Karma: A Blayne Mitchell Novel

4

Chapter 4
Andrew shouted and waved his arms, trying to signal the cruiser, but Blayne was far into the distance. They were too late. Garrett cursed loudly and threw his legal pad on the floor. Dunphy came out behind them, completely out of breath. He looked at them hopefully, but with a hapless shrug from Andrew, he, too, cursed loudly.
"He's gone." Andrew said simply.
"He's gone." He repeated with disbelief.
"Does he always do this?" The panting chief asked. Andrew looked over the chief with disgust. He was a truly repulsive man.
"Yeas." He lied. He didn't know Blayne, he just met the guy. And Andrew got the feeling that Blayne didn't like him. He'd ditched him, and left him with the two incapable bastards and no idea what was happening.
"I thought all the residents were gone," Dunphy cocked his head, "And then one turns up dead."
Garrett shrugged, "We assume he and his girlfriend were camping out in the abandoned hotel until everything blew over. And now that the girlfriend is killed, he was scared he was next, so the guy fled."
"We'll just have to wait for Blayne to come back, with good news or not. I think this guy is hiding something from us." Dunphy sighed and leaned against the white building. No shit, Sherlock. Andrew thought, then wondered what he would do until Blayne returned. Time to get to work.

The only car on the highway was a red Toyota Prius, and I sped after it. The driver saw me through the rear view mirror and started accelerating. A Taurus could push the speed limit, almost twelve miles per hour faster than the Prius. It was an ideal cop car, strong, comfortable, and it performed well in a chase. But the Prius had three times more miles per gallon, and the Taurus was only at a quarter tank. I had to catch up to the Prius, and fast. There was no doubt the Prius would outlast the Taurus in any chase. Especially when it only had a quarter tank.
Suddenly, the driver zigzagged in the middle of the road, and then took a sharp right onto an obscure trail. The Taurus pulled into fifth gear and hauled right. I yanked on the steering wheel to keep the car in control and pushed it to sixth. No sound but the singing of the engines pierced the grassy plain. I had no idea where we were, and the Prius didn't either. It was just me in him, caught in the tangle of grasses, pushing the vehicles to their limit.
A bullet silently flew by the window, followed by the thunderous boom of a handgun. Probably a Smith & Wesson, by the sound.
"Shit." I cursed and ducked behind the wheel. Once, I had been pierced by a knife. The doctors told me that I was lucky it wasn't a bullet, saying it would've been much worse. Honestly, I didn't want to find out if they were right.
Two more bullets zipped by, loud explosions of sound proceeding. The guy was firing. He wasn't aiming to kill, or else he would've hit something. He was just trying to make sure I couldn't follow. It didn't work. But I knew the bullets were all he needed to put enough distance between us that I would run out of gas before catching up.
I slammed the brake, swearing and punching the steering wheel. I climbed out of the car, bashed the door shut, kicked it a few times for good measure, climbed back inside, and started back towards Marysville. The Prius had been my one good lead for catching the perp.
Andrew and the two officers were waiting in the building. Dunphy hurriedly quashed his cigarette and looked at me expectantly. I shook my head.
"Then why the hell did you take off like that!?" Andrew accused, standing up to match me. He was an inch shorter, and a lot less threatening.
"Because it was the best damn lead we had, and since you forgot to fill up the tank, we're all back to square one." I growled menacingly. Garrett shook his head, "No, not square one. The bodies are being autopsied and the crowbar was sent in for fingerprinting. We'll get some good leads after that." Andrew scowled, and he shook his head at Garrett.
"No, we won't."
"Why not?" Dunphy pressed. He frowned in thought when I didn't respond. He repeated the question.
"What weapon was used to kill the girlfriend?" I guided the feeble minded detective.
"A TEKTON 3324, presumably the same one used to kill the other three. The murders are obviously connected...oh." Realization dawned on his features. I nodded approvingly, he was catching on. Garrett still looked confused, so I explained the rest.
"We have the TEKTON, you said that yourself. So how did the perp use it to kill the girlfriend?" I asked, then Garrett understood.
"We don't have the right crowbar." The color drained, and he rubbed his chin, "But that's not right, Dunphy found the crowbar in the street. It had blood and everything!"
"The perp could've bought a second one?" Dunphy proposed. It was unlikely, but possible. Someone who was willing to buy another crowbar was not the same person who left the first one in the street and kicked the bodies of his victims around until they were almost completely discernable. But it was possible.
After a few moments of tense silence, the fax machine whirred and whined loudly. The fingerprinting or autopsy results were in. Garrett stood to check.
"It's the fingerprinting. Looks like we got ourselves our first suspect." He showed no signs of recognition, so the suspect was obviously not a local. He passed the paper to Dunphy. Same reaction. Dunphy handed the results to Andrew. Andrew scanned the paper with the same impartial look. Andrew passed the sheet to me. I held it gingerly and read the name.
"Oh God..." I read the name. Once. Twice. The third time it actually sunk in.
"Oh God." I repeated. The words on the page finally registered.
Vance Kyle Mitchell, it read.
"Oh God. That's my brother."
My brother was now suspected for murdering seven people.
Oh God.