Passion in James County XV: Ben and Nancy
Chapter twenty-three
Buddy Marks was walking down the street toward his house when he saw the police car swing onto the block. He knew the cops had arrested someone else for what he'd done to Trish and figured he was off the hook, but he started to get nervous when he saw a second police car coming down the street from the opposite direction. "What the hell is going on?" he wondered, feeling scared. He got even more scared when the police cars stopped in front of his house and four uniformed officers got out and, carrying shotguns, began approaching the house. "Oh, Fuck! They must have found out I did it," he realized. He bolted down an alley, running as fast as his legs would carry him.
Buddy, terrified that he might well wind up spending the rest of his life in jail, finally stopped running in the parking lot of the Jamestown Mall. He stopped and leaned against a light post, gasping for breath. "What am I gonna do?" he wondered. "I gotta get away! I gotta get out of town!" He looked around and saw an older woman coming out of the supermarket pushing a shopping cart loaded with groceries. She pushed the cart to a late-model brown Chevy station wagon which happened to be parked near where Buddy was standing, then she reached in her purse and got out her keys to unlock the car.
Buddy realized he had a chance to get the car. He straightened up, ran over to the woman, grabbed the keys out of her hand and pushed her aside. He climbed into the car.
The woman fell and lay on the blacktop yelling, "Help! He's stealing my car! Somebody help me! Please! He's stealing my car!"
Buddy fumbled around, finally got the key in the ignition, and got the car started. He backed out of the parking place, knocking over the woman's shopping cart and scattering her groceries all over the place. He pulled the car into "drive" and screamed out of the lot, onto the main drag.
As he roared down the street, Buddy realized he had no idea where to go. "Mexico!" he thought, remembering the movies he'd seen. Criminals in the movies always went to Mexico. He wasn't sure why, but he wasn't very bright, so that was the only thing he could think of. He had a vague idea that Mexico was south, so when he got to the freeway, he took the on-ramp for the southbound lane.
State Patrol trooper Mavis Dean sat behind the wheel of her brand new Camaro Z-28 patrol unit, in the median of the freeway, with her radar unit pointed at southbound traffic, looking for speeders. She was near the end of her duty shift and was looking forward to going home and spending some time with her two kids. She'd been on the State Patrol for seven years, and enjoyed her job, although she liked running radar less than most of her duties.
"Jamestown Emergency Operations Center to all Jamestown PD, Sheriff's, and State Patrol units," the radio in the sleek cruiser crackled. "We have an urgent BOL. Jamestown P.D. has issued a want on a 1990 Chevy Caprice Classic station wagon, color brown, stolen at 1420 hours from the lot of the Jamestown Mall. Registration is 2-4-5 Boy Ocean Lincoln. Driver matches the description of a suspect wanted by James County Sheriff for rape, aggravated assault, and attempt murder. Suspect is a white male, age 18, five-six to five nine, weight 180, brown and blue. Was wearing a white T-shirt, brown jacket, and jeans when last seen. Subject vehicle was last seen headed for the freeway. Units north and south of Exit 39, be alert. James County advises that suspect should be considered armed and very dangerous. All units acknowledge."
Mavis picked up her radio microphone and waited while the other Patrol units acknowledged the broadcast. "330 to Jamestown, acknowledge that broadcast," she said.
"Copy, 330," the dispatcher replied.
"I wonder if I'm going to end my shift with a pursuit?" Mavis wondered. She scanned on-coming traffic carefully, watching for the car mentioned in the broadcast. Then the alert tone on her radar began beeping and she felt her heart rate increase. She glanced at the radar unit perched on the dashboard. The blinking red letters on the readout said, "95."
Mavis glanced up and saw a brown car flash by. She shoved in the clutch, jammed her cruiser into first gear, and roared out of the median in a cloud of blue smoke. While she shifted up through the gears, she managed to get the car's emergency lights and siren turned on, and when she was in sixth gear, she picked up the microphone. Her heart was pounding and she realized she was yelling when she said, "330 to Jamestown, I'm in pursuit!"
"Copy, 330," the dispatcher said. "All units on this frequency, stand by, 330 is in pursuit!"
"Jamestown, I'm southbound on the freeway, passing mile marker 139, in pursuit of a brown station wagon!" Mavis yelled. "Possibly the BOL vehicle. One occupant, probably a white male. Speed at this time is in excess of 95!"
"Copy, 330, you are southbound on the freeway, passing mile marker 139, in pursuit of a vehicle that matches the description of the BOL," the dispatcher replied, sounding a little agitated, too. "Any units available to assist 330, identify and respond Code 3!"
"325 to dispatch," a male voice said. "I'm at mile marker 150, responding southbound to assist 330."
