Sarah glanced at the mirror, her mind instantly running through a tactical assessment. Her heart rate climbed, but not from fear—it was the cold, calculated adrenaline of a professional. She didn’t know who these men were, and she didn’t have the luxury of checking their credentials.
Her standing orders didn’t allow for “routine traffic stops.” Furthermore, she couldn’t call her CO for guidance.
In this remote stretch of the Appalachians, cell service was non-existent, and using a satellite phone in front of local law enforcement would be a massive breach of security protocol. Major Miller made a decision in a fraction of a second.
She floored the accelerator. The Tahoe’s V8 roared as the heavy SUV surged forward, disappearing into the blackness of the mountain pass. Thus began a high-speed pursuit that the locals would be talking about for years to come.
The three patrol cars—two Ford Explorers and a Dodge Charger—gave chase. The wail of their sirens echoed through the sleeping valley.
The lead car was driven by Sergeant Bill Vance, a forty-year-old with a reputation for being a “highway pirate.” He was a man with a heavy jaw and a mean streak, who viewed his badge as a license to bully anyone who crossed his county line.
