Simple Genius (Sean King & Michelle Maxwell 3)

The teen looked back again, his face whitewashed in the glare of the headlights.

“What happened?” yelled Michelle. “Are you okay?”

The boy’s answer was to point the gun at them. But he didn’t fire. He left the road and cut across a field, his feet slipping and sliding over the wet grass.

“I’m calling the cops,” said Sean.

“Just wait,” she replied. “Stop the car.”

Sean slowed the Cruiser and pulled to a stop a few feet later.

Michelle hopped out of the vehicle.

“What the hell are you doing?” Sean cried out.

“He’s obviously in trouble. I’m going to find out why.”

“Did it occur to you that he might be in trouble because he just shot somebody and is running from the scene of the crime?”

“Don’t think so.”

He looked at her incredulously. “You don’t think so? Based on what?”

“I’ll be back.”

“What? Michelle, wait.”

He made a grab for her arm but missed.

The next instant she was sprinting across the field. In a few seconds she was soaked to the skin in the driving rain.

Sean slapped his palm against the steering wheel in disbelief. “I can’t frigging believe this.” He yelled at the window. “Do you have a death wish?” But Michelle was long since out of earshot.

He calmed, studied the lay of the land for a few moments, put the vehicle into gear, and sped off, hanging a right at the next intersection and punching the gas so hard the rear of the truc

k spun out. He righted it and drove off, cursing his partner loudly with every turn of the wheel.

CHAPTER

4

MICHELLE HAD CHASED MANY PEOPLE down in her life. As part of a coxswain-plus-four team she had helped make up five lengths during a late charge to claim a medal at the Olympics. As a cop in Tennessee she had run down her share of felons fleeing the scenes of their crimes. As a Secret Service agent she had been fleet of foot next to limos carrying important leaders.

Tonight, though, she was competing against a long-legged teenager with the boundless energy and fresh knees of youth who had a substantial head start and was running like the devil was on his heels. And her feet kept slipping with every stride. It was like running in three feet of water, only on land.

“Wait,” she called out as she caught a glimpse of him before he changed direction and disappeared down a path through some trees.

He didn’t wait. He simply sped up.

Michelle, despite her protestations to Sean, was not one hundred percent. Her back hurt. Her leg hurt. Her lungs were burning.

And it didn’t help that the wind and rain were blinding her.

She raced down the path and—just in case—drew her gun. She always felt better with her Sig in hand.

She redoubled her efforts, fought through the pain and fatigue that was coursing through her, and markedly closed the gap between them. A lightning strike followed by a crack of thunder so loud it was like a bomb detonating momentarily distracted her. A tree on the side of the path, punished by stiff winds, started to topple. She found an extra burst of speed and flashed past it. The shallow-rooted pine slammed into the dirt about five feet behind her, but its thick branches missed her by only a few inches. Any one of them could have crushed her skull.

That had been close. Michelle understood exactly how close.