Free The Snow White Christmas Cookie by David Handler Page B

sprinting out the door of the Village Bootery with a pair of Ugg boots clutched under one arm and a look of total panic on her young face. Kylie jumped into a silver Honda Civic with the boots, started up the engine and took off. Or tried to—her wheels just kept spinning. The blizzard had dumped ten inches of the white stuff on the pavement by now and her daddy’s plowboys hadn’t hit the parking lot for a while. Then Des saw Joanie Tooker, who owned Village Bootery, come staggering out the door, clutching her elbow in pain. Des found out later that as soon as Kylie spotted Des’s cruiser she’d shoved Joanie, age sixty-one, roughly to the floor and escaped out the door. Joanie, who’d known Kylie for the girl’s entire life, suffered a dislocated elbow.
    Des climbed out of her cruiser and motioned Kylie to get out of her Honda. “Come on, Kylie, let’s talk this out!”
    Kylie floored it, the Honda’s wheels spinning and spinning. She was absolutely determined to rabbit on Des.
    “Kylie, stop this, will you?”
    No use. Kylie’s wheels caught hold and she went skidding out of the lot onto Big Branch heading way too fast in the direction of Old Boston Post Road. Des considered letting her go. Simply putting out a BOLO alert. She had Kylie’s license plate number. Knew where the girl lived. But she was concerned. Kylie was so panicky that she might crash into somebody. And so, reluctantly, Des took off after her, hoping that the reality of seeing flashing lights in her rearview mirror would jolt some sense into the little fool.
    It was the most pathetic high-speed chase Des had ever been involved in. Not that it qualified as a high-speed chase, since neither of them could do more than twenty in the dense snow. And Des wasn’t even trying to gain ground. She didn’t want to make Kylie drive faster in these blizzard conditions. Just wanted her to know that it was pointless to keep going and that she ought to do the sane, adult thing and pull over.
    Good luck with that.
    At the intersection with Old Boston Post Road Kylie ran the red light, which ranked as the least of her worries right now, and attempted a sharp left turn. Instead, she made a full 360-degree doughnut in the deep snow before she came to a complete stop right in the middle of the intersection. Thankfully, there were no other cars around. Des came to a halt twenty feet away and gestured for Kylie to get out of the Honda.
    And good luck with that.
    Kylie floored it again and went slip-sliding her way north on Old Boston Post Road in the direction of Uncas Lake. Again, Des thought about leaving her be. But the girl presented a clear danger to herself and others. Des couldn’t just let her go.
    The Post Road had been plowed within the past few minutes. Or at least a single lane had. Kylie powered her Honda all of the way up to thirty as she headed north in the center of the plowed lane. Des continued to give her plenty of room, praying that they didn’t encounter any oncoming traffic. As she went past the turnoff for Frederick Lane Kylie caught up with the town’s big orange plow truck and began to overtake it. Reality alert: Only a total nutso tries to pass a snowplow in the middle of a blizzard. Kylie Champlain had gone total nutso. Actually veered around the plow truck and started to pass it. Until, that is, she practically drove head-on into the oncoming Dodge Ram that was inching its way down the Post Road. The Dodge Ram had to slam into a snowbank to avoid her as Kylie hit her brakes and spun out in the middle of the road. The plow truck driver had no chance to stop. Roared right on past her—missing her Honda by no more than six inches. Des brought her cruiser to a stop as Kylie sat there behind the wheel, eyes bulging with fright. The Dodge Ram’s driver climbed out, waving his arms and cursing.
    Des got out of her cruiser. “Please stop this, Kylie! Someone’s going to get hurt!”
    The girl was busy reaching for something now. Rolling