The Tomb

3. The Chase

THE CHASE

JOHN

Walter and I exit the car and begin walking toward Steven. Thankfully, with all the people still out on the street coming home from last-minute Christmas shopping, we blend right in. Well, sort of. Walter has his cheap suit on, which makes him stick out more than I do — and I have a badge hanging around my neck. So, we try to play it cool, but a 30-year-old and a 60-year-old with no gifts, 3 days before Christmas, both screaming 'cop' doesn't help much. It’s only a matter of time before... Yup, we’ve been made.

Steven stops dead in his tracks. Walter and I look at each other. Should we run toward him? He isn't running. What should we do? Wait, why is he looking at me like that? It's like he knows me. It's kind of freaking me out.

We both take a step forward, and he turns and runs. Here we go.

We chase after him. He's fast. s**t, he's really fast. We're doing all we can to keep up, and I'm doing all I can to make sure Walter doesn't have a heart attack while we chase him down.

Clearly, Steven knows something; otherwise why would he have taken off like this?

Walter screams out, "Chicago Police! Freeze!"

It doesn't faze Steven in the slightest — he keeps going. I didn't think that would work. He clearly knows we were police, and Walter just wasted his breath.

Steven turns down another side street, hoping to lose us, but we stay on him. We're far behind, there is no way we can keep up. This guy must have been a track star — wherever he went to school. I'll have to ask him if I ever catch him.

I have an idea. So, I yell to Walter, "Stay on him!" Then I turn down an alley and double back.

I know there is only one way to catch up to this guy. Usually, I would just say it's time to cut our losses and we'll find him another way, but after a year of searching with only one lead, I can't let this one go. So, I sprint as fast as I can with the little energy I have left — God, I can only imagine how Walter is feeling right now — and I make it to the car. I have to track them down. Thankfully, I track Walter's phone because I tend to lose him in the slew of bars or fast-food joints throughout the city more often than I'd care to admit.

Once I find which way they're heading, I speed off in their direction.

Now, I know my boss won't be happy about this one, mainly because we don't know what this guy knows, but I feel that this guy has something to do with these missing people. Also, if you could have only seen how he looked at me, you would know I need to do something extreme. It was like when he saw my face, he knew it was over for him. I need to find him.

So, I speed toward Walter and Steven. It seems that they ran down an alley — I just hope Walter is close enough behind that he didn't lose track of Steven.

I fly down the wrong way on a one-way street. I pull into a driveway and slam on the brakes in front of Steven. I thought that this would slow him down or, at the very least, make him jump onto the hood of the car as if he were attempting to jump over it but fail. However, I don't know what the hell I saw. Maybe it was the impact that affected my vision — yea, the impact, which was yet another strange occurrence from tonight.

As Steven was running toward me, and Walter seemed to be miles behind him, I could have sworn his eyes began to... to glow red.

No. That's crazy. I'm going to just chalk that all up to the shitty food that Walter makes me eat. It's messing with my head.

Either way, he hit my car, and that's what the impact was. Steven charges at the car with such a force that it was as if a bus had hit the front end. I actually thought to myself, 'I'm glad I had my seatbelt on.' It shakes me up a bit and it knocks Steven out cold, which gives Walter enough time to catch up, pin him down, and cuff him. I have to say, for a skinny guy, he is strong as hell.

By this point, I was back to my usual self. I get out of the car and shake off any crazy ideas I have about mentioning this to anyone. As a detective, you never want to say you saw something strange in the field, especially someone with glowing red eyes. They'll put you on desk duty for that, and who's going to protect Walter if I'm riding a desk?

Walter looks up at the dent in the car with shock. He glances back down at Steven, who was still on the ground but not fully conscious, and said, "God damn! How fast were you going!?"

As Steven is now slowly waking up, concern washes over him. He looks at Walter and blurts out, "You have no idea what you're getting involved in. I'm not who you think I am, and trust me when I tell you, none of this is what you think it is."

Walter laughs him off and helps him up. Then, he hands Steven off to me.

I say, as I toss him in the back seat of the car. "Okay, well, why don't you tell us all about it on the way to the precinct? We have a few other questions for you anyway."

I slam the door on Steven, and through the window of the back door, he gives me the same look he did when I first saw him. It was almost as if he was staring into my soul — and I'm not enjoying it at all. I don't know if he's our kidnapper, but those eyes are telling me he's guilty of something. Is that wrong for a detective to say? I know, I shouldn't prejudge a person. So, let's just keep that between us... Deal?

I walk over to Walter — he's looking at the damage to the car.

"How the hell are we going to explain this to the guys at the motor pool?"

"I guess we just tell them some doped up suspect charged at it," I question my own answer.

"You think he's on something?" Walter asks curiously.

"I don't know," I sigh. "Can you explain how he not only ran as fast as he did but also was able to crash into me like that?"

"Yea, I guess you're right. Are you okay, by the way?" Walter put his hand on my shoulder. "You look like s**t. Maybe you have a concussion."

"Yea, I'm fine." I want to say something about Steven’s eyes to Walter. I mean, it's just Walter; I know I can trust him, but I also know he'll worry. "Let's just get this guy back to the station."

"Whatever you say, boss," Walter says without argument.