She Tries To Forget Ch 20

Martin stood outside the cubicle in the trauma center, watching Lonnie Ames' distraught parents hover over their critically injured son. Lonnie had come through the surgery all right, but the doctor who'd operated on the young man told Martin it was still touch and go whether the boy would survive. "And even if he does, we can't be sure whether there's any brain damage until he wakes up and we can do neurological tests," the surgeon said. "Traumatic brain injury is always a possibility."

"Do the best you can, Doc," Martin said. He watched the doctor turn and walk back into the surgical area.

Trooper Marilyn Evans, a buxom blonde trooper from the State Patrol, walked up to Martin. "Hi, Martin, how's the Ames kid doing?" she asked.

"He's critical," Martin told her. "The doctor who operated on him says they won't know if he's going to make it for twenty-four hours at least."

"Damn," Trooper Evans said. "You got a minute?"

"Sure," he said, "why don't we go down to the cafeteria and get some coffee?"

A few minutes later they were seated at a table in the hospital cafeteria, with steaming cups filled with coffee sitting on the table in front of them.

"What did you see out there, Martin?" the trooper asked. "Did you get a good look at the scene at all?"

Martin shook his head. "I was only there a couple of seconds before the fire started," he said. "After that, I didn't have time to see much."

Marilyn smiled and shook her head. "I heard what you did. You know, you probably saved that kid's life you crazy bastard," she said. "If you hadn't gotten him out when you did, he'd be toast now."

"You'd have done the same thing if it'd been you," Martin said. He was a little embarrassed by her compliment.

"Maybe," the blonde trooper said. "That biker says he saw the skid marks, that's why he stopped. He says he didn't see any other cars."

"It's a pretty sharp curve," Martin said, "You think the kid was drinking, or maybe going too fast?"

Marilyn shook her head. "Hospital did blood tests, he was double zero," she said. "And, judging from the skid marks, I'd say he was going well under what would have been a safe speed."

"You think he fell asleep?" Martin asked.

"Could be," she said, "but I sure as hell wish I could talk to him. One of the local cops knows the kid, says he's one of the few teenagers in Jamestown who's a careful driver. This doesn't make sense, Martin."

"Jesus!" Martin thought, when an idea occurred to him. "I wonder where Mr. Mark Lewis was tonight?"

"You looked like you had an idea, there," the trooper said. "You have any thoughts on this crash?"

"Maybe," Martin said, "but nothing I can prove."

"Tell me what it is," Marilyn said.

He explained about the story Ann had told him, and about how it looked like Martin Lewis had done to set Lonnie up for stealing.

"You think this Lewis guy could have run the kid off the road, is that it?" Marilyn asked.

Martin nodded. "Maybe," he said, "but how the hell can we prove it? I mean, Lonnie's mother said he told her he was going out for a drive, but she didn't know where he was going. How would Lewis have known where he was?"

"Maybe Lewis was out driving around, too, and he stumbled onto the kid, followed him, and ran him off the road when he got a chance?" the trooper suggested.

"Yeah, but how do we prove it?" Martin asked.

"I don't know," Marilyn said. "I suppose I could go ask him."

Martin shook his head. "I'd rather you didn't do that right now," he said. "That might spook him, and I don't want to do that. I'm meeting with Sonny Dawson tomorrow...this...morning, to discuss a plan to bag Lewis for some of the other shit he's done. Maybe that will help us nail him for this, too."

"Whatever," Marilyn said. "You going to keep me posted?"

"Of course," Martin said. "You going to hang around here?"

"For a little while," she said. "If the kid doesn't wake up in an hour or so, I'll tell the hospital to call the office when he does and we can get a statement from him."

"OK," Martin said, standing up. "I'm going to head down to Jamestown PD and meet with Sonny. Then I've got to head over to Lincoln County, to my daughter's place."

"How come?" trooper Evans asked.

"There's someone else I need to tell about what happened to Lonnie Ames," he said. And that was a notification he dreaded making.

Before he left the hospital, Martin called his daughter, explained what happened, and asked her to do what she could to keep Ann from seeing any newspapers or hearing any news on the radio. He said he'd be up later in the day to tell Ann what happened to the young man in person.

"I'll do what I can, Dad," Melissa said.

Martin left the hospital and drove to Jamestown Police Headquarters. He, Sonny Dawson, and Luis Rivera from the Prosecuting Attorney's office discussed the case, and decided that the best way to get proof against Mark Lewis would be to see if they could somehow get him admitting it on tape. That would have to involve Ann, though. All of them felt it was very likely Lewis would gloat about what he'd done to her as a way of trying to cement his hold on her.

"That will put the lady in considerable danger, though," Luis said. "This guy sounds like he's really out of control. Especially if you're right about him running that kid off the road last night, Martin."

"We should be able to cover her, I think," Martin said, "if we have a team in the house, maybe a second team in the garage, and some detectives in cars near the house."

"What if the asshole brings a gun and just blows her away?" Sonny asked.

"We better make sure that doesn't happen," Martin said. "We could put her in a vest, that would help."

"Yeah, I suppose," Sonny said. "You sure she'll want to take the risk of facing this asshole again?"

"I'll ask her," Martin said. "I'm headed up to my daughter's place to see her when we're done here."

"OK," Sonny said. "When do you want to do this?"

"Tomorrow if we can," Martin said. "I'd kind of like to get this over with, wouldn't you?"

"Tomorrow it is," Luis said.

Martin left the police station and went home to take a bath and change. It wasn't until he stripped his clothes off before he got in the shower that he realized just how banged up and bruised he was. He felt a little stiff, too. "I really am getting too old for this shit," he thought as he stepped into the shower enclosure.

Cleaned up and dressed in clean clothes, Martin locked up his house, got in his car, and headed for his daughter's place.

Mark Lewis, who no longer cared about whether he went to work or not, or whether his wife cared where he was, sat in his car down the block from Ann's place, still watching it, wondering where she was. He saw her neighbor come home and go into his house. "I wonder if he has taken her somewhere," he thought. "They were acting pretty friendly that one day. I'm sure she's fucking him, too."

When the man came out a while later and got in his car, Mark decided to follow the man and see if he could find Ann that way.

Martin didn't realize he was being followed until he was on the Interstate. He'd seen the black sedan behind him earlier, but hadn't paid it much mind. Now, as he raced north at speeds well over the limit, he realized the black car was keeping up with him.

"I wonder..." he thought. He slowed down to about five miles an hour under the speed limit and pulled into the right-hand lane. The black car kept gaining on him for a few seconds, then it, too, slowed and pulled into the right-hand lane.

"Lewis isn't much good at running a tail," Martin thought. He pulled out into the passing lane, pressed down on the accelerator and speeded up again. The black car did the same thing.

"Damn, if that's Lewis, how am I going to handle this?" Martin wondered. "Do I want to lead him to Melissa's?" He thought some more. Melissa and Bill were both cops, and both of them would be home. If he called ahead and told them what he thought was going on, they could be ready for Lewis. "It looks Mr. Lewis is forcing us into doing what we were going to do anyhow, only a day earlier," he mused.

Martin picked up his radio microphone. When the Operations dispatcher answered, he advised her of his location and requested that a she see if she could get an unmarked unit from either the State Patrol or their department to respond to back him up on the road, just in case Lewis tried running him off the road. She said she'd see what she could do, and that if all she could get was a marked cruiser, she'd advise them to use caution and try not to be seen.

Next, Martin used his cellular phone to call Melissa's house. He asked for Bill, and when the trooper got on the phone, Martin told him what he thought was going on.

"Son-of-a-bitch!" his future son-in-law said. "What do you want me to do?"

"Get some help and set up a reception committee for our friend," Martin said. It occurred to him that having the confrontation with Lewis at Melissa's apartment building, which was in the middle of town, could endanger a lot of people. "Bill," he said, "remember that house you and Melissa showed me...the one you guys want to buy?"

"Yeah, why?" Bill replied, sounding puzzled.

"I think it would be better if we did this there," Martin said. "It's isolated. If this guy's armed and we wind up in a shootout, that would be a better place for it, don't you think?"

"Yeah, I see your point," Bill said. "I'll get the key from the agent. She's just down the street from here. Melissa and I have just about got the people that own it down to our price, you know."

"Hopefully, we won't put any bullet holes in it," Martin said. "Of course, if we do, it will bring the price down, won't it?"

"Yeah, right," Bill said. "How soon you going to be here?"

"I'm going to slow down," Martin said. "Maybe even stop for gas. I'll give you an hour to get set up."

"Right, we'll be waiting for you," Bill said. "Be careful."

Martin put the phone back in its holder and slowed down to the speed limit. The black car was still back there, keeping pace with him.

"James County A-1 from James County Fifteen," his radio squawked.

Martin picked up the microphone. "A-1 on, go ahead James County Fifteen," he said. The radio call was from Sergeant Greg Atkinson, a deputy the James County Sheriff's department had assigned to patrol this rural corner of the county. Greg was young, but he was a darn good cop. Martin was glad to hear from him.

"I'm about a half-mile behind you in my personal vehicle, Adam one," Greg said. "That black sedan the one that's following you?"

"That's him," Martin said. "See if you can get a plate number and run it."

"Copy, A-1," Greg said. "I'll see what I can do."

"Operations to A-1" the dispatcher said after Martin's conversation with Greg ended. "I heard you and County Fifteen, so you know he's backing you up. James County One and Three are enroute, too."

"Copy, operations," Martin said. So his boss, Sheriff Alex Martin, and Lieutenant Tim Jackman, head of the department's detective division, were coming out to help him. "Must be Alex is getting bored sitting around the office and figures to get in on the action," he thought, grinning. "They better hurry or they'll miss all the fun."

When he reached the town where his daughter lived, Martin got off the Interstate. At the end of the ramp, he pulled into a gas station. He filled up his car, which didn't really need it, then he went inside to pay. He could see the black sedan parked alongside the road just down the street from the gas station. And, some distance behind it, sat Greg Atkinson's red pickup truck.

Alex wandered around the store for a while before he paid for his gas and bought a soda, then he strolled out to his car, got in, and took an inordinate amount of time getting his seatbelt on. After that, he opened his soda and took a long swallow. Finally, he started the engine and pulled out onto the highway again.

"A-1 from operations," his radio said.

"A-1, go ahead," Martin replied.

"608 advises everything is all set," the dispatcher told him.

"Copy, operations," Martin replied. "Advise him I'm about six minutes out."

"Will do, A-1," the dispatcher said.

608 was Bill Wilson's radio call number. Apparently the trap for Mark Lewis was set. Martin drove past the turnoff to his daughter's apartment building and continued through town and out into the countryside again. When he passed the County Line Diner, he saw two State Patrol cruisers and a Lincoln County Sheriff's Department cruiser parked in front of it. There were officers sitting in the units. His destination was about a mile from the diner. It looked like Bill had everything set, and had arranged for more than enough backup.

Martin grinned. "Mr. Lewis is in for a big surprise," he thought as he drove down the street.