Deadly Mystery
The two police motorcycles sailed down the freeway at a feverish pace, hotly pursuing a mysterious speeder in a 1977 royal blue Chevy Malibu Classic. They could tell the driver was male from the build, but nothing else.
"L.A. 15-7Mary 3 and 4 pursuing a 1977 Royal Blue Chevrolet Malibu Classic westbound on the Hollywood Freeway, license number Sam-Thomas-Adam-David 220," said Officer Jon Baker through the police radio on his motorcycle.
"10-4, 7 Mary 3", answered the dispatcher through the radio. The two motorcycles roared away, sirens blaring, signaling the end for this foolish soul, whoever he happened to be.
Jon's partner, Frank Poncherello, otherwise known as Ponch, was not at all amused. He managed to pull close to the driver's side of the Chevy, as it was in the furthest right lane, with Jon not too far behind. The eyes of Ponch and the motorist locked. The slightly unshaven Caucasian male, long unkempt hair and dark features, grinned a poisonous grin to the well-kempt Hispanic officer. "Hi, Poncherello!" he called out in a mocking voice. The thoughts raced through Ponch's mind in a split second.
::Who is this guy? Where did he come from? Did we bust him before? How did he know my name?::
No time for questions. "Pull over!" Ponch shouted. "Now!"
The driver was much too giddy. He was absolutely thrilled that the duo were following him; he wanted them to. Unfortunately, he was so overconfident he wasn't thinking straight. Thinking he could change one more lane, he started to do so...
"Ponch!" Yelled Jon, not too far behind. "Look out! He's gonna crash!"
Ponch backed off and joined his companion, and not a moment too soon. All too easily, the Chevy crashed into the nearby railing and lost control, violently twisting and turning as it crashed. Jon and Ponch stopped and dismounted, hurrying to the wreck, which had somehow managed to topple on its right side. The police officers looked in to find that though the driver and his steering wheel, windshield, and front seat were soaked in blood, he was still breathing. "We don't have much time, Ponch. Call it in," insisited the blonde, tanned companion. Two squad cars came sailing by into the scene, one driver emerging, a young brown-haired caucasian, the other african-american, from his.
"What do we have here, Jon?" asked the brown-haired man.
"Baricza! Thank God! We've got some creep who practically smashed himself into hamburger."
The paramedics hurried to assist, as they carved the wreck with the Jaws Of Life, rescuing the dazed driver, he was immediately attended to, blood cleaned up as much as possible and wounds and injuries dressed. He lay in the bed, about to be loaded into the ambulance. Jon and Ponch faced his grin, both shocked, bewildered and bemused. "Just what kind of Godawful scheme were you trying to pull back there?!" exclaimed Jon. The driver only eyed him and spoke in a weak, raspy voice. "Officer...Jon...Baker..." Then Ponch. "Officer...Frank...Poncherello... Ghoul... is...coming...you're...both...next..." he concluded as he closed his eyes for the final time, his face concealed by the orange blanket.
Jon, Ponch and Fritz, the african-american, all more bewildered than ever, stood by the wreck as Baricza directed traffic. "What on earth was that?" asked Jon. "We busted him before, I take it." "I don't think so," answered Ponch. "I know I've never seen him before." "Who is he?" asked Fritz. "How did he know you two? And who the heck is this 'Ghoul'?"
A moaning sound came from the half open trunk. Jon and Ponch hurried to open it, and much to their dismay, they had pulled out another officer such as they, a green-eyed redheaded female, bound and gagged, also covered in blood. She was sans holster and died upon being rescued. "Jon...it's Chloe O'Brien, the officer from the West division who's been missing for two months!" exclaimed Ponch.
The patches on her side were the same as those of Jon, Ponch and Fritz, and said the same thing...
California Highway Patrol.