Jen chuckled, slowing the car as the light at the corner of Ross and Defiance turned red. She switched on the radio, scrolling through the choices till she came to a soft rock station. When she looked up, she saw a flash of red in her rearview mirror. Before she could get a better look, her attention was distracted by a middle-aged man in blue shorts and a blue T-shirt with reflector stripes. He was just entering the intersection from the opposite corner at a slow jog. At the same time, out of the corner of her eye, she saw a vehicle barreling down Defiance from the south, moving too fast.
Instinct told her what was about to happen. She reached for the portable radio under the car seat just as the white Chevy Cobalt sounded its horn and applied its brakes, tires squealing. The man glanced up, surprised, but his reaction time wasn’t quick enough. Jen and Trish watched, horrified, as the Cobalt slid into the intersection, striking the man and knocking him several feet into the air.
“Ten-thirty-one, corner of Ross and Defiance.” Jen shouted into the portable. Trish was already out of the car and running across the intersection toward the victim who lay motionless on the sidewalk. “Pedestrian down.”
“David 10, do you request an ambulance?” The dispatcher had recognized Jen’s voice without being told and had responded with her proper designator.
“Ten-four,” Jen confirmed. “Unknown extent of injuries, but you’d better tell them to step on it.”
The Cobalt had slowed after turning onto Ross as if the occupants were debating with themselves. Now the driver accelerated rapidly. Jen could see two people through the rear window before they began to pull away.
“It looks like we’ve got a hit-skip, Control,” Jen said into the radio. “The vehicle’s attempting to leave the scene. I’ll be in pursuit in my personal vehicle.”
“Vehicle description?”
“White Chevy Cobalt, older model, plates unreadable, possible 3 and possible 6 in the number. Westbound on Ross from Defiance. Officer Peters is with the victim, no radio.”
As the two vehicles flew down Ross, Jen watched her speedometer climb to sixty, seventy, then eighty. She heard the radio crackle as the marked units advised their locations and realized none were closer than five minutes away.
The Cobalt braked sharply and made a left turn southbound onto Coleman Road. Jen felt the Mustang strain as she made the turn. She advised Control of the vehicle’s new direction, then saw the Cobalt turn west again at Jericho Avenue, fishtailing as it negotiated the turn.
“Lose it!” she shouted and swore as she saw the car straighten and pick up speed down Jericho.
“West on Jericho,” she reported into the portable. Control repeated the information in case the marked units had been unable to read her transmission.
“David 10, Lincoln 6 to David 10.” Jen didn’t like the urgency in the voice that was calling her.
“Lincoln 6, go ahead.”
“There’s an N&M train southbound at Jackson and Ross now. It’s moving at a pretty good clip.”
“Control, contact N&M and let them know what’s going on. See if they can stop that train.”
Jen knew it was unlikely they would be able to contact the train in time to stop it before it crossed Jericho. The Cobalt was at Elm and Jericho now, with Jen less than a block behind. They crossed Poplar. Jen expected to see the fleeing car turn at Carberry Avenue, a smooth four-lane highway just past Poplar. Instead it continued across, Jen in pursuit. As the Cobalt crossed Willow, Jen began to brake. She couldn’t see the train yet, but she knew it had to be close. The gates were down, and the lights were flashing.
“Suspect vehicle is approaching Jackson and Jericho, still westbound. I’m backing off.”
The Cobalt never slowed as it approached the railroad tracks. It was approximately fifteen feet from the crossing when the train appeared from behind the building on the right. There was a high-pitched squeal as the engineer applied the brakes and a nearly deafening blast as he sounded the horn. The Cobalt’s brake lights flickered briefly, as if the driver had a moment of hesitation, then the car accelerated, swerving around the lowered arm.
For a moment, it looked as if the people in the Cobalt had played the odds and won. Then the train made contact with the right rear quarter panel of the car, hooking it, and the car and the train’s engine crossed Jericho, disappearing out of sight behind the building on the left side of the street.
Jen slowed to a stop and watched the tons of steel screeching and jerking by in front of her car, the engineer trying vainly to bring the train to a halt while there was still something left of the Chevy. Jen spoke into the portable, her voice shaking.
“Control, get a squad out here! Ten-thirty-one involving a vehicle and a train. Better send a pumper, too. Location will probably be Jackson and Ellen by the time they get the train stopped. Notify N&M.” As an afterthought, she added, “You’d better notify Adam 1.” Adam 1 was Chief Buchan’s designator.
Jen turned her Mustang around, heading back toward Willow. She could take it the two blocks or so down that she knew it would take the train to get stopped. She took several deep breaths, trying to combat the aching in her chest and the sudden weakness that was the aftermath of the adrenaline burst her body had just sustained. This was not the time to relax. A man could well be lying dead on a sidewalk several blocks away, and his killers’ vehicle had just been struck by a train. It was going to be a long night.
Instinct told her what was about to happen. She reached for the portable radio under the car seat just as the white Chevy Cobalt sounded its horn and applied its brakes, tires squealing. The man glanced up, surprised, but his reaction time wasn’t quick enough. Jen and Trish watched, horrified, as the Cobalt slid into the intersection, striking the man and knocking him several feet into the air.
“Ten-thirty-one, corner of Ross and Defiance.” Jen shouted into the portable. Trish was already out of the car and running across the intersection toward the victim who lay motionless on the sidewalk. “Pedestrian down.”
“David 10, do you request an ambulance?” The dispatcher had recognized Jen’s voice without being told and had responded with her proper designator.
“Ten-four,” Jen confirmed. “Unknown extent of injuries, but you’d better tell them to step on it.”
The Cobalt had slowed after turning onto Ross as if the occupants were debating with themselves. Now the driver accelerated rapidly. Jen could see two people through the rear window before they began to pull away.
“It looks like we’ve got a hit-skip, Control,” Jen said into the radio. “The vehicle’s attempting to leave the scene. I’ll be in pursuit in my personal vehicle.”
“Vehicle description?”
“White Chevy Cobalt, older model, plates unreadable, possible 3 and possible 6 in the number. Westbound on Ross from Defiance. Officer Peters is with the victim, no radio.”
As the two vehicles flew down Ross, Jen watched her speedometer climb to sixty, seventy, then eighty. She heard the radio crackle as the marked units advised their locations and realized none were closer than five minutes away.
The Cobalt braked sharply and made a left turn southbound onto Coleman Road. Jen felt the Mustang strain as she made the turn. She advised Control of the vehicle’s new direction, then saw the Cobalt turn west again at Jericho Avenue, fishtailing as it negotiated the turn.
“Lose it!” she shouted and swore as she saw the car straighten and pick up speed down Jericho.
“West on Jericho,” she reported into the portable. Control repeated the information in case the marked units had been unable to read her transmission.
“David 10, Lincoln 6 to David 10.” Jen didn’t like the urgency in the voice that was calling her.
“Lincoln 6, go ahead.”
“There’s an N&M train southbound at Jackson and Ross now. It’s moving at a pretty good clip.”
“Control, contact N&M and let them know what’s going on. See if they can stop that train.”
Jen knew it was unlikely they would be able to contact the train in time to stop it before it crossed Jericho. The Cobalt was at Elm and Jericho now, with Jen less than a block behind. They crossed Poplar. Jen expected to see the fleeing car turn at Carberry Avenue, a smooth four-lane highway just past Poplar. Instead it continued across, Jen in pursuit. As the Cobalt crossed Willow, Jen began to brake. She couldn’t see the train yet, but she knew it had to be close. The gates were down, and the lights were flashing.
“Suspect vehicle is approaching Jackson and Jericho, still westbound. I’m backing off.”
The Cobalt never slowed as it approached the railroad tracks. It was approximately fifteen feet from the crossing when the train appeared from behind the building on the right. There was a high-pitched squeal as the engineer applied the brakes and a nearly deafening blast as he sounded the horn. The Cobalt’s brake lights flickered briefly, as if the driver had a moment of hesitation, then the car accelerated, swerving around the lowered arm.
For a moment, it looked as if the people in the Cobalt had played the odds and won. Then the train made contact with the right rear quarter panel of the car, hooking it, and the car and the train’s engine crossed Jericho, disappearing out of sight behind the building on the left side of the street.
Jen slowed to a stop and watched the tons of steel screeching and jerking by in front of her car, the engineer trying vainly to bring the train to a halt while there was still something left of the Chevy. Jen spoke into the portable, her voice shaking.
“Control, get a squad out here! Ten-thirty-one involving a vehicle and a train. Better send a pumper, too. Location will probably be Jackson and Ellen by the time they get the train stopped. Notify N&M.” As an afterthought, she added, “You’d better notify Adam 1.” Adam 1 was Chief Buchan’s designator.
Jen turned her Mustang around, heading back toward Willow. She could take it the two blocks or so down that she knew it would take the train to get stopped. She took several deep breaths, trying to combat the aching in her chest and the sudden weakness that was the aftermath of the adrenaline burst her body had just sustained. This was not the time to relax. A man could well be lying dead on a sidewalk several blocks away, and his killers’ vehicle had just been struck by a train. It was going to be a long night.
