Дэвид Балдаччи - The Guilty

He pulled things out, tossing them on the passenger seat.

His fingers finally closed around the small, plastic box.

“Here,” he said, tossing the tiny first aid kit to her.

Robie glanced back and then down at the passenger seat.

His gaze fixed for a moment on what he was seeing.

A photo. It was bent and creased.

He picked it up.

The recognition was immediate.

Laura Barksdale.

He put it in his pocket.

Then he heard Reel hiss.

“Robie, they’re coming.”

Robie had made a mistake. He had disabled one SUV using the Bentley as a battering ram, but he had left the other intact.

That error could end up killing them. He could understand making mistakes playing detective, but this sort of thing was what he did for a living. He had definitely lost his mojo. He might never have a chance to get it back now.

The SUV was right behind them and gaining, as the shot-up Bentley on its shredded tires continued to slow.

“We’re running on nearly metal,” said Robie. “And I smell fuel.”

“I know,” said Reel, who was being pitched and tossed across the backseat.

The next volley of bullets shredded the rear of the Bentley.

Reel dove to the floorboard just in time as glass and metal and leather blew around the car’s interior.

Robie felt blood rush down his face as something struck him.

He wiped the blood away and looked back. The SUV was right on them. He could see men leaning out the windows.

“They’ve got MP5s,” called out Reel, who was watching this, too.

They heard the sirens wailing and engines roaring.

“Cavalry’s on its way,” said Reel.

Robie nodded. Only the cavalry would be seriously outgunned.

Robie kept the gas pedal pressed to the floor, but he knew that wouldn’t be enough.

“Hang on,” he told Reel as he slid on his seat belt. “And toss me a pistol.”

She gave him his Glock, buckled her belt, and then braced her feet against the back of the passenger seat.

Robie screeched the Bentley into a one-eighty, losing hubcaps, more rubber, and other bits and pieces of the once stately car.

He slammed down on the gas and they were flying right at the SUV.

This was a clear game of chicken, with a twist.

Robie aimed his gun where the windshield had been and fired his entire mag at the windshield of the SUV. It shattered and blood spurted against the glass as the SUV swerved to Robie’s right.

Robie cut his wheel, sending the lumbering Bentley to the left.

The vehicles still passed so close to each other that the side mirrors collided and snapped off.

Robie could see the SUV driver was slumped over the wheel, the man next to him as well.

Two men appeared at the rear windows and prepared to strafe Robie with fire from their MP5s.

First one man and then the next stiffened as the rounds fired by Reel from the Bentley’s backseat slammed into them.

Then the Bentley was past the driverless SUV, which slid onto the shoulder, flipped, hit a tree, and exploded.

“Robie, we’re on fire!”

Robie looked in the rearview and saw flames flickering from the rear of the car.

He slammed on the brakes, slipped off his belt, and kicked open the door.

Reel called out, “My seat belt’s jammed.”

Robie reached back over the seat.

“Go, Robie, go!”

He ignored her and tried not to look at the flames creeping up the back of the trunk. When the vapor in the gas tank ignited, they were dead.

Robie slid the knife out of his belt compartment, placed its cutting edge under Reel’s belt, and jerked. The belt was cut, but not all the way.

“Will you get the hell out of here?” cried out Reel. “It’s going to blow.”

“Shut up!” snapped Robie.

He made one more cut and the belt broke clean.

He pulled Reel over into the front seat, then they both fled out the driver’s-side door.

They were twenty feet from the Bentley when the vapor ignited.

The concussive force knocked them off their feet, sending them tumbling head over heels across the uneven ground. They landed hard near the tree line.

And neither moved after that.

“Robie? Robie!”

Something slapped his face. Robie slowly opened his eyes.

Taggert stared back down at him.

“Are you dead or what?” she said flatly.

Robie slowly sat up then flinched in pain and grabbed at his arm.

“You shot?” asked Taggert.

He shook his head, unbuttoned his shirt, and slid it off.

His scar tissue had completely torn along with maybe some other things.

“Damn,” said Taggert. “That looks like it hurts.”

He pulled his shirt back on. “Must’ve happened when the car exploded.”

He looked over as Reel came to and sat up.

“You okay?” he asked.

“Okay?” exclaimed Taggert. “Damn, you two definitely do not look okay.”

Beside her were two state troopers in full riot gear.

Robie said, “The other guys look worse. Pretty sure they’re all dead.”

“They are, least the ones in that truck over there. Burnt to a crisp.”

“Well, we shot most of them before that happened,” said Reel.

One of the state troopers looked at her. “You mean while you were driving?”

Reel looked at him. “Well, they weren’t polite enough to stop so I could shoot them standing still.”

Robie said, “This started at Clancy’s house. There are other guys back there.”

Taggert looked at the troopers. “Better go check that out. I’ll stay with them. And call in some reinforcements. This ain’t a crime scene, it’s a damn war zone.”

The troopers hurried off and Taggert looked back at the pair. “I can call an ambulance.”

“Who needs an ambulance?” asked Reel.

“Hell, if only you could see yourselves. Blood everywhere.”

“All superficial.”

“Yeah, we’ll let the docs confirm that if you don’t mind.”

“Later, Taggert,” said Robie.

“Okay, so why don’t you tell me what you were doing at Clancy’s?”

“It’s a long story,” said Robie.

Taggert squatted next to him. “Well, I got nothin’ but time.”

Any men left alive back at Clancy’s had apparently escaped on foot, because the damaged SUV was still there.

Robie and Reel spent hours going over what had happened.

When Monda arrived, Robie showed the sheriff and Taggert the bullet hole in the Range Rover in the garage.

“So this was the vehicle you shot at?” said Monda, running his hand over the damaged metal.

“Yes. Which also means that Sara Chisum’s killer was driving it.”

“I’ll get the forensics team out here to go over this thing,” said Monda. “What else?”

“Bobby Wendell gave us the heads-up about these guys gunning for us.”

Monda looked surprised by this. “So he’s more or less admittin’ that he was involved?”

“Maybe less than more. But he’s out of the country by now with his family.”

“What!” exclaimed Monda.

“He was concerned about his family’s safety,” explained Robie. “Don’t know if he’s coming back, but I don’t think he murdered anybody. So he can keep.”

“Damn it to hell, Robie,” said Monda. “I got people to answer to.”

“Well, you weren’t interested in going after him before.”

“Well, the situation has changed. I got me dead bodies all over the damn place. I don’t like it, not one bit.”

Robie rubbed his injured arm. “Well, I can’t say I care for it either.”

Taggert noted this and said, “Okay, you and Reel ought to go get checked out.”

Monda said, “I’ll drive you. We can talk some more.”