Part 18
Tom looked at me for a long moment, seeing the determination in my eyes that he hadn't seen since our days in the service. He knew he couldn't stop me anyway.
"Fine," Tom muttered. "But you don't engage him alone. If you see his car, you block him and wait for my sirens. Understood?"
"Understood," I nodded.
I turned to Maya. "Stay here with the deputies. You're safe inside this building. I'll be back soon."
"Dad, please be careful," she whispered, gripping my jacket sleeve. "Marcus is just like him. He thinks they're above the law."
"They're about to find out how gravity works," I said.
I walked out to my truck, the gravel crunching under my boots. The sky was turning a deep, dark purple as twilight set in. I drove out of the parking lot, pushing the old V8 engine to its absolute limit as I tore down the ridge road toward the local airfield.
The airfield was a small, private strip used mostly by wealthy locals and crop dusters. It was poorly lit, surrounded by chain-link fences and overgrown weeds.
As I rounded the final bend overlooking the runway, I saw a pair of headlights moving fast down the service lane near Hangar 3.
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It was a silver sedan. Marcus's car.
And a small twin-engine propeller plane was already sitting on the tarmac, its propellers slowly beginning to spin.
