Chapter 6 - The Hunt for Kendra
The rain in Denver fell in heavy, gray sheets over the next forty-eight hours, washing away the summer heat and turning the mountain roads into slick, treacherous passages.
Kendra had vanished into thin air the moment her mother and uncle were taken into custody.
She had abandoned her luxury apartment in downtown Denver, turned off her cell phone, and cleared out her private bank accounts in cash three hours before the probate hearing.
I sat in Detective Vance’s office at the 6th Precinct, sipping black coffee while whiteboards around us were covered in photos, bank account diagrams, and vehicle license plate scans.
"She’s smart," Vance admitted, pinning a photo of Kendra to the board. "She didn't use a credit card, she didn't check into a hotel under her real name, and she avoided major highway toll booths. But she made one mistake."
"What mistake?" I asked, setting my mug down.
"Her dog," Vance said, tapping a printout on his desk. "Kendra owns an imported French Bulldog named Winston. She takes that dog everywhere. Yesterday afternoon, a veterinary clinic in Idaho Springs—a small mountain town ninety minutes west of here—logged a prescription fill for specialized canine medication under the name 'Claire Miller'."
"Claire is her middle name," I said instantly. "And Miller was her grandmother's maiden name."
"Exactly," Vance said, standing up and grabbing his jacket. "We tracked the credit card used at that clinic to a prepaid gift card purchased at a gas station twenty miles back. She’s hiding in the mountains."
"I'm coming with you," I said.
"Ms. Morgan, you’re still recovering from a brain injury—"
"I know how she thinks, Detective," I interrupted him, my voice firm and uncompromising. "My family owns an old hunting cabin near Echo Lake. It hasn't been used in five years. It’s off the grid, registered under an old corporate tax ID that wouldn't show up on a standard property search unless you knew where to look in the payroll archives."
Vance paused, looking at me for five long seconds before nodding once. "Put on a vest and sit in the back of my cruiser."
An hour later, two unmarked police cruisers crept up the winding, dirt access road leading toward Mount Evans. The rain had turned into a thick, low-hanging fog that clung to the pine trees, reducing visibility to less than thirty feet.
The hunting cabin appeared out of the mist—a dark, weathered timber structure nestled against a wall of granite rocks.
Parked beneath an overhang of pine branches was a dark gray rental SUV with mud splattered across its doors.
"That's her," I whispered from the backseat of Vance's car.
"Stay inside the vehicle, Ms. Morgan," Vance ordered, pulling his service weapon from its holster. "Officers will move in from the east perimeter."
Vance and three armed deputies stepped out into the pouring rain, moving silently across the damp carpet of pine needles toward the cabin's front porch.
Suddenly, the cabin door flew open.
Kendra ran out into the mud, dressed in a heavy raincoat, carrying a duffel bag in one hand and her bulldog in the other. She threw the dog into the passenger seat of the rental SUV, scrambled into the driver's seat, and slammed the heavy door shut.
"Denver Police! Stop the vehicle!" Vance shouted, raising his weapon.
The SUV’s engine roared to life with a deafening screech. Kendra shoved the gear shift into drive and stomped on the accelerator, spinning the tires in the thick mud before hurtling directly toward the wooden gate blocking the lower drive.
The heavy SUV smashed through the wooden barrier, splintering beams across the road, and plunged down the narrow mountain trail toward the main highway.
"Pursuit! Pursuit!" Vance barked into his shoulder radio, leaping back into the cruiser.
We roared down the twisting dirt road behind her. The heavy SUV swerved wildly across the narrow lanes, its tail lights flashing bright red as Kendra desperately tried to outrun the police cars behind her.
"She doesn't know this road in the fog!" I yelled over the siren. "There’s a sharp hairpin turn near the creek bridge two miles down!"
Kendra’s SUV hit the main paved highway going seventy miles per hour. The rain was coming down in torrents now, creating sheets of standing water on the asphalt.
Up ahead, the red reflector signs marking the sharp bridge curve loomed out of the fog.
Kendra slammed on her brakes too late.
The heavy SUV hydroplaned across the center line, spun 180 degrees in a violent arc, clipped the concrete bridge abutment with a horrific crunch of metal, and tipped sideways—rolling twice down the steep embankment before coming to a rest against a thick grove of aspen trees at the river’s edge.
"Kendra!" I screamed.
Vance slammed his cruiser into park near the broken guardrail. He and the deputies scrambled down the muddy embankment with flashlights cutting through the dark rain.
I ignored Vance's order to stay in the car and scrambled down the slippery slope behind them.
The SUV lay on its side, steam hissing from its shattered radiator, its windows blown out into millions of glass cubes.
Inside, Kendra was pinned against the driver’s door, blood streaming down her forehead from a deep gash near her hairline. The bulldog was barking frantically from the cargo area behind her, shaken but unhurt.
Vance used a window-shattering tool to clear the frame and pulled Kendra out of the wrecked vehicle, laying her gently onto the wet grass.
She gasped for air, her eyes wild with terror as she looked up into the darkness.
Then her eyes found mine.
"Lee..." Kendra wheezed, coughing up blood. "Lee... please... help me..."
I knelt down in the mud beside her, rain pouring over my face, looking into the eyes of the girl who had tried to erase my life for money.
"Why, Kendra?" I asked, my voice barely audible over the roaring river behind us. "Why did you hit me? You could have killed me."
Kendra began to cry—a harsh, ragged sound of total defeat.
"Marlene... said we had no choice," Kendra sobbed, clutching her bruised chest. "She said... if you gave Grandma that envelope... we'd lose everything... the house, the money, our lives... She told me... to hit you just hard enough... to make you drop it..."
"You ruined your life for a mother who used you as a weapon," I said softly.
The sirens of approaching emergency medical vehicles began to echo down the canyon walls, their red and blue lights flashing wildly against the fog-shrouded trees.
Kendra closed her eyes, weeping softly in the rain, as the paramedics descended the hill to take her into custody.
May you like
I stood up, wiping the wet hair from my forehead, and looked back up toward the highway.
It was finally over. The pursuit had ended.
