What an adrenaline filled night! And it still wasn't over. Briggs got a call that an officer had spotted a green Volkswagen Bug at a gas station in Mayfield. He told the officer to keep his eyes on the car but do nothing until he arrived. We jumped into his car and headed in the direction of Mayfield.
I felt my body press back against the seat as Briggs pressed hard on the pedal. I squealed with excitement. "Can we put the siren on?" I asked.
"No, we don't want to alert her we're on the way."
"Phooey. I'll just have to pretend there's a siren and flashing lights. I'm living out a childhood dream right this moment chasing down a bad guy . . . or woman. I guess I always pictured it was a bad guy because well, let's face it, men just do a lot more bad things."
"Unless they are women who have no qualms about shooting two people point blank," he noted.
"Yes, I'll give you that. Heather Houston, if guilty, which she is, absolutely falls on the side of bad. When you mention two people, it brings me to something that keeps scratching at the back of my mind. Heather obviously killed Lionel because he drove her mother to suicide, but what role do you suppose Glenda played in all this?"
Briggs turned toward the center of Mayfield. "We saw them kiss as he was leaving the boat. It seems she was his true girlfriend and accomplice in his devious schemes. She probably just traveled with him and waited for him to do his thing. Then they both took off with the money and spent it on things like nice boats."
"There's Officer Muir's car." Briggs pointed to a black and white that was sitting at a good distance and, thanks to a delivery truck, out of sight from the gas station.
Briggs picked up his radio. "Officer Muir, this is Detective Briggs, I see the car in question. I want you to stay right where you are, nearby and out of sight."
"Ten four, Detective Briggs. The driver of the vehicle has finished filling her tank. She walked inside the convenience store about five minutes ago."
"Copy that, Muir. Await further instructions. Over." Briggs put down the radio and pulled into the gas station. He parked next to the air pump for tires. His detective car looked like a regular old sedan as long as you didn't look inside of it.
I shot a glimmer of a smile at him, which he caught. "No, you can't use the radio," he said.
"I was just going to give Hilda a quick hello."
"It's past her work hours. Chinmoor is watching her desk. By the way, thank you for insisting that I eat your piece of her coffee cake."
I grinned. "I'm generous to a fault."
"Yes you are. I just can't understand how she can make everything taste so bad. I mean, it seems like you'd have to work hard to make things that flavorless," he said.
I suppressed a giggle. "Poor Hilda and she's always so proud of everything she bakes. I wonder if there's something wrong with her taste buds."
Briggs sat up straighter. "Is this Heather Houston?"
Heather was bundled in a big coat leaving the convenience store with a cup of coffee and a package of mini donuts. "That's her. That's our suspect." I was feeling very official. I reached for the door handle.
"Uh, where do you think you're going?" Briggs asked.
I pointed in the direction of the green car. "I thought I'd help you arrest her."
"Nope," he said curtly. "Stay in the car. She's shot two people and she tried to break down your door. She's dangerous." He climbed out and strode across the gas station lot. He reached for his badge.
I glued my face to the window to watch. If nothing else, at least I had a front row seat to the action. More action than I expected.
"Miss Houston," Briggs called as Heather was climbing into her car.
"Yes?" She peered innocently up over the driver door window.
Briggs flashed his badge. "Detective Briggs of the—" Before he could finish announcing himself, Heather dove into her driver's seat, started the engine and raced a circle around him. I gasped as he jumped out of the way of her car.
He ran back to his own car and jumped inside.
"Oh my gosh, I'm going to be in a real car chase," I chirped.
"Fasten your seat belt, Lacey. This could get wild."
"Gosh, I hope so," I said quietly, really only for my own enjoyment.
Briggs shot me a sideways scowl before he focused his full attention on the road ahead. "Just a good thing it's late enough that the streets are almost empty." We flew down the street behind the Volkswagen. It was going at a pretty good clip considering VW Beetles weren't exactly known for being fast or aerodynamic.
I gripped the edges of my seat as we took a corner so fast, I half expected us to tilt onto two wheels. "Wee," I squeaked. "Sorry, that just called for a wee."
We were heading toward the highway. Even though this was my first real car chase, I was certain letting the suspect's car reach the highway was not a good thing. I glanced in the side view and noticed that the black and white was following quickly at our heels.
"Lacey, hold on. I'm going to try and pass and cut her off." His mouth was pulled in a grim line. I had been acting as if I was on an amusement park ride, but the truth was, this was a dangerous situation.
I double checked my seatbelt and held onto the edge of the seat. Briggs' car roared as he pushed the pedal to the floor. I was thrown slightly back against the seat. Suddenly, I knew how the astronauts felt in those g-force simulators. Well, sort of.
Tires screeched and the outside world became a blur as we raced past the green car. I flicked my eyes the direction of the speedometer and was sure I saw the dial go past the hundred mark. Once we were clear of Heather's car, Briggs released the gas pedal and swerved in front of her before putting on the brakes. Heather reacted by turning her wheel sharply. Her car bounced up over the curb and rammed straight into a bus bench.
"Stay here and get down in case she found herself another gun," Briggs ordered before jumping out of the car. He pulled his gun from his holster and walked toward Heather's car.
I ducked down but then peered up over the window ledge. I didn't want to miss the action, and since she had only just ditched the murder weapon, it seemed unlikely she had a second one on hand. I definitely hoped so as I watched Briggs walk toward the car, gun positioned in front of him. Back up had arrived and surrounded the car. Heather had no choice except to give up. The driver's side door slowly opened, and she emerged looking as scared as I'd felt just hours earlier when she had rattled my back door.
Briggs ordered her to put her hands on her head. She complied. She had given up. "He deserved to die," she sobbed. "They both did."