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Lowe sped up more, and Amanda barely taxed the engine of the department car. He sped through an orange light, and she breezed through the red, getting honked at by another person for her trouble.
Amanda overheard Trent talking on his phone in the passenger seat, notifying Dispatch they were pursuing a murder suspect. He gave their location, make, and model of Lowe’s vehicle, his license, his name, and advised he was unarmed as far as they knew.
Sirens started around them as PWCPD cruisers joined the pursuit.
“Can’t say I had a high-speed chase through Woodbridge pegged for today.” Trent palmed his phone.
“Neither did I, but we go where the day takes us.” She torqued the wheel, swerving to avoid a car inching into a left-hand turn.
That was close!
Her heart was pumping with adrenaline. “He’s guilty of something.”
“Yeah, killing Felicity Kelley.”
That may very likely be the case. Otherwise, why run at the mere mention of her name? He certainly wasn’t letting up on the gas, and he was headed toward the highway.
Trent’s phone rang, and he answered on speaker. It was an officer sharing the same observation she had just made and confirming they were calling state police to lay out a spike strip.
This is getting real!
Lowe merged onto the highway with Amanda and two cruisers following. They traveled for about ten minutes when another call to Trent’s phone confirmed the location of the strip. It was an additional ten minutes down the highway from their current position. The state police certainly didn’t waste any time.
They’d have Lowe if he didn’t take the next exit ramp. She breathed easier when he breezed past it.
As they neared the strip, state police cruisers were at the side of the road.
The rear brake lights on Lowe’s BMW lit. He came to a complete stop before damaging his tires.
Smart choice, as they would cost a mint to replace. But concern over his vehicle would be the least of his problems.
Amanda parked their car and got out with Trent to apprehend Lowe. He was inside his vehicle, and without knowing for certain he was unarmed, they couldn’t take any chances. They approached with guns raised.
“Mr. Lowe, put your hands on the wheel!” she yelled at him.
Lowe complied, and Trent opened the driver’s door.
“Keep your hands where we can see them,” Amanda said. “And get out of the vehicle.”
Lowe did as directed, and Trent patted him down to make sure he wasn’t concealing a weapon. Once he gave the all-clear, PWCPD officers cuffed him and loaded him into a cruiser.
Trent tapped the trunk as they left, knowing he and Amanda would soon catch up with Lowe at Central.
One state police officer worked on lifting the spike strip, while two others came over to Amanda and Trent.
“Thanks for your help, guys,” she told them.
“Don’t mention it. Glad we were able to help,” one of them said.
“We’ll call for a tow truck to pick that up too,” the second officer added, with a nudge of his head toward Lowe’s BMW.
“Great.” Lowe wouldn’t be happy about it, but too bad. He was the one who decided to run.
She and Trent cleared out. This time, Trent was behind the wheel.
“Lowe has a lot of explaining to do,” she said, stating the obvious. Her entire body was still quaking from the flush of adrenaline.
“There’s an understatement.”
