Chapter 54
With the book in an evidence bag, Ben and Lainie got back into his car.
“Hey, are you up for dinner after we drop this off?” Ben asked Lainie as he walked to the driver’s side and she walked to the passenger side. As sad as he was about Efren, he was glad he’d met Lainie, and he hoped to get to know her better.
“I’m hungry, that’s for sure.” She looked at him over the top of the car.
“Great, we’ll pick a spot later.”
They hopped in and he started the engine. “Even with this find, or maybe because of it, I’d still like to talk to Stan,” Ben said as they waited for the tow yard gate to open. “He might know more about this book than he told your sister.”
“Sounds like there is a but there.”
He turned toward her, amazed that she knew he was bugged about something. “I’m thinking about what your sister said about Efren. The idea that Benton was on to him from the get-go bothers me.”
“Are you thinking that his cover was blown long before he disappeared?”
Ben nodded. “I am. I’d like to hear more about the situation at the car wash.”
The gate opened and he exited the yard.
“If Evie can talk him into talking to you, I’m sure she will.”
“Great, I . . .” The next words caught in Ben’s throat. He saw a black SUV.
“What’s the matter?”
“I think we’ve got a tail. There’s a black SUV behind us. It was parked outside the tow yard. I think that’s the same car that was behind me a couple of days ago.”
Lainie leaned forward to see what she could in the side-view mirror. They were traveling west on Willow Street, in the middle lane. Ben drove west toward Long Beach Boulevard, planning to turn left there to head downtown to the police station. He sped up and changed lanes.
“Yep,” Lainie said, “they are following us. I see two people at least. A man and a woman, I think.”
“Well, they can follow us to the station, I guess.” As they approached the light at Atlantic, it changed to yellow. Ben punched it and made it through as the light turned red.
The SUV followed on the red light and rapidly caught up with him, now riding his bumper.
“He’s not being shy. I’m glad there’s not a lot of traffic right now.” Ben swerved around slower traffic and then moved back into the left lane.
The SUV pulled up next to Ben on the passenger side. As he concentrated on driving, he asked Lainie, “What’s he doing?”
“Driver’s-side window is coming down. I think he wants you to pull over.”
“Not happening.” Gripping the steering wheel, he pressed the accelerator down more.
The SUV dropped back. Then Ben’s sedan shuddered when the SUV rammed the bumper.
Ben fought to maintain control as the seat belt locked and kept him from lurching in the seat. Long Beach Boulevard was the next intersection.
“He’s trying to PIT maneuver us,” Lainie said.
Ben had seen effective PIT maneuvers on TV, the precision immobilization technique was effective if applied correctly. He prayed the guy next to him did not know how to apply it correctly.
“Hang on,” he told her as they barreled toward the boulevard, and he decided to make the left turn whether the light was green or not.
Lainie kept her eyes focused on the side mirror and kept a firm grip on her weapon as they sped down Willow Street. She’d drawn the gun when the SUV had pulled next to them, and she held it down between her knees.
She snapped against the seat belt as Ben made a left onto Long Beach Boulevard, the sound of tires squealing and honking horns blaring.
When she recovered enough to check the side mirror, she could see that the SUV had followed.
The image in the mirror grew as the vehicle pulled up on Lainie’s right.
“Look out!”
Ben’s sedan was no match for the huge, full-size SUV. The driver rammed into the side of the car, pushing them left over the curb and onto the southbound Blue Line train tracks. They bounced over them and continued toward the northbound tracks.
Lainie watched in horror at the light of a northbound Blue Line train headed right for them.
Ben slammed on the brakes. The SUV driver did likewise, still sliding in front of them, fishtailing a bit as the tires smoked and he laid down rubber.
Ben struggled for control over the car. He jerked the vehicle to the right to get it out of the direct path of the northbound train, but it was too late. Momentum carried them onto the track. He couldn’t pull the wheel fast enough.
The train’s horn screamed, and the train impacted the side of the car, sideswiping and scraping the driver’s side with a sickening squeal of metal on metal. Sparks flew, the driver’s side airbag deployed, slamming Ben back in his seat.
The driver stepped out of the SUV and the vehicle blocked traffic. He was just ahead of them and to Lainie’s right. He raised a handgun. “I want the book!” he yelled. “Just give me the book.”
The train had stopped and she opened her door, knowing Ben was groggy from the airbag and still pinned in by the train. She had to draw the gunman away from Ben. With one foot out, using the door as cover, she pointed her gun at the man. “Drop the gun!”
He ignored her and fired, shots impacting their vehicle’s windshield. Lainie returned fire immediately, hitting him twice and he went down.
But the threat was not over. In her peripheral vision, Lainie caught movement. It had to be the passenger from the SUV. Lainie recognized Crystal Benton as the woman began shooting.
She had a better angle than the driver had, and a bullet whizzed by Lainie’s face. Fearing for Ben, Lainie went low and moved right, shooting as she moved, her first shots firing off-balance with no aim.
Benton followed her movement, seemingly oblivious to the fact that Lainie was shooting at her. At least two vehicles in the southbound lanes had stopped abruptly, and bullets slammed into the hood and left fender of one.
Lainie had no cover so she had to plant, aim, and shoot. Benton was like a robot, advancing and firing. A bullet struck Lainie’s right shoulder and she lost the grip on her gun.
She dropped to her knees and slid behind a second stopped vehicle, twisting back as soon as she was able. Two shots dinged the car, and she felt one whistle past her ear. Once at the back of the car, training kicked in.
Terrified that Ben or an innocent driver would now be shot, Lainie grabbed her gun with her left hand, aimed, and fired.
Ben was stuck. He couldn’t open the driver’s door because it was jammed against the train, and the airbag was slow to deflate.
The pain in his left shoulder told him that his collarbone was likely broken or seriously strained from being whipped against the seat belt.
The windshield took two bullets and then spiderwebbed, shattering but staying in place.
He heard more bullets hit the side of the car as he struggled to undo his seat belt and draw his weapon.
He heard Lainie return fire and saw the driver go down.
He ripped his seat belt off as the second shooter appeared and Ben threw himself across the front seat as more bullets sprayed the car.
He prayed that Lainie was okay but feared for her because he no longer heard her firing.
He just couldn’t risk sticking his head up and giving the shooter a clear shot.
Then two shots rang out. He prayed that was Lainie from behind the car.
Then silence.