CHAPTER 62

Marcus pushed the sedan beyond its capabilities. He hadn’t encountered any police along the road, and he prayed that his luck would hold. He made a conscious effort to slow his speed, but he knew that within a few moments his velocity would increase again as urgency pressed upon him. He had followed a similar pattern for the past several hours. Colorado Springs wasn’t far now. He hoped that he had gained ground on Ackerman, since the killer had most likely obeyed the posted speed limit.

Earlier, he had watched baby blue melt into shades of yellow and purple as the bringer of life conceded to the darkness. He had wondered if it would be his last sunset. He wondered if he would ever see Maggie again. He supposed not. After this was over, he would have to run. Not only had he just murdered an officer of the law, but he also knew too much. Powerful men would see to it that such knowledge died with him.

He supposed that for most men such realizations would have devastating implications, but it didn’t matter much to him. He left no one behind. Maggie had been his last hope for a normal life. His dream of a future had melted into the ether and faded back into the place where all dreams were born. He hoped that another would live that life. He hoped that Maggie would find happiness, but he knew that he could never give it to her. He couldn’t undo what he had done. He couldn’t forgive himself, and she would never forget.

On the long drive, he had thought a great deal about destiny. He supposed Ackerman was right. They had been traveling on a collision course, and sooner or later, the tracks would converge.

In reality, he doubted that running from the Sheriff’s superiors would be a concern. He doubted that he would live to see another day, but he would find a way to stop Ackerman.

It wasn’t vengeance, and now he realized that it wasn’t justice either. He merely wished to ensure that no other innocent person endured pain at the hands of Francis Ackerman. In his mind, reason had overshadowed emotion. As long as Ackerman lived, people would suffer. That was a fact that he couldn’t deny.

For the first time in his life, he would embrace the monster within.

One question remained a thorn in his mind. Would he be the hero, as Ackerman claimed, or would he be too late?