Chapter 18 - Highway of Shadows
The rain poured in relentless sheets over Interstate 87, turning the asphalt into black ice.
Miles drove the armored Suburban at ninety miles an hour, navigating through the storm while scanning encrypted police radio frequencies. In the back, Jared sat with a loaded SIG Sauer on his lap, his eyes fixed on Roman, who had his snout pressed against the cracked window, whining every time the wind shifted south.
"I found the trail," Miles announced, tapping his Bluetooth headset. "Traffic cams caught a black Cadillac Escalade with counterfeit plates blowing a toll booth near Newburgh. They aren't taking her out of state. They’re heading back toward Brooklyn."
"Why Brooklyn?" Willa asked, her pulse hammering against her ribs. "If they have the most valuable hostage on the East Coast, why drive straight into Jared’s territory?"
"Because Sebastian isn't running this crew," Jared answered, his voice devoid of human warmth. "Sebastian is in solitary confinement at ADX Florence. This is Brendan’s faction."
Brendan. Sebastian’s psychotic younger brother, who had escaped the FBI dragnet two weeks earlier by slaughtering four marshals at a safehouse.
"Brendan doesn't want ransom," Miles muttered, checking his side mirrors. "He wants blood. He knows Jared would burn down all five boroughs to keep that girl safe. He’s going to use her as bait."
Suddenly, Roman thrust his body forward between the driver and passenger seats, barking furiously and clawing at the dashboard.
Through the blur of rain and flashing wipers, three miles ahead on the shoulder of the elevated highway, hazard lights blinked. A battered delivery van sat idling next to a guardrail over the Hudson River gorge.
Beside the van stood a tall man in a leather trench coat, holding an umbrella in one hand and dragging a small, shivering figure dressed in a yellow raincoat with the other.
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The little girl carried a white mobility cane, but her feet were slipping on the wet concrete.
"Stop the car!" Jared roared.
