The Bridge (Para-Earth Series) (2 page)

Several weeks Earlier…

              It was still early summer in upstate Connecticut, when Sergeant Veronica Ross was trying out her new police issued motorcycle.  She was using a lonely winding stretch of  US 44 to see how it handled the curves at higher speeds.  So far she was impressed with the machine, it was doing quite well.  But she had a second reason for being on this particular 2-lane road.  There had been several reports of a couple driving erratically in this area. 

             
It might have been foolish to some for her to test a new motorcycle under these circumstances, but she’d been in uniform for almost 25 years and knew how to handle herself.  How else could she have risen in the ranks to become second-in-command of New Swindon’s Police Department?

             
A quick glance in her rearview showed only empty road and trees.  There was no other vehicle in sight.  Perhaps she should try one of the side roads?

             
Suddenly the sound of a car horn blared from off to her right, followed by the roar of an engine.  A white Toyota appeared from among the trees and began following her. 

             
“Oh, you do not want to be playing that game with me mister,” she began, only to realize the gap between her motorcycle and Toyota was shrinking.  The driver floored his vehicle making it lurch forward, forcing Ronnie to open the throttle to stay ahead. 

             
They were hitting some of the sharper curves now, with Veronica hoping this would force the driver to ease up.  He didn’t.

             
Luckily for her, she had patrolled these roads for the last 20 years and knew there was a rest stop just around the next bend.  Gunning her engine, she managed to put a little bit more distance between them.  As soon as she spotted the empty rest area, she drove up onto the grass, while her pursuer stayed to the pavement and shot past.  Tires squealed as the driver swerved into the left lane trying to manage the turn, and disappeared round the bend.

             
“You son of a bitch,” Veronica panted, her heart racing.   “You’re going down for that,” she muttered and reached for her shoulder radio.  Just then the sound of screaming metal reached her ears followed by a terrific crash.  Then silence. 

             
“Oh no,” she muttered and gunned her engine once more to investigate.

             
Within moments she spotted the dust and steam rising from the new tear in the railing along the side of the road.  Another driver had already stopped and was rushing over to check on the occupants. 

             
She recognized the man as Dr. Stephen Hagan, one of the local physicians, and quickly went to join him. 

             
By the time she parked her machine, he was already at the wreck with a puzzled expression on his face. 

             
“Do we need an ambulance?” she called out as she approached.

             
The man looked up and shook his head, “No, but you might want to take a look at this, Sergeant.  Something isn’t right here.”

             
Veronica’s brow furrowed as she drew closer.  The man was an experienced medical practitioner; what could be troubling him so much?   “What’s wrong?” she asked upon reaching the wreck.

             
“Take a look,” he replied and stepped back and gestured for her to look inside the vehicle. 

             
She did so and caught a whiff of something foul.  “What the…”

             
“Exactly,” Hagan nodded.  “And look at the driver and passenger.  They’re soaking wet, like they came out of a swamp or something.  And their skin, see how pale it is.”

             
Veronica nodded, “They’re practically white and… oh no.”

             
“What is it?”

             
She’d just gotten a good look at the victims’ faces.  Sadly, she knew them both all too well.  “It’s Tommy Williams and his girlfriend Jessica Miller.” 

              An hour later, she watched the stretchers being loaded onto an ambulance destined for the coroner’s office at the hospital.  A tall man in his late 50’s stood next to her and placed a hand on her shoulder.  “There’s nothing more you can do here, Ronnie,” he told her kindly.  “Why don’t you take the rest of the day off?  I’ll notify the parents.”

             
“Is that an order, Chief?”

             
“More like a suggestion from the guy you were first partnered up with back in New York,” her boss replied and then added, “You Snot-Nosed Rookie.”

             
“Okay, Oldtimer,” Veronica replied and headed over to where she’d left the motorcycle.    In a way she was glad to be sent off.  She needed to be with a certain someone who’d know how to make her feel a little better.

             
But, he’d have his work cut out for him this time.  Something about this accident was really bothering her.

              There were only a few patrons in the bar that morning.  Some girls were playing billiards, while a handful of tables were occupied by regulars and the occasional new face.  The proprietors behind the bar made for an interesting study in contrast.  The man was young and had long brown hair.  The long sleeved white shirt, black vest and tie did little to disguise his bodybuilder physique. 

             
His female partner also wore a tuxedo-like outfit as well.  But hers was a tank top with the design painted on the front, which showed the results of her workouts to excellent advantage.  Hers was a body that, whenever she went sunbathing, would get pre-teen boys talking in much lower octaves and thinking about cars.  She glanced over to the doorway as one of their favorite regulars entered.  Quietly putting down the glass she had been wiping, tapped it and waited. 

             
As the room fell quiet, one of the regulars turned to his buddy and murmured, “Showtime.”

             
The big barman’s eyes narrowed as he spotted the newcomer, a slender man in his late 20’s, with short blonde hair and striking blue eyes.  He was also just 5’ 8”, but carried himself with the ease of a professional jockey.

             
Putting down the beer he had been filling, the burly bartender said loudly, “I see the resident smart-ass has decided to grace us with his presence.”

             
A low “Oooooo…” ran through the bar.

             
The newcomer paused in mid-step and began to look around.  After a moment he turned around and bent over leaving his backside in the air, facing the bartender.  A muffled voice, that seemed to come from the area of the buttocks, began to speak. “Why, yes, I did graduate with top honors from my university.  I was valedictorian and also recently passed the test for Mensa. Their counterpart Morons, called to say that they would like you to take their test.  They think you have the very qualities they’re looking for in an Ignoramus.”

             
The barman’s face darkened, but his shaking shoulders betrayed his amusement. 

             
A moment later he was laughing hard, along with the rest of the crowd.

             
His partner tapped the glass once more, declaring they had a winner.

             
Alex Hill straightened up and went over to collect the drink being poured by his opponent. 

             
“All right Limey-Boy, you win this round, but just wait.  I’ll get you next time,” the big bartender smiled evilly.

             
Alex frowned. “Beggin’ your pardon, Guv, but you’ve won the last three rounds.  It was about bloody time I got one up on you,” he replied, accepting his free drink.

             
The barman nodded, “Yeah, but I still need to beat your record.”

             
“Oh, you mean the time I got you five weeks running?”

             
His friend grumbled something inaudible and went to take an order from the pool players. 

             
“I thought it was seven weeks,” commented the lady bartender.

             
“Indeed it was, my dear Jill,” Alex replied smugly. “You know it and I know it.  And of course, so does your dear Tony.  I was just trying to get him wound up enough that he’d say it in front of everyone.”

             
The gorgeous blonde shook her head, “He’s gonna pound you one of these days.”

             
“For what?”

             
“Embarrassing him in front of his clientele,” she replied.

             
“Oh really?” a look of disbelief swept over Alex’s face, “And I suppose him using me for a substitute barbell in front of the ladies isn’t embarrassing?  I mean, let’s face it, women want to talk to the weightlifter, not the weight.”

             
“The dead weight,” corrected Tony, walking by at that moment.

             
Alex glared at his back and then turned to Jill with a hurt expression.

             
“Poor Little Man,” she cooed patting his head in a motherly fashion.

             
“Oye, I’m not THAT little!” he protested and then added, “Especially not in certain areas.”

             
“Really?” she asked in amazement, “So the microscope Ronnie bought the other day really was for your nephew?”

             
Alex gave her a look and said, “Neither of you are going to let me keep even a shred of dignity are you?”

             
Jill contemplated this for a moment then shook her head, “Nope!” and went to fetch more glasses, leaving him to stew without a good comeback.  A moment later, Tony sidled up next to him saying, “There goes the cruelest woman on earth.”

             
“Who, if I’m not mistaken, verbally emasculated me just now,” Alex complained.

             
“Yeah, she did,” Tony clapped him on the shoulder, nearly knocking him off the stool.  Then he walked off to take some more orders.

             
“You do realize I hate the pair of you with a passion of biblical proportions,” Alex called after him.  “In fact, once I get home I’m going to sick the four horses of the Apocalypse on both your rotten arses.”

             
“Don’t you mean the Horsemen, Brit-boy?” his friend replied from the somewhere in the crowd.

             
“No just their horses.  First I’m going to feed them and then park them on each of your lawns. I’m sure the steeds of War, Famine, Pestilence and Death will leave very interesting gifts behind.”

             
Oddly enough no one laughed.  In fact the room had become awfully quiet. 

             
Thirty years of existence had taught Alex that this could mean only one thing.  “There’s someone scary behind me, isn’t there?” he said to the room at large.

             
He watched several patrons suddenly become very interested in their drinks.  This did not bode well in his book. 

             
“Excuse me sir, but we do have laws around here about letting your animals do their business on someone else’s lawn,” said a cool voice from behind him.

             
He turned to see a policewoman staring pointedly at him, wearing shades and no nonsense expression on her lovely face. She looked to be in her mid-thirties and stood about 4 inches taller than him.  “Now, I’m sure I didn’t just hear you threaten the owners and of this fine establishment,” she continued.

             
“Fine establishment?” Alex repeated and looked around.  Maybe her shades were rose-tinted?

             
At least several people snickered, including Jill.

             
The officer folded her arms and waited patiently.

             
Finally, he said, “Well if you’re sure you didn’t hear me say any such thing, I guess neither of us has anything to worry about.”

             
“Too bad,” the policewoman remarked, taking off sunglasses to reveal a pair of fetching green eyes.  Then she removed her helmet and the pins holding up her mass of deep red hair.  “I was looking for an excuse to slap my handcuffs on you and haul your ass back to my place.”

             
Alex stared at her for a moment.  Then he began rummaging through his pockets, muttering.  “I know I’ve got the Horsemen’s phone number around here somewhere...”