to keep Nora safe, keep Eugene occupied, and not let this turn into a shootout in the middle of downtown.
Ahead, he saw the police station. Perfect.
Carson made a sharp turn into the station parking lot, the truck skidding to a stop near the front entrance. Officers on break outside immediately drew weapons when they saw the pursuing sedan.
Eugene slammed on his brakes, his car stopping fifty feet away.
For a moment, everything was still. A standoff.
Then Eugene’s door opened.
“Stay in the truck,” Carson ordered Nora. “Get down and stay down.”
“Carson—”
“Do it!”
She obeyed, sliding low in her seat.
Carson opened his door slowly, weapon drawn, using the truck door as cover. Around him, six other officers had fanned out, all with weapons trained on Eugene’s vehicle.
“Francis Whitmore!” Carson’s voice carried across the parking lot, using his real name this time. “Step out of the vehicle with your hands up!”
Francis emerged, and Carson’s blood ran cold.
He was wearing a vest. Strapped with what looked like explosives. His hand hovered near a device on his chest—a dead man’s switch.
“Everybody back off!” Francis shouted. “I’ve got enough C4 here to take out half this parking lot!”
The officers hesitated, looking to Carson for direction.
Carson’s mind raced. This was bad. Really bad. If Francis was willing to blow himself up, he had nothing left to lose. And Nora was still in the truck, less than thirty feet away.
“Francis,” Carson said, keeping his voice calm, praying calling him by his real name would somehow get through. “You don’t want to do this.”
“Don’t I?” Francis laughed, high and manic. “I’ve got nothing left to lose, Detective. You took everything from me. My family. My freedom. My cousin is in a hospital room under guard because of you.”
“Your cousin attacked an innocent woman. So did you. That’s on you, not me.”
“Innocent?” Francis’ face twisted with rage. “Her father destroyed my family! He started the investigation that got my uncle arrested. That made him kill himself. That left my mother broken and my cousin and me with nothing!”
“Your father embezzled money. He made that choice. Daniel Bell just reported it.”
“And now his daughter pays the price.” Francis’ eyes locked on the truck. On Nora. “She’s in there, isn’t she? Your precious victim. The one you fell for.”
“This is between you and me,” Carson said. “Leave her out of it.”
“She’s the whole reason for this! Don’t you get it?
” Francis took a step forward. Officers tensed.
“I’ve spent three years planning this. Three years watching her.
Learning her. Waiting for the perfect moment to make her pay for what her father did to my family.
And you ruined it. You saved her. Again and again.
So now?” His hand moved closer to the trigger.
“Now if I can’t have my revenge, nobody gets to be happy. ”
“You blow that vest and you die too.”
“I know.” His smile was terrible. “But I’ll take you and her with me. That’s worth it.”
Carson’s mind raced through options. Francis was twenty feet away. Too close to Nora. If that vest detonated, the truck wouldn’t protect her.
He needed to draw him away. Get him focused on something other than Nora.
“You want revenge?” Carson called out. “Then take it. On me. I’m the one who shot you. I’m the one who arrested you. I’m the one who stopped you from getting what you wanted.”
“You’re stalling.”
“I’m offering you a trade.” Carson took a step forward, holstering his weapon. “Let Nora go. Let everyone else go. And I’ll come with you. We can settle this, just you and me. No explosives. No innocents getting hurt.”
“Carson, no!” Nora’s voice from inside the truck, strained with fear.
“Stay down,” Carson ordered without looking away from Francis.
“She cares about you,” Francis observed. “That’s interesting. Maybe instead of killing her, I should make her watch you die. That would be its own kind of revenge.”
“Or maybe you should stop hiding behind explosives and face me like a man.” Carson took another step forward. “You and me. Right now, Francis. No bombs. No tricks. Just fight.”
He was goading Francis. Trying to provoke him into making a mistake. It was risky. Francis could detonate the vest at any moment.
But Carson had to get him away from Nora.
“Stop calling me that!” Francis shouted. “No one calls me that anymore!”
Carson held up one palm, placating him. “Fine, Eugene. Just calm down.”
“You think you’re so noble,” Eugene sneered. “The hero cop. Saving victims. But you couldn’t save your sister, could you? Couldn’t protect her when it mattered.”
The words hit like bullets. But Carson kept his face neutral.
“No. I couldn’t. And I’ve spent nineteen years trying to make up for it.
But you know what I learned?” He took another step closer.
“Some people can’t be saved. Some people are just broken beyond repair. And you, Eugene? You’re one of them.”
Eugene’s face flushed with rage. “Shut up.”
“You blame everyone else for your problems. Your uncle. Nora’s father. Me. But the truth is, you’re just a coward who can’t take responsibility for his own choices.” Another step. “You had a chance at a normal life. But you chose obsession. You chose revenge. You chose to become a monster.”
“I said shut up!”
“Make me.”
Eugene’s hand moved toward the trigger.
Everything happened at once.
Carson lunged forward, closing the distance in two strides. His hand grabbed Eugene’s wrist—the one on the trigger—and wrenched it away from the vest.
They went down hard, grappling on the pavement. Carson used every bit of his training, every bit of his desperation, to keep Eugene’s hand away from that trigger.
“Shoot him!” Eugene screamed. “If you shoot me, my hand relaxes and the bomb goes off!”
The officers couldn’t risk it. Carson was too close. And Eugene was right—a dead man’s switch meant if his hand loosened, they all died.
Carson slammed Eugene’s hand against the pavement once, twice, trying to make him drop the trigger. But Eugene held on with manic strength, laughing.
“We both die, Detective! Is she worth it? Is saving her worth your life?”
“Yes,” Carson growled. “She is.”
He slammed Eugene’s hand down a third time. The trigger flew from his grasp, skittering across the pavement.
For one terrible moment, Carson thought it would detonate anyway.
But nothing happened.
“It’s a fake,” Finn’s voice called out. “The vest is fake!”
Carson’s head snapped up. Finn was crouched near the trigger device, examining it.
“There’s no receiver,” Finn said. “No actual explosives. It’s all for show.”
Rage flooded through Carson. Eugene had been bluffing. All of it—the vest, the threat, the suicide mission—had been a desperate attempt to get close enough to Nora.
Carson flipped Eugene onto his stomach and cuffed him with more force than necessary. “You’re done. No more escapes. No more games. You’re done.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Eugene spat, blood on his lips from where his face had hit the pavement. “I got what I wanted. I made her afraid. I made her suffer. That’s what she deserved.”
Carson hauled him to his feet and shoved him toward the waiting officers. “Get him out of my sight before I do something I’ll regret.”
They dragged Eugene away, still ranting about revenge and justice and how Nora deserved everything she’d gotten.
Carson turned to the truck. Nora was still inside, curled up in the passenger seat, shaking violently.
He opened the door. “It’s over. He’s gone.”
She looked at him with wide, terrified eyes. “The bomb—”