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They needed to get closer.
“Hang on!” Jackson said as the car slid around the corner and he struggled to regain traction.
Mitch braced himself for impact, but Jackson righted the car. Mitch saw they’d gained a little distance on the Range Rover—until it disappeared from view.
“He missed the turn!” Jackson said.
“Follow him!” Mitch commanded as he leaned forward.
They flew over the hill and onto a running trail that was barely wide enough for their car. Mitch knew that Range Rover would be a write-off by the time Jonathan was done with it.
Branches scrapped the side of the car, squealing against the metal. Mitch ignored everything except the car in front of them.
Jackson was gaining on him and Mitch leaned out, firing yet again—this time at the back window, aiming for the passenger side.
The glass shattered and Mitch fired once more while midair as their car bounced over the track. The front windscreen of the Range Rover shattered and Mitch fired two more shots at the wheels. The car swerved before it rammed into a tree.
Jackson pulled their car to a stop, the tires screeching as Mitch flung open the door, using it as a shield.
“Jonathan! Put your hands in the air!” Mitch yelled.
When he didn’t move, Mitch took a step closer and yelled again. He continued forward, light on his feet, ready to react.
His heart thundered in his chest. He didn’t know what Jonathan would do next.
Eventually the driver’s door opened, but Jonathan didn’t get out.
“Jonathan, put your hands in the air before I shoot!” Mitch ordered.
He was a few steps from the car when he saw Jonathan move. He swung around, aiming a pistol at Mitch.
But Mitch pulled the trigger first.
The bullet landed in Jonathan’s chest. His eyes widened and he sputtered a cough. The weapon dropped from his hand, landing on the ground.
“Damn you!” Mitch swore as he rushed forward, never taking his eyes off Jonathan.
But Jonathan didn’t move again.
CHAPTER39
MITCH
Mitch rubbed his scratchy eyes, watching as Jonathan was zipped into a body bag and carried away by his officers. He checked his phone again, but Dr. Roberts hadn’t called. Mitch decided no news was good news—he had to believe that.
“What now?” Jackson asked as he came to stand beside Mitch.
Mitch sighed heavily. “A lot of paperwork. And I need to go release Graham. That poor guy needs to go home and sleep in his own bed.”
Jackson nodded. “You go. I’ll make sure this is handled.”
Mitch nodded. “Thank you,” he said, then added, “You did great tonight.”
Jackson grinned. “You too. Remind me not to get into a shootout with you.”
Mitch laughed, but even his laugh sounded tired. “Yes, remember that,” he said as he turned and walked toward the car. As he drove off, he looked back at the chaos in his rearview mirror, confident that Jackson would handle it.
He pulled up at the station a few minutes later and went straight to the cells.
