Faye Kellerman - Street Dreams

“It’s fine, Cindy. Just tell me what to do.”

I patted his knee. “Just keep driving, all right? It’s no big deal. We’re on a major boulevard and there’s still enough traffic.”

“Why don’t you call 911?”

“Because I want to make sure I’m right. What I wouldn’t give to get his license number. There’s no front plate. You know, that’s what I’ll do. I’ll call that in and let some cruiser stop him.”

I took out my cell phone.

The battery was dead.

It had been a long evening.

“Does your cell work?” I asked him.

“I don’t have it with me. I didn’t want intrusions tonight.”

“Sweet thought but unfortunate, because we have a big intrusion. Okay. Time for Plan B. How do you feel about driving in this situation?”

“What do you mean?”

“You know… sudden turns… screeching tires…”

“This car doesn’t have so much pickup.”

“You know, there’s a way to pop the clutch and press the gas at the same time. It’ll push it to the max.”

“Maybe you should drive.”

“Then miss the next light and we’ll switch places.”

He did. It was hard getting over the gearshift without bodily harm, but we succeeded. With the wheel in my hand, I felt better. I adjusted the rearview mirror. I plunked my purse onto his lap. “Ever hold a gun?”

“I was in the army.”

“I’m not talking about an Uzi, Yaakov. I mean a handgun.”

“Yes, I have shot a handgun.”

“Are you a good shot?”

“I was a decent shot, but it’s been over ten years. I’m sure I’m rusty.”

“I’ve got a nine-millimeter Beretta semiautomatic standard police issue in my purse. You can take it out.”

He retrieved it, studying its features. “Do you have the magazine?”

“It’s not loaded?”

“No, Cynthia, it is not loaded.”

“Check my purse. If I don’t have one in there, we’re out of luck.”

Rummaging through my purse, he fished out a magazine and shoved it into the chamber. “We’re in luck.”

“Okay. This is what I’m going to do. I’m going to turn right in two blocks, floor it, pull over, and cut the lights. I’m going to park on the wrong side of the street. The driver’s more likely to miss me that way. Then as the Nova passes, I’m going to try to read off the license plate on the back. Stay low in case they decide to shoot.”

“Maybe I should read the license plate while you cover me? I have no doubt that you’re a better shot. And if you’re on the wrong side of the street, I’ll be on the correct side to read the numbers.”

“Except if they start shooting at us, you’ll be closer.”

“A comforting thought.”

“Koby, I am so sorry!”

“Don’t be ridiculous. We’ll handle this.” He rolled his shoulders. “I’m psyched.”

“Ready?”

“Go.”

I made a quick right and punched the accelerator as I jammed the gears. The car bucked backward, then shot forward with surprising speed. I cut the lights, pulled over, switched off the ignition, and ducked. The Nova sped by, but even so, I got most of the plate and what I didn’t get, Koby filled in. I turned the car’s ignition, did a U-turn without lights, then headed back into traffic.

Apparently not soon enough. The Nova had other ideas. It must have been souped up, because within moments it was kissing the Toyota’s rear bumper. I pulled a sharp left into a darkened residential area.

The Nova followed.

Another right, another left. There was no way the Nova could maneuver that easily. Yet there it was, riding my ass.

Getting closer and closer.

I pushed Koby’s head down and smoked the gears. A volley of shots made neat little bullet holes in his trunk and blasted through the rear windshield, shattering the glass.

“Shit!” I screamed as I strained the engine forward. I screeched out a two-tire right and tried to accelerate, hearing the engine whine, feeling the knocking of the gears.

“ Kus sa mack! ” Koby rolled down the window, and using the side mirror for a view, he twisted his right arm and fired a round into the Nova’s hood. I noticed he shot one-handedly and I noticed he shot like a cop-his palm parallel instead of perpendicular to the ground. He obviously had hit something, because the Nova began to smoke. Before he had a chance to reload, I turned right, and the Nova tore away. I pulled over, turned off the ignition, and caught my breath. “ Oh God! ” I grabbed Koby’s hand. “ Oh God, are you okay? ”

He patted his chest with his hands. “No bullet holes. Just a racing heartbeat.”

I was huffing and puffing. “All right.” Inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale. “Okay. We’re about five minutes from the station. Once we file the report, it’s going to take a while. There’ll be lots of questions. Are you up for it?”

He exhaled hard. “I think, yes.”

I waited a few moments, trying to anticipate what was going to happen. I didn’t like the setup I was seeing. I swallowed hard. “Koby, if it goes down that you fired my gun, it’ll be bad for both of us, especially if you hit someone.”

“It was self-defense.”

“Yes, exactly, and once they see the car, it won’t be a problem. But there are much stricter regulations about a civilian discharging a weapon than a cop.” I looked him in the eye. “There’s no way I’m going to let you handle that kind of heat. You drove, I shot. It’s your car. It makes more sense anyway.”

“But that’s not what happened.”

“Yes, you’re right. It’s a lie. They will have me sign an affidavit and I will perjure myself. I want you to do the same thing. If you hit someone fatally, I will take responsibility-”

“I’m not asking you to do that.”

“Listen to me!” I held his face. “Please, please listen to me! Please don’t argue. Okay?”

He didn’t give me the satisfaction of an immediate answer. “I don’t want you to get in trouble because I was rash.”

“Yaakov, you weren’t rash. You saved our lives! Just… just trust me on this! Please!”

We were both breathing hard. Finally, he relented. “Whatever you… you think.”

“That’s what I think.”

He nodded. “Okay… okay. I drove and you shot. Except that I smell of gunpowder and you do not.”

Gunshot tattooing. It was unlikely that they’d check my hand, even more unlikely that they’d check his hand, but just in case, I took the gun from him, rolled down the window, and fired off a couple of shots. “When we get into the police station, go to the bathroom. Wash your hands with lots of soap and go clear up to your elbows if no one’s watching you.”

He nodded. “So I just tell them what happened or…”

“Tell them exactly what happened, except you were driving and I did the shooting.”

“That the car was following us and you wanted the license number?”

“Yes. And I tried to call for backup, for help, but my cell was dead. And you didn’t have yours because you didn’t want the intrusion. Just stick to the facts.”

“Except that I was driving.”

“Exactly.” I blew out air. “Yaakov, I’m so sorry-”

Before I could continue, he grabbed my neck and kissed my mouth-long, slow, and hard. “We’re whole, Cynthia. Nothing… nothing else matters. I say ‘ meqseft yasferawal ’ in Amharic, I say ‘ Gomel ’ in Hebrew at beit knesset on Saturday, and in English I say ‘thank you, Hashem, for saving us from catastrophe.’ God has choice of languages. Now let’s get out of here.”

The adrenaline was pumpingfull force. So intent on the task at hand, Decker almost missed him when he walked into Hollywood. But his peripheral vision took in the figure sitting on one of the blue hard plastic chairs, his face drawn and tired. With effort, Koby got to his feet.