Page 18 of Safeguarding the Witness

“I see him,” Rossi confirmed. “Our second chase car is waiting on River Road.”

“I’ll lure him there and drop out of sight. You take over. Detain the driver and turn him or her over to Agent Jamison for questioning.” Spence grinned at Mollie. “I’m glad to see you fastened your seat belt.”

Nervous, she clung to the strap. “What’s going to happen?”

“Are you familiar with this stretch of road?”

“Actually, I am.” She gave a nod. “The Madrona Hill.”

“Exactly.”

In his opinion, Salem combined the conveniences of a city—being the capital of Oregon and second largest in population at almost two hundred thousand—with the eccentricities of a small town. Built around the mighty Willamette River and the multitude of streams and creeks that flowed into it, Salem’s streets twisted and turned, dodging through large swathes of forest while navigating gullies, canyons and rolling hills.

At this point, Madrona Street left civilization and plunged into a wooded area with hundred-foot-tall Douglas fir, spruce and black cottonwood trees. Treetops blocked the moonlight, and the few-and-far-between streetlamps did little to dispel the gloom. The two-lane road had been carved from a steep descent that swiveled through a series of turns on its way down to the Willamette, which was bordered by the appropriately named River Road.

Spence tapped the accelerator, figuring that his speed would confuse the driver in the silver sedan and cause him or her to follow without thinking. Though he wanted to create a wide space between the two cars, it wasn’t necessary for him to whip along the route. But he liked the speed. He was aware of wildlife along this road and hoped he wouldn’t have to do a hit-and-run on Bambi. Fighting a grin, he checked the speedometer as the Escalade edged past sixty. Not fast for a straightaway but this road was anything but straight.

Free as a hawk, he flew along these few miles of hairpin curves, reveling in the sensation of speed and the challenge of navigating his heavy-bodied Escalade. The SUV tilted precariously toward the edge of the road, skidding on the gravel shoulder where there was no guardrail and a drop of about thirty feet. Not riding on two wheels but close. He cranked the steering wheel and shifted the weight to the opposite side when the road doubled back.

Mollie gave a small gasp.

He swerved again, and she was flung as far as her seat belt would allow.

She coughed and choked.

Handling the Escalade felt like driving a wide-frame truck with a high center of gravity and a magnetic suspension system to create the illusion of safety. Next time he took this route, he’d use the Porsche. A sleek, low coupe that hugged the road.

When they emerged from the forest, he drove south and took the first right into a quiet cul-de-sac where he killed the headlights and looked over at Mollie. Her eyes were as big as cheese pizzas without the red sauce. Her lower lip trembled.

“Sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

She cleared her throat and raised her chin. She seemed to force herself to speak in a normal voice. “Not a problem.”

“Not fast enough for you?”

“My twin has driven this road at twice the speed.” She exhaled heavily and turned away from him. “She’s kind of a maniac.”

Through his intercom, he heard a report from Rossi. “We have a sedan sandwiched between our two vehicles. The car went north on River Road toward the bridge.”

“Makes sense.” That was why he headed south.

“I activated the police flashers,” Rossi said.

“Keep me posted.”

Spence told Mollie what was going on and waited for the next transmission. He would have preferred to be involved with the capture of the Camry driver and learn the identity of his or her employer. But the number one priority was to get Mollie to the safe house with as little fuss as possible.

He gazed toward her, appreciating her self-control. Reaching across the center console, he took her hand. Though the interior of the Escalade was pleasantly cool, her skin radiated nervous heat. Her fingers twitched. She tried to pull away, but he held on, hoping to ground her.

In a low, soothing voice, he asked, “Are you all right, Mollie?”

“I’m beginning to think I made a mistake by coming here.”

He had convinced her to leave Denver and come with him. His fault. He should have given her more time to make her decision. “Would you prefer to stay in WITSEC?”

“Maybe.” She squeezed his hand and searched his face as if she could find the answer in his expression. “I don’t know if I can go back into the program. They have a lot of rules. And they might blame me for the sniper who shot their man, even if all this gunplay started when they were in charge. In Denver.”

As he watched, she seemed to retreat into herself, crawling deep into a hole and pulling a cover over her head. He guessed that Mollie had depended on the advice of her twin before she died. And now, her father directed her decisions.