The Roswell Conspiracy by Boyd Morrison Read Free Book Online

him far behind, but with two working engines on the pursuing boat, Foreman would likely catch them before they reached the dock.
    They roared back up the canyon, the sound of the single engine echoing off the steep walls. Tyler peeked above the gunwales and saw the other boat gaining quickly, but he didn’t fire. With only one round left, he’d have to make it count.
    More bullets raked the stern.
    “We’re not going to make it,” Grant shouted. “Any ideas?”
    “Keep sweeping back and forth. Make sure he can’t pull even with us until we reach the other side of the canyon. Then let him come up on the right. Remember the rock beach back at the dock? Maybe we can strand him on it.”
    Grant nodded. “Better than nothing.”
    Even at their slowed speed, it took no time for them to race back to the northern entrance of the canyon.
    “Ready?” Grant yelled.
    Tyler held up the pistol in response. Grant steered left and ducked down, and Tyler could hear the trailing boat pull alongside. Foreman was waiting until he was next to them before he dealt the coup de grâce .
    Tyler sat up and took aim. If he was lucky, his shot would kill the gunman.
    He wasn’t. The shot went wide, but it was close enough to make Foreman flinch.
    Grant rammed their boat into the other one. Because Foreman was holding the pistol, he had only one hand on the wheel and wasn’t able to react quickly.
    Tyler saw the surprised expression on the gunman’s face when he realized he was headed directly for the rocky beach at full speed. Foreman tried to bump his way to the left, but Grant wouldn’t let him budge. At the last second, Grant spun the wheel, putting their boat into a slide and missing the beach by inches.
    Foreman wasn’t as nimble. He went into a slide as well, but it was the worst possible decision.
    Had he simply gone straight forward, Foreman’s boat would have slid up onto the beach and come to a stop. Instead, the skidding motion meant that the side of the boat’s hull hit the rocky shore at fifty knots.
    The boat rolled spectacularly, the engines whining as they sucked air. The roll bar would have protected Foreman if he’d been belted in. Instead, he was ejected into the path of the somersaulting boat and crushed by the hull.
    Grant eased back on the throttle and guided the boat toward the dock. Four policemen who’d been watching the chase covered them with rifles as they approached, shouting at them to put their hands in the air. Grant put his hands up and let the boat drift close enough for one of the policemen to tie them off. Tyler dropped the pistol onto the deck and raised his arms.
    “It’s okay, Fay,” Tyler said. “You can get up now. Just do it slowly. Your local constables look like they have itchy trigger fingers.”
    Fay sat up and peered at the men. Her eyes lit up when she recognized one of the officers. “For goodness sakes, Michael Brown! Stop pointing that thing at us. These aren’t the bad guys.”
    The tension drained from Brown, and he lowered his rifle, signaling the others to do the same. Tyler followed suit.
    “Mrs. Turia?” Brown said. “We had a report that you’d been taken hostage.”
    “Don’t believe everything you hear.” She unbelted herself and stood. Tyler held her hand as she stepped out.
    Tyler, his eyes still fixed on the policemen as he climbed onto the dock, heard a woman yell, “Nana!” She rushed past the policemen and threw herself into Fay’s arms. Tyler thought she could be the granddaughter Fay had mentioned, except that this woman had much darker skin than Fay. The two of them hugged tightly until the woman pushed back to hold Fay at arm’s length. “I was horrified when I heard about the fire at the house. Are you okay? Tell me you’re okay.”
    “I’m fine, Jessica, thanks to these young men.” She gestured at Tyler and Grant.
    The woman turned, and Tyler got his first good look at her. Everything about her screamed athlete, from her drawstring pants and