Read Online Thrust by Tom Piccirilli - Free Book Online Page B

staunch the flow of blood from his battered face.   Indistinct and faded tattoos littered his muscular chest and arms, the long hair pulled into a ponytail and tied back with rubber-band.   A jagged, raised scar wove across his belly and vanished beneath his belt.  
    The beefy cop gave Chase a breathalyzer test, found the Haldol , and sealed his fate.   The man's voice was firm and demanding but also kind, reminding Chase of his grandfather before the old man started calling him Freddy.   Chase was going to be arrested for driving while intoxicated and taken to the station, where everything would be sorted out.
    Of course it would.
    Joe Singleton turned to stare at Chase, blinking the blood out of his eyes, and nodded once.  
    Chase relived that moment in dozens of nightmares over the last five years—the beautifully frozen second forever unchanging and still blazing.
    Those insane eyes so similar to his own.
    You know the meaning of rage.   You understand the wrath of a patient man, and that's what Singleton was telling you.   Saying how he could bide his time, wait a few months, a couple of years if he had to, but he'd eventually settle the score.  
    He thrust his belly out, showing off the knife scar.   Like he's making his intention clear, going, This is the life I lead.   Violence and the ripping of flesh.   I handle it with ease.   I can take one in the guts and keep right on rolling.  
    Hey, hold that thought, I'll be back soon.
    When Chase shook off his stupor he was sitting in the 3rd Precinct cell surrounded by other drunks.   Reality started tightening around his throat.   The cops went over his statement again.   They questioned him for over an hour, placid, friendly, offering him coffee and cookies.   They told him about Joe Singleton.   His blood chemistry was fragged and the sugar didn't help.   Eventually he got the full story.
    Singleton, an ex-con petty criminal with a history of forging check and running scams on the elderly, had arrived on his ex-wife's doorstep despite a restraining order.   He'd been rambling around out of state for almost five years, working oil rigs, hustling old ladies, and doing some time.   He hadn't seen his daughter Stacy since she was two.
    He battered his ex-, Annie, around her apartment for the better part of an hour, leaving her with two black eyes, three broken ribs, and a dislocated vertebra in her lower back.  
    Singleton watched her crawling across the carpet with blood leaking from her ears, stole fifty bucks out of her wallet, and promised to return to kill her boyfriend within a few days.
    Then he led Stacy from her bedroom and out the back door, while Annie Singleton moaned and cowered unable to reach the phone.   He took his daughter to a local burger joint where he ordered jumbo plate specials while Stacy sobbed in quiet terror.   He ate both meals himself and skipped on the check.  
    From there they stopped at an ice cream parlor.   Stacy was getting used to him and had stopped crying, though she constantly asked about her mother.   They had a banana float and Singleton ran out on the bill again after a brief scuffle with the two teenage boys employed there.   One kid wound up with a dislocated shoulder when Singleton shoved him over the counter and into a frozen beverage dispenser.
    Singleton was headed back to his ex-wife's home, either to kill her or simply release their daughter, when a state trooper spotted the truck on the parkway and gave chase.   Three other police cars joined in within three minutes.   Singleton kicked his pickup to ninety-five and the rattling piece of shit threw its muffler and nearly shook apart.  
    Eight miles later the pursuit ended when Chase, lost in his own drunken stupidity and with a head full of 50s tunes, hit the exit at the wrong time.  
    They released him on a two grand bail.   Over the next several days he watched as events grew and carried on with no assistance from him.   He hadn't said a