Pursuit On Highway

By the time the call came, the snow on the motor pool had gone from white to dirty gray. Catherine was already in a marked truck with Rebecca Miller and a pair of NCIS agents, boots braced against the floorboard, one gloved hand flat on a folder.

“Say it again,” she said.

Miller looked up from her tablet. “Hale’s vehicle hit the outer barrier at Gate Two. Not a clean stop. He forced through before the lockdown finished.”

“Any injuries?”

“Two MPs with bruises. No shots fired.”

The truck swung hard out of the lot. On the radio, a clipped voice kept talking over itself, then settled down when Catherine picked up the handset.

“General, the depot camera just caught him leaving base housing,” the provost marshal said. “He’s headed east on Highway 17.”

“Does he have a weapon?”

“Likely.”

“Then keep civilians off the road and get me the feed.”

Miller slid the tablet over. On the screen, a black Range Rover fishtailed through slush, taillight smeared red. The image jumped to a second camera. Hale leaned over the wheel, jaw tight, one hand high on the rim like he was driving through a rage he couldn’t quite hold.

Catherine watched it once. Then again.

“Where’s Torres?” she asked.

Miller answered before the agent could. “At the depot with the inventory team. She’s the one who flagged the missing serials.”

“Get her moving,” Catherine said. “I want someone who knows the supply chain in the field.”

The agent frowned. “Ma’am, she’s a lieutenant.”

“She’s also right,” Catherine said.