Laura started to say something as she turned around to reach for the bag of sunflower seeds. In the next instant, there was a popping sound, then another. I jerked back. I realized that a bullet had gone through her passenger-side window. It had crashed through my window and missed my neck by a couple of inches, leaving a spiderweb of cracked glass in its wake.
I pulled the steering wheel hard right, then corrected to the left, just missing an oncoming car. I saw a man in my mind’s eye, on the passenger side, raising what had to have been a gun. I saw the car just ahead of us, a dark red Honda. I gunned the Taurus and winced. In this rain, if I wasn’t careful, we’d go skidding right off the road. The Honda roared ahead, cutting hard and fast around a sharp turn. I knew the Taurus wouldn’t make it. I had to slow a bit. When I got around the curve, the Honda had widened the distance.
“My God, Mac, are you all right?”
“Yep. You?”
“I think so. If I hadn’t turned in just that moment to get Nolan some sunflower seeds-”
“I know. Laura, sit back down and fasten your seat belt.”
“Squawk.”
“It’s all right, Nolan. Think of this as an adventure.”
Laura was strapped in and I passed two cars, nearly skimming off the paint on the second one. Horns blared loudly in our ears.
We were getting closer. “Laura, I don’t think we can catch them, but we can get the license plate.”
“I can try,” she said, and buzzed down what was left of her electric window to lean out. Rain flew in the open window, hard and heavy.
I tried to keep my hands loose and relaxed on the steering wheel even though my heart pounded faster in anger each time I saw that webbed bullet hole out of the corner of my eye. I passed another car, a Land Rover.
The driver gave me the finger and shouted a curse. I didn’t blame him.
There were just about forty yards of highway between us and the Honda. I saw a man leaning out the passenger window, looking back. He had a gun. “Laura, down!”
She jerked back in and flattened herself against the seat as the man fired five or six rounds.
“Mac,” she said, “you’ve got a gun, don’t you?”
“Yes, but I’ve got to concentrate.”
“Give it to me. I know how to shoot.”
I didn’t want to. It was the last thing I wanted to do, actually. I felt her hand pulling it out of my shoulder holster.
“Laura,” I said, “I’d rather you didn’t. Please, be careful.”
“Just get us closer to that damned Honda.”
We closed to within fifteen yards of the Honda. This stretch of 101 was all curves and inclines and twisting hills. The rain had lightened up a bit, thank God. I’d be just on the verge of seeing the license plate when the Honda would disappear again around another curve.
Laura hugged the passenger door, waiting. She seemed very calm, perhaps too calm. Something was strange here. “Laura, are you all right?”
“I’m fine, Mac. Just keep up with them. Yeah, just a little bit closer.” Suddenly, she reared up and halfway out the open window, rain curtaining her face. She shot off half the clip, fast.
The Honda’s back window exploded. A man came out of the passenger-side window, a gun trained on us. Before he could fire, Laura shot off another three rounds. I saw his gun fly out of his hand and skitter across the highway. She’d got him. Then the Honda disappeared around another turn.
I gunned the Taurus. We came around the bend and skidded out to see the Honda disappear on the short straight stretch in front of us.
“Damn, I wanted to get a back tire.”
When we last saw the Honda, it was weaving back and forth, the driver sawing the steering wheel to get it out of a skid. He straightened over a crest and the car shot forward. I gunned the Taurus. Just one more try. But the rain did us in. We hit a slick patch. The car spun in a full three-sixty. We ended up on the side of the road, about six feet from a ditch.