Extreme Denial (34 page)

“Who said anything about slowing down?” Esperanza slid into the intersection, steering furiously, almost careening over the curb, straightening, vanishing from the police cars. “I used to do a little drag racing. When I was fourteen.”

“What did you do when you were
fifteen?
Race in demolition derbies?” Decker reached for his shoes and socks. “Jesus, except for the Cadillac, I can’t see a thing. You’d better turn on the headlights now.”

Narrowly missing a car parked at the side of the road, Esperanza breathed out sharply. “I agree.” The lights came on. “That doesn’t help much. How do you work the windshield wipers on this thing? Is this the switch? No. How about
this
one?” The wipers started flapping.

Ahead, the Cadillac swerved to the left around another corner.

Esperanza increased speed, braked at the last minute, and veered through the intersection. Midway through the turn, streaking through a puddle, his tires lost their grip on an oily section of pavement. He jolted up on the curb, scraped past a light pole that snapped off the right side-view mirror, and lurched back onto the street.

“No, when I was fifteen, I was
stealing
cars, not racing them,” Esperanza said.

“How did you show up at the house?”

“When the guy on the phone told me you were gone, I knew there was trouble. I checked the receiver you gave me. The homing signal was constant, so I figured the guy was lying and you were still at Giordano’s place. But whatever was going on, I was useless in that phone booth. So I had the taxi drive me to the house. That’s when I heard shots from inside.”

“When we left, I didn’t see the taxi outside.”

“The driver thought there was something suspicious about me. He spotted the receiver and kept asking me if I was following somebody. The second he heard the shots, he made me pay him, ordered me to get out of the cab, and sped away. The only thing I could think to do was climb the fence and find out what was going on.”

“And take the pistol from my travel bag.”

“A good thing for you I did.”

“I owe you.”

“Don’t worry—I’ll figure out a way for you to repay me. Tell me what happened at the house.”

Decker didn’t answer.

Esperanza persisted. “What was the shooting about?”

“I have to keep reminding myself you’re a policeman,” Decker said. “I’m not sure it’s a good idea to go into details.”

With the next sharp turn, the Cadillac led them onto the town’s deserted main road. They sped through the rain past the few shops in the shadowy business area.

“In a minute, he’ll be on the interstate,” Decker said.

“I can’t catch up to him before that.” Esperanza tried to increase speed but almost lost control of the Olds. “Is Nick Giordano dead?”

“Yes.” Decker’s mouth was dry.

“Self-defense?”

“That’s definitely what it felt like to me.”

“Then what’s the problem? Axe you worried that the police will think you went out there intending to kill him? That you planned to get rid of him from the moment you left Santa Fe?”

“If that thought occurred to you, it’ll occur to
them”
Decker said.

“It would certainly be a direct way of solving Diana Scolari’s problems.”

“Beth Dwyer. Her name’s Beth Dwyer. I’m trying to save Beth Dwyer.
Up ahead”
Decker pointed urgently toward a swiftly moving stream of glaring headlights. “
There’s the entrance to the interstate.”

The Caddy’s brakelights flashed as Frank Giordano slowed, trying to navigate the curve that would lead him down the interstate’s access ramp. He braked too hard and lost control of the car. The Caddy spun violently.

“Jesus,” Esperanza said. The Oldsmobile hurtled toward the spinning Caddy, which magnified with alarming speed. “We’re going to hit him!”

Esperanza tapped the brakes. They gripped but not enough. He tapped them again, then pressed them, speeding nearer to the Caddy. At once a gust of wind hit the Olds, and Esperanza lost control on the rain-slick pavement. The car drifted, its back end suddenly at the front. It spun.

Decker had the disorienting vision of the ever larger spinning Caddy appearing like flashes of a strobe light through the Olds’s front windshield, it, too, spinning. At once the Caddy wasn’t there anymore. It must have gone off the road, Decker thought, frantic. Simultaneously the Oldsmobile lurched. The texture of the surface beneath the car became soft and mushy. Grass! The Olds’s right-rear fender struck something. Decker’s upper and lower teeth were knocked together. Outside, metal crumbled. A taillight shattered. The Olds jerked to a stop.

“Are you okay?” Esperanza’s voice shook.

“Yes!
Where’s Giordano?”

“I see his headlights!” Esperanza gunned the engine, urging the Olds away from a tree it had spun into, fishtailing across the edge of a muddy field, aiming toward the interstate’s access ramp. Ahead, the Caddy roared out of a ditch and sped toward the chaos of traffic on the interstate.

“You killed the father.” Esperanza’s breathing was strident. “If you kill the son, Beth Dwyer’s problems are over. There’s no one to pay off the contract on her. Giordano’s men will stop hunting her.”

“You sound like you don’t approve of my methods.”

“I’m just making observations.”

Ahead, Giordano sped onto the interstate, forcing other cars to veer out of his way. Horns blared.

“Giordano has a million dollars in that car,” Decker said.

“
What?
”

“It’s a payoff to Brian McKittrick, the price for killing Beth. Ninety minutes from now, he expects it to be delivered to him.”

Esperanza raced onto the interstate after the Cadillac. “But what if it isn’t? Maybe he’ll let her go.”

“No. McKittrick’s crazy enough to kill her out of spite,” Decker said. “The money has to be delivered to him. Maybe I can use it to get him to lead me to Beth. As it is, Frank obviously has no intention of delivering the money. He’s heading south. The drop-off site is a couple of miles north of here.”

Despite the downpour, Esperanza risked pushing the accelerator to seventy, veered into the passing lane, and surged forward, approaching the Cadillac five cars ahead in the right lane. Rain pelted the windshield. The wipers could hardly clear it. Unable to go faster because of the car ahead of him, Giordano veered into the passing lane and accelerated. The Cadillac’s spray struck the Oldsmobile’s windshield and made it impossible for Esperanza to see. With a curse, he swerved into a break in traffic in the right lane, only four car lengths away now.

Inexplicably Giordano slowed, dropping back. In a moment, the Cadillac was parallel to the Oldsmobile. The Cadillac’s passenger window was down. Giordano raised his right arm.

“He’s going to shoot!” Decker yelled.

Esperanza tapped the brakes. When Giordano fired, the Olds had dropped back just enough that the bullet passed in front of the windshield.

Giordano reduced speed more, dropping back farther, trying for another shot.

Decker lunged toward the floor to grab the pistol that he’d thrown into the car when they left Giordano’s house. Giordano fired. The bullet punched a hole in the driver’s side window, zipped past Decker’s head, and crashed through the far side window in the back. In front, a section of the safety glass disintegrated into jagged pellets, spraying Esperanza’s face.

“I can’t see!” Esperanza shouted.

The Olds wavered.

Giordano aimed again.

Decker fired. The report inside the closed space was agonizing, like hands being slammed against Decker’s ears. There hadn’t been time to open the back window. The bullet blasted a hole in the glass, passed through Giordano’s open front window, and blew a chunk out of his windshield. Giordano flinched and, instead of firing, had to use both hands to correct his steering.

The Olds wavered again as Esperanza struggled to see. Decker bent frantically over the front seat and grabbed the steering wheel. About to hit a car in front, he swung sharply to the left, crossed into the passing lane, and slammed against Giordano’s Cadillac.

“Keep your foot on the accelerator!” he yelled to Esperanza.

“
What are you doing?
” In a sightless frenzy, Esperanza pawed chunks of glass from around his eyes.

Bent over the front seat, Decker steered harder toward the Caddy, walloping against it. He thought he heard Giordano scream. The third time Decker whacked the Caddy, he forced it off the road. In terror, Giordano veered toward the grassy median strip, hurtled down a slight embankment, and surged up an incline toward approaching headlights in the opposite lanes.

Decker followed, almost parallel to the Caddy, feeling a jolt as the Olds left the interstate. He cringed from the loose feel of the steering on rain-soaked grass. His stomach dropped as the Oldsmobile rose, and suddenly he was streaking diagonally past headlights speeding toward him.”

“Brake!” Decker yelled to Esperanza. “
Hard!
”

The Olds had hurtled across two lanes of traffic before the brakes engaged. The wheels skidded, shrieking across wet pavement, throwing up gravel on the shoulder. Horns blaring, traffic rushed past. Ahead, Giordano skidded sideways, crushed bushes, snapped through saplings, and disappeared down a rain-swept slope.

Decker swung the steering wheel in a furious effort to avoid going straight down the slope. He had no idea how steep the drop was or what would be at the bottom. All he did know was that he had to reduce speed even more. “Keep your foot on the brake!” he yelled to Esperanza.

The Olds skidded nearer to the drop. Veering, Decker swung the steering wheel harder, gravel flying. Afraid that the Olds would flip over, he was equally afraid of a head-on impact against a tree. The Olds spun, its tail end pointing toward the slope where the Caddy had disappeared, and suddenly halted, banging Decker’s ribs against the seat he leaned against.

“Jesus,” Decker said. “Are you all right?”

“I think so.” Esperanza pawed more chunks of glass from his blood-smeared face. “I’m starting to see. Thank God my eyes weren’t cut.”

“I’m going after him!” Decker grabbed his pistol and raced from the Olds, assaulted by cold, lancing rain. Vaguely aware that headlights were pulling off the interstate behind him, a car stopping to investigate what seemed to be a terrible accident, he ignored the distraction and studied the dark, wooded slope.

The Caddy’s headlights blazed upward from it, as if the car had twisted going down the slope and was now resting on its back end. Decker didn’t dare make himself a clear target by going straight ahead and exposing himself to the Caddy’s headlights. Instead, he hurried to the right, entered the darkness of the rain-swept trees, and climbed warily down a steep, slippery slope. After what he judged to be thirty feet, he reached the bottom, turned left, and crept toward the glow of the Caddy’s upended headlights, ready with his pistol.

11

Branches snapped. Rain hissing down through the thickly leaved trees obscured the sound. Decker listened harder. There! Another branch had snapped. Near the car.

Decker crouched, trying to blend with the undergrowth. A shadow moved through the trees. Partially silhouetted by the illumination from the Caddy, a man lurched into view. He held his stomach and bent forward, stumbling. Groaning, the figure lost his balance and staggered to Decker’s right, away from the lights of the car, swallowed by the dark woods, but not before Decker saw that what the man had been clutching wasn’t his stomach but, instead, the briefcase.

Decker crept through the trees after him. Although he didn’t have much time, he didn’t dare hurry. He couldn’t afford to make mistakes. At once other noises unnerved him: voices behind him, on the top of the slope. Risking a glance backward, Decker saw rain glinting through several flashlight beams that were aimed down toward the Cadillac. A car had stopped as he went down the slope. Other vehicles must have stopped, also. He could only pray that one of them had not been a police car.

Shifting deeper into the woods, Decker followed the route he thought Giordano had taken. Behind him, people climbed awkwardly down the slope, shuffling through bushes, bending branches, talking loudly. The commotion they made prevented Decker from hearing any noises that Giordano might make ahead of him. He had to avoid the flashlights, stooping, trying to conceal himself in the undergrowth, searching. The money, he thought. I can’t get to Beth if I don’t have the money.

He took a tentative step forward into the darkness and at once felt nothing beneath his shoe. Another slope. About to fall, his momentum tugging him over, he grabbed a tree and dangled, then struggled back onto a slippery stretch of rock. Rain streamed down his neck, his clothes clinging coldly to him. He breathed deeply, trying to steady himself. He had no way of knowing how far down the drop went, but its pitch was extremely steep. If Giordano had toppled over, it would be impossible to climb down and find him in the dark.

Back at the Cadillac, the flashlights scanned the trees. They’ll spread out and try to find the driver, Decker thought. If Giordano didn’t go over the edge, if he’s still alive, he’ll move as far from those flashlights as he can. But which way? Forced to make an arbitrary decision, Decker turned to the right.

If not for the chest-high branch that he had to stoop under, the rock that Giordano clutched would have struck Decker’s skull instead of his bent-over back. The pain of the blow was matched by its surprise. Dazed, Decker was knocked to the ground, dropping his pistol. In a frenzy, Giordano attacked from the darkness. Decker rolled, feeling the fierce rush of air as Giordano tried to hit him again with the rock he clutched. It missed and struck the wet ground with a muffled wallop. Decker kicked, knocking Giordano’s legs from under him. Giordano’s full weight landed on him, almost knocking his wind out. Squirming, Decker felt the edge of the steep slope next to him. As Giordano raised the rock to strike it at Decker’s face, Decker grabbed Giordano’s wrist to stop the blow. At the same time, he felt the ground give way beneath him. He and Giordano were suddenly in the air, falling through the darkness, striking an outcrop, rolling, falling again. With shocking abruptness, they jolted to a stop.