Chapter 53

“Strange indeed is human nature.”

-Arthur Conan Doyle, The Valley of Fear

Smoke and the horrible odor hung in the cool night air as the cops and rangers conferred and organized themselves to hunt down James Dodd. The cop in charge of the search asked if I could tell them anything else about this James Dodd, like where he might be headed.

“If he believes that Tom and I were killed in the fire, he might go back to Chicago and pretend like nothing happened,” was all I could offer.

“Why didn’t he fly back?” the cop in charge pondered.

“Guys like this, they think nothing can ever touch them,” another cop offered his take.

“Let’s concentrate on these particular routes,” the cop in charge said as he identified routes on the map. Everyone leaned over studying it.

“Time to head out,” he ordered, and they left, each totally focused on the hunt. Nobody was chit chatting or taking a donut break.

“We’ve got a small force up here,” the Sergeant explained, “and I’ve put everyone on this search. I want this guy. You and your friend there are free to go back to Chicago now. There’s nothing more you can do for us. We’ve got your names; we know where you live. We’ll be in touch. There’ll probably be an inquest in a week or so, and you’re gonna have to come back up.”

Given my last few experiences with cops, I was relieved. I’d been sure I was going to see the inside of another jail tonight.

“An’ by the way,” he added, “if I was you, I’d keep my eyes open. From what you’ve told us about this character, he’s ruthless and he’s smart. If he finds out you both are still alive, he’s going to try to take you out. You two are the only witnesses against him.”

“Other than the video cam and the dog.”

“Yeah,” the cop nodded, “but he don’t know about the video. It’s lucky we got it. In the O.J. case, the cops had that Akita dog as a witness too, but he couldn’t talk.”

After he left, I thought about Dodd. He was smart enough not to fly back. With only so many airports where he could land, and then having his landing recorded, he’d be boxing himself in and limiting his options. The cop was right about Tom and me being in danger - I already felt the hackles rise on the back of my neck. Who knew where Dodd was or what he was planning. I went looking for Wolfie.

When I looked up again, only one vehicle was left.

“So you drew the short straw, huh?” I asked the Ranger as I approached. His nametag read Anderson, and apparently he’d been stationed to guard the crime scene. Anderson looked to be about 21 and just out of training.

“Yes, ma’am, I did,” he said, his voice breaking like a teenager’s. “I’d rather be out there with the guys, though. If they spot that car, it’s gonna be one hell of a chase. That Land Cruiser’s got a lot of power in it. If he’s smart, he’s gonna take the chase off the highway. That Cruiser’s a lot better off road than our cars are, so they might catch him, and then again they might not.”

Apparently he was still young enough to relish this kind of danger. Or maybe all cops have to have that attitude because they can’t shy away from it when they’re out there in the hunt.

“Why wouldn’t they catch him?” I asked. “They put out a multi-state alert, right? And you guys have all those tactical vehicle intervention techniques that can force him to stop.”

“Well, if you mean the ‘stop sticks’ and the PIT maneuver,...”

“What’s PIT?”

“Oh, sorry. PIT is Pursuit Intervention Technology or Precision Immobilization Tactic. That’s what you were referring to with the spikes or stingers or the bump and run to fish tail the pursuit car. But see this guy’s Land Cruiser is equipped with 4-wheel drive as well as one of those new electronic suspension systems that won’t let it tip over or skid, no matter what. Believe me, they got their hands full against this guy. Wish I was with ‘em.”

I hoped these cops knew what they were doing. I didn’t think I’d be able to handle it if Dodd got away. When I leaned against his car, Anderson shot me a funny look, like the one my mother gives me when I prop my feet on the coffee table. I straightened up and walked back to the bench.

Anderson followed. He cleared his throat and offered me a can of Coke as a peace offering. I was parched from the heat and smoke, and it tasted good.

“They’re letting you go back to Chicago, huh?” he asked.

I nodded.

“You’re lucky. How are you gonna get back?”

“Drive,” I replied. “As soon as he’s able.”

“Neither of you don’t look too good. Can’t you call someone to come for you? It’s gonna be hard to drive with that burn on your arm.”

“Thanks, but I’ll be fine. It doesn’t hurt much,” I lied.

“Oh, your friend’s coming around.” Anderson pointed to Tom who was groaning and trying to stand up. Wolfie prodded Tom with his nose and made little noises that sounded suspiciously like a toy dog. I guess he was feeling glad, too.

“That’s a real nice dog,” Ranger Anderson nodded approvingly. “They say dogs know things - more than humans ever guess.” Certainly more than Anderson guessed, I thought and crossed my fingers, willing Tom not to call Wolfie by name.

Tom was weak and in shock. He swallowed some water then asked, “Have you still got those Advil, DD?”

I retrieved some from my purse in his van along with a flashlight he had in the glove compartment.

Tom nodded his thanks and gulped down a few.

“You’re not exactly following the directions on the bottle,” I noted.

“Clinical dose,” he replied, stashing the bottle in his pocket. “Philip Green?” he asked softly.

I shook my head.

“Grace Dunbar?”

Again I shook my head. “And Morgan,” I added.

“I feel so sick,” he said. “I never thought...”

“Don’t blame yourself. The cops have the video.”

“Yup,” Ranger Anderson said. “I got word that they’re tracking that snake with the Forest Ranger’s aviation unit. It’s equipped with FLIR.”

“What’s that?” I asked. I still had some professional interest.

“Some brand new technology called the Forward Looking Infrared Radar system. We got it with stimulus money. So they’ll be able to identify the car easily, even in the dark. Even if he turns off his headlights, we’ll track him to his hideyhole.”