CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE #2
Over by the van, the man Miles was assuming was their killer let out a howl of anger.
Bennett collapsed completely as soon as the lift was gone. Lawson caught her and lowered her carefully to the ground. "Vivian? Can you hear me? You're safe now. Please…"
Bennett's eyes focused on Lawson's face. Her mouth moved but no sound came out at first. Then, weakly, "Don?"
Miles stood up and, satisfied that Bennett was safe and well attended to, turned toward where Vic was still struggling with the killer.
The man had broken free from her grip and was running toward the black van.
Vic chased after him, closing the distance fast. Her gun was still drawn but Miles knew she was well-trained and would only fire if she had no other choice.
The killer reached the van and yanked open the back doors.
Miles could see that the interior was packed with equipment—more weather balloons, coils of rope, empty helium tanks.
Everything needed for his horrific launch system.
When he reached inside for something, Miles drew his gun, ready to fire if Vic hesitated to do so.
Vic was almost on him when the killer grabbed a helium tank.
In one maniacal motion, he wheeled around as if he were doing a strange exercise, the tank in both hands, held up at chest height.
And then he swung it at her. The metal cylinder connected with the side of Vic's head with a sickening thud.
She went down hard, hitting the ground and not moving.
"Vic!" Miles ran faster toward the van, his finger on the trigger. "Stop! FBI!"
The killer turned to face him, and Miles saw that he was holding something in his other hand. A small pistol, probably a .22 or .25 caliber from the size. It was the kind of gun that was easy to conceal but still deadly at close range.
Miles stopped running and aimed his weapon at the killer's center mass. "Drop the gun! Drop it now!"
But the killer did not drop the gun. Instead, he turned slightly and aimed at the helium tank he had just thrown at Vic. The tank was lying on the ground about ten feet from where Vic had fallen, its valve and gauge still visible.
Miles realized what was about to happen a split second before it happened. He reacted the only way he knew how; he pulled the trigger at the same time the killer did.
Miles knew his bullet went wide; he’d only intended to get the bastard to freeze.
But the killer’s aim was true. The bullet hit the tank's valve assembly and the compressed gas inside found a path of escape.
The tank exploded with a massive blast that sent a shockwave through the desert air.
The force of the explosion lifted the heavy metal cylinder and sent it spinning through the air like a missile.
Miles was thrown backward by the shockwave, his feet leaving the ground.
He hit the dirt hard and rolled, his weapon flying from his hand.
His ears rang from the noise and his vision blurred from the impact.
He was also quite sure he heard a piece of the fragmented tank go whistling by his head, missing him by mere inches.
He pushed himself up on his elbows, trying to see what had happened. Through the dust and debris settling in the air, he could see Lawson covering Bennett's body with his own, shielding her from the explosion. Vic was still on the ground where she had fallen…and she was not moving.
And the killer was running toward the white pickup truck.
Miles forced himself to his feet, ignoring the pain in his back and shoulders.
His weapon was somewhere in the dirt behind him but there was no time to search for it.
He stumbled forward, his balance still affected by the blast. His full attention was on Vic, fearing the absolute worst. With his eyes on his partner, he was just barely aware of the killer rushing to the white pickup.
He yanked the door open and the engine roared to life right away.
“Shit!” Miles screamed in frustration. He couldn’t let him get away, he couldn’t—
He spotted his gun, about ten feet away.
He stumbled for it and finally grabbed it up.
But by the time he was turned and had the truck somewhat in his sights, it had lurched forward, tires spinning in the loose desert sand before finding traction.
The cloud of dust made it hard to see anything clearly…
not the tires for a shot, and not the license plate number to call in to LAPD.
Miles hurried back to Vic; as far as he was concerned, she was more important than chasing the suspect. He dropped to his knees beside her and checked her pulse. His heart surged with relief when he found it, strong and steady. She was breathing normally despite being unconscious.
"Vic, can you hear me?" He gently turned her head to assess the injury.
There was already a massive bruise forming where the helium tank had hit her, and blood was seeping from a cut along her hairline.
But her pupils responded to light when Miles checked them, which meant the injury was probably not life-threatening.
The pickup truck was already fifty yards away, kicking up a trail of dust as it bounced across the uneven terrain back toward the service road.
“Mr. Lawson?” he called out. “Was that your truck?”
“Yeah, sure was,” Lawson said.
“Any chance you know your license plate by heart?” As he asked, he wondered why the killer had left his van behind and taken the beat up truck instead.
Maybe to leave any evidence out in the desert, to distance himself from all of it now that he’d been found out and was on the run? It would make sense.
“Yeah,” he said, thought was obvious that he was far more concerned with making sure his girlfriend was going to pull through.
“Can you recite it, please?”
Lawson blinked rapidly, as if having to focus on reorienting his mind. He managed to recite it all off, and Miles committed it to memory even as he grabbed Vic’s phone and pulled Detective Morales’s number up.
Morales answered on the first ring. "Agent Sterling, are you at the location?"
"We're here. The victim is alive but the suspect is fleeing in a white pickup truck.
" Miles rattled off the license plate number clearly and succinctly.
"I need an APB out immediately. Male suspect in his late twenties, armed and dangerous.
He just assaulted a federal agent and detonated a compressed helium tank. "
"I'm putting it out right now. What's your status?"
"Agent Stone is injured but conscious. The victim is safe. We need paramedics and backup at the location immediately."
"They're already en route, Agent Sterling. Should be there in less than ten minutes."
Miles ended the call and looked back at Vic. Her eyes were open now, blinking slowly as consciousness returned.
"Don't move," Miles said, keeping his voice calm and steady. "You took a hit to the head. Paramedics are coming."
"The suspect?" Vic's voice was slurred slightly.
"Gone. But I got his plate number. Every cop in California is going to be looking for him in the next five minutes."
Vic tried to sit up but Miles gently pushed her back down. "Stay still. You might have a concussion."
"I'm fine. Just…damn, that’s embarrassing. I had him in my sight and he still managed to brain me with a damned tank."
"You're not fine. You got hit in the head and then were about ten feet away from an explosion. Just stay down until the paramedics get here."
She nodded and even that simple action caused her to wince.
Lawson approached them, still supporting Bennett as she walked unsteadily beside him. "Is your partner okay?"
"She will be." Miles looked at Bennett, assessing her condition. She was conscious and currently in a sitting position, which meant the sedative was wearing off. "How are you feeling, Ms. Bennett?" he called.
"Dizzy. Confused." Her words came slowly, like she was having trouble forming them. "What happened?"
"You were attacked and drugged last night. Mr. Lawson saved your life by grabbing you before you could float away completely."
“Float…what?”
“Don’t worry about it right now. I’ll explain it all. But for now, can you tell me anything about your attacker? Anything that might help us identify him?"
Bennett closed her eyes, clearly trying to remember.
"He said his name was David Marquez. He came to my practice session last night. Said he was scouting talent for a new show. Something felt wrong about him. I tried to leave but he followed me to the parking lot. I’m pretty sure the story was fake, though. Probably the name, too.”
"That's good. That's helpful." Miles made a mental note of the name, though he suspected it was fake. "Did he say anything else? Anything about why he was targeting you?"
"He asked about heights. About working with heights outside. About my comfort level being suspended in the air." Bennett's eyes opened again, focusing on Miles with growing clarity.
“That’s our guy for sure,” Vic said quietly as she, too, had made her way into a seated position in the dirt.
Miles could already hear sirens approaching, faint and small in the distance. He looked down at Vic, who was still lying on the ground but tracking the conversation with alert eyes.
"We almost had him," Vic said quietly.
"I know. But we saved Bennett. That's what matters right now."
"He's still out there. We have to…"
But she stopped and winced again. “Shit. Maybe I’m not fine.”
“Told you. But listen….we know what he looks like now. We have a name he used, even if it's fake. We have the license plate of a vehicle he stole and every cop in the state is looking for that truck. We’ll get him."
As the sound of the sirens grew closer, Miles had no doubt that this was true. He just wondered how much damage the man would be capable of…how desperate he might be now that he knew his time was running out.