Martin braked, flipped on his turn signal, and steered his car into the driveway of the house where he knew, his daughter, her fiancée, and possibly other officers, were waiting. As he turned into the driveway, the black car, which Greg Atkinson had confirmed was registered to Mark Lewis, slowed down behind him.
He drove up the long driveway and saw that the garage door was open, and that Melissa's car was in the garage. He shut off his car and got out. A quick glance toward the highway told him Lewis was still there, and that Greg Atkinson's truck was there, too, some distance behind Lewis. Then he started to walk around his car, as if he were going into the house. He reached inside his coat, slipped out his gun, and held it under his jacket.
"Hey, Ash Man," a soft voice said from inside the garage.
"Gotcha," Martin replied, recognizing his son's voice. He wasn't disappointed Martin, Jr. was there. He'd have been surprised if he wasn't. Then the breezeway door opened and Ann and Melissa walked out. The fact that Ann was there did surprise him.
"Hi, Dad," Melissa said, starting toward him.
"Hello, Martin," Ann said. She started toward him, too.
Melissa walked over and gave her father a one-armed hug and kiss on the cheek. Ann hugged and kissed him, too. Then they heard the sound of a roaring engine. The three people turned in time to see Mark Lewis' car racing down the driveway toward them.
"Be cool! Hold your positions!" Martin yelled, tensing up. He flipped the safety off his gun with his thumb. With his free hand, he pushed Ann behind him.
Mark Lewis's car screeched to a halt inches from the back of Martin's car and the wild-eyed man emerged. He lifted his hand and the three people standing in front of the house realized he had a gun in it.
"Now, Dad?" Melissa whispered.
"Not yet," Martin replied. He kept his gaze focused on the man who'd gotten out of the car. "We've been expecting you, Mr. Lewis," he said evenly. "Why don't you put your gun down before you get hurt?"
"I'm going to kill all of you!" Mark Lewis screamed. "You're all dead!"
"Why would you want to do something like that, Mr. Lewis?" Martin asked.
Ann stood behind Martin, stunned and amazed by what she saw happening. How could Martin be so cool? Couldn't he see how crazy Mark Lewis was?
"Because...because...she's mine!" Mark screamed. "If...if I can't have her...nobody else will!"
"Calm down, Mr. Lewis," Martin said. "Are you referring to Ann Wallin by any chance?"
"Who the fuck do you think I'm fucking referring to?" the crazed man screamed. "What are you, fucking stupid?"
"Mr. Lewis," Martin continued, "Since you say you're going to kill us anyhow, would you mind telling me something?" His eyes were locked on the man with the gun, but his peripheral vision showed him that Greg Atkinson, and three other police officers, had pulled into the driveway and had taken up safe positions behind their vehicles. Lewis was so focused on the people in front of the house he hadn't heard the other police officers arrive.
"What do you want to know?" Lewis yelled. He was confused. The man should be scared. All of them should be. He was going to kill them. But only Ann looked scared. Ann's neighbor and the red-haired young woman standing next to Ann were watching him carefully and didn't look scared at all.
"What did you do to Lonnie Ames?" Martin asked.
Lewis emitted the weirdest laugh any of the people there had ever heard. "I fixed his ass good," he replied. "I set him up to get busted and fired from the store. That wasn't enough, though. I really got him last night."
"Did you run him off the road last night, Mr. Lewis?" Martin asked. "Is that what you did?"
The eerie cackle erupted from Lewis again. "Yeah, I sure as hell did," he said, "Up on Route 11. You shoulda heard what it sounded like when that old junk truck of his rolled down that bank."
