Web of Deceit by Peggy Slocum

radio’s handset to contact Chip and hits the siren.
The cruiser accelerates quickly past double digits down I93 toward the south
side.
    “Come on, Frank,
it’s been fifteen minutes.” Beth groans aloud, glancing at her watch. Her phone
rings. “Frank, where …?”
     Frank interrupts.
“I’m right around the corner on the north side of the sandwich. Where are you
at?”
    “I’m on the street
behind the garage ready to cut them off if they turn out the alley.”
    “Are there any
other exits besides that one?”
    “Not unless they
go through a hedge fence or a house,”
    “Sweet. I’ve got a
present I need to drop off with ya real quick, and we can get the party
started.”
    “Make it fast,
Elliot …”
    Frank cuts her off
again. “Is this fast enough?”
    Beth eyes Frank in
her rear view mirror, waving from his squad car.
    Frank pops open
the trunk, goes to the back of the car, and pulls a couple things out. One is
held in his hand and the other is a fourteen- by eighteen-inch, black molded
case. Frank draws near to Beth, still sitting in the Jeep, and hands her a
small police beacon. “Put this on your dash. Self-explanatory.”
    “Thanks, what’s
that?” Beth points to the black case.
    “It’s a TDD.”
    “TBD? To be
determined?”
    “I didn’t know you
text. My kids do it all the time to get one by me. So, I checked out
Wikipedia,” Frank says smiling with pride.
    “So … what does
‘to be determined’ have to do with the black case?”
    “No, T-D-D, Tire
Deflation Device.” Frank chuckles.
    The corners of
Beth’s mouth twist up. “Smooth.”
    “They should be
stopped before they reach you.”
    Beth watches the
six–foot, overweight man hurry to the alley and lay down the TDD. He kicks dirt
on the spikes to hide them. He rushes back to his car waving at Beth and
grinning. He loves his toys.
    Her phone rings.
It’s Frank, “Y-e-s.”
    “Chip’s in
position. As soon as I’m in sight, he’ll start moving. So, be prepared.
Elliot’s got the front, right?”
    “Yeah, I’m calling
him now.”
    Beth has the Jeep
pointed at the alley with the engine running. Come on guys. Try to run. She
grips the wheel and readies herself, focusing on the alley with a few icy
patches and snow banked against the hedges, but easily passable.
     
    *   *   *
     
    As the cruisers
close in from both ends, Elliot abandons his hiding spot and starts for the old
garage. Fifteen feet before he reaches the overhead door, it starts to lift.
Startled, he adjusts right to avoid whatever may be coming his way. The door is
five feet open when the old, black Ram roars to life and thrusts through it.
    Glass shatters as
the top of the truck’s windshield impacts against the bottom seal retainer of
the overhead door. The seal retainer catches the roof of the cab where the
glass has broken, lifting the front of the truck. The door gives as the
momentum of the five-thousand-pound truck tears the door off its mounting
brackets.
    Elliot dives to
the ground and rolls to the side to avoid being crushed under the falling door.
While two police cruisers closing in, lit up and sirens blaring, the truck
engine roars and its tires break loose and slide through a cloud of dust, ice,
and gravel. It escapes into the alley next to the garage.
     
    *   *   *
     
    Beth pushes the
button on the police beacon. You messed with the wrong girl, gentlemen. She
jams the gas pedal to the floor, accelerating straight into the alley toward
the oncoming black pickup. You’ve got a house on one side and a hedge to the
other. You’ve only got one choice , she thinks, then Bang! The black
truck’s front tires blow and it swerves.
    By instinct, Beth
flinches, but continues accelerating. She braces for the impact.
    Thrown off course
by the TDD, the black truck misses the Grand Cherokee by inches.
    Beth, half
disappointed she didn’t broadside the truck, locks the breaks, skidding to a
stop.
    The truck crashes
into the stone wall supporting