"That's them! That's them!" said Gertie. She put the phone to her ear. "It's a silver car. Two-door. I don't know the model—no, wait, it's turning around. There's a Chevrolet logo on the back. No license plate." She waved to Charlene. "Go, go!"

Charlene pulled back onto the road and followed the silver car. It was going thirty-five, the speed limit. This might not be so bad.

"We're headed east," said Gertie into the phone. "Just passed 12th Street."

The car stopped at a red light. Charlene stopped directly behind it.

Did the guy suspect that he was being followed? What would he do if he figured it out?

"We're right behind him," said Gertie.

Charlene wiped some perspiration from her forehead. Her underarms were soaked. Maybe Gertie should shoot out the car's tires. It wasn't moving right now.

No, no, no, no, no. The guy could come after them. Or hurt the kid. That was an astoundingly bad idea and Charlene was glad that she hadn't suggested it. Gertie didn't reach for her gun, so the astoundingly bad idea probably hadn't occurred to her.

The light turned green and the car went through the intersection. Charlene followed.

"Let him get ahead a little bit," said Gertie. "We don't want him to know we're following him."

"How close are the police?"

Gertie asked the same question to whomever she was speaking to on the phone. After a moment, she looked at Charlene. "They're on their way. Shouldn't be long."

A siren sounded off in the distance.

Gertie smiled. "Not long at all."

The silver car sped up, rocketing forward and running a yellow light.

"Shit!" said Charlene.

"He's speeding off!"

"I see that!"

"Follow him!"

Charlene floored the gas pedal. The light was now red and she cringed as she sped through the intersection, waiting for another car to plow into her. Fortunately, the large truck that could have t-boned them was half a block away.

"Don't lose him," said Gertie.

"I'm not gonna ram him."

"I'm not asking you to ram him. I'm asking you not to lose him."

"Shit."

The sirens were getting closer. Any moment now the trained professionals would take over the situation, and Charlene could go somewhere to throw up and tremble for a while.

The silver car ran another red light. Charlene followed.

Then the car pulled over to the side and slammed the brakes, tires squealing and smoke billowing into the air. The man got out of the car and hurried around to the passenger side.

"Slow down, slow down!" said Gertie. "He may be running from the sirens, not us. We're just a normal car."

Charlene applied the brakes, not quickly enough to make them squeal. Her hands were sweating so badly that she almost lost her grip on the steering wheel.