The Vanishing Gary Brown (booksvooks TXT) 📖

Presented to Dr. Oliver Stanford Prescott in recognition of outstanding professional contribution to the field of Forensic Psychiatry.” Elaine sighed. “Wow.”

“That’s all you have to say… wow?” Oliver teased. He put his arm around her as the tight canyon road unwound before him, then stole a glance at her from the corner of his eye. He delighted in teasing her, leading her on, pretending he was serious when he was not. They had been married for twenty-six exhilarating years, and he still loved her with every ounce of his being.

Elaine turned in her seat. She had always been a beautiful woman, and the sparkle in her eyes told Oliver how much she still loved him.

“I’m so incredibly proud of you, honey,” she said. “I know how hard you’ve worked for this. All the hours you’ve put into building your practice, the sacrifices you’ve made.”

“You mean we’ve made,” Oliver said. He weaved his fingers through her silky blond hair. “I couldn’t have done it without your support. I hope you know that.”

“I do,” Elaine replied. “But this is your night. I want you to enjoy every second. We should celebrate!”

“What did you have in mind?”

Elaine slipped her hand under his shirt. “I remember a time not so long ago when we would take a drive up this same canyon road and fool around until the sun came up.”

“That was twenty-eight years and two kids ago,” Oliver laughed. “And as I recall, The Amazing Mr. Winky and I were a little younger then.”

“Really?” his wife said. “I have a feeling, given the proper motivation, that Mr. Winky could be persuaded to come out and play. Don’t you?”

“Yes, if we don’t end up in an accident before we get to the top,” Oliver replied. “Not that I necessarily want you to stop, you understand.”

“Perfectly,” Elaine said as she loosened his tie.

2

THE VAN NARROWED its following distance. The driver turned on his high beams. The powerful glare from the halogen lights reflected in Oliver’s rearview mirror, illuminating the interior of the car with an incandescent pallor.

Oliver flipped the lever on the classic sports car’s mirror to its night driving position, reducing the glare to a bright but manageable level.

Elaine sat up in her seat. “What’s wrong?” she asked.

“I’m not really sure,” Oliver replied. “The van behind me suddenly accelerated and turned on its high beams. To tell you the truth, I think it’s been following us since we left the awards ceremony.”

“Can’t you just pull over and let him pass?”

Oliver shook his head. “Not here. This section of the road is too tight.”

Oliver pressed his foot down on the accelerator. The Porsche responded immediately, sped ahead, and rounded the narrow turn at the top of Zion Point. The van took the corner seconds later, then nosed up behind them, inches from the rear bumper. Its powerful headlights bore down on the car like a wild beast stalking its prey. Oliver tapped hard on the brake pedal, then punched the accelerator. In his mirror he watched the front of the van nose-dive, then fall back. As though provoking a savage rage within the mechanical beast, the van raced ahead and re-staked its claim on the tail of the Porsche. The driver pulled out and drove alongside them on the two-lane mountain road, matching Oliver’s speed, refusing to pass until the side of the van was nearly touching Oliver’s door.

“What the hell?” Oliver yelled. He struggled with the steering wheel, trying desperately to maintain control of the car on the narrow gravel shoulder. In the distance, a caution light flashed. Crash pylons warned of the sharp turn ahead.

“I’m not going to make the turn! For God’s sake, hold on!”

Oliver slammed his foot hard on the brake. With a tremendous screech, the Porsche screamed to a stop. The van blasted past them up the canyon road, the glare from its high beams bouncing off the luminescent bands of the safety pylons as it careened around the corner, its taillights peering back with malicious contempt as it hugged the turn then disappeared from view.

“What in God’s name was he thinking?” Oliver said. “That idiot could have gotten us both killed!” He slammed the car into gear. Loose sand and gravel spewed back from beneath the squealing tires.

“Let it go, Oliver,” Elaine pleaded as Oliver raced up the canyon road after the van. “He could have had a thousand reasons for driving the way he did. Perhaps…”

“Damn it, Elaine! He tried to run us off the road!”

“You don't know that for sure. Maybe his accelerator got stuck, or a passenger distracted him and didn’t realize what he was doing until it was too late, or…”

“Or maybe he’s just a bloody fool. Either way, I’m going to find out.”

3

REACHING THE ENTRANCE to the parking area the driver quickly reduced his speed, killed his headlights, drove to the far end of the lot, parked the van next to a service road at the foot of the town’s radio broadcast tower and shut off the engine. He ran to the back of the vehicle, opened the rear doors, retrieved a knapsack, and slung it over his shoulder. A gym bag lay in the corner of the van which he placed on the ground at his feet. He slammed shut the rear doors, picked up the gym bag, looked towards the entrance of the parking area, and waited. Within seconds, the lights of the Porsche raced into view. Upon seeing the car, he jogged towards the gated tower entrance.

The gentle whine of the Porsche’s engine trailed to a whisper as Oliver rounded the turn. In the commotion he had caught a glimpse of the fleeing vehicle: mottled gray with black trim, no company logo, likely a passenger van and not a commercial vehicle. Several cars were parked along the retaining wall of the canyon lookout. In the distance, exposed under the dim glow of a lamppost, stood the van.

When he had reached the perimeter of the tower, the driver looked back