Page 59

For a moment, she saw disaster in the making, and then the van driver changed their angle, clipped a Mini Cooper, crossed the road completely, and mounted the pavement she was on.

She stood, mouth open, as it drove past her and numerous other pedestrians who were walking closer to the edge of the pavement than she was and who had to scramble to get out of the way.

She just caught a glimpse of the driver, dressed all in black, hunched over the wheel.

The van then swerved back into the oncoming traffic, hitting a taxi side on and bulldozing it into another car in the westbound lane.

The sound was shocking.

A screeching, grinding of metal, with the screams of people all around.

The van reversed to free itself from the taxi, and then drove off, the vehicle making a terrible grating noise.

The police car that had been chasing it had stopped, unable to cross the oncoming lane because of the traffic, most of which had come to a stop in shock.

Gabriella seemed to come out of her own shock, and she turned and ran back the way she’d come, following after the van as it jerked and bunny hopped along the high street and then took the first right turn it could, forcing its way across the oncoming traffic once again, and causing a pile up as everyone applied the brakes.

She had just come down the very road the van was turning up, and she forced her sore muscles and scraped skin to cooperate as she pushed herself as fast as she could go.

She reached the side street and turned up it, but the van was already turning left up ahead, and when she reached where it had turned, it was completely gone.

She stood, panting for breath and angry that she hadn’t been able to move faster, and then looked down at the street. Oil had been left like a trail on the road. Like the breadcrumbs of Hansel and Gretel. Follow them, and you’d find the van.

She turned and ran as fast as she could to the phone box on the high street.

It was broken, and banging the heel of her hand against the glass door in disgust, she ran toward the grocer’s.

She was going to ask him if she could use his phone, but the police were already gathering in the street, and she could hear the shriek of ambulances in the distance.

It looked like a number of people had been injured in the collisions the van had caused, although thankfully they hadn’t hit any pedestrians on the pavement.

As her eye passed over the chaos, she noticed DI Layman standing beside one of the police cars.

That was better than a phone call.

She walked toward him and he turned. The fact that she was heading straight for him must have caught his attention because he focused on her, and she saw the moment he recognized her.

He headed her way, waving off a uniformed officer who was trying to speak to him.

“Miss Farnsworth.”

“DI Layman, I saw what happened and I ran after the van.” She realized she was still breathing somewhat heavily. The last two days had not been good for her.

“Tell me.” His face was fierce.

“They made the first right, and I got to the corner just in time to see them take the first left. I ran across to see if I could see where they went afterward, but they were gone.” She drew in a breath.

“Pity,” Layman said, turning to call someone.

“Wait.” She almost grabbed his arm but dropped her hand in time. “I’m not finished.”

He turned back, eyebrows raised.

“Their oil is leaking, maybe from all of the collisions. They’ve left a trail behind them.” She was suddenly aware of all her muscles, and how she’d abused them.

Layman focused on something behind her, and she turned slowly, and saw the grocer coming toward her with a cup.

“Thought you might need some water, the way you ran after those hooligans,” he said, holding the cup out to her.