Harry cursed when the car refused to start on the first attempt.
Or the second, but the third, and very nearly not at all. An older car, it was a little temperamental.
With a short sigh of relief, he slipped into first gear checked before pulling away from the curb, and rapidly accelerated.
The red car was just a small dot in front of him, gaining distance.
Then it slowed and turned left. Harry was several streets before the turn, watching carefully for side traffic, and oncoming traffic as the street was narrow and he was speeding down the middle of the street.
He turned the corner.
The red car had not gained on him, in fact, had lost some of its distance between them.
He saw why, someone had pulled out of their driveway, and the red car nearly collided with that car.
It scooted around the reversing car, and now only yards behind the red car, Harry could see it was a woman behind the wheel, and it had a passenger? Was it the driver of the passenger who was the person who came out of the bushes?
A glance at the registration plate partly obscured, gave him two numbers he could be sure of, a one and a seven.
Then the red car braked severely in front of him, the moment he was looking down at the plate, and he had to slam his foot on the brake, almost colliding into the back of the red car.
Harry had come to a complete stop.
By the time he recovered from the shock, the red car had gone, turning left, and then turning again, and was nowhere in sight when Harry turned to corner in the chase.
The driver of the red car had realized Harry was chasing them.
Damn, Harry muttered under his breath.
When Harry returned to the brother’s neighborhood about a half hour later, it was a crime scene with all the trappings, police cars, medical examiners, crime scene investigators, an ambulance, and a familiar face who looked as though he was in charge.
Detective Albert Sykes.
And a woman standing beside him, the same woman who had been kneeling beside the brother, and she was pointing directly at his car.
© Charles Heath 2016-2018