The hood popped, and steam poured out as the radiator hose gave up the ghost. The stink of burned rubber and the candy apple smell of antifreeze permeated the air.
Jacobi halted our vehicle, and we ran toward the Mercedes, guns in hand.
“Get your hands in the air,” I shouted. “Do it now!”
I saw that both occupants were pinned by the airbags. As the airbags deflated, I got my first look at their faces. They were white kids, maybe thirteen and fifteen, and they were terrified.
As Jacobi and I gripped our weapons with both hands and approached the Mercedes, the kids started bawling their hearts out.
Womans Murder Club 4 - 4th of July
Chapter 6
MY HEART WAS BOOMING almost audibly, and now I was furious. Unless Dr. Cabot was Doogie Howser’s age, he wasn’t in this car. These kids were idiots or speed freaks or car thieves—or maybe all three.
I kept my gun pointed at the driver’s-side window.
“Put your hands in the air. That’s it. Touch the ceiling. Both of you.”
Tears were cascading down the driver’s face, and with a shock, I realized it was a girl. She had a short pink-tipped haircut, no makeup, no face piercings: a Seventeen magazine version of punk that she hadn’t quite pulled off. When she lifted her hands, I saw glass shards dusting her black T-shirt. Her name hung from a chain around her neck.
I admit I yelled at her. We’d just been through a chase that could have killed us all.
“What the hell did you think you were doing, Sara?”
“I’m sorrrry,” she wailed. “It’s just—I only have a learner’s permit. What are you going to do to me?”