“I don’t know,” Foucault answered and then looked in his rearview mirror. “I think I see a black Acadia one block behind us.”
Vigneault turned left to look and McRyan was two cars back, a Ford Edge between them. He looked to his partner, worried. “We’re made.”
“What do you think we should do?” Foucault replied anxiously, the adrenaline causing his foot to slowly but surely depress the accelerator and pick up speed. The Traverse had a powerful enough engine.
The two men shared a look.
Foucault looked down to his feet, “I’m wearing the same shoes I wore when we killed Checketts.”
“Who knows what they have from when we took out Martin,” Vigneault added.
* * *
“Now, here’s the interesting part,” Mac said, looking in his rearview mirror as Ring pulled up behind in his Crown Victoria with a patrol car right behind him. Ring passed McRyan and raised an eyebrow and Mac nodded. Ring pulled ahead and then in front of Mac and the patrol unit passed them both as well as the Ford Edge and pulled in behind the Traverse, which had been slowly increasing its speed and was now at least fifteen miles over the limit for this two-lane city street.
“This is where we learn if they were the ones that did Checketts and Martin or were at least involved.”
The patrol unit turned on its lights.
“Oh, I think they were!” Wire exclaimed.
* * *
Foucault blew through a red light and accelerated hard north, the patrol unit now at least two blocks back.
“It’s pretty dark out now,” Vigneault exclaimed. “Maybe we can lose the patrol unit and dump the car.”
“We’ll have to lose more than one unit,” Foucault answered as he buried the accelerator. “I have at least three sets of rollers behind us all of the sudden.”
He flew down the entrance ramp for northbound State Highway 43.
* * *
“Why are you slowing down?” Wire barked as Mac eased back while going down the entrance ramp, letting the chase unfold in front him.
“This is Milwaukee’s show,” McRyan replied calmly. “I don’t have a flashing light so we’ll just hang behind and follow.”
The chase charged north on 43, the Traverse expertly weaving in and out of traffic.
“This guy’s had training,” Wire observed. “He’s no novice driver.”
“We’re good as long as he’s on the highway.”
The Traverse was in the left lane and suddenly cut sharply across in front of a car in the right lane. The car was forced to brake, which caused the following car to hit it from behind, creating a pile up that sucked in the three patrol units blocking all of the lanes.
Ring swerved hard right onto the right shoulder just slipping past the pile up. He fishtailed his Crown Victoria but regained control before ending up down in the ditch. With control regained, Ring followed the Traverse up the exit ramp. Mac veered right to the highway shoulder, scooted around the pile-up and accelerated up the exit ramp.
“He turned right, Mac! He turned right!” Dara exclaimed, now with her Sig Sauer out.
“I got it. I’m going to get in right behind Ring. Let him know.”
“Copy that,” Wire replied to Mac and then to Ring, “Darwin, we’re right on your six.” Then back to McRyan, “He’s got you, Mac. He’s called all cars.”
The Traverse was now screaming down East Keefe Avenue.
“This is dangerous,” Mac warned. “We’ve got residential on the right and if they turn in there, we’ve got to back off. What we really need is a chopper.”
“I know he has a call in for one, should be here any second.”
Just then a chopper dropped out of the sky and painted the Traverse two blocks ahead. “Now we’re talking.” Mac quickly looked right and saw flashing lights coming down a residential street. To his left was an industrial area and as he looked ahead it was industrial on the left for several blocks. “Atta boy, Ring!” Mac exclaimed. “Way to know your town.”
“What?” Wire asked.
“He’s bringing the patrol units in from the right. He’s going to drive these guys into this industrial area up on the left. Look at the chopper, it’s flying on the right, trying to drive them that way as well.”
* * *
Foucault thought he had a chance when the pile-up happened, but he still had one unit on his tail as he sped down Keefe. He should have turned right into the residential neighborhoods but now it was too late. Every time he looked right, there were flashing lights and now he saw