Final Justice by Griffin W. E. B

Author:Griffin, W. E. B. [Griffin, W. E. B.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: thriller, Mystery, police procedural, detective, War, Suspense, Crime
ISBN: 9780515136562
Amazon: 0515136565
Goodreads: 411994
Publisher: G.P. Putnam's Sons
Published: 2002-01-01T08:00:00+00:00

[TWO]

“Take the next left, onto Knight’s Road,” Olivia said, as they were headed down Woodhaven Road.

It was the first thing either of them had said since leaving Liberties.

Matt wordlessly made the turn.

Two minutes later, Olivia said, pointing across the median, "Orchard’s over there. You can make a U-turn at the stoplight. ”

Matt saw that the stoplight at the intersection of Knight’s Road and Red Lion Road was green and that a Dodge Caravan, headed his way on the other side of the median, was the only traffic. It had just passed the stoplight.

He touched the brake, flicked the turn signal lever, downshifted, and prepared to make the U-turn at the intersection, after the Caravan.

A Pontiac Grand Am came out of nowhere down Red Lion, ran the red light, flashed past the nose of the Porsche, and then slammed into the side of the Dodge Caravan.

Slammed hard into it. There was the sound of tearing metal as the Dodge was knocked, mostly sideward, across the street, coming to rest at an angle against the curb.

“That sonofabitch ran the light!” Matt said.

He braked sharply, stopped, turned on his flashers, and opened his door.

“Call Radio,” he ordered, handing his cellular to Olivia.

The driver’s door of the Grand Am opened and the driver got out. He was a young, tall, white male.

“You stupid sonofabitch!” Matt muttered.

“This is Detective Lassiter, badge 582. We are at Red Lion and Knights Road. We have a vehicular accident, auto-auto. Possible injuries, start in Fire Rescue, and a sector car.”

There was a moment’s hesitation, then Olivia added, “No. We are not involved.”

Thank God! Matt thought. Neither one of us could pass a Breathalyzer test right now.

The young, tall, white male looked first at the Caravan and then at the Porsche stopped on Knight’s Road with its warning flashers blinking. Then he sort of shrugged and took off at a lope down Orchard Lane.

“Check on the people in the van,” Matt ordered, and jumped out of the Porsche and ran after the young, tall, white male.

Now it’s leaving the scene of an accident, you dumb sonofabitch!

And that Grand Am is probably stolen.

“Stop!” he shouted. “I am a police officer.”

The young, tall, white male kept running. Matt saw him turn off the street into a driveway.

When Matt reached the lawn of the next house, he cut across it diagonally and at a full run encountered with his foot a wire supporting an ornamental tree on the lawn.

He flew through the air and landed flat on the concrete driveway. He felt his face scrape against the concrete, and a stinging in both hands where they had struck the concrete.

He shook his head and got to his knees.

The young, tall, white male was running around the side of a garage.

Matt ran after him.

When he turned the corner of the garage, he saw the young, tall, white male about to top a five-foot hurricane fence.

“Stop, police officer!” Matt shouted.

The young, tall, white male looked right at him and then dropped to the ground on the far side of the fence.

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