But here she had radio reception. As she raced the Charger to close the gap behind the buggy, she told Denise what she needed—backup deputies, two ambulances, and, since the old man seemed close to death, probably Dr. Kleekamp again.

“Ten-four,” Denise said, hesitation in her voice. “But, wait—an Amish, a buggy, is fleeing you?”

“I don’t know. I think so.”

“Well, don’t spook the horse.”

“Right.” She lightened up on the gas. “Stay on with me, Denise, please.”

Sweat burned her eyes. She took turns smashing one shut and keeping the other open. The Charger’s wheel felt slick in her hands as she followed the road along a meandering creek. At last she eased up behind the buggy, twenty yards back, hoping to come alongside.

“I’m on his bumper,” she told Denise. “But this is a first.”

Normally an Amish driver would slow and move his outside wheels onto the shoulder, but this one accelerated and stayed centered on the narrow road, not letting her around.

“He won’t pull over. What now? I can’t do siren and lights.”

“Loudspeaker?” Denise suggested.

“That might freak out the horse,” she worried. “And these ditches are steep. I’m going to wait. Maybe he just doesn’t realize I’m here.”

But she didn’t believe this. The driver knew. Then she finally held both eyes open long enough to notice that a shattered spoke caused the left rear wheel to spin in figure eights. This was what wobbled the buggy, and she could see its canopy shredded along the left side. Weeds and brush dragged from the undercarriage, shreds flying loose as the horse began to gallop.

She told Denise, “He knows I’m here.”

She switched on her speaker. Her voice blurted harshly out.

“This is the Bad Axe County Sheriff’s Department. Stop your vehicle.”

Whether that spooked the horse or whether the driver whipped it to go faster, the creature surged into another gear. The buggy followed erratically, skimming and jumping among the ruts in the road, with a corner ahead. The sheriff glanced at her speed: almost thirty.

“Denise, that backfired. Now he’s fleeing for sure. I’ll just fall back and follow wherever he’s going. That poor horse can’t run much longer. We’ll talk when he stops.”

But the horse didn’t slow down. The buggy skidded into the corner, then tilted onto its outer two wheels, showing its underside stuck with wild foliage ripped from the earth. In the depth of the corner, with the buggy twisting hard, the horse threw a wild-eyed look over its shoulder. Seeing the Charger, it gathered at the haunches and lunged for even greater speed. The buggy tipped all the way over, slid on its side, and went airborne over the deep ditch, taking the bellowing horse with it.

Sheriff Kick stopped the Charger.

She whispered, “Fuck.”

“Heidi, what happened?”