A1 and lie low in a quiet neighborhood. But her instincts told her a kidnapper would want to get away and fast. It was the assailant’s bad luck that the Cresswell-Smiths had a nosy neighbor, or the kidnapper could have been long gone.
Lozza hit the highway. She put her foot down on the gas, then swerved violently for three kangaroos that bounded across the road and vanished into the gum forest. Close call. Sweat dampened her brow, and she thought of Maya and all the reasons she’d left the murder squad in the big city. A semi came barreling toward her from the opposite direction, headlights and running lights bright as the rig punched a tunnel through dark forest. It roared past and shuddered her little car. Lozza gripped the wheel tighter, driving as fast as she dared. She had every intention of going home to her daughter. Alive.
Another truck roared past, headlights blazing. A memory flashed like lightning—the sight of Martin Cresswell-Smith’s pale body floating in the swamp—his buttocks barely breaking the inky surface. Martin lolling onto his back when Gregg bumped him. The sightless sockets, the shredded lips, the nightmarish work of the muddies, his groin seething with sea lice. The knife with blood. The ropes. The chair. The feces. The severed digits. The smell. She focused as she rounded a bend. If the person who had killed Martin Cresswell-Smith now had Ellie, she feared the worst for her.
Another, deeper part of Lozza’s brain still couldn’t see the pieces adding up—she still felt Ellie was playing them.
What was she missing?
Who was the man from the Puggo—the bikie—who’d delivered the drugs Ellie had overdosed on?
Lozza saw it suddenly as she rounded a curve. Red taillights. The Corolla. She increased speed.
THEN
LOZZA
Lozza gained on the red lights up ahead. As the vehicle came into better view, she saw it was definitely a Corolla. With a dent in the rear and the registration QUEENSLAND 549-GIN. Her heart sped up.
She leaned harder on the accelerator, which increased the risk of hitting an animal and obliterating both the creature and herself. Every molecule in her body was focused and ready to slam on the brakes.
Trees whipped past as she went faster through the tunnel of gums. Without taking her eyes off the road, she used her voice-activated system to call dispatch again.
“This is Senior Constable Lozza Bianchi. I have eyes on suspect vehicle. Repeat, eyes on suspect. Brown Toyota Corolla. Queensland 549-GIN. Headed northbound on A1 between Jarrawarra and Keelongong. We’re about two klicks south of Keelongong intersection.”
She swerved around a sharp bend, tires screeching. Lozza’s heart shot into her throat as she felt her wheels skidding on fine sea sand. She pulled back into control. The Corolla driver ahead seemed to realize he was being chased and picked up speed, skidding and swerving around another curve in the narrow road.
Lozza eased back slightly. There was nowhere to go until the intersection, which was now about one klick ahead. Highway patrol would hopefully have had time to deploy road spikes.
The red taillights disappeared from view behind trees as the Corolla rounded another curve.
As Lozza followed, she caught sight of the Corolla again. It suddenly hit the brakes, swerved violently, then fishtailed. The car had collided with something. Brake lights stuttered as the Corolla slid sideways again and veered onto the dirt verge. It bounded over the sandy verge, then spun as it pulled back onto the road. Whatever it had hit went hurtling down a bank. Lozza clenched her teeth as a sick feeling filled her.
Her phone rang.
She slowed a little more and connected the call.
“Roadblock in place. Spikes deployed. Stand down, Officer, repeat, stand down. Under control . . .”
She killed the call and eased off the gas, her heart thudding against her ribs. Her T-shirt was wet from perspiration. She rounded another bend and saw the pulsating red and blue lights of law enforcement vehicles at the intersection ahead, the colors bouncing off the silvery trunks of gum trees. But her adrenaline kicked up again—the Corolla was not slowing down! It continued to barrel at high speed straight toward the strobing lights.
Horror rose into her throat.
She slowed and backed off even more, a feeling of dread leaching through her veins as the inevitable played out in slow motion in front of her eyes.
Suddenly the Toyota swerved, almost flipped, corrected, and veered off the highway to the right. It bounded down a sand track and disappeared into the black forest. All Lozza could