Chapter 11

The Tail

By ten o'clock Thursday morning I had exited I-380 onto I-84 east and was approaching the Mount Cobb exit when I spotted it. The light blue Malibu was about 25 car lengths behind me. Too far back for me to be sure that it was Van Horn but I was sure the car was following me. I had my cruise control set at 75 MPH. Most of the other traffic on the road was either traveling faster or slower than me but the Malibu was keeping pace with me.

I needed to be sure. I was coming up on a tractor-trailer so as soon as I passed the truck I pulled in front of it blocking the view the driver of the Malibu had of my car and accelerated up to 78 MPH and reset my cruise control. After a few miles I had increased the distance between us considerably. I was just beginning to think the it had been just a coincidence when I saw the Malibu rapidly closing the distance until it was about twenty car lengths behind me and again keeping pace with my speed.

I no longer had any doubt that I was being followed, but why would Van Horn be following me. I started spinning everything I could remember about the Thursday Night Club case and the involvement of Agent Van Horn in the investigation. Could he have been a part of it? That didn't make sense. After all he helped arrest all of the players. It had to be something else.

I picked up my cell phone and called Van Horn's cell but I got no answer. I knew I was going to have to resolve this situation before I reached my destination so, when I spotted a rest area just past Exit 20, I turned off the highway. I pulled all the way down to the far end of the parking lot and casually walked to the rest rooms. The Blue Malibu parked at the other end of the lot but no one got out.

I walked through the welcome center and out the back door toward the truck parking area and peeked around the corner of the building to see if Van Horn would get out of the car. He didn't.

While watching Van Horn's car I called Hanratty.

"Hey, Rich, what's going on with Van Horn?" I asked.

"Van Horn? How should I know? He left here last evening and said he was heading back to Philly."

"He's following me," I said.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah. I am looking at his car right now. I can't see him but it's his car. I spotted it following me about twenty miles back. I pulled into a rest area and he followed me in but parked at the other end of the parking lot," I said.

"Why don't you just go over to his car and ask him what he is up to?"

"I would rather have a better idea of why he is following me before I do that. If his motive is of a sinister nature I don't want to walk up to his car unprotected," I said.

"You think he might be dirty?"

"I have no idea. I only know that he is following me and I can't think of any good reason why he should," I said. "Do me a favor and call the agent in charge at the Philly office and see if he can tell you what Van Horn is up to. Call me back when you find something out."

"Will do. What are you going to do in the mean time?"

"I am going to get back on the road," I said. "As long as he is following me and I can see him in my mirror I'll be okay."

"Be careful."

"I will. Thanks."

Van Horn didn't move when I backed out of my parking space. He apparently wanted to give me plenty of room before he started following me. After all, he knew that I was headed to the Berkshires, so he didn't have to follow too closely until we got into Massachusetts. What I couldn't understand was why he had allowed himself to get as close to me as he had. He had to know that I would spot him. This whole thing was giving me a knot in my stomach.

Thirty miles later I crossed into New York at Port Jervis with Van Horn still keeping pace about twenty car lengths behind me.

Was It Van Horn?

Another half hour passed and I was beginning to wonder why I hadn't heard back from Hanratty yet so I tried calling him but I wasn't able to get a connection.

It wasn't until three hours later as I was leaving Hartford, Connecticut heading north on I-91 that I heard back from Hanratty.

"What did you find out?" I asked.

"The agent in charge, Lance Fielding, told me that Van Horn was supposed to be in the Philly office this morning but he didn't show up," Hanratty said. "They called his wife and she said that he didn't come back from Brodricksburg last night."

"That's strange," I said.

"Fielding said that he can't think of any reason why Van Horn would be following you. They have tried to contact him on his cell phone but he hasn't answered their calls."

"Have they tried tracking him via the GPS transmitter in his car?" I asked.

"Fielding said that Van Horn's GPS unit is not transmitting. Apparently it has been disabled."

"I am going to have to do something soon," I said. "I can't have him follow me all the way to my destination. I'll call the State Police when I cross into Massachusetts and ask them to stop him. I might need the FBI to assist with this request as Van Horn is one of theirs."

"Let me call Fielding again and see what he says," replied Hanratty.

I passed through Springfield, Massachusetts and was nearing Northhampton when Hanratty got back to me.

"Sorry it took so long but we have a very big problem," Hanratty said. "Agent Fielding wanted to wait until we checked something out for him. He said that he called the hotel that Van Horn stayed in Tuesday night in Brodricksburg and the manager said that Van Horn hadn't checked out yet. Fielding ask me to go over to the hotel and see if there was anything there that might explain why Van Horn hadn't returned to Philly like he was supposed to."

"What did you find?"

"Nothing in the room. It was empty. He must have packed his bags and put them in the car but he never got around to checking out. What we did find was Captain Ross' rental car abandoned in the parking lot of the hotel. We think Ross is with Van Horn."

Suddenly things started to make sense. The reason it was so easy for me to spot the car following me was because Ross was driving. If Van Horn was driving he would have been much more careful knowing that I am an expert at spotting a tail. That would also mean that if Van Horn is with Ross, he was not there by choice. If he were, he would have told Ross to not follow me so closely.

"Okay, I need you to contact the Massachusetts' State Police and tell them what is going on. I am going to have to get some gas soon. Tell the troopers that I will get off I-91 at Exit 25 and fill up there. Then I am going to head west on 116 until I find a place to confront Ross."

"What are you carrying?" Hanratty asked.

"I've got my service thirty-eight."

"Be careful man. You know Ross carries a nine millimeter and he probably has Van Horn's piece too."

"Well, I don't plan to stand still and let him shoot me."

"Okay, let me get on to the state cops up there and get you some help."

"Thanks."

The Confrontation

At Exit 25 there were three gas stations. I pulled into the Exxon station on the northeast corner of the intersection of 116 and US 5. Ross went into the BP station across the road from me.

I tried to act like I was uninterested in what was happening across the road but I did manage to peek over there as I was putting the pump into the filler hole. I saw Ross get out of the car and start pumping gas.

I casually glanced over at the blue Malibu a few times trying to see if I could spot Van Horn but I couldn't see him. I was beginning to think that Van Horn might be in the trunk, hopefully alive. The only reason I could think of for Ross to follow me this far was to kill me and if that's what he wanted to do he wouldn't have hesitated to kill Van Horn.

I only put ten gallons of gas in the car and then I headed back out onto 116 and headed west. I guess I caught Ross by surprise because he was still pumping gas when I got into my car. I accelerated hard but not enough to spin the tires. I didn't want to alert Ross to the fact that I knew he was following me but I wanted to get some distance ahead of him.

I figured that I had about a three quarter mile lead on Ross when I crested a hill and spotted a place to pull off the road. I had to brake hard to get slowed down enough to pull off the road. I popped the hood latch and got out of the car. I opened the hood and then ran off into the woods at the side of the road. I worked my way east through the woods going back in the direction I had come from.

I don't think I had been in the woods more than thirty seconds when the blue Malibu crested the hill. Ross was past my car before he realized it was mine. I watched from the woods as Ross continued down the road another quarter mile and then stopped.

I guessed that he was waiting to see what I was up to. When he saw no activity at my car he turned around and headed back toward me. Ross pulled over in front of my car and stopped. As he stepped from his car I could see the nine-millimeter in his hand. That gun gave him more firepower than my thirty-eight so I had to be extra careful not to give my position away.

Ross walked over to my car and looked inside. I could see the realization on his face. He knew that I had spotted him and had fled into the woods. He just didn't know how far into the woods I had gone. My hope was that Ross would come into the woods looking for me so that I could circle back to the cars and check to see if Van Horn was in the Malibu and if so was he alive.

After standing and staring toward the path I had taken into the woods for what seemed like and eternity, Ross started into the woods. I knew that Ross was a hunter so he wouldn't feel uncomfortable hunting me in the woods. I waited until he was a good fifty feet into the woods and then I crawled out of my hiding place and keeping low I crept up to the Malibu and looked inside.

There was nothing of interest in the front seat but there was a large blanket on the floor in the back. Luckily Ross hadn't bothered to lock the door so I opened the back door and lifted the blanket. Underneath the blanked I found Kyle Van Horn. His hands and feet were bound with duck tape and he had tape over his mouth. Kyle appeared to be unconscious but I was able to feel a weak pulse in his neck. He was alive but he needed to get to a hospital. I pulled the tape off his mouth to help him with his breathing and then peeked over the trunk of the car just in time to see Ross coming out of the woods.

He had spotted me and was lifting his gun to point it at me. I had less than a second to decided whether to run or stay with Van Horn. I was afraid that if I ran Van Horn would have no chance so I ducked down behind the car and pulled my thirty-eight. My only hope was to keep Ross away long enough for the state police to show up.

I slid over so that I was sitting on the ground with my back against the rear tire. I didn't want to get hit by a shot fired under the car. Ross' first three shots took out the side windows on both sides of the Malibu. From the sound of the gun I guessed that Ross was still standing by the edge of the woods. He was smart enough to not come charging toward the car leaving himself unprotected. He was just far enough away that my thirty-eight with its short barrel wouldn't be much use. I only had six rounds in the gun and the rest of my ammo was locked in the trunk of my car so I couldn't waste any shots. I had to get Ross close enough that I couldn't miss.

That's when Ross decided to taunt me.

"Hey, Hobbs, pretty soon you'll be in the back of that car with your buddy Agent Van Horn. Of course you'll both be dead then. After I set fire to the car I am going to go find that pretty wife of yours and when I do I am going to rape her in every way imaginable before I cut her throat."

I didn't say anything. I was pretty sure that he didn't know where Carrie was and I hoped that the state police would show up before he had a chance to get away from here.

"Hobbs? I am getting hard just thinking about what I am going to do to your wife. How do you like that?" Ross yelled.

"Your chances of pulling that off are about as good as your chances were of pulling of that land deal. You guys weren't nearly as smart as you thought."

"Fuck you, Hobbs. If it wasn't for that stupid fucker Buske taking bribes from that vendor, we would have gotten away with it."

"No, you wouldn't," I said. "It was only a matter of time before I would have had the proof I needed to arrest you for the murder of Donald Boland. A coward like you would have given up his friends in a heart beat to try and save his ass."

"Who you calling a coward, Hobbs? Why don't you step out from behind that car and we'll see who the coward is?"