Miller didn’t chase. He couldn’t leave the victims. He read the plate number as they turned—a temporary tag—and relayed it to dispatch.
«Suspect vehicle fleeing north. Black Tahoe, armed and dangerous.»
As the taillights of the SUV disappeared over the ridge, the sound of sirens finally pierced the air. First one, then a chorus.
Miller slumped against the tire of the blue truck. The adrenaline dump hit him like a physical blow. His hands started to shake, mirroring the driver he had stopped twenty minutes ago.
The next hour was a blur of flashing lights and controlled chaos. Two ambulances arrived, paramedics swarming the victims with oxygen masks and IV fluids. A fire truck blocked the highway to create a landing zone for a medevac helicopter for the unconscious man.
State troopers took custody of Kovich, who was now weeping and confessing everything to anyone who would listen. Detectives arrived and began photographing the bales.
They marveled at the construction. «Trojan horses,» one detective called them. «We’ve heard rumors of this but never seen it. They hollow them out, line them, and seal them back up. From the outside, it’s perfect.»
Miller stood by his cruiser, watching the scene. Duke was sitting beside him, his head resting on Miller’s thigh. Miller stroked the dog’s ears absently.
He looked at his hands. They were covered in dirt, splinters, and the dried blood from his knuckles. A sergeant walked over, handing Miller a bottle of water.
«Hell of a stop, Ryan. Hell of a stop. You okay?»
Miller took a long drink, the water cool against his parched throat. «Yeah, I’m okay.»
«You know, if you hadn’t cut that open, if you’d just written him a ticket for the violation…»
The sergeant didn’t finish the sentence. He didn’t have to.
«I know,» Miller said. He looked at the empty wooden boxes, the coffins that had been traveling at 55 miles per hour. «I know.»
The investigation that followed was swift. The criminal organization was dismantled. Kovich turned state’s evidence to avoid a life sentence, giving up the location of the pickup point in the south and the drop house in the north.
The trail car was intercepted by highway patrol three counties over. A chase ensued, ending in a crash and the arrest of two high-ranking enforcers. The ring had been moving fifty people a month this way.
But for Miller, the legal victory was secondary. Two days later, Miller walked into the county general hospital. He was in uniform, but he felt different, lighter.
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