CHAPTER TEN
C HAPTER T EN
Renata’s heart stuttered. She couldn’t see the features behind the sun’s reflection on the glass. But she knew it was a male from the size and general build. He disappeared, leaving the curtain swinging. The intruder had seen her!
Renata bolted from her patrol car and raced for the Masons’ house. As she ran, she slapped her lapel mic. “Officer in pursuit of a trespasser at the crime scene.”
“Ten-four,” dispatch responded.
Renata rounded the side of the house. She stopped at the corner and peered around the corner of the building in time to see a tall figure run out of the patio door, right though a broken section of yellow crime scene tape.
“Stop! Police—sheriff’s department!” Renata corrected herself.
The man wore black pants and a dark-blue long-sleeve shirt. A black baseball cap was pulled low on his forehead, and he’d tied a bandana around his face. Both hands were covered with black leather-type gloves. He didn’t pause or turn to look at her but ran for the trees.
Renata gave chase, her black athletic shoes thudding on the lush grass of the Masons’ backyard. The initial sprint winded her, but in a dozen strides, her lungs got with the program, and she settled into a steady pace. But still, he drew away.
She cursed her short legs, short everything. Why couldn’t she have been born six feet tall with legs for miles? No, she was petite , which in her opinion was a euphemism for child-size .
The intruder was tall and lean, with a stride significantly longer than hers. But then, almost everyone’s legs were longer than hers. Damn it.
He disappeared into the trees. Dead leaves and pine needles crunched under Renata’s shoes. She shoved aside branches as she ran. Not knowing which way to go, she slowed and scanned the ground. Nothing. The earth was too dry and hard-packed for him to leave footprints. Beyond the artificial greenness of the Masons’ rear yard, the weeds underfoot were mostly dead, with plenty of bare patches of dried dirt, as hard as concrete in places.
She stopped and listened for movement. With the forest so dry, it was nearly impossible to move through the trees without making crunching sounds. She might as well be running on Bubble Wrap.
A twig snapped, and fabric swished ahead. Following the sound, she ducked through a stand of small pines. A needled bough sprang back and slapped her in the face. She caught a glimpse of dark-blue fabric and drew her gun. “Stop right there! Sheriff’s department!”
The figure stopped. His head cocked sideways until he was in profile to her, as if he were listening over his shoulder.
She breathed. “Let me see your hands!”
The cap and bandana still concealed his face. He slowly raised his gloved hands. His left hand was closest to her. He began to turn slowly, then whirled, sinking to one knee as he spun. His right hand swung around, and a shot rang out.
Renata dropped to the ground as the bullet struck a tree two feet away. Bits of bark exploded, pieces raining down on her back. Another shot shattered the air. A small cloud of dirt puffed four feet ahead of her face.
She covered her head with one arm and spoke into her mic. “Shots fired!” She rolled behind a tree and sat up, pressing her back to the trunk as cover. “Suspect is male, Caucasian, six two, one eighty, black pants, dark-blue T-shirt, black ball cap, black bandana over his face. He’s headed north into the woods.”
She closed her mouth, turned down the mic on her radio, and listened.
The woods were quiet. No birds chirped. She should be hearing him run away. But the forest was silent except for the rush of a dry breeze through the brittle foliage and the roar of her own pulse in her head. Her heartbeat echoed like a jackhammer in the Holland Tunnel.
Had he gotten away?
Gun in hand, Renata twisted to peer around the tree. A dark-blue shape crept forward through the underbrush, closer.
He was coming toward her.
Light glinted on the gun in his hand. Renata’s heartbeat went staccato.
He wasn’t running. He was backtracking and stalking her. Most criminals tried to escape the cops. But not this guy.
He was hunting her down.
Renata shifted to one knee and took aim. Something crunched under her knee. The man flinched at the sound, his face turning toward her. She pulled the trigger. Her gun bucked in her hand, the sound cracking through the dry air. A small animal burst from a shrub nearby and zigzagged away. The man ducked behind a fallen tree. His gun swung into the light. Renata pulled back behind the tree as his shot rang out. She leaned around and fired back at him again.
Yippee-ki-yay, motherfucker. I’m not running either.
A bullet struck the tree at her back. Renata turned and squeezed off another shot. “I have plenty of bullets, asshole!” She saw a dark-blue flash and fired twice more. “You’re under arrest. Put down the gun and show me your hands!”
Footfalls and the sound of something large crashing through underbrush moved away from her. The sound faded.
Guess he didn’t like return fire.
She swiveled, scanned the forest, but saw nothing.
Where did he go?
She briefly considered following him, then thought better of it. In the heat of the moment, she wanted to pursue. But that would be foolish. She had no backup. She didn’t know these woods. Hell, she didn’t know any woods. She would have been more comfortable chasing him through dark alleys.
Renata thought of the Masons, helpless in their own bed, their bodies ripped apart by bullets. He’d left a bloody mess for their teenage daughter to find. Just another criminal, preying on the vulnerable, unwilling to take on someone who could defend themselves.
Coward.
The thin wail of sirens approached.
Renata stood and brushed dirt and leaves from her uniform, but she vowed she would find him. He’d made this personal.