“You have the air.”
“I’m north on Pine, turning left on Seventh, give you a description in a second.”
Brazil could scarcely contain himself. Why didn’t she pass, cut the car off. The Toyota
was just a Ve. How fast could it go?
“Hit the siren!” West shouted at him as the engine strained.
Brazil didn’t have this course in the volunteer academy. Unfastening his seatbelt, he
groped around under the dash, the steering column, West’s knees, and was practically in
her lap when he found a button that felt promising. He pressed it as they roared down the
street. The trunk loudly popped up. West’s car rocked into a dip as they sped after the
Toyota, and crime-scene equipment, a raincoat, a bubble light, flares spilled out,
scattering over pavement. West couldn’t believe it as she stared into the rearview mirror
at her career bouncing away in the afterburn. Brazil was very quiet as police lights were
turned off. They slowed, crawled off the road, and stopped. West looked at her ride-
along.
“Sorry,” Brazil said.
Chapter Three.
}A’i
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