I zigzagged between the two opposing lanes of traffic as I gave pursuit.
He was in a flat-out run, but I was not going to be beaten. Not now, not with Gus’ captor in sight. I reached down deep and found an extra gear, one that I didn’t know existed. I was running so fast, I felt as if I could take off. I was closing in on him: two yards behind . . . one .
I lunged and took him down by the ankles. As he attempted to kick free, I pounced upon him, fists flying. I hauled back and was ready to pummel him when I froze. “You? It’s you?” The face I was about to strike was one I had seen before, but looked nothing like the person I had seen on the ladder outside my bedroom window. This man was the one who told me there was absolutely nothing suspicious about the fire the day I first inspected the remains of Bill Alden’s cottage. Two bodies, burnt beyond recognition—now I understood who would use that specific MO. Dummy, you couldn’t make the connection?
“You son of a bitch.” I heard the sound of others running toward me, but my fist was clenched.
“Chalice, we’ve got him,” Ambler said. “Don’t!”
There was no force on heaven or earth strong enough to keep me from striking him, this man who had turned my family’s world upside down and put my husband’s life at risk. I drove my fist into his jaw and heard it crack. I was ready to hit him again when someone grabbed my arm. I looked up and saw Gus. His cheek was swollen, and there was dried blood on his face.
“Thanks, babe,” he said, “I’ll take it from here.”