“Noooo!” Sponger screamed as he raced through the common area. Chairs flew, stacks of magazines toppled, a row of CDs went down like dominoes. Sponger grabbed a metal chair, tossed it back at them.
Afton leapt over the fallen chair, but heard a crashing sound and then Max swearing behind her. He hadn’t cleared it.
“Call SWAT!” Afton cried. She pounded out the front door after Sponger and skidded to a stop. Her eyes darted up and down the street, trying to figure out which direction he might have run. Finally, she caught sight of him.
Sponger had dodged his way across Hennepin Avenue through fairly heavy traffic and was on the far sidewalk running north.
“Police! Stop!” Afton shouted, but Sponger ignored her. Scared but determined, she dove into traffic, was almost bullied back by a big black SUV with an aggressive driver and a honking horn, but managed to skitter across the street anyway. Sponger might have had a running start, but Afton had something to prove. If this was the guy who attacked her last night, she was out for revenge. Gonna run this asshole down, she told herself, kick him in the balls, grab him by the throat, and not let go no matter what.
Pushing herself, Afton sprinted after him. Up ahead of her, Sponger might have looked awkward and gawky, but he was setting a blistering pace. No problem. She was prepared to chase him forever. All the way into downtown Minneapolis if need be. Or until the guys in the black van showed up to take him down.
Which was why Afton was completely shocked when Sponger suddenly squirted off to his right and fled down a narrow, barely plowed alley that looked like a cul-de-sac.
Afton pumped harder, raggedly sucking cold air into her lungs, her legs driving like pistons as she followed him.
Sponger stumbled, turned to look back over his shoulder, and saw her coming. That’s when things went a little crazy. He zigzagged toward a pile of snow, seemed to hesitate for one frozen moment, and then tumbled forward and disappeared completely.
What?
Ten seconds later, Afton pulled up short and stared down a steep, snow-covered embankment. There he was, running below her on a trail. Like a fox who’d gone to ground, Sponger had slithered his way down into the deep trench that was known as the Midtown Greenway. Dug over one hundred years ago as a railroad corridor, it was now a paved road for bicycle and pedestrian traffic. But this time of day, in the dead of winter with the sun making an early descent, the roadway was deserted, icy, and cold. It yawned into the distance for miles, snaking under dozens of old bridges and offering myriad places to hide.
Still, Sponger didn’t have that much of a lead on her. Afton hurled herself over the side in what she hoped would be a controlled descent down the fifty-foot-high embankment. Feet set wide apart, she kicked up twin rooster tails of snow that blew back into her face and mouth. Slipping and sliding her way down the hill, she mentally prepared herself for a hard landing. As she hit bottom, she slewed to one side, rolled once, then recovered and bounced to her feet. Within seconds, she took off down the trail after Sponger.
“Sponger!” Afton shouted. She was cold and wet and angry as hell. She also knew this was a terrible place to be stuck. Even though she was running through the heart of the city, the hostile landscape felt more like something out of a nuclear winter. Enormous dark trees rose up on each side of her, their bare branches rattling in the wind like old bones. There were huge piles of snow-covered rubble everywhere, and the sheer depth of the trench deadened all sound.
Sponger heard her call out. He half turned, flapped his arms, and promptly fell down.
Afton renewed her efforts. “Stop!” she cried. “Minneapolis Police!”
Sponger struggled to his feet and headed directly for one of the old bridges that arched over the trail. When he disappeared into the shadows, Afton slowed her pace. She pulled out her cell phone and punched in Max’s number.
“Where are you?” His voice was urgent, angry.
“Down on that Midtown Greenway trail,” she told him. “Sponger just went under the Fremont Street bridge.” She fought to catch her breath. “I’ve been chasing him.”
“Keep an eye out,” Max said. “But do not try to apprehend him. SWAT’s on its way.”
“Hope so,” Afton murmured as she clicked off. She continued to walk slowly toward the bridge, shivering a little now. Her shot of adrenaline had worn off and the jitters had taken over. She stopped just short of the bridge and peered in, hoping to catch sight of him.
Damn, she couldn’t see Sponger lurking anywhere in the shadows. She crept under the bridge, where it was dark and the cold seemed even more brutal. Had he found a hidey-hole up among the stones and network of wrought iron? Or had he clambered all the way to the top of the embankment and found a sneaky way out of this old corridor?
Afton was debating what to do when she heard a low hiss, like an angry alligator. She spun around just in time to see Sponger pop out from behind a jagged hunk of stone.