Chapter 5

Don sank back in the car seat of his non-descript regulation sedan, watching from behind the shield of his sunglasses. Nothing yet, but it was early. The sun was already heating the air around him, though, and his Kevlar clung to him uncomfortably. He turned the chewing gum in his mouth, wondering how everyone else was doing. "Anything?" he asked aloud.

His earpiece crackled. "Not yet." David.

"Little early." Wainwright.

He tried to get comfortable. They were spread pretty far apart in the interests of inconspicuousness - not many options for cover along the stretch of suburban road winding through a gently rolling expanse of green. Still, despite the lack of cover, this had seemed like the best choice for an ambush - fewer civilians to get in the way, and the element of surprise on their side. Twilliger was unlikely to suspect an arrest in the middle of his early morning commute. And if he made a run for it - well - there was clear road ahead for miles. He was satisfied with the plan, despite the fact it had meant a night spent at the Bureau instead of in his own bed. He figured it would turn out to be well worth the sacrifice.

Even getting the warrants had proved easy, but then, he always found Nadine easy to work with. She struck a nice balance between allowing something less than a virtual conviction before sanctioning an arrest and still being careful enough that you didn't have to worry about it all falling apart just as you got to court. At least, if you'd done your own job right - so he always tried to be sure he'd done his part. He smiled a little, remembering the scrupulous way she'd worked through the evidence. Was it weird to find that a little bit of a turn on? If so, then he was weird. Well, come on, it was harmless enough, as long as he didn't let it interfere with the job. Business and pleasure, as Charlie had said. A crackling in his ear made him sit up straight.

"Think I see him." That was David - he and one of the LAPD guys, Jeffries, were stationed at the point nearest Twilliger's home. Wainwright was just past them, and hoped to enjoy the honor of making the arrest.

He adjusted his own mike. "Okay. Don't jump the gun and spook him. Make sure everybody's in place." He ran through the route in his head, visualizing where each car was stationed, covering every possible escape route. Just a precaution, hopefully, and Twilliger would come peacefully. They didn't have any reason to think he was especially courageous, but he was certainly resourceful.

"Definitely him." Despite all his efforts to sound coolly professional, David's voice had an edge of excitement. Don couldn't blame him.

"Good. Let Wainwright stop him - you stand by to block his way if he tries to retreat. Megan, you folks ready?"

"Standing by."

"Good." Don leaned back again, but this time his fingers drummed edgily on the seat next to him. He was the post past Wainwright, so he didn't expect to do much more than circle back to help clean up. Should be a slam dunk. If the interrogations went well, he might be eating dinner tonight with his dad and Charlie yet. He touched the button to drop the window halfway down. It sure was hot already, and the close interior of the car stirred up remnants of yesterday's nausea.

"And…he's past." David's voice was hushed this time.

Don could just barely hear the squeal of Wainwright's brakes as he moved his car into position across the road, then David's as he pulled out to follow suit and block the way behind Twilliger's car. He could just make out the slam of the car door over the earpiece, then Wainwright's voice carried more clearly. "Arthur Twilliger?" Twilliger's voice came through as little more than a murmur, not even enough to judge a tone. "Would you step out of the car please, Mr. Twilliger?"

This time the tone was obvious: cautious, questioning in return, though still too low to distinguish words.

"Detective Wainwright, LAPD. Please step out of the car - slowly - and keep your hands where I can see them."

More words from Twilliger, saying - something - Don focused hard, trying to picture the scene. "That's right - where I can see them."

Okay, good. Now just get out of the car…he listened intently, trying to catch the sound of the door opening. Instead he heard a sudden shout of surprise and the shrill of an engine accelerated too quickly, a spatter of gravel, then, deafeningly magnified in his ear, the thunder of a pistol shot. He was already turning the key in the ignition when David's voice barked, "Don! He's headed your way - ! Off the road - "

"Got it! Check on Wainwright! Megan - ?"

"Right. Ready." Megan's voice was grim, but Don didn't have time to think about it - he was wheeling his car, engine throbbing, waiting for the first glimpse of Twilliger to tell him if he should be blocking the roadway or pulling onto the incline of the grassy shoulder. He didn't have long to wonder. The grillwork of Twilliger's car loomed suddenly over the slight rise in the road behind him and he jerked his car out to block his progress, flashing his red and blue lights in warning.

Twilliger seemed to hesitate, unsure of whether to press forward or retreat. A concrete divider blocked him in on his left and the sound of a siren came faintly from behind him. He yanked the car toward the grassy shoulder, but this time the trick wasn't new and Don was ready for him.

Don swung his car in an arc, herding him back toward the road. Twilliger tried to peel off across the grass, but Don kept the car hovering tightly at his side, limiting his options, forcing him back toward the pavement. Twilliger twisted in a tight circle, then his front tires caught the edge of the road again and the car lurched forward with a leap. It took Don's car a heartbeat to gain purchase back on the pavement behind him, but the second he felt the smoother forward thrust of motion under one side, he yelled into his mike, "Megan, he's headed your way - watch the sides of the road for -" He never got to finish. Pain exploded inside him.

His first thought was that he was hit, though he couldn't remember hearing a gun and it wasn't Twilliger's MO to be armed. He snatched for control of the wheel, but the uneven traction of the car, half on grass and half on paved road, made it shoot forward at an awkward angle, hard to control. He felt one tire hit the concrete divider and careen upward, then keep flying upward as the sky filled his windscreen. The world spun on its head, holding him weightless in space, suffocating and surrounding him as the airbag deployed. The scream of tearing metal filled the air, and the crunch of glass, and a voice yelling directly in his ear canal, and then everything blinked out.

He didn't think he'd been out for more than a couple of seconds - a minute at the most - because the first thing to pierce the blackness was that same voice, still yelling in his ear. Everything else hovered in a haze for a moment, even the voice no more than meaningless sounds. He was gradually aware of some kind of small, prickly objects grinding into his back, hot and ragged asphalt pressing against his ear, and the pungent aroma of gasoline hanging in the air. Other sensations began to creep in as well - a dull thundering behind his temples and a sharp, metallic taste in his mouth - all playing a rough counterpoint to the fire raging in his gut. He located his left hand, moved it automatically to find and stop the bleeding there. He took precious seconds to realize that there was none. His brows pinched together. Then what…? He managed to crack open his eyes, brought his hand cautiously into view. Nope - definitely no blood. So how…?

He could get a glimpse of his position now, took in the shadow of the car looming over him, tilted on its side, the interior obscured by the airbag. Using his elbows, he tried to lever himself up, sank back almost immediately with a sharp groan as something dug at his leg. He bit down on his lip. Yeah, okay, now THAT was bleeding - he'd know that sensation anywhere. He closed his eyes tight, really, really not wanting a repeat of yesterday's throwing up event, opened them slowly when the sensation of giddiness and nausea abated. Okay. So he was pinned by the wreckage but not crushed, or he probably wouldn't be feeling this at all. Unless his father was to be believed and he was just too stubborn to know when to feel pain…okay. Okay. Now he was drifting. He needed to stop that…

"Don!"

He finally separated the voice from the buzzing in his ears and swallowed. Oh. Yeah. Oh, God. Twilliger. We can't have lost him - we just can't…

He squinted at the road, trying to see which direction Twilliger may have taken off in, then, when everything swam, squeezed his eyes shut to clear them. It almost looked like…his car…he took a deep breath and tried to concentrate. That looked like his car parked down the road a ways…

He forced his eyes further open, noticed now a pair of neat loafers on the roadway next to the car, followed them up to tidily pressed trousers, to a button down shirt, to the bland, unmemorable, mustached face of Twilliger himself, looking like just what he was - a CPA and middle-class suburban father of two. Don's vision fuzzed unexpectedly again, blurring his glimpse of Twilliger's expression, but what he thought he caught of it was pensive - mundane. Probably the same expression his victims had all seen. Nothing alarming about it. Nothing to prepare them for what would come. He twisted his head on the pavement, and the sudden pressure on a sore spot on the back of his skull almost sent him under again, but Megan's voice in his ear was getting insistent and he clung to it to keep conscious. He focused his eyes as best he could on the thin stream of gasoline sliding down the side of the car and puddling on the pavement and tried to regulate his breathing, trying not to think about the charred corpses of Twilliger's victims. Carefully this time, he turned his head back to where Twilliger was still standing, unmoving, except for a small bright object he turned over and over in his hand.

A cigarette lighter.

"Don? Can you hear me? David's on his way, but can you tell me what's happening? Are you all right?"

Don tried to catch a glimpse of Twilliger's eyes. Twilliger looked right back at him. And smiled.

Don took a deep breath, not sure if the mike was even working anymore. He swallowed hard and fought to keep his voice steady.

"I hear you, Megan." He kept his eyes fixed on Twilliger's. "I got a situation here."

TBC

A/N: Well, heck - you knew something was coming, right?