Aztec Treasure

Provincial Constable Lynette St. Claire’s POV

Trans-Canada Highway, 20 km north of Sault Ste. Marie

The dispatcher’s voice cut through the drone of the traffic passing by. I had the unmarked police cruiser in one of my favorite ticket farms, where the laser had a good view of traffic coming north along the lake, and trees hid us from view. “Attention all units, we have a child abduction alert. The kidnapping victim is Maritza Meztli, a one-year-old Hispanic female, taken from Sault Area Hospital approximately fifteen minutes ago. The suspect is driving a silver Honda sedan, last seen on Great Northern Road approaching Fourth Line East. The suspect is armed with a pistol and is a suspect in a shooting at the hospital.”

“They’re coming our way,” Provisional Constable Curtis LeGrange said. He’d been training under me for a month now and was pretty sharp for a rookie.

The dispatcher paused, and when she started talking again, I could tell she couldn’t believe what she was reading. “Photographs of the victim have been sent to your cars. The victim may appear as a jaguar cub, yellow with black and dark brown rosettes, approximately twelve kilos.”

Someone called her back. “Dispatch, Patrol Fourteen, repeat your last?”

“The victim is a werecat, traveling with Arrowhead Pack werewolves. I can’t make this up, Fourteen.”

“Holy crap, look at this,” Curtis said. He turned the computer towards me; on the screen was a picture of a cute little Hispanic girl in jeans and a t-shirt, along with an adorable Jaguar cub playing on the beach. “I read about her. She and her mother are the only jaguar shifters left in the world.”

We could talk about that later. Our position was good to cover a northern escape. “Dispatch, Patrol Five, my unit is just south of the Goulee River on 17. We will hold and watch for silver Hondas.”

“Roger, Five. Fourteen, proceed to 556 and hold watch there.”

That made sense; if he was going north, those were the only two roads going anywhere. Everything else ran into the lake or ended with the woods. We were in a good spot to watch the road, angled so both of us could see northbound traffic.

A few minutes later, we got an update with a license plate number and clarification the suspect vehicle was a four-door Honda Accord. “Must have got it off the cameras at the hospital,” I said as I wrote the plate number down. I had binoculars out, searching the oncoming traffic for silver Honda sedans.

It hadn’t been ten minutes before I saw the first car matching the description. The plate number was wrong, but the tax sticker on it was an expired color. As it passed, I pulled out behind him and accelerated to catch up. It wasn’t the right plate, but something was wrong. “Call it in,” I told Curtis. He got on the radio and called in the plate number. It came back expired, no longer in use. I told Curtis to request backup as I dropped back a little. I didn’t want to spook him.

“Backup is four minutes out,” Curtis told me. He’d reported in what we’d seen so far; one person in the car, a white male in his fifties. We passed over the Goulee River and approached Karalash Corners when the patrol cruiser turned behind us and came up fast. “Light him up?”

“Do it,” I said. He hit the lights and siren, and the man reacted by taking off. “Patrol Five in pursuit of silver Honda Pilot, on 17 approaching Karalash Corners. Requesting backup and air support.”

“Patrol Ten is secondary,” the car behind us radioed in.

The Honda sped up, recklessly pushing its speed to over 170 km/hr. It wasn’t getting away from us in an economy car, though. “All units, silver Honda is potentially carrying a young child that may be on the floor or in the trunk.”

“The pit maneuver is out,” I said. “I hope he doesn’t lose control of that thing.”

We stayed behind him as he continued north towards the Superior coast. A new voice came over the radio. “This is Air One. I have the pursuit in sight.”

My supervisor got on the radio. “All units, drop back and let the air unit track the car. Continued high-speed pursuit is too dangerous.”

“10-4, slowing down,” Curtis responded. We slowed to a hundred as the Accord kept going. He wasn’t getting away, though; other units were converging on our position.

As soon as the Honda thought he’d gotten away, he got off the main road before reaching Havilland. He headed northwest on a service road, and the air unit tracked him as he drove deeper into the woods. “Units in Havilland, head west on Havilland Shores Drive and set up a roadblock at the other end of the service road. Units in pursuit close in from behind.”

We accelerated to catch up, braking just in time to turn left onto the gravel road. Our SUV could go a lot faster over the bumpy road than a Honda, so it didn’t take long before we had him in sight again. When he saw the roadblock ahead, he locked up his brakes.

He was out of the car and firing before we came to a stop. “Hold fire,” I told Curtis as we skidded to a stop. “Nothing near the car.” We bailed out my side, using the vehicle for cover, and covered him with our weapons.

The man fired a few shots our way, then reached back into the car and released the trunk. As soon as it opened, I saw a spotted cat, twice the size of a domestic one, jump out and run into the trees. “MARITZA IS CLEAR,” I yelled. When the man turned and fired towards us, we returned fire. One of my shots hit him in the left hip and knocked him down.

He tossed his gun and surrendered, knowing he wasn’t getting away now.

We waited for our backup to move up before we made the arrest. “Suspect is in custody. Air One, can you see where the cat ran off to?”

“Negative, tree cover is too thick.”

My Sergeant was almost to the scene. “All units remain in position. DO NOT attempt to locate the werecat. A unit from Sault is bringing her mother up to retrieve her.”

That was good news. It took twenty minutes for the ambulance to show up but only fifteen for Maria Meztli. She could barely walk after a recent motorcycle accident, so we had to improvise. Curtis was a big guy, and Maria got on piggyback and told him where to go. They walked for a few minutes as Maria followed her daughter’s scent into the woods. She found a shivering Maritza’s hiding place under a downed tree, and Maria called her out. She shifted back to a little girl as soon as she was in Mom’s arms.

I’d never seen anything like it. Maritza was one cool cat.