Postcard killers

Chapter 135

The Volvo crept slowly toward the big rotary with al the bushes and trees in the middle.

Jacob pul ed out into the traffic right behind them. His heart was thumping so hard that he could hardly hear anything going on around him.

The pair in the Volvo stopped in the rotary. The line to the border crossing snaked forward ahead of them.

"They've realized they can't get through this way," Dessie said. "Not in that car. So what do they do about it?"

Jacob pul ed handcuffs from the inside pocket of his jacket and stuffed them under his belt behind his back. Then he leaned forward and took the Glock out of its holster strapped to his ankle. Suddenly he was glad he hadn't turned it over to the authorities as requested but had checked it in an airport locker while he traveled to and from Los Angeles. It looked like he'd need it now.

He heard Dessie's breath catch.

"Jacob, what are you doing? You can't use that gun here. You'l go to jail."

Just then the red Volvo swerved out of the traffic line. The driver wrenched the car to the left and squeezed past a trailer and a smal van with Cyril ic lettering scrawled along the side.

Jacob found first gear and pushed his foot al the way to the floor. A moment later he was forced to brake sharply to avoid a truck that was halfway into the rotary.

"Hel! We're losing them!"

"They're going straight on," Dessie cried, leaning her head out of the window. "Now they're turning right! They're in the IKEA parking lot!"

Jacob drove too fast past the truck. He scraped the side of a Peugeot and 180 forced his way into the lot as the driver of the Peugeot sat angrily on his horn behind them.

The parking lot for IKEA was complete chaos. Cars and buses and trailers were al battling with huge shopping trol eys and children's strol ers and hundreds of people.

Jacob stopped the car and looked around wildly.

"Where the hel have they gone? We've lost them! They got away!"

"I think they were heading for where the buses park," Dessie said, pointing. "There. There! That's Sylvia Rudolph, isn't it?"

The dark-haired woman opened the door and started to run. She was athletic, fast on her feet.

"No!" Jacob cried, trying to drive after her. An entire family – grandma, mother, four kids, and a dog – blocked his way. Then the driver of the Peugeot suddenly appeared, banging furiously on the windshield. Jacob showed him the pistol, and the man backed away, hands up.

"To hel with this!" Jacob said, throwing the door open and racing toward the buses.