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What now?
How many were there? And how long before they came after us again, now that we held the DVD they'd proved so willing to
kill for?
My body was coming down from a serious adrenalin high. I hadn't driven that fast in months, never on city streets. My
heart still pounded, albeit slower, and I became aware of my palms -- wet and slippery against the leather steering wheel.
A digital gauge on the instrument panel began blinking the news -- the Avatar's fuel tank needed nourishment. Higgins
slowly regained his composure as we turned into a Shell station off Metropolitan Parkway. He used a credit card at the pump
farthest from the cashier's booth, filling the Avatar with high octane.
I thanked God I had kept up the training the Adams & Benson advertising agency provided its creative people five years
ago. Back then it was common practice to send writers and art directors assigned to its American Vehicle Corporation account
to the famous Skip Barber Racing School. They wanted us to have an intimate feel for the subjects of the ads we were assigned
to create.
I took the training more seriously than my contemporaries. When I left Detroit after my divorce five years ago, I became
a regular at the two-mile, fourteen turn Grattan Track near Grand Rapids. There I practiced skills like heel-and-toe downshifting,
trail breaking and finding the fastest racing lanes.
When AVC made plans to introduce this souped-up AVX version of their hot Avatar sports car last summer, company officials
asked me, Darcy James, to drive one of the first prototypes. They wanted, get this, "a woman's opinion."
My opinion? The same as a man's -- with a top speed well over two hundred miles an hour and a zero-to-sixty time a shade
under three seconds, this car was one fast mother.
I stayed in the driver's seat as we pulled back onto the road, checking the rearview mirror for signs of the Viper or
the police. We drove aimlessly, both of us near shock from the events that had just taken place: the shooting of a policeman
and the high-speed escape from two armed men. The image of the officer crumbling to the pavement kept tumbling through my
mind. Had he died? Did he have a wife? Children? A feeling of sadness stuck to the mental picture.
To my right Higgins fumbled with the stereo; "I could use some 'Music to Relieve Stress By.'"
He found a newscast instead. We listened in horror as the breaking story unfolded; a police officer killed near Roseville,
a community north of Detroit. Two males were being held for questioning; two other persons, a man and woman, had fled in a
black Avatar. It would be a matter of hours, at the most, before those two other persons were identified as Darcy James and
Sean Higgins, executives employed by the Adams & Benson advertising agency.
Higgins hit the "off" switch. "They're saying we killed that cop."
"Maybe we should get to the police and tell them what really happened."
"No. You can bet the two guys chasing us have already spilled their version. What chance do we have when the cops,
including your former husband, already have me in their sights for another murder?"
I hated to admit Higgins was right. "It's our word against Bacalla and Roland's," I said. I glanced over at
the small metallic disc in his hands. "We've got to find out why they're so desperate to get their hands on that DVD."
Higgins thought for a moment. "It keeps coming back to this disc and Vince Caponi."
"Yep." I felt the impact of the situation wash over me. There seemed to be no one to turn to, and my fate was
partially dependent on a man I couldn't stand to be in the same room with just days before.
With the police looking for us, driving the black Avatar was like riding around under a spotlight. I left the main road
and meandered through side streets.
We rode in silence. At one point, as Higgins pulled out his cell phone and started punching a number, I stopped him.
"I've got to tell Cunningham we won't be at the presentation tomorrow morning," he said.
"Not on your cell. I read that police can pinpoint their location, like tracing any call. You can bet Bacalla's told
them who we are. Let's find a pay phone."
Higgins agreed, but for the next few hours we simply drove, as if moving made us less vulnerable. Staying clear of major
highways we wandered from side street to side street, from suburb to suburb, from late night to early morning.
Somehow we had to uncover what Vince Caponi found on that disc, but without suffering the same fate.
If your book club would like to have
a discussion, contact me
and we will set it up.
BDavid@bdavidwarner.com
What if your bookstore doesn't yet carry Freeze Frame?
Tell them to order Freeze Frame for you. It's available through their normal distribution channel: Ingram.
Purchase Freeze Frame
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