Almost unable to catch his breath, more from surprise and shock than from the pain, Steve staggered a couple of steps away from the car, looking around, trying to spot Lonsdale. He swallowed heavily; their prisoner was gone… and chances were very good he had Mike's gun.
He turned back towards the scene unfolding at the back of the wrecked car; windshield man and the older couple were sliding the blanket with his injured partner further away from the car. The smell from the leaking gas was getting stronger with each passing minute.
He was torn. He didn't want to leave Mike, especially not knowing how badly he was hurt, but he couldn't let Lonsdale get away. He also knew he wasn't up to a foot chase but he couldn't hear the wail of approaching sirens and he knew if he waited too long, any chance of anyone catching up with Lonsdale would disappear entirely.
Right arm wrapped around his chest, he stumbled over to the tree Lonsdale had been leaning against. There were a lot of footprints in the sandy soil around it but he could make out a fresh set of sneaker prints heading to the left and into the undergrowth.
Steve looked around again. The immediate area was sparsely dotted with head-high bushes and patches of tall grass. There was a tree line in the distance but he couldn't tell how far away it was. He knew his tracking skills were minimal, but he couldn't let Lonsdale get away without putting up some kind of fight. He owed it to Brigitte Larson, and he owed it to Mike.
He looked back at what was left of the blue sedan and took as deep a breath as he dared, wincing and closing his eyes. In his present condition he knew there was nothing he could do for Mike right now, that the three strangers were his partner's best chance for survival at this point. And he hoped that windshield man was right and that help was indeed on its way.
His right hand slid down his left side and touched the grip of his .38. He hoped he wouldn't need it but was glad he had it. With a final look back at the car, he wrapped his right arm around his chest again and started to follow the footprints.
# # # # #
The California State Park police car, siren wailing, slid to a stop well away from the accident scene. A cherry red Chevelle, its front end totally destroyed, the windshield shattered and the left front tire flat, was straddling the right lane diagonally. A station wagon was haphazardly parked on the shoulder on the left while a maroon Buick Century sat about a hundred feet further down on the same shoulder.
After barking orders into the mic and dropping it onto the front seat, the lone officer got out of his cruiser and sprinted to the Chevelle. He knew before he got to it that the driver, the lone occupant, was dead. His eyes dropped to the pavement, to the thick black skid marks that scored the right lane and disappeared over the embankment. He sprinted to the edge and looked down.
He took in the scene in an instant: the blue sedan lying on its left side, three people huddled around what looked like an injured victim they had pulled from the back of the car, the smell of gas. He clambered down the short hill and approached the Good Samaritans.
A florid-faced middle-aged man looked up at him and exhaled in obvious relief. "Oh, thank god you're here. He needs an ambulance fast." He nodded over his shoulder at the bearded older man lying frighteningly still on the blanket.
The woman had stood up. "He's having trouble breathing and there's blood on his lips. I think he may have a collapsed lung," she said quickly; she sounded almost frantic. At the cop's frown, she shrugged slightly. "I was a school nurse…"
The cop nodded. "There's paramedics and an ambulance on the way." As if on cue, they could all hear the growing wails of other approaching sirens. The officer stepped closer to the blanket. "Was he the only one in the car?"
The middle-aged man shook his head. "No, there's two others." He hesitated, realizing the cop should have seen them as he came down the hill. He took a few steps away from the car and looked around. "Where are they…?" he asked in wonder, almost to himself. Frowning, he looked at the woman and they both shrugged.
The cop looked from the confused pair back to the man on the blanket and he froze, his eyes falling on the empty holster on the unconscious man's right hip. It was a police officer's holster. Kneeling, he gently patted Mike's right pants pocket, then carefully reached in and extracted a leather case. He flipped it open, exposing the gold star and I.D. He swallowed heavily and briefly closed his eyes.
Slipping the case into his own pocket, he snapped the flashlight off of his duty belt and crossed to the rear window of the blue sedan, kneeling and running the beam over the interior. His eyes fell on the two pairs of handcuffs dangling from the passenger side headrest, the bottom pair undone. On the floor of the backseat against the left door was a crumpled file folder. He reached through the broken window and snagged a corner.
Almost immediately he could make out the LAPD logo on the front cover. Standing up, he set the folder on the fender of the car and opened it. It didn't take long to realize he had a major situation on his hands.
# # # # #
The sneaker prints disappeared quickly in the tall grass, but he was pretty sure he could tell where the stalks had been trampled. He gripped his ribs tighter, hoping to quell the growing agony, to no affect. Sweat mixed with blood started dripping into his eyes. It was getting harder and harder to breathe.
He knew he was losing ground with every step. Lonsdale was only nursing a broken wrist, as far as he knew; he could be halfway back to L.A. by now, Steve thought with a mirthless snort as he plowed on, the shockwave from every step shuddering through his bruised and battered body.
# # # # #
The wails of the sirens petered out and there were a few long moments of dead silence before two paramedics carrying medical equipment appeared at the top of the embankment then started down quickly. Three uniformed firefighters peered over the edge into the ditch before two of them retreated, only to reappear seconds later with a fire hose and began to descend into the small ravine.
Things began to move at an accelerated speed. The injured man, now wrapped in the blanket, was lifted further away from the wreck as the firemen opened the hose nozzle and doused the car and the growing puddle of gas until any threat of a fire or an explosion was eliminated.
As the three Good Samaritans stood back and watched, their assistance no longer required, the paramedics went to work on their patient. After their initial assessment that he had suffered no obvious broken bones in his extremities, Mike's shirt was cut open and his chest exposed. Even from a distance, everyone could see the large bruise that was starting to appear on his left side. One of the paramedics stuck a stethoscope in his ears, moving the diaphragm to various areas on Mike's chest, then nodded at his partner.
Suddenly the ravine was alive with activity. With the firefighters poring over the car, making sure it posed no further threat, two more State Park rangers appeared followed by two ambulance attendants carrying a litter. While the cops went immediately to the wreck, the ambulance attendants set the litter on the ground near the paramedics, who were feverishly working on the injured man.
One of the State Park officers approached the Good Samaritans. "Excuse me, which one of you was in the station wagon up there?" He pointed over his shoulder towards the road.
Windshield man took a step towards him. "Yeah, that's mine. Henry… ah, Henry Caplan."
"You were a witness to all this, Mr. Caplan?"
"God, yeah… stupid asshole. He tried to pass me on the hill… the other guy didn't stand a chance…"
The officer pointed at Mike. "This guy?"
Caplan glanced over his shoulder, shaking his head. "No… no, this guy was in the back with another fella. I, uh, I meant the guy that was driving."
The cop looked around, frowning. "Where are the other two?"
Caplan shrugged and glanced at the woman, who had joined them.
"Dorothy Hodges," she nodded, smiling perfunctorily. "My husband and I were, well, I guess we were the first on the scene," she shrugged. "But he's right, there were three of them. The other two were younger. I don't know where they went…"
"Were they hurt?"
"The driver had broken ribs, I think, and his forehead was bleeding. The other one had a broken wrist," Caplan explained.
"Ranger!" one of the paramedics called out and the officer looked up. The paramedic beckoned him with a jerk of his head.
The Park cop took a few steps closer. Their patient was now on oxygen, his head bandaged, his neck in a brace and an IV in his right arm. A small pool of blood stained the blanket and ground beneath the left side of his chest where a drainage tube had been inserted between his ribs. He was almost ready for transport. The paramedic met the cop's gaze and pointed at the empty holster. When their eyes met again, the cop nodded slightly.
He moved away and approached the car. On top of the rear fender, being held down by a black leather case, was the open LAPD file.
# # # # #
The pain was getting the better of him. The black spots swimming before his eyes were getting bigger and he was having more and more trouble staying on his feet. He was pretty sure Lonsdale was long gone but he wouldn't stop… he couldn't stop, he kept repeating to himself. He had to do this for Mike.
"Mike…" The name escaped his lips as a breathless strangled sigh. He felt the sting of tears and he gasped, not in pain but worry and fear. He had no idea how badly hurt his partner was, but he knew it didn't look good.
He tripped over a tree root and fell heavily to his knees, unable to stop the cry of pain that tore from his lips. He fell forward onto his left hand, his right arm still wrapped around his chest, gasping for breath.
When the pain subsided enough, he moved slowly to sit down, dropping his head between his raised knees and breathing shallowly through his open mouth. He wasn't sure how much time had passed before he felt strong enough to crawl to his feet again, one hand on the tree as he straightened up.
He took a deep breath, knowing he had very little left to give in this increasingly futile pursuit but he would give it his all. He had just pushed himself away from the tree and staggered several steps when he heard it – the sharp crack of a branch breaking. He froze, holding his breath. His heart began to pound.
Suddenly he felt something hard and cold press against his skull behind his right ear and a deep voice whispered, "Don't… move…"