MARKED MURDER
by Norman A. Daniels
Trooper Kent was on the sedan's tail when the driver leaped to the road.
But does a man commit suicide to evade a speed cop?
Trooper Bill Kent, on patrol duty. heard the car roaring up behind him. He twisted his
head, looked through the rear window and saw the car heading toward him. It was doing at
least seventy.
"The fool," Kent muttered. "He must be blind drunk not to see this white cruiser of
mine. I've got to worry about him getting past me before I can hope to catch him."
Kent pulled far over to one side and slowed down considerably, but his right foot
stayed on the gas pedal, just in case this speed demon thought he might want to wreck a
police car.
The onrushing sedan didn't slacken its pace at all, nor did it turn out in the least.
Kent let it get to within five hundred feet, realized the driver most certainly didn't care
whether or not he hit anything, and then gunned his own cruiser. It hurtled over the soft
shoulders, through a small bush and finally stopped two feet from a stream which would have
bogged him down for hours.
The crazy driver shot past. Kent saw an arm raised in mocking salute. He put his cruiser
into reverse, backed to the highway and prayed that no farmer's hay wagon, or a jittery
driver, would get into the path of this fool. Straightening out, he took a firm grip on the
wheel, hunched over it and revved up the motor to its full capacity.
The cruiser was especially geared for high speeds, and in a moment the distance between
the cars was being slowly cut down. Kent snapped home the siren switch. He thanked whatever
fates were responsible for the little traffic along this quiet road at this late afternoon
hour. In even fairly heavy traffic, that car ahead would have wreaked havoc.
The siren didn't seem to have much effect on the wild driver. Kent knew that eight miles
ahead was a small town with narrow thoroughfares. If this fool went through it at the speed
he was going now, plenty of people might be killed. Grimly, Kent drew his service pistol
from its holster and laid it on the seat beside him. Very soon he'd be within gun range and
could plug that car's gas tank.
Then the car ahead began to slow appreciably, and Kent's foot sought the brake pedal.
He was still doing sixty when it happened. The door beside the driver's seat opened and a
man came hurtling out. He hit the running board, bounced off and landed directly in the
path of Kent's car!
Kent noticed the abandoned machine begin to zigzag crazily; then he had to shift all
his attention to avoiding running over the man sprawled out on the road.
