Next of Kin. C.J. Carmichael

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      AN EXPLOSION OF SOUND cut off Jackie’s effort at positive thinking. Crashing metal, screeching tires, shattering glass. Several cars ahead of her, a huge tractor-trailer rig overturned, amid a cloud of thick black smoke. As her Mazda rushed toward the bumper of the vehicle in front of her, she slammed on her brakes. There was no way to prevent the crash. She braced herself for impact.

      “Oh!” Her airbag deployed, knocking the breath from her lungs. She’d hit the car in front of her, and less than a second later felt an impact from the rear as the vehicle behind her joined the pileup.

      I’ve had a car crash! For the few seconds that she couldn’t breathe, she wondered if she was going to make it. Was this what she had suffered through the last two years of her life for? To die in a traffic accident?

      CHAPTER TWO

      THE RED MAZDA had been out of sight for over a minute when Casey crested a hill on the highway and spotted it again amid the steady traffic ahead. He wondered where the pretty brunette was off to in such a hurry. Or maybe she was just speeding because she had a great car and it was a lovely day and she was happy to be alive. Though he was paid to control the speed on the public roadways, Casey could relate only too well.

      And then with a flash of light and boom of an explosion, everything about the day changed. Flames shot from a car even farther ahead on the road.

      Casey swore as he automatically reached for his radio. At that instant, a tractor-trailer unit started to weave across two lanes of the highway, the driver trying desperately to avoid the out-of-control burning vehicle.

      With a quick maneuver, Casey pulled over to the shoulder, watching helplessly as the rig zigzagged across several lanes of traffic. In a chain reaction, the vehicles behind the rig began to smash into each other, one after the other, filling the air with the smell of burning rubber and the horrific noise of crashing metal and shattering glass.

      The tractor-trailer finally stopped moving, settling across the highway, then tipping inward and over, crushing whatever had been in the right-hand lane next to it. The rig landed lengthwise across the highway, blocking two northbound lanes and crossing the short median strip to settle over one southbound lane, too. Automobiles in both directions crashed into each other, creating the most massive pileup he’d ever witnessed.

      “Ten forty-five on Pacific Coast Highway heading north. Repeat, 10-45 on PCH. At least twenty vehicles, probably more…”

      He stopped to catch his breath, realizing that he was in a mild state of shock. This one had come a little too close to home. If he’d been going just a bit faster…

      “We’ve got a huge pileup blocking most, if not all, south-and northbound lanes.”

      The dispatcher asked him to estimate the location.

      “About five miles south of Courage Bay Hospital.” Which is damn lucky, since a lot of these unfortunate folk are going to require medical help, fast. “We’ll need everything you can get us. Backup, ambulances…”

      He paused as he noticed a second blast of flames come from the burning vehicle. He frowned, wondering what could have caused two explosions in the same car. Not that it would matter to the poor driver, who had probably been incinerated with that first blast.

      “What just happened?” the dispatcher asked.

      Casey relayed the bare facts, then reiterated the need for help, as soon as possible. As he spoke he wove his motorbike between stopped vehicles, working his way up to the collision. Ahead, in the burning sedan, flames reached out of the gaping windows as if grasping for the sky. After a few moments the fire tapered down again.

      If the second explosion had been the fuel tank, then what had caused the initial blaze? Casey made a note to discuss the anomaly with whoever headed up the investigation team later. Likely the poor devils would be here until late tonight, gathering statements from witnesses as well as physical evidence from the road and the vehicles involved in the collision.

      Though he hated the carnage of serious traffic accidents, Casey had always enjoyed the process of collision reconstruction. It was like detective work, really, requiring a meticulous gathering of evidence from witnesses and from the accident scene itself.

      At some point tonight, officers would carefully examine the road for skid marks, scrapes, gouges, liquid spills. They’d photograph the scene, take precise measurements with a transit, conduct a preliminary inspection of the vehicles involved. All this information would enable the officer in charge of the investigation to stand up in court and explain accurately how the accident had happened and why.

      All very cool, fascinating stuff.

      But right now, Casey’s СКАЧАТЬ