FROM CHAPTER 4:
The two teenagers headed toward Larry’s car, quickly got in and began to drive toward Center Street where their chemistry teacher ran a part time business during summer vacations. Just then Chantal gasped, "Larry, look over there! That car followed me this morning!"
A tan sports car was pulling out of a parallel-parking zone across from the Library. Frightened, Chantal instinctively ducked down into the seat of Larry’s car. Larry looked intently at the driver of the passing vehicle. The reflection from the front window prohibited him from seeing the man’s face clearly. Suddenly, the sun disappeared behind a tree. The image of the driver was seared into his memory and a Nevada license plate on the car.
"Chantal, what did the guy look like who you thought was following us to my car at Pismo?" She slowly raised herself off the seat, looked cautiously around her and handed him the front page of the paper. She pointed to the picture of the man. She shuddered as she recalled his cold stare while he was watching them on the beach.
Pulling over to the side of the road, Larry stared intently at the photograph. His eyes grew wider. The man in the sports car and picture Chantal pointed to were one in the same!
"Hold on Chantal. I’m getting tired of this!" He made a U-turn and pulled within a hundred yards of the sports car as it turned onto the main road leading out of town.
What’s this guy doing at the beach yesterday and now here?
Larry thought as he followed the car.
"I don’t think we should be doing this Larry! Let’s turn around and go home. The police can handle this."
"I can’t let this guy continue to bother you, Chantal. Let’s follow him and find out where he’s going. Besides, if we told the police what you saw, especially now they’ve concluded the Senator’s death is an accident, no one would believe you."
Larry turned another corner in response to the change in the direction of travel of the sports car. It finally turned east on the highway leading to the Sierra Nevada mountain range. As it neared the freeway on-ramp it slowed and entered the northbound freeway traffic. Larry followed, hoping the driver would not detect them. After only five miles, the tan sports car exited the freeway and headed in the direction of the Fresno Air Terminal.
"Larry, I think we’re being followed," Chantal said as she looked in the rear-view side mirror on her side of the car. "I’ve seen a black truck a couple of times in the mirror. It’s running a little low to the ground."
Larry had only concentrated on the sports car in front of him. When he glanced in his rear-view mirror, he saw the truck as it exited the freeway behind him. Passing the first stoplight it turned red just as they entered the intersection, stopping the truck. Still keeping his eye on the sports car, he wondered what the truck would do. It stopped and waited for the green light. When it started, he could see it closing fast until it arrived to within about fifty yards of his car. It slowed down to the same speed he was going and continued to follow him.
"I think you’re right, Chantal. This may be a trap." The sports car turned left on the next road. If the truck isn’t following us, he reasoned to himself, turning right might confirm my suspicions.
Larry turned right. He accelerated to ten miles per hour above the speed limit, and carefully watched his rear-view mirror to see if the truck would continue following him.
The truck turned right, accelerated rapidly until it was again close to them.
Larry accelerated to twenty miles per hour above the speed limit, then thirty. At each increase, the truck sped up also. Chantal and Larry began to feel trapped.
"Maybe if we increase our speed more we’ll get stopped by a Highway Patrolman and the truck will go away." Although he spoke out loud, his statement was meant for no one but himself.
Larry accelerated to seventy-five miles per hour. The truck increased its speed and stayed close behind them.
Chantal closed her eyes. "Is the truck still behind us?"
Larry didn’t answer. His eyes were fixed on the road in front of them. They rapidly approached a "Decrease Speed" sign, followed by a "Speed Limit 35" sign. Larry tried to decide what to do. He began to slow down as he saw an intersection approach. He breathed a sigh of relief to see a sign pointing to the right... "Freeway 99". He ran the red light as he turned right and quickly accelerated to between sixty and sixty-five. There was much more traffic on this four-lane road. He found himself weaving in and out of lanes and going around traffic on the shoulder of the road. Cars honked and drivers cursed as barely missed hitting their cars and trucks.
Where are the police when you need them? Larry thought as he approached a main intersection. The light turned red. He wanted to run this light but saw a line of three semi-trailer trucks begin to cross the road. He stopped, hoping the truck, now only two to three cars behind, had also stopped.
Larry momentarily lost sight of the truck. He began to look all around.
"Oh no!" he yelled to Chantal. "They’re coming up on the right side of our car!"