Chapter Seven
LaSalle kept behind the Chrysler about three car lengths, trying to stay out of the other driver's view. Percy read from the Alert. "Kid's name is Aaron McNulty. He's 14 and lives with his mom and step-father. Suspect is kid's birth dad who has a rap sheet thicker than shit. Doesn't play nice, assault with a deadly weapon, manslaughter."She paused and said the last sentence slowly, "If spotted, call it in and do. not. engage."
"I'm gonna to urge him over to the shoulder. Think you can shoot out a tire if necessary?" LaSalle called to Percy.
"What the fuck LaSalle! Are you even listening? Leave the shooting for the cops. The ones with juris-diction," she protested, emphasizing the last word.
"The stepdad is a retired Marine." he offered.
"I don't see that," she looked down at the pad.
"That's what I read," he said, flashing her her patented charming smile.
"Nice try," she frowned. "But, you do recall we're on administrative leave?"
LaSalle remained laser focused. "This guy is going see us any minute and he'll take off. I can't hold the gun and drive at the same time."
Sonja gave out a long sigh. She put down the tablet, picked up the gun, and took a position. "Shit, I hope this is the right guy."
"He is. I feel it in my gut," he said. "Just don't hit the gas tank."
Sonja gave him a look. "My ankle is injured, not my wrist."
Chris had the LeBaron in his sights away from other cars. He looked over at Sonja, gun poised at the window and felt a mixture of affection, pride, and excitement. They made such a great team. That sorry dude would never know what hit him.
"Ok. Here we go," he exhaled and made his move.
As predicted, the LeBaron began to speed up. LaSalle followed suit and the cars were parallel.
Percy pointed the gun at the driver.
"Federal agents-pull over now!" she barked.
Her command was meet with another gun.
"Chris!" Sonja screamed. She tried to grab him as she ducked, but was too late. A bullet hit his outside shoulder.
Apparently this guy had no problem driving and shooting.
"Cocksucker!" Chris yelped. He backed down, but managed to get in the right lane.
Sonja's heart beat staccato and she temporarily stopped breathing, but quickly got out a shot, puncturing the back tire. The Lebaron swerved wildly off the road, but kept going into the deep weeds.
"No, I don't think so!" LaSalle said defiantly, turning sharply to follow. Neither of them expected the steep embankment. The road rose up to meet them and the truck bounced violently. LaSalle cursed from the pain.
Percy looked in the back seat-for once, glad to see that Chris still used it as a hamper. She picked up an orange tee shirt and began to tear it into strips.
"Hey! That's my lucky shirt!" He squealed.
"Good, then it maybe it'll keep you from bleeding out,' she said fashioning a bandage/tourniquet." Using the same tone as she had with the suspect, she spoke firmly. "Chris, stop the truck. I'm driving."
He shot her a half-crazed look. "He'll get away."
"He won't get far with a flat tire and if you pass out, we'll never get him. I can drive," she paused. "LaSalle! Stop the car now!"
Sweating and panting from the pain, Chris knew she was right. He stopped and slid over. There was just enough room for her to maneuver over him. Under any other circumstances he would have loved to get her in that position.
Sonja shifted the truck into gear as LaSalle fished through the glove box. He grabbed some fast food napkins and gingerly pressed them to this wound. "Let's get this asshole," he hissed.
While her height and the tall grass made it hard to see, Percy followed the trail left by the other car. She also kept glancing at LaSalle every few seconds to make sure he was conscious.
He called in their approximate position to the authorities. "We're in weeds here off of Route 190, headed northeast I think." He grimaced. "Yeah, he shot at us, but we got his tire," LaSalle paused while listening. "Ok. Got it."
"So, he told you to hold our position and not engage, right?" she said.
"I don't know," he said. "The connection was fuzzy."
"So's your brain," she said. "Keep pressure on that!"
The weeds eventually open to a two-lane road. Sonja hesitated, looking for any sign of the suspects.
Chris craned his neck. "Car's stopped 'bout 150 feet on the right. Can't see anyone."
Percy pulled back into the grass and put the truck in park.
"Why'd you stop?" He yelled.
"Because when he sees us, he'll probably start firing again, and neither one of us is in shape to flee," she said. "The others will be here soon. LaSalle, I gotta get you to a hospital."
"And risk losing this guy?"
"Rather lose him than you," she said, a slight tremor in her voice.
"Aw Percy, does that mean you care?" he said jokingly.
"Of course I care." She replied, then added softly, "I care a lot." She looked up at him, tears clouding her vision and judgement.
In a spontaneous synchronicity, they were touching lips. Chris reached around her with his good arm, pulled her closer, and the kiss intensified exponentially. Who needs painkillers? He thought. Instinctively, she reached up and touched his arm-not the good one.
He screeched something undecipherable nearly jumping two feet. Well, maybe he could use a little something.
"Oh Chris, Oh Chris, I'm so so sorry" she gushed.
He got his breathing under control and took her hands in his, "That's OK. You can kiss it and make it better."
Suddenly the back of the truck lurched. And Sonja grabbed the gun.
"Get down," she ordered.
The back window shattered and a long shotgun was pointed right at them.
"Sorry to break up your little tryst here, but it appears I need a new set of wheels," came the voice at the other end-straight out of cracker town.
LaSalle grabbed his pistol from Percy, meeting the shotgun.
"Not so fast asshole," he said. Sonja lurched the gears into reverse, then drive, purposefully bouncing the truck. The rifle went off and a bullet the roof.
"Shit shit shit," she mantra-ed as she kept swerving, hoping to throw their unwanted passenger off the back. She was concentrating so much, she nearly ran over the missing teen standing in the middle of the road, looking groggy in his Pokemon pajamas. She hit the brakes and a loud thud sounded as the suspect slammed against the broken window. The gun flew through the opening and barely missed LaSalle's head.
Sonja grabbed it and jumped out of the truck on pure adrenalin, feeling no pain. In a split-second, she had the would-be abductor at the business end of his own firearm.
"On your knees, hands up, and lace 'em behind your neck!" she commanded.
The boy ran to the pickup, "Uncle Jesse, what's going on?"
"Well Jordan, seems your 'uncle' didn't exactly get your folk's permission to take you out of the state, or out of Pensacola, or out of the driveway," she said, still staring at the perp. She waved the rifle at him, "Now, stay just like that and no bullshit," she said. Her ankle had begun to throb, and she buckled a little to the left.
Seeing her vulnerable, Jesse dove over the other side. Unfortunately, he found himself on the ground and looking into LaSalle's pistol.
"Listen to the lady, asswipe and you can keep your balls," he said as the sound of sirens pierced the air.