Page 22 of Last Girls Alive
“Wait!” she said, breaking into a sprint after him. “Wait! Sheriff’s department! Stop!”
The faster she ran, the more he increased his speed. As Katie pursued, she couldn’t help but think that she had seen this person before.
But where?
Katie pumped her arms faster, wishing she was in her running shoes.
That’s it!
When they had been at Elm Hill Mansion, she had paused a moment before entering the crime-scene area and glanced at the group of onlookers. She was sure that there had been a person matching the general build and dress of the guy she was now chasing.
Her heart pounded with effort and adrenalin as she chased the man around two houses and through a backyard. Jumping over some leftover pieces of drywall and empty paint buckets, she had to use all of her running endurance to keep up.
Katie kept her pace with the fleeing sprinter, but she wasn’t gaining on him. Then he ducked behind a house, pushing over a pile of supplies stacked high in the front yard and causing her to slow to avoid an ambush. Crouching down and pulling her weapon, she approached the six-foot-high pile of scaffolding boards with caution, directing her gun in front of her. Inching to the corner, she peered around to the other side.
No one was there.
After a few tense seconds, she inched around to the other side.
It was deserted as well.
Relaxing her arms slightly, she lowered her weapon. Second-guessing herself, she thought maybe she had been chasing a teenager instead of someone that had been at the crime scene.
Then a dark blur darted out nearby and headed out toward the road again.
Katie bolted, running as fast as she could and jumping every obstacle in her path, weaving around discarded drywall, two-by-fours, and dozens of buckets of paint like she was being chased by wolves.
Catching sight of him again, she slowed her pace, realizing as she looked around that she was traveling in circles. Was he trying to direct her somewhere? But why? And where? She regretted not alerting McGaven to her chase and wished that she had Cisco with her to track him. It would have been more efficient, and safer to have the dog by her side.
She heard a crash nearby. The noise rattled her nerves, making her grit her teeth. With her heartbeat pounding in her ears, she pushed herself harder, running towards the noise. Just as she was about to turn a corner by one of the freshly painted houses, she almost collided with a burly man carrying tools and a large bucket.
Katie stopped abruptly, barely missing him.
“Hey, lady, what are you doing?” said the man with an angry tone. “Why are you here?” he demanded, noticing the Glock 19 she held lowered in her right hand.
“Detective Scott, Pine Valley Sheriff’s Department,” she said, winded and a little bit unnerved at the sound of her own voice. “Did you see a guy come through here wearing dark sweats and a hoodie?”
“Nah, no one here like that,” he gruffly answered. “Even you shouldn’t be here—officer.” His gravelly voice turned sarcastic with an emphasis onofficerand she couldn’t help but see that he didn’t want her anywhere near the construction in progress.
Katie glared at the worker. “And you are?”
He smirked and slowly drew out his answer. “I don’t have to tell you nuthin’.”
“That’s right,” Katie fired back. She could smell his sweat and pungent deodorant mixed together like a stink cocktail. “You don’t have to say anything to me, but I can get a patrol car here in five minutes and they will take you in…”
“Oh yeah. For what?” He leered at her and gave her a once-over.
“How about for obstruction? Evading a police officer. Or, how about I take a look at your permits?” She stood her ground, not really going to do any of those things, but the stocky man didn’t know that.
Katie remained quiet. It was a useful technique that worked most of the time when she wanted someone to be helpful or honest with her.
“Is there a problem, Detective Scott?” said McGaven calmly from behind her.
“I’m going to ask you again. Did you see someone wearing a dark tracksuit with the hood pulled up?” she said, hoping that being outnumbered would make the man more talkative.
“No, not today,” he said slowly.
“What do you mean ‘not today’?”
