Alan Cook - Hotline to Murder

“Wait for me,” he yelled. But she didn’t wait. By the time he had reached the top of the stairs, she was already out of sight, going down the second level between the floors. Tony couldn’t go as fast as Shahla-that had already been proven-and he had to be careful of his knee. He prayed she wouldn’t get herself into trouble. But he also prayed that Tina could fight off the attacker.

He finally reached the first floor after a one-step-at-a-time descent that felt like a slow-motion football replay. He ran to the back door of the building, still favoring his knee. He hoped it would hold up. When he burst through the doorway to the outside world, a quick scan revealed Shahla with her hands to her face, and the silver car disappearing around the end of the last shop in the center. He didn’t see Tina.

Tony trotted toward his car while trying to pull the key out of his pocket. When he had it in his hand he clicked the remote, unlocking his door. He opened it and tumbled into the driver’s seat, not very gracefully. His motions became more fluid as he started the engine and rammed it into first gear. He roared forward and made a quick ninety-degree right turn toward the end of the building.

Shahla ran in front of the car, waving her arms. Her face looked strange. He jammed on the brakes and stopped. Damn it, she was holding him up. She came forward and felt her way around the car, almost like a blind person. She couldn’t seem to open the passenger-side door. Tony was tempted to drive off without her, but she would never forgive him for leaving her behind. And there wasn’t time to argue. He reached over and opened the door for her. She stumbled into the car. He started fast and the acceleration slammed the door shut.

As he swerved around the corner of the building, he saw people in front of him, walking to their cars. Double damn. He slowed down-he didn’t want to kill anybody-and weaved his way among them, fast enough to draw stares.

He drove clear of the pedestrians and saw the silver car make a right turn onto the public street and accelerate rapidly. A few seconds later, he made the turn with the Porsche in second gear and roared after the other car without shifting, as the tachometer needle climbed toward the red line.

The traffic light at an intersection ahead turned yellow. Tony backed off on the gas pedal and said, “He’s got to stop.”

The silver car slowed slightly and swerved into the left-turn lane, but instead of stopping, it entered the intersection well after the light had become red. A car starting up from the left barely braked in time as the Chevy fishtailed through the turn and disappeared in the direction of Pacific Coast Highway.

Tony was first in line at the light, but that was small consolation for losing the kidnapper’s car. He swore silently, thinking that if Shahla hadn’t held him up, he would have caught the other car and at least been able to get the license plate number.

“Seat belts,” he commanded.

Shahla fumbled a few seconds before she got hers fastened. She was coughing for some reason. And sneezing.

Tony concentrated on the light. “He’ll turn north on PCH.” He handed his cell phone to Shahla, saying, “Call the police station and tell the desk officer that. You can use redial.”

“I can’t see.”

Tony looked at her. Her eyes were full of tears. Was this a reaction to Tina’s kidnapping? He hoped she would hold up. He took the phone back and placed the call. Then he handed it back to her.

She was still sneezing. She was barely able to talk on the phone for a few seconds. Then her sneezing stopped and her voice became clearer.

While she talked, Tony turned on his emergency flashers, edged forward, and revved the engine. He also hand-signaled the cars coming the other way. There was no left-turn arrow at this intersection, and he hoped that if he showed enough urgency, the oncoming cars would let him make the turn in front of them.

When the light turned green, he started forward, ready to stop fast if it didn’t work. However, the cars at the front of the two lanes of traffic heading in his direction hesitated just long enough for him to complete the turn

He upshifted and headed toward PCH as Shahla spoke excitedly into the phone. “We’re trying to follow the kidnapper’s car. We think he’s going to turn north on Pacific Coast Highway…It’s a silver compact. A…” She hesitated.

“Chevy Cavalier,” Tony said, crossing to the wrong side of the street to pass the car ahead of him that was slowing to pull into a parking space.

“Chevy Cavalier.” She said to Tony, “He’s going to keep us on the line, in case we spot the car again.”

When Tony arrived at PCH, the light was red against him, and he had to wait ten seconds before it was safe to make a right turn. More time lost. He despaired of ever seeing the silver car again. He headed north, changing lanes to pass cars, trying to make up time, and wondering whether Nathan-he pictured the kidnapper as being Nathan-would stay on this main street, where it might be easier for the police to spot him, or transfer to a side street.

Actually, his most likely route involved getting on the 405 freeway at some point, perhaps at the Artesia or Rosecrans entrance. If he did that, it would be practically impossible to find him. He might get away with this. Tony’s heart sank.

“Did you see how he got Tina into the car?” he asked Shahla as he accelerated past an eighteen-wheeler.

“She was already in the backseat by the time I got outside. He was getting in the front. I ran to the car and tried to open the back door. He squirted something out the window at me and took off.”

“It must have been mace or pepper spray. You took an awful chance. He might have tried to put you in the car too.”

“I figured if he did you would be there in time to save me.”

Would he? “Don’t rub your eyes. It’ll make it worse. It’s a good thing he didn’t do that to you yesterday.”

“He’s getting desperate. Oh, Tony, this is my fault. He took Tina because he couldn’t get me.”

Her fault? Now wasn’t the time for her to feel guilty. And now wasn’t the time for him to use listening techniques on her, such as, “Why do you think it’s your fault?” He said, roughly, “This is not your fault. And if we’re going to help Tina, we’ve got to stay focused.”

Shahla remained quiet until she received a query over the phone. She gave their position and said they hadn’t spotted the kidnapper. As Tony approached Artesia Boulevard, he wondered whether he should turn right toward the 405. If he were the kidnapper and he wanted to get to a place north of the airport, that’s what he would do.

A police car came racing up behind him with its red lights blinking but no siren. Tony pulled into the right lane to let it pass. The black and white crossed Artesia Boulevard and stayed on PCH, which mysteriously changes its name to Sepulveda Boulevard at that point. Tony turned right on Artesia and headed toward the freeway. Let the cop take Sepulveda.

“What are you doing?” Shahla asked.

“Getting on the freeway.” But just then he crossed Aviation Boulevard and realized that if Nathan had been planning all along to take the freeway, he would have probably turned right on Aviation a few blocks back, where it started at PCH, which would have been like taking the hypotenuse of a right triangle. Tony had taken the sides of the triangle. More time lost.

Not only that, he had to wait a significant amount of time for a red light at Hawthorne Boulevard. He felt that the chase was hopeless when he finally accelerated up the onramp onto the 405 and merged with the traffic. The continuous, heavy traffic, which made spotting a single silver car as difficult as spotting a specific silver fish among the thousands in the schools he had seen on his last snorkeling trip.