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"Got him," Quinn said. "One block up and one block over. Sticking to the speed limit."

"That thing have a map?" Jack asked.

"It does. They seem to be heading . . ."

"Roughly the same way we went to Duncan's cottage," I said.

They both glanced back at me, straining to see over the seat.

"I have my belt on," I said. "It's just not tightened. They're heading north of the city, presumably to find a quiet place to interrogate Koss and bury his body. They might take the highway or they might stick to regional roads. Either way, they'll be going straight for at least another four blocks."

Jack grunted.

"Your best bet . . ." I began.

I wriggled a little closer. Quinn sighed, then obliged by lifting the screen.

"Get ahead of them," I said. "Two blocks up, then make a left and another left. You'd cut them off while they're on a long stretch of narrow road. No easy way to get past or turn around." I glanced at Quinn. "Right?"

"Looks good to me. Now sit down and let me--"

A crash sounded in the distance, loud enough to reverberate through the closed windows. I jumped. Quinn fumbled the GPS, nearly dropping it. Jack made a left, so sharp I was grabbing the seat backs for support.

"Right here?" he asked.

When no one answered, he glanced at Quinn. "Turn right here?"

"Uh, yes. Sorry. Turn--"

Jack was already careening around the corner. Ahead we saw a dark, midsize car plowed into a parked truck. Billowing white airbags filled the car's interior. I could make out two heads in the front seat. One of the rear doors was open.

"That's theirs," Quinn said.

Jack grunted as he steered to the curb and braked hard enough for me to wish I'd tightened my seat belt. I'd have a bruise for sure.

Quinn was out of the car, gun pulled, as soon as it stopped. I followed, exiting on his side. He started for the crash. I grabbed the back of his jacket.

"Wait."

He stopped. Jack had, too, over on the sidewalk. When they did, the scuffle of their footsteps stopped, and I could hear another set of running feet, growing more distant by the second.

Quinn's chin jerked up, catching the same sound. He cursed. Koss was on the move, having presumably caused the crash.

Quinn's gaze went to the crash. I raced past him.

I turned, hands out. "GPS?"

He hesitated. Jack was loping over, waving for me to go on, that he'd get the GPS and follow. I ran while they figured it out. Quinn would be torn between wanting to check the men in the car and not wanting to lose his prey. I knew which he'd choose, but I wasn't waiting around until he figured it out.

I could still hear Koss ahead, loafers slapping the pavement, too intent on escape to hear us. When his footfalls did stop, I ducked into an entryway and got my first good look at the playing field. Offices mostly, dark windows shooting into the sky, the occasional light left on, the workers gone. There were shops down here, too, but all closed. I couldn't rule out the possibility that people lived over some of those shops. No one had come out to see the crash, though. The street was still and silent.

Jack caught up. He pressed the GPS into my hand. The screen showed a blip for Koss, who seemed to be moving around an intersection, likely catching his breath and figuring out his next move. I told Jack.

"Quinn coming?" I whispered.

"Yeah. Checking them out. Calling it in. Joining up."

I caught the faint pounding of footfalls. A moment later, Quinn rounded the corner. I waved him over as I checked the GPS.


Tags: Kelley Armstrong Nadia Stafford Mystery