Detective Ken Stapleton had sweat running from his hairline and down his spine. Aware he wasn’t a young rookie any more. He couldn’t get off a good shot because the perp kept zigzagging through the thick stand of white birch and aspen. At times he lost sight of him, then the sun’s rays would highlight his red hair.
Officer Bret caught up to him, panting. “Who are we after?”
“A red headed, tattooed perp suspected of murdering several people.” He jumped over deadfall lying across their path. A sudden burst from an assault rifle sprayed the trunks of trees around them. Ken and Bret hit the ground, hugging the dirt. “Now you know what we’re up against,” said Ken, catching his breath. They waited a beat before daring to rise. No more shots. They dashed, hunched over along the tr
