Chapter 20
The precinct was a chaotic hive of activity. Dozens of detectives and analysts were furiously tracking Arthur Vance’s digital footprint. I sat in a cramped observation room with Lucy and Sarah, drinking stale coffee, waiting for a miracle.
At 3:00 AM, Miller burst into the room, holding a printed photograph.
"We got him," Miller said, slamming the photo onto the table. "Highway patrol cameras caught his black SUV heading south on I-25 forty minutes ago. He's making a run for the New Mexico border."
"Does he have the children in the car?" Sarah asked, her voice trembling.
"The camera angle was too high to see into the back seat, but we have to assume they are with him," Miller replied. "I have state troopers setting up a roadblock at the Raton Pass. We are going to intercept him before he crosses the state line."
"I'm riding with you," I said, standing up. "If those kids are in the back of his vehicle during a high-speed chase, they are going to be terrified and potentially injured. They need immediate medical triage."
Miller nodded. "Let's go. We take my cruiser."
We drove at breakneck speed down the dark, empty interstate, the police siren wailing into the night. My mind raced with terrible possibilities. Arthur Vance was a desperate, cornered man with nothing left to lose. Men like that did not surrender peacefully.
"Ethan," Miller shouted over the noise of the siren. "When we hit the roadblock, you stay in the vehicle until I give the command. If Vance decides to shoot his way out, I cannot have you caught in the crossfire."
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"Just get me to those kids," I replied, my hands gripping the medical bag so tightly my knuckles ached.
Twenty minutes later, we saw the flashing red and blue lights of the police barricade illuminating the dark highway. A dozen state troopers had blocked the road with heavy vehicles and spike strips. And sitting dead in the center of the highway, boxed in by police cruisers, was Arthur Vance's black SUV.
