Genesis.... Welby Thomas Cox, Jr.

was wrong…terribly wrong. Once he was on I-71, Officer Currans flipped on his blue lights and quickly flying through the night chill at over one hundred miles per hour. He flew past the Sparta exit, and then he saw his partners’ cruiser going east at a high rate of speed…and the horse van was following.

      “44” Currans snapped into the police radio!

      “4” Was the response from the base operator.

      “Switch to channel 8” He requested of the base.

      “Roger that,” was the response.

      “I have been unable to reach Officer Knower, and I have just past his cruiser headed east at Sparta and there is a horse van following the cruiser?”

      “Copy 44,”

      “I am requesting back-up at Sparta, immediately!”

      “What is your ETA to the van?”

      “Three minutes, over!"

      “The OIG recommends that you lay off the cruiser and the van until the split at I-75, operative will either go south or north, advise direction of flight at that time and support will respond appropriately… copy!”

      “4”

      The occupant in Knowers cruiser listened to the radio and heard the conversation, and then the radio went silent. He had seen the other cruiser with pulsating lights on the west side of I-71. Fortunate for the horse thieves and now the murderers of Officer Knower, the Sparta exit loomed as an escape route and the driver cut the blue lights, taking the exit and then made a quick left hand turn. Now he was headed due north with the van following at a reduced rate of speed he saw truck traffic zipping beneath him under the overpass at Sparta.

      The horse van followed suit, cutting his lights and following the cruiser. In a quarter mile there was a convenient gas station on the east side of the road and across the road to the west there was a mammoth parking lot and entrance for the Kentucky NASCAR track. The driver of the cruiser took a left into the major lot. He did not miss the security camera’s measuring and recording his every move from the top of the light standard and it recorded both the cruiser and the van.

      Mike Alteer jumped from the cruiser after he had stopped and ran to the van.

      “Did you see the cop cruiser headed west?” he asked excitedly.

      “Yeh, I saw him go under the overpass…man that was a good move getting off at this exit.”

      “Yeh, but we gotta ditch this cruiser and that body!”

      “Sure!”

      “Look, US 42 is about three miles down this road and the Ohio River bank runs along 42…right off the road no more than five feet. We can find a spot high enough and push the cruiser and its pay load into the river.”

      “That’s a plan dude."

      They drove out of the NASCAR parking lot and headed north on State road 35 with the cruiser leading the way in the darkness. In a matter of minutes, they reached a perpendicular stop headed west to Warsaw or north toward Cincinnati. Mike took a left heading toward Warsaw. After driving a mile, it was now one o’clock and he knew in another six hours the sky would be filled with choppers. On the right of the highway there was a huge Sycamore, with graying shadows growing out of the riverbank and alongside there was a flat spot from which he could see the Markland Lock and Dam over his right shoulder. He pulled the cruiser off the highway and onto the shoulder…the van nudged in behind him. There was no rail separating the highway from the river, just a bushy trail along its bank beside the Sycamore which bore large gashes from being struck over the years by errant or drunk drivers. The river bank dropped off precipitously…as well as fortuitously into the Ohio some eight to ten feet below. It was a “moody river,” as the song goes and in the night with no moon it appeared black, rolling and cold as a freezer. Mike cut the lights and ran to the van. Frank, the van driver followed suit, opening the side door as the horse watched the activity in earnest. He was huge and beautiful under the globe which shown on his shinny coat…but his nostrils were flared and he grabbed a mouth full of hay.

      “The cop is gone?” shouted Frank.

      “Where could he have gone? Maybe he is alive?”

      “Look the guy was dead, I shot him twice…pitta, pitta, bang, bang.” He held out his fingers like a gun.

      “But he isn’t here,” Mike yelled.

      “Wait, don’t get excited on me…there he is under the horse’s hay rack.”

      Frank ran back to the van’s cab and grabbed a flashlight, returning in seconds and flipped the light on the big liver colored chestnut. The stallion was cool and pure class, nickering to let them know that he was the man…his eyes flashed, large and black as the river flowing beneath them.

      Under the stallion, Officer Knower had either pulled himself somehow or the horse pulled him from the position by the side door.

      “Get in there dude?”

      “Fuck you, I ain’t getting anywhere near that big pricks’ hooves…that is way beyond my pay grade.”

      “All right, lets’ not freak out…I’ll get in there! Now, look, the stallion can’t move because he has a shank attached on both sides of his halter and that chain is welded to both sides of the van…the chain holds his head, he can’t go anywhere or bite me. But he can stomp me or kick the shit out of me once I am in his space, so you are going to have to keep him calm…you savvy?”

      “Yeh…fucking blind leading the blind!”

      They both climbed into the van which had been set-up as three stalls giving

      Hunter’s Destiny the largest stall for his big body. Mike thought it looked like one giant stall but it was separated at the top by large, heavy, long iron poles which fitted between the stalls giving definitive separation in the event there was a need to place other horses in the van. As he walked to the webbing which separated Mike from the horse, Hunter’s Destiny half reared, pawing the night’s darkness.

      Mike jumped back to avoid the horse’s hooves with the silver plates as Frank made his way alongside the horse. He found a door under the horse’s head and opened it permitting him to pull Officer Knower’s dead body out from under the horse’s head.

      “Don’t let him see that you are afraid of him…be calm, Mike!”

      “Fuck you dude, that big bastard just showed me a row of teeth that looked like Moby Dick!”

      “Talk quietly to him, offer him a hand-full of hay…just give me a second and it will be done.”

      Mike feeling a bit overwhelmed and something of a whinny who could not seem to do anything right, jammed his hand into his pocket and felt a pepper mint candy…” you have been owned, big fella!” he said to the horse as he reached out with the mint on his upturned palm. Hunter’s Destiny sniffed it and with his large upper lip scooped it into his mouth…now he settled back as did Mile.

      “Whoa there big guy…I once saw you race over at Arlington Park, it was a big race” Mike kept talking trying to calm the horse, he patted his forehead and jaw…the horse was sweating and Mike knew this wasn’t a good sign, knowing he had to calm him down he offered another pepper mint and Hunter’s Destiny gladly took it.

      “You were great that day, just played with them horses and when they came to you at the eight pole, you just showed them your big ass…yeh, see we can be friends…I am a big fan of yours…” Mike offered another mint and the horse took it.

      Frank Albright pulled Officer Knower from the corner of the stall. He was dead for certain and that was the bad news. The blood from the gun shot entry had tried on the starched collar of the shirt.

      He called to Mike, busy with the horse, asking him to remove the jacket of the deceased police officer. Mike felt strangely ill…as he pulled