3vs1

We were about halfway to Château Raith when Murphy asked, “You seeing this?”
“The Crown Vic behind us?” I asked. “Yeah.”
“Yeah, them,” Murphy said impatiently. “And also the other two cars.”
I frowned. I was driving the Munstermobile, which Murphy hated riding in because the custom-sized seat wasn’t adjustable, and her feet couldn’t reach my pedals. By almost a foot. The old car wasn’t exactly built with the driver’s lines of sight in mind, but I scanned the early-morning traffic, frowning.
It took me a good minute of looking to spot what Murphy had already alerted me to—a dark blue Crown Vic was following about three cars back. Probably Rudolph and Bradley, in one of Internal Affairs’ vehicles. Behind them, maybe three more cars back, was a battered old Jeep that looked like it would have been happier and more comfortable in the Rocky Mountains somewhere. And then there was a third car, a silver minivan, following along a ways behind the Jeep.
“You’re a little popular,” Murphy said.
“Hell’s bells,” I muttered. “Is it a whole surveillance team?”
“They’d be the worst one in the world,” Murphy said. “If they had three of them working together, there’s no reason for all of them to keep us in sight the entire time.”


Peace Talks Chapter 23, Page 220